#I heard Bloody Waters and immediately went to see if this was some new shit AND IT WAS OMGGGG

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Henry Bowers (5/5)

(@bywie)

Word count ; 3.9k

*Edited.

Bev tugged on my arm, pulling me away from the main commotion. I was entranced with her cute smile and her new hair style. I loved her.

“What did I tell you?” she giggled.

“Yeah, I know, you’re usually right,” I agreed easily. “It’s nice to wash away my worries, too. I heard some pretty terrible news this morning, so it’s nice to have a distraction.”

Bev tilted her head. “Bad news?”

“You haven’t heard? Just like that other kid, Greta’s gone missing. I know she was a bully and everything, but I can’t help feeling like —“

“It wasn’t Henry,” she instantly reassured, her hands ghosting over my shoulder. “Kids are disappearing a lot these days… He was just heartbroken. I’m sure as we speak, he’s getting over you. You don’t need to think about him anymore.”

“It’s hard not to… He really scared me.”

Bev cupped my cheeks, successfully silencing me. “Now, now, no more negativity. We’re having girl time. Plus the boys, I guess, but you see what they’re up to…”

As she drew my attention to the rest of the group, I smiled. All of the boys were eagerly wrestling each other, their laughs echoing across the lake as they were fully enveloped in their water wrestling. Our hands held tighter as we gazed at them. I couldn’t help but feel this was the perfect way to mark the transition into college life.

“Hey! You losers can’t beat me to the river,” Richie suddenly declared. It was generally aimed towards the boys, but Bev and I shared mischievous smiles and started swimming down the river. The boys shouted after us, trying desperately to catch up.

We swam quickly and gracefully - or, at least, Bev did - and we swam far enough to where the water became shallow. We were both dripping wet as we stood up. The water was at knee-length and had weighed us down when we tried to stand.

Bev and I laughed as the boys tried desperately to catch up. Eventually, of course, they did, but I noticed that somehow Ben came into second place despite previously being farthest away, followed by Eddie, Bill, Stan, and Richie in last.

“We kicked your asses,” I declared haughtily, pointing at the group.

Richie was quick to defend his pride with,” No way! You guys were way more ahead.”

“We were also the first to jump,” Bev added, stifling her giggles.

“W - well, we would’ve if you told us to,” Bill agreed, huffing in embarrassment.

Ben had a deep blush as he watched Bev, and I couldn’t help but tense. Ben was a lovely boy, so I would support Beverly is she ended up falling for him. But I knew I’d be jealous. I’d hate to see it happen. Not to mention, Bill obviously had a crush on her, too. She already had enough of a love triangle to deal with without me in the picture.

Before we could argue further, a boy suddenly came stumbling through the woods. I’d seen him at school before. He was bloody and dirty. Everyone went to the shore, utterly astounded by the boy’s appearance.

“Isn’t that Mike?” Bill asked in confusion.

“Mike, what’s wrong?” Beverly called to him.

The boy tripped on some rocks, splattering to the ground. He was too concerned about escaping… something to reply. Our questions were swiftly answered as the Bowers gang emerged from the woods. Belch was swift to grab the boys collar, pulling him to his feet, with Patrick helping him.

Henry immediately glued his gaze to me. The other three sufficiently began tormenting the poor boy, but Henry just stared.

Suddenly, Beverly stooped over and grabbed a rock. And threw it, right into Belch’s forehead.

Mike took the chance to scramble across the river. I helped him up, pulling him into a comforting hug before pushing him to the back of the group.

“Holy shit,” Richie gasped.

“Nice throw,” Stanley breathed.

“Thanks, but don’t act so surprised.”

There was a tense silence as the loser gang and Bowers gang stared each other down. I was too afraid to get involved, so I made sure to distance myself from the scene, backing into the shrubbery just enough.

“Rock war!” Richie suddenly declared.

And just like that, Richie gets pegged with a rock thrown by Belch. So, both groups engage in a vicious war. I managed to avoid the attention because both gangs were on good enough terms to let me leave me out of it. Rock after rock, hit after hit, the battle rages on.

However, I noticed that little by little, people from both sides filtered out, and soon it was only Henry left. I was horrified when Richie shouted ‘run!’ and delivered a final blow to Henry, sufficiently knocking the boy to the ground.

I let out a gasp as Bev suddenly tugged at my arm. The other boys had already ran away in hopes of getting their clothes and escaping. But I turned to her, pleading with my eyes. I had to help Henry… I knew things were hard for him.

So, wordlessly, Bev understood. She turned and ran after her friends, leaving me to myself and my passed out ex-boyfriend.

I waded across the stream to him desperately, worried sick for him. He had a gash on his forehead, but aside from that, he seemed very beat up. His dad… I left him alone to his dad.

I sighed, immediately tending to his wounds. Goddamn those friends of his. Leaving the poor guy to fend for himself. To be fair, he was once again bullying a random bystander, and was a violent man, but I couldn’t help but feel responsible for him.

I wiped a stray tear away. I tore off a piece of his tank top and dabbed it in the stream before returning. I dabbed his forehead, wiping away the blood, before applying the cloth permanently. Afterwards, I pulled his head into my lap and readjusted his hair. And so, I waited.

And waited.

…And waited.

It was hard to believe a few rocks knocked him out for such a long time, as the sun was beginning to set and I was getting cold, but I knew I had to.

I was starting to doze off, my head falling forward. But just then, I felt Henry stir. He turned his head and his hand made his way to his to head, clutching it tightly. He let out a hoarse groan, turning on his side. The rocky shore shifted underneath his weight.

I shushed and comforted him quietly as he regained his composure. The moment his eyes shot open, his gaze warmed.

“Are you really fuckin’ here…?” he muttered, baffled.

“Yes,” I exhaled reluctantly. “How do you feel?”

“Why did you wait for me?” he inquired, his voice breaking. “I fuckin’ hurt you and you’re still… here.”

“Let’s not talk about that. You’re hurt. Why did you make the dumb decision to pick on Mike?”

“I was fuckin’… pissed. He was an easy target. And I’d do it again, too, if it meant you’d be here.”

He abruptly sat and turned around, crawling so that he was on his knees, facing me. I sighed, , leaning back slightly. My nails dug into the grass behind me. “Listen, Henry… I meant every word I said. There’s no changing what happened. But I don’t want you destroying yourself because of it.”

I never thought I’d see him, Henry fucking Bowers, cry, but there he was, tears sliding down his cheeks. God, my arms ached to welcome him with a warm hug. But I couldn’t succumb. Henry frowned, wiping his tears away furiously.

“I can’t fuckin’ live without you,” he stated shakily. “You’re the bitch I’m meant to marry. You’re my fuckin’ everything. I know… I’m rough around the edges and I don’t have anything to my name, but I love you. So fuckin’ much. Why aren’t I enough for you, Y/n?”

His hands made their way to my thighs, grabbing the tightly. I gulped, heart beating rapidly in my chest. “I… I’m sorry, Hen. I really, really am. It’s not you. You deserve a girl who can truly fall in love and dedicate to you, and I just can’t. I love you, but it’s always been as a friend. Besides… I can’t date a guy who’s been… violent towards me.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you - you just wouldn’t let me talk! I was desperate, I’m still desperate!” he begged, and my heart wrenched within me. “Please, Y/n, you can’t leave me.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. It was getting darker. He was crying. I was crying. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, pulling him to me. He cried into my shoulder, holding me equally tight.

I couldn’t help it. I cared too much about Henry. And nothing would ever happen with Bev.

“Let’s just… go on a date. Let’s try to fix things. Little by little. Is that okay?”

“Thank you. So fuckin’ much.”

Maybe it was an unhealthy move, but we couldn’t help it. With all the pent up emotional damage and overblown emotions, we healed each other that night in the woods, just enough.

~~~

I kicked my feet against my bedroom floor. Bev was lying on my bed on her side. She was terrified because of her father, so, I had her come over for dinner. It was the least I could do for the girl. Especially since she was always there for me, and she was strong enough to never previously need me.

“I just don’t understand why I deserved to end up with a shitty dad like him,” Bev sniffled, grabbing my hand and playing with my fingers.

“Nobody does. He’s the absolute worst. You deserve so, so much better.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to live. I’m just lucky I have a best friend like you.”

I almost flinched, but I should’ve known better. I was with… Henry again. The two of us were broken shells of humans that needed each other, even if I longed to be with Bev in every way. I hadn’t told Bev yet, though. I’m not sure I knew how. And it’d already been a week.

“You’re quiet,” Bev commented. She sat up and sat behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Is it Henry? You don’t need to be scared anymore.”

“Sort of. But it’s not important right now. You’re what I’m focused on.”

Bev frowned, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. Her soft hair tickled me. “That’s not true. Did something happen at the lake? Did he hurt you?”

“Yes - I mean no - it’s just complicated,” I heaved.

“Honey! Someone’s calling for you,” my mom shouted from down the hallway. I took the chance to hop up and out of my room, racing downstairs. My mom was holding the phone, wearing a sweet smile, which I mimicked.

After I took the phone, she left to go to the kitchen. I muttered into the receiver,” Hello?”

“Y/n,” Henry immediately panted. “I need you.”

“Wh - what? Hen, I’m with Bev right now —“

“No. Please come over, I need help. It’s serious,” his shaky voice insisted, almost whining. “It’s serious.”

“Fine, fine, but can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I - I can’t. It’s about Patrick disappearing, I don’t fuckin’ know. I just need your help. Please, please, please —“

“Y - yes, Henry, calm down. Have some water. I’ll be over soon, ‘kay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I hung up, concern wracking my body. I rushed up to my room, not paying Bev any heed as I started grabbing my things. Bev grabbed me, forcing me to stop, clearly worried.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“I - It’s Henry, he needs my help,” I gasped, struggling to make her let go of me.

“Wh - what? No way, you’re not going to visit that psychopath —“

“Yes, I am, Bev,” I boomed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I took him back. I just had to. And he needs my help —“

“Why on earth did you take him back?” Bev cried, forcing me into a hug. “Are you really that desperate? Why died’t you just try things with your crush?”

“Because it’s stupid, Bev! It’s never going to happen! Henry and I need each other. And he needs me now, so just let me go to him!”

“No! At least tell me who your crush is! Please, let’s talk about this —“

“It’s you, Bev! It’s always been you,” I admitted passionately, finally shoving her away. “I’ve been in love with you since we first met and you’ve never felt that way with me! It’s fuckin’ fine, but please, just respect my decision.”

Bev’s lips trembled and her doe eyes widened in shock. “…Me?”

“Exactly. You don’t feel the same way.”

I couldn’t cry. Not over her for the millionth time. So, instead, I turned tail and went down the stairs. And out the front door.

~~~

I tripped as I hopped off my bike. Hen’s father’s police car was parked in the front. I’d never been to Henry’s house before. Sure, the gang and I occasionally dropped him off first, but I’d never been inside. It was safe to say, though, that the house radiated negativity. It seemed so decrepit. It gave me the creeps.

I wasted no time, marching up to the front door, my purse hanging loosely off my shoulder. And then I knocked.

When my hand collided with the wood, I was surprised that the door creaked open eerily. I didn’t hear anything from inside, except for a vague static noise. I pushed it open. My heart wanted to jump out of my chest.

The sight I beheld was vile. Scarring. Traumatic.

Leaning over a dusty couch was a corpse. A middle-aged man hung off the side, fairly fresh blood seeping out of his neck. It dripped into a large crimson puddle on the floor. In the side of his neck, Henry’s pocket knife was deeply lodged. I could only see the back of the man’s head, but I didn’t need to see his expression to know that he was dead.

So, understandably, I screamed.

My knees were trembling and my vision blurred. Oh my god, Henry just killed his dad. Holy fuck. I collapsed to the floor, black dots consuming my sight. My hands grasped at the wood panels. My legs hurt and a splitting headache consumed me. I was crying, but not because of the officer. Because of Henry.

He killed a guy! What the hell would he do now? He’d go to prison, oh my god —

Warm, strong arms circled around my waist. I greedily took in Henry’s form, hugging back. My tears stained his tank top. He smelled rank. He was covered in blood. But I couldn’t find the strength to push him away.

“Henry,” I sobbed,” what have you done?”

“Th - there was a clown, and I don’t know how it happened. I just… I was outside and then suddenly I just - just found myself there and he was dead,” he replied shakily. “He fuckin’ deserved it. But I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do, Y/n, I love you too fuckin’ much to go to fuckin’ - fuckin’ prison!”

“H - Henry.” I breathed in and out. In and out. In and out. “We… we have to hide the body. I can’t - you can’t leave me. We have to… to clean it up.”

“But what the hell will we tell everyone?” He tilted my head up, and my stomach churned fro the blood rolling down the side of his face. “I fuckin’ love you, but what the fuck can we do about this?”

I pushed him away, disgusted by the blood staining my hands. I had to calm myself. I had to… help Henry. He was my boyfriend. And his father… he deserved it. Yes, he deserved it, so Hen didn’t deserve to rot in prison. I had to help him.

“I’ve seen enough horror movies. We need to - to cut up the body into smaller parts. And we can dump it to the bottom of the lake. And - and we get rid of the car. ew throw it into the swamp and shit,” I thought aloud. “When… when people show up and ask questions, we’ll tell people that when he attacked you while drunk, he just stormed off. He abandoned you. He took important shit and… and left you. He’s gone.”

Henry nodded, wide-eyed and clearly not sane. He nodded more and ore, until I finally grabbed his cheeks to stop him. He let out a choked sob, pushing his forehead against mine. “I fuckin’ love you. Promise… you won’t fuckin’ leave me after this.”

“I promise, Hen. Let’s… let’s get to work.”

We both stumbled to our feet, holding hands tightly. Henry pulled me into the kitchen. He got a large butcher knife while I showered the kitchen for bleach, gloves, and trash bags. I was surprised that there were such materials lying around. Thank god.

We went to the corpse, both of us staring at it dejectedly. I was glad that Henry was as new to the whole ‘covering up murder’ thing as I was. For a moment, I had thought that he was involved with Greta and Patrick’s disappearance.

Henry put on his gloves and trudged over to the lifeless body. He grabbed his legs and pulled him onto the ground. Without hesitation, he took out his pocket knife and brought the butcher knife down on his throat. A disturbing crunch echoed in the room.

He repeated the action until, suddenly, he pushed it to the side, and the head completely dislodged from his neck. I wanted to throw up so badly. I was glad Henry was doing the dirty work, because we both knew I was unable to even touch that disgusting thing.

I decided to find a bucket, wash cloth, and a mop. I was grateful that for a few minutes, I didn’t need to watch Henry dismember his father’s corpse. I returned to the living room with a bucket filled with a water-clean mixture.

Henry had sufficiently dismembered his upper body. Bone marrow mixed with the blood. More blood was seeping out from the body as Henry sliced him up further. We were both silent, unable to lighten the mood - for a good reason. I stepped around him and turned off the television, which was nothing but static. I wondered how long it had been going for.

Afterwards, I soaked the crimson-stained couch with bleach. After a few minutes of hard scrubbing, I got out the various stains minus the entire floor. Henry suddenly spoke,” What the fuck do we do now?”

I paused, thinking deeply. “Uh - I - well… it was a really fucked up movie that I’m using as a reference, so… Next they rolled up the flesh into tiny meatballs. But no way in hell are we doing this. We - we should put it all in a trash bag…. I don’t know what to do about the fucking teeth, but…”

“Okay. Okay, I fuckin’ got it. Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

He was clearly disgusted at his own work. He grabbed the limbs and started plopping them into a doubled-up trash bag. I cringed at each resounding plop. While Henry did that, taking up several trash bags, I started mopping up the blood. After a few sweeps of the mop, I had to change the water.

I rinsed and repeated several times.

At least half an hour later, the living room was spotless and smelled strongly of detergent and bleach. Henry and I stood next to each other, coated in dried blood. I felt completely numb. I assumed Henry did too, from the stoic yet fearful expression he’d maintained the past hour.

Even in our filthy states, our fingers intertwined tightly. Henry gave me a reassuring squeeze. “What… what fuckin’ now?” Henry grumbled, basting his gaze to the floor.

“We need to… to Febreeze this shit,” I answered breathlessly. “And - and strip. We’re absolutely filthy. We have to get rid of the clothes. But in a… different place. You get the Febreze, I’ll start dealing with the clothes. And - and you knew him best. Get a bag of his most important shit. Stuff he’d bring with him if he abandoned - no, when he abandoned you.”

Henry nodded obediently. “Yeah. Good fuckin’ thinking. I… I love you, Y/n. Don’t fuckin’ leave me after this.”

“Stop. Stop talking about that shit. We just committed murder together,” I sighed, shaking his hand away.

I started stripping down to my underwear. Henry mimicked my actions, and once we finished, I took his clothes. Sure, there was probably a way to not get rid of the clothes, but ew. I just covered up a murder. The last thing I wanted to do was wear remnants of today.

Henry disappeared into another room. I bleached the clothes and shoved them into a trash bag. I sighed, my gaze lingering on the three trash bags that accompanied it.

Henry came back a few minutes later with a a bottle of Febreeze and bags. An idea suddenly hit me. There were dozens upon dozens of beer bottles and packs around. Henry and I seemed to share the same idea. I took some of the bottles and threw them against the television and floor. Just so then there’d be evidence of an angry white bitch storming out on his kid.

Half-naked and numb, we stood there and took a breather. “I found his fuckin’… car keys.”

“Good. Let’s load up, I guess.”

~~~

I ruffled Henry’s hair, enjoying the feeling of his bare chest against mine. I was too tired to keep my eyes open. It was cold outside, so I constantly tried to pull the man closer. He always obliged to give me more affection, one of my favorite things about him. We almost felt normal.

But we weren’t. Henry had gone batshit crazy and I helped him cover up the murder of his father. If anyone saw us now, they’d think that we were a normal teenage couple that just finished having forest sex, but we weren’t. We were cuddling after a traumatizing afternoon of burying a body in the lake we used to go to constantly for a swim.

How had my life ended up this batshit crazy? My senior year was supposed to be normal. My last high school summer was supposed to be normal. I used to be normal. But all because of the Bowers gang, Henry in particular, I dedicated myself to a toxic relationship, was dating a psycho kid that killed his dad, and I now had a body count.

It was safe to say, normal teenagers didn’t have a body count, yet here we are.

“Fuckin’ thank you,” Henry mumbled into the crook of my neck. “I don’t know what I’d ever fuckin’ do without you. You’re the bitch I’m gonna marry.”

“You haven’t even asked,” I chuckled dryly.

“Don’t need to.”

“We just graduated. Calm your tits.”

“Yeah, and we’re fuckin’ free to do whatever we want now.”

“A little.”

“You don’t sound excited,” he huffed.

“Pardon me for being traumatized,” I defended. “We just dumped your dad into the lake.”

“…Yeah. We just gotta fuckin’ move on somehow. I’m fuckin’ moving with you. We can live off campus, I’ll work fuckin’ part-time.”

“Let’s not talk about this right now. Let’s just… cuddle.”

“Okay. I fuckin’ love you.”

#yandere #x reader #x y/n #yandere male #richie tozier #the losers club #pennywise #it stephen king #it movie #it chapter one #it 2017 #it x reader #it chapter two #yandere it #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #yandere bowers gang #yandere Henry bowers #self insert

[harrys-titties]

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

29K+

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

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

-masterlist-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yes, Y/N is understandably confused. 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But of course, Harry should have known better. 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeh, there was nothing for him to worry about. 

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

 "Who's Elle?"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hugs him. 

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

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

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

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

But Harry especially missed Elle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you say, Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers. 

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

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

"Who, Harry?" 

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

"Elle." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night H." 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Having trouble H?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have fun?” She whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh for fucks sake H.” 

“You’re so crude.” 

“We do not do that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No funny business dove, I promise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are the worst.” 

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

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

“That would be nice, thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

She was fucking beautiful. 

“Stop looking at me like that you…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tha’s it baby, get what you need.” 

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

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

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

“What do you need, hm? Tell me.” 

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

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

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

He kisses her temple and murmurs a quick, “good girl,” before dipping his hand completely into the front of her pants, still only teasing along the line of her underwear. 

Y/N’s not sure how much she can take. Every move, every touch is goading and light, clearly trying to provoke her, and as much as she loves it, she needs relief. She grabs at his arm that is currently so close to the place she needs him to be and tries to force it closer to her, harder against her, anything other than what he’s doing now. “Harry… c’mon, please,” she all but cries. 

He chuckles before slipping into her underwear, feeling her wet heat against his fingertips, she was already dripping for him before he’d even touched her. He presses her clit gently while he kisses against her neck, flicking his tongue against the ghost of the hickey he had given her earlier, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure. 

While he had stopped his teasing touches, it didn’t stop him from using his teasing words. 

“This the first time you’ve gotten so wet for me, pet?” She furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head side to side, attempting to hide her face into his neck. He feigns surprise, “no? Filthy girl. Ever touched yourself thinking about me?” She whines, picking up on his teasing, further burrowing her face away from him, trying to hide the very obvious flush that had risen to her cheeks. 

He laughs, nudging her head with his nose, trying to encourage her to show her face again. She mewls once more, the only indication she heard him was the bucking of her hips against his fingers, now inside of her and stroking against her g-spot. 

“Next time, just ask for my help instead,” he murmurs into her ear, biting at her earlobe. She hisses, attempting to press against him even harder, get even closer to him, although it was almost impossible, being pressed flush against each other with his fingers knuckle deep in her cunt. 

He licks against her jaw, feeling the strong bone under the tender flesh, the warmth of his breath blowing against the damp skin of her neck causes her to shiver, “can I taste you?” Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever nodded her head harder, her eyes rolling back into her head, merely thinking about Harry tonguing the sensitive skin between her legs. 

He continues to kiss down her neck, taking extra time to lick against the dip in her collarbones, revelling in the tangy taste of sweat invading his mouth. He sucks her nipples through her shirt, the material clearly wet and spit-soaked once he pulls away, the air surrounding them, making the outline of her areola obvious. 

He presses a few chaste kisses against the swell of her tummy, finally reaching where she needed him most. He slowly pulls her pants down her legs, trailing the hem with pecks against each inch of newly exposed skin. Grabbing each ankle, he pulls the cuffing over her feet, playfully biting at the bone on her ankle, causing a shriek and a giggle to erupt from her and a playful press against his cheek, imitating a kick to his jaw. 

He laughs, batting her foot away from his face. “Oi don’t damage the money-maker!” 

 Y/N bursts out laughing, shaking her head. He was an idiot, but she loved that they can switch between moods so quickly. While she’s still laughing, he’s pushing her legs apart, his hand nearly fitting over the whole surface of her inner thigh. “C’mon love, spread your legs fo’ me.” 

And with that, Y/N stops laughing. 

While continuing to push against her leg, he presses an open mouth kiss against the front of her underwear, already able to taste the heady flavour. Harry can’t help but let out a deep groan, every nerve ending set alight at his mouth finally around her cunt. The tip of Y/N’s tongue tingles with a beg for him to take off her underwear, but Harry acts on his own accord, almost ripping the garment off in his haste. 

If Harry thought the taste of her was mouthwatering through the cotton, the taste of her without it was even better. 

He had meant to tease her, he really had, but he can’t help but lick straight into her weeping hole, moaning at the taste and the smooth feeling of her smeared against his mouth. Spreading her lips with his pointer and ring finger, Harry continues to explore, flicking his tongue against the swollen bud underneath her pubic bone, causing a loud moan to erupt from her mouth. 

“Holy fuck Harry! Feels so good.” 

Harry tucks two of his fingers into her while sucking at her clit, Y/N tugging at his curls harshly in response. 

It feels so good, but Y/N needs more. The feeling of Harry’s fingers is making her skin tingle, and her legs shake, but she wants nothing more than to be stretched out by him. She wants him to give her everything, push into her slowly, stretch her pussy, and finally feel his cum spurting into her. 

So she pulls him up, one hand still intertwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder, scratching and pulling as a hint to bring his mouth to hers. At first, he’s hesitant, grumbling slightly in annoyance, not wanting to part from her, “Harry please, want to kiss you.” 

He gives her one more harsh suck, before sliding back up her body, where Y/N is waiting with her mouth open and her eyes on him. Harry smirks, slipping the two fingers that had just been inside of her against her tongue, feeling more blood rushing between his legs at the feeling of her licking and sucking them as if it were his cock. 

She bites gently, causing a hiss to escape from his mouth as he drags them back out slowly, quickly replacing his fingers with his lips, licking into her mouth.

The tangy taste of her own cum slips past her tastebuds again, and Y/N had never been one to find it hot, but with the salty flavour transferring from Harry’s fingers and tongue, she’d never been more attracted to her own taste. 

Y/N desperately wants to mix his cum with hers, wants to swallow around his cock and feel the intoxicating mixture slide down her throat, “I wanna taste you now.” 

He breathes through his nose heavily and shakes his head, “just want to feel you. ‘M not gonna last long if you suck me off as well.” Y/N whines, but by the longing look Harry gives her pouting lips, it seems he’s not entirely content with his decision either. 

He reaches over her shoulder, digging into the set of drawers next to the bed, giving Y/N the perfect view of his broad chest, littered with tattoos. He looks so tan, his muscles rippling under the smooth skin, and she wants nothing more than to litter it with love bites and scratches. She teasingly licks at his nipple, and he startles, an uncharacteristic giggle leaving his lips as he comes back to lie in front of her, in his hand a condom. 

Suddenly his eyes clear, the lust caused fog fading, “you still okay with this? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

Her heart swells, how was it possible that this Adonis-like man was also so sweet? There was nothing she wanted more than to be with Harry in every way and right now, she needed him inside of her, “yes Harry. Do you?” 

He scoffs some, “fuck yes,” he mumbles his next statement as he tucks his head under her jaw, putting the condom on at the same time, “feel like my dicks gonna fall off, I’m that hard.” 

She laughs, wrapping her arms around him, she’d never felt so happy and complete, so overwhelmed. Every positive emotion was combining within her, creating a whirlwind of passion and love, causing each feeling to increase tenfold. 

The head of Harry’s cock slips through her folds, sending a zap of pleasure through her each time it nudges her clit, and he smirks each time she twitches, unconsciously arching up towards him. “Y’ ready?” 

She nods, moving her hips closer, making her own attempt to be filled by him. 

Slowly, Harry enters her, each inch causing the delicious burn from him stretching her walls increasing. Y/N almost chokes on her own moans, can hardly stand how good he feels or the way her muscles spasm attempting to adjust to the intrusion. It feels as if each ridge and curve was being simulated, each nerve ending firing again and making her head feel dizzy. 

Harry almost looks like he’s in pain with his eyes shut so tightly, Y/N can see the wrinkles surrounding them. His mouth is parted with sharp breaths entering and leaving his mouth, his head hung back, and his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. 

“Holy fuck. You feel so fucking good.” 

At the sound of his voice, Y/N clenches, making Harry cry out. “Move H. Fuck me, please.” 

He begins slowly, pulling out before slamming back into her, reaching so far Y/N can feel him in her tummy. 

He intertwines their fingers and holds them against the pillow her head rests on. She squeezes them, and he leans his forehead against hers, the tender action contradicting the harsh snaps of his hips. “How do you feel so good?” He whimpers. She nudges his chin with her nose, pushing his lips closer to hers, each thrust smearing them closer together. 

“You’re so good to me H,” she whispers back as she wraps one of her hands behind his head, his neck in the crook of her elbow. Using leverage from her other hand against the bed, she pushes her hips upwards, creating double the amount of friction between them. The actions causing both of them to cry out, Harry seeming to be pushed impossibly further inside of her, the head of him nudging against her cervix. 

“Fuck that’s it. Look at you, usin’ me to get yourself off.”

While the new angle felt so good, it was quickly tiring. Harry could see Y/N fatiguing after a few minutes, knowing the burn in her legs would be almost unbearable at this point. So he tucks his arms under her outstretched ones, laying his torso against hers and tucking his head into her neck, kissing lightly as he completely slows down his movements. He stops the whine that leaves her throat with a quick, “shh, it’s okay. Just wanna take my time with you, never want this to end.” 

While running her hand through his curls and holding the back of his neck closer to her chest, she replies, “me either baby.” 

They spend some time like this, just enjoying each other’s company and the feel of being so close to one another. Y/N breathes deeply, the smell of sex in the room mixing with Harry’s cologne, making her relax and let out a contented sigh. She had never felt more full and so satisfied, with a hint of an orgasm sparking between her hip bones, the dull ember just waiting to be fully ignited by his movements. 

As if sensing this, he speeds up once again. The burn that stretches through her legs as Harry pulls them over his shoulders, mixes with the pleasure of his thrusts, the head of his cock nudging her g-spot with each deep drive of his hips. 

Y/N cries out, grabbing at his shoulders, her nails unintentionally digging into the skin, creating small red crescents along the tense muscles connecting his neck to his scapula. 

He just feels so good. Every movement of his hips, each inhale and exhale, each brush of their lips and dig of his fingers brings Y/N even closer to her orgasm. She can’t tell if Harry plans each of these things with her pleasure in regard or if it’s the chemistry between them that’s causing every sensation to be felt tenfold. All she knows is that she would happily lie under Harry for the rest of her life if it meant she always felt this weightless. 

Harry’s balls make a sharp ‘thwack’ against her ass each time he thrusts, the sound of her arousal echoing through the room, in such a crude fashion, Y/N almost has time to feel embarrassed. On the other hand, Harry revels in the sound, loves the fact he can see, hear, touch every part of her arousal, surrounding them in their own cocoon of sex and pleasure. 

“C’mon Y/N, please. Cum on my cock.” While Y/N had already been feeling the building pressure of her impending orgasm, Harry’s words only work to bring it faster. “Please Y/N,” she bucks up against him, chasing the feeling of his pubic bone rubbing against her already sensitive clit. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you?” She whines a response, the noise high pitched and hoarse. Harry sees Y/N’s desperate search for her finish, and brings two fingers down, rubbing at her clit. 

“Fuck, yes, Harry!” Y/N can’t describe how overwhelmed she is with pleasure and feeling. Her face feels flushed and sticky with sweat, her legs are slightly cramped from her constant strain to get closer to Harry and his cock buried in her cunt, and when Harry brings one of his ring adorned hands to wrap comfortably around her neck, suddenly Y/N feels weightless. She feels the burst of pleasure from between her legs, a zip running up her spine, leaving her limbs with a tingle. 

Harry hears her cum before he sees it, the moans dripping from her mouth, her eyes widening before she’s squeezing them tightly together. Harry knew he would play that exact moment on replay for the rest of his fucking life. 

He watches as she brings her hand up to his that’s still spread around her neck, and Harry almost can’t stand it when he feels her squeezing it tighter, begging for Harry to give her more. If he wasn’t so close to cumming, Harry might’ve teased her, loosened his grip on purpose to watch her squirm and whine, whisper in her ear how hot it was to see how desperate she was for Harry to simply touch her, alas he’s too close. Can barely form a coherent thought, let alone tease her. So instead he appeases her, tightens his grips and begins to pound into her harder, searching for his own release.

Finally, it comes, Harry releasing a deep groan, grabbing onto the pillow next to her head, letting out a deep moan. Both of them can feel each rope of cum, as Y/N’s own orgasm works to milk each drop from him. 

His movements slowly come to a stop, leaving him tucked inside of her as his length softens. Wrapping his arms around her once again, he revels in the warmth and comfort she brings, his lips pressing against hers gently. “Fuckin’ hell.” 

Y/N giggles and nods in agreement. How had they spent so long fighting when this was the result of them getting along. She still feels Harry shifting above her, the aftershocks of her orgasm, creating an increase in sensitivity, each movement from the handsome boy above her sending a jolt through her whole body. 

“Fuck you’re still squeezin’ me pet.” She hugs into him tighter as yet another twitch is brought from his prick still buried deep within her, “mhm, still sensitive but you feel so good.” 

He kisses her soft temple, “lucky for you, in about fifteen minutes, we can go again.” Y/N scoffs, her head leaving the crook of his neck to give him a dirty look only to be met with his deep smirk. His famous dimples indented next to his smile, as he giggles and brushes his nose against the swell of her cheek. 

“You really are…” his giggle is joined by her own. 

“A lecher,” they finish together. 

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles writing #writing #thank god this is finally finished #holy shit #let me know what you think #i love u #harries

[wicked-mind]

Promises

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Bucky and Steve for a while and it’s been great. Until they start to get reckless on missions, expecting you to just heal them with your healing ability when they get back. What they weren’t expecting is for you to lose your shit about it.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mentions of hospital type stuff.

Note: This was an anonymous request (: Thank you so much for sending it in and I hope you like it!

All Writings Masterlist

Any and all likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated! I love that shit (:

*gifs not mine

Dating two super soldiers was a little problematic at first. It took the Avengers less time to get used to the idea than it did for the public though. There were countless news articles about you being manipulative, wrapping them around your fingers for your own gain. But just as quickly as that gossip started, it faded away also when pictures were released how happy the three of you were together. It was odd, sure, but you, Steve, and Bucky loved each other more than anything in the world. The three of you even were gifted an apartment in the facility so everybody else didn’t have to hear the noises that came from one of your three bedrooms.

Steve was what you would classify as the gentle but hard headed one. He always made sure to touch you so gently and keep his voice from being raised or going into captain mode around you. He loved to press his nose to yours, staring into your eyes with a smile as he ran his fingers through your hair and whispered sweet things to you but once he made up his mind about something there was no deterring him. Bucky was a little different. He was more possessive of you, touching you and pulling you into his body whenever he could like your touch was the only thing keeping him alive. He was the same way with Steve though, seeming to need the touch from his two lovers to survive. You figured it was because of all his time with Hydra that he was touch starved and possessive of having something, two someones, he could call his again.

The Avengers kept your around for another reason, however. You had the ability to heal wounds of those you touched which came in useful when someone on the team came back injured and needed some sort of quick fix and was even more useful when someone happened to be come back with life threatening wounds. At first you were happy to help, healing wounds of whoever came in but then it started to eat away at you. Steve and Bucky were becoming more and more reckless with every mission they went on like they didn’t care if they came back mortally wounded knowing you’d be there to heal them back up. It had begun to eat at you, watching them leave for a mission and not knowing if they would make it back in time for you to save them.

This time was no different. You tried to tell them to be safe before they left and they both smiled and gave you kisses saying they would. They almost caught you murmuring ‘liars’ under your voice but seemed to let it go. Steve and Bucky had gone on a mission with Natasha and Clint earlier in the week and about twenty minutes ago Natasha called to let you know to be ready in the medical bay. You had your arms folded, chewing on your bottom lip. As awful as it sounded, you hoped it was Clint that needed help and not your boys again. But of course, it wasn’t Clint. Steve and Bucky were rolled into the medical bay by Natasha and Clint on gurneys and you immediately jumped into action, “What happened?” You ask as you looked over Bucky. He had some deep cuts to his face and back of his head, he was fully unconscious and unresponsive when you pinched his arm meaning he was probably in a coma.

“Well that one decided it’d be a good idea to run into a collapsing building after the enemy.” Natasha said as she nodded over to Bucky, “Had to dig him out.”

“And Steve?” You ask as you move to look at Steve. He was unconscious as well and his suite had a large splotch of blood in the center of his chest. You quickly put the heart monitor on his finger to see his heart rate slowing.

“That one is the reason the building collapsed in the first place. He decided to take on the whole squad of goons, setting off an explosive and getting hit with the shrapnel.”

You were about to open your mouth to call them both idiots when Steve’s heart monitor started flatlining, “Dammit!” You yell, ripping his suite open and placing your hands on the wounds. They slowly healed but his heart wouldn’t start beating again. You went into panic mode, needing to be closer to his heart to heal it. You grab the closet scalpel and quickly opened up his chest, sliding your small hand into his chest cavity until you were lightly massaging his heart and healing it with your ability. You watched the heart monitor for any sign of beats for two minutes until finally it started a steady rhythm. You pulled your now bloody hand out of his chest cavity, tracing along the open wound you made until it healed. You could swear you could feel steam coming out of your ears at how angry you were at your two super soldiers for being the biggest, most reckless idiots in the world. Once Steve was taken care of, you go over to Bucky and start healing the wounds on his body before placing both hands on the sides of his head, healing the concussion and brain bleed that was putting him in a coma.

Once you were finished, you pinched him again and he flinched, his eyes opening to look up at you and a small smile creeping across his lips a the sight of you, “Hey, pretty girl.” He said horsely out to you.

You held up your hand to cut him off, stepping away from him, “Save it, Barnes.” You hiss out, watching him flinch a little as you used his last name. You never did that except when you were fuming with anger, “I’m going to go get cleaned up now. When he wakes up,” You said pointing over to Steve, “You can let him know you two will be staying on the couch.”

“But we don’t fit on the couch.” Bucky pouted, sitting up as he watched you head towards the exit of the medical bay, “Wait, baby!”

You turn and look at him, glaring into those beautiful blue eyes you loved so much, “Don’t! I don’t give a fuck if you two don’t fit on the couch. Figure it out!” You yell at him, tears stinging your eyes before you turn and leave the room.

Bucky sat there with a shocked expression on his face before turning to look at Natasha and Clint who were looking anywhere else like they were trying to disappear from the conversation. Bucky was about to ask the pair what happened when Steve groaned awake muttering something about watching your language. Bucky was up in an instant and at Steve’s side, grabbing onto his hand and kissing his knuckles, “You alright, Stevie?”

Steve blinks awake and nods with a small groan, “Yeah, all good, Buck.” He said, reaching his other hand to rub the side of his head before looking around the medical bay for you, “Where’s Y/N?” He asks.

Bucky sighs and drops his head, “I think she’s mad at us. She said we have to sleep on the couch.” He muttered out.

“What?!” Steve said, sitting up instantly, “Why? What did we do?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Natasha said interjecting, “Maybe it’s the fact that you,” She points to Steve, “Decided to be the trigger for an explosion causing you to literally die for a few minutes in front of her. Or you,” She points to Bucky, “Deciding to follow into the collapsing building causing you to go into a coma. I mean, do you guys really not care anymore about safety because your girlfriend happens to be a healer? She can’t heal you if your dead.” Natasha turns on her heels to start walking out of the medical bay with Clint beside her, “You’re lucky she loves you two idiots and is giving you the couch. I would leave you two out in the rain.”

After showering and changing their clothes to look presentable to their pissed off girlfriend, Bucky and Steve walked over to the closed bedroom door. They could hear her inside watching something on the TV loudly to try and cover her cries but it wasn’t enough to drown them out from the super soldiers’ hearing. Steve was the first to try, knocking gently on the door, “Sweetheart, can we talk?”

“No. Couch.” You reply softly, knowing they could hear you. You pulled the blankets around you more, the only light flickering from the TV as it played some dumb love reality show that wasn’t exactly helping your situation.

Bucky nudges Steve out of the way and tries the doorknob but the door was locked and he let out a sigh, “Baby, I know we made you mad but we want to talk about it. We don’t fit on the couch.”

“Fine.” You groan, throwing the blanket off of you and walking over to the door, unlocking the knob and opening it to see them both towering over you at the entrance of the door. Your eyes flickered between them before you pushed past them headed to the kitchen to grab yourself a water bottle. The two muscular men followed you like lost puppies, hot on your heels as they waited for you to say something. You took a long drink from the water bottle you procured from the fridge, leaning against the counter and looking at the two.

Steve looked over at Bucky, slowly reaching out and lacing his fingers through his to have some sort of comfort from your glares. He slowly looked back over to you, “Honey, I know you’re mad that we were reckless this mission but we will be more careful and-“

You held up a hand to cut him off, licking your lips before you spoke, “Stop.” You told him, “I’ve heard this before plenty of times. ‘Oh we won’t be reckless.’ ‘Oh don’t worry we are super soldiers’ ‘You’re here to heal us every time.’ Well I am sick of it. You have no idea what it’s like to watch the loves of your lives literally be brought back from death by your own hand!” You yell, your voice getting louder and tears stinging your eyes again, “You were dead Steve! I held your unbeating heart in my hand!” You turn your gaze to Bucky, “And you! You decide to go along with Captain Reckless over here, not even telling him that maybe it’s a bad idea. That maybe setting off an explosion that would burry you both is a bad idea.” You shook your head, taking a deep breath in attempts to calm your voice.

Bucky gripped onto Steve’s hand tighter at your words that felt like venom in his veins, “We were doing our jobs, Y/N. We couldn’t let them get away we had to at least try to-“

“Stop. Talking.” You hiss out to the dark haired super soldier who immediately shut his mouth and had this look on his face like a scolded child, “You two promised me forever. You two told me you love me. You two told me you’d be here with me forever.” You pause, tears running down your cheeks and you stepped away when they took a step forward to comfort you as they always did, “You shouldn’t have promised me any of that. You shouldn’t have promised me forever if you two are so hell bent on dying.”

Steve and Bucky stood there in shock at your words. Neither of them have thought about the toll this had taken on you. They stared at you for a moment before watching you escape back to the bedroom. It wasn’t until the door slammed and locked that the two soldiers jumped out of their trance. Bucky folded first, his hands coming up to cover his face as his shoulders shook from the crying. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky slowly, comforting him with soft sweet words. They didn’t fight you about sleeping on the couch that night, even though it was pretty much a shoving war of who could get the comfiest on the couch that was way too small for both of their six foot tall muscular bodies. It ended up with both of them just sleeping on the floor, curled up next to each other. But it felt wrong for both of them. Something was missing from their sleeping pile and they knew exactly what it was. You.

The next morning you laid in the large bed alone in the middle, staring at the ceiling as you listened for any sounds coming from your super soldiers outside the bedroom. When it was silent for about twenty minutes, you slowly walked out of the bedroom expecting to see them hovering outside the door waiting for you but they weren’t there. You let out a small sigh of relief and started your day. You showered, had some breakfast, brushed your teeth, and got dressed before heading to the medical bay to go over your records. Luckily, Steve and Bucky seemed to be keeping their distance from you because you hadn’t seen them all day while you were working. You halfway wondered if they just went on another mission without saying goodbye this time but you knew better and so did they. You three never parted without saying goodbye and I love you to each other. It wasn’t until you wondered back up to your apartment in the facility that you stopped in your tracks after opening the door. There the two were, dressed in nice button down shirts and each holding bouquets of your favorite flowers. You bit your bottom lip as the door shut behind you with a soft click, staring at the two before your eyes wondered around the room. The lighting was dimmed and you could see the table set for three with plates of your favorite dinner on them and one of Bucky’s apple pies he had learned to make from his ma when he was younger. It was one of your favorites and they both knew it always made you smile and press your lips together as you let out a soft mmm sound that seemed to drive them both feral. Your eyes flickered back to the two as Bucky started to speak.

“Baby, we are very sorry for not thinking about how this affects you and taking your ability for granted.” Bucky said softly to you, walking forward and passing you the bouquet of flowers to you before sneaking his arm around your waist and leaving a soft kiss to your left temple.

Steve walked forward as well, giving you his bouquet to you before reaching a hand up to touch your cheek with his warm palm, “We love you so much, sweetheart. We never wanted to hurt you like this and we are so very, deeply, sorry.” He kisses your forehead gently before pulling away to look into your eyes with his honest ones, “We’re taking some time away from missions, as long as we need to prove that we do want you forever. When we made those promises to you, we meant it with every fiber of our being. You complete us, sweetheart. We don’t know what we would do without you.”

You chewed on your bottom lip incessantly at their words, knowing it would be raw and puffy by the time you released it from your teeth. Once you did you sighed, you couldn’t stay mad at them. Not when they looked so good and made amends to you to keep the promises they made to you at the beginning of the relationship. You nod slowly, “Fine. I forgive you two idiots as long as you both promise to not be reckless. Come back to me in one piece, alive and not mortally wounded. Deal?” You watched them both nod instantly with streams of yes leaving their lips before moving past them to set the flowers down in the vases they had already prepared with water. When you turned to face them, there they were standing in front of you.

Bucky reached out and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest in a tight hug as if he hadn’t hugged you in years, “I love you, baby.” He whispers to you.

Steve moved behind you, wrapping his arms around Bucky in front of you to sandwich you between them in the tightest hug you’ve felt in a while, “I love both of you.” He says with a smile, kissing the top of your head before kissing the top of Bucky’s as well.

“I love you idiots, too.” You squeak out between their tight hug, “But I think I’m losing air and I want some pie.”

Bucky sighs, not wanting the hug to end, “Fine. But I’m spoon feeding it to you.” He said down to you with a smile as Steve releases the both of you and Bucky steps back away.

Steve grins, “And I’ll spoon feed you.” He said to Bucky.

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[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Hearth

(dabi) t.todoroki / reader

genre: prohero!touya, fluff

warning(s)!!: cursing ofc, dabi's atittude/snark, he's still dabi- just not a villain lol, he doesn't have his burns just his piercings, bloody piercings/lip

synposis: touya comes home with a bloody lip and three missing nose piercings, you get the honor of cleaning him up and getting him to bed for a well-deserved rest

w.count: 2.4k (probably the shortest thing i've written in years and no that's not a joke)

-x-x-x-

“Shit, that stings,” Touya hissed to himself as he felt around the bloody and bruised right nostril of his nose where three small piercings should have been. He hissed as he quickly took his fingers away from the small holes missing their jewelry. “I can’t wear nothing around here, damn.”

The commotion around him was hardly his focus when his nose stung so much, not even his split lip bothered him when he licked over it- too focused on his poor nose. It was pitiful really, getting into a scrap with a low-level thug trying to run off with a duffel full of loose bills from some random convenient store. He was fine overall, not being too unfamiliar with fistfights without having to use his quirk, but the thug sure did a number on him when he grabbed at his face- probably aiming to yank on his hair, but falling short- and somehow ripping all three of his studs from his nose.

Blood dripped in small drops off the side of his nostril and from inside his nose, creating a slow stream to his top lip which entered his mouth- filling it with the metallic taste of his blood. His pierced tongue’s metal bar tasted nothing like the iron of blood and he shook his head in distaste.

He sniffed and palmed gently at his minor wound before the cops showed up and wrapped up the situation. They offered to have his injuries cleaned up at the station- but he was so close to being finished with patrol and heading back home he didn’t bother. It wasn’t like he was in any sort of critical pain, he just wanted to rip his nose off.

His patrolling went smoothly after that, the small scuffle being the highlight of his evening and as he walked, bored back to the agency he was working at with his father (begrudgingly), he changed and slung his duffel with his gear and suit inside over his shoulder. He’d leave all this stuff in the changing room locker with his name on it and a secure lock- but you had insisted he bring it home tonight so it all could be tuned up and cleaned properly. You were a stickler about that.

Touya damn near broke into a run, mad-dashing it to the door, when he heard his father behind him call out his name when he was so, so close to the agency doors. As far as he was concerned, he was done for the day.

D o n e.

Endeavor could suck it.

He wasn’t sure how far he ran before he deemed it safe enough to slow his strides, but then the chills set it. He wasn’t cold- even if it was the middle of winter- all thanks to the cold resistance he inherited from his mother winter wasn't really ever that cold to him. If anything the sweater and joggers he wore were almost too warm with his swift escape from work.

He stopped at the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic lights to signal he could safely cross the road and have the right to sue if someone were to hit him, and looked up at the grey clouds. It looked like it was due to snow again and he chuckled to himself at mentally picturing you shiver just at the mere thought of more snow. Lowing his chin back down to look ahead, his pace quickened, already more than ready to be home.

“Hey, babe! I’m back!” Touya called into the house. The difference in temperature made him shiver- even if again, he wasn’t truly cold in the first place. Heeling off his shoes and setting them on the shoe rack, he walked inside.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You called back. He chuckled to himself as he walked into the living room first, dropping off his hero-filled duffle on the couch, and then swiveled on his heel to head into the kitchen. As he passed under the doorway, he grabbed the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up over his head and completely off as it rested on his forearms- shaking out his white hair.

You looked over your shoulder at the movement and immediately went back to whatever it was you were doing. Shaking your head in small shakes with a quiet sigh.

“Do you really need to undress in the kitchen?”

“What?” He smirked, tossing the sweater on a barstool as he basically pranced his way to your side, slinging one arm around your waist loosely with the other coming to mess with the soapy water you were currently washing dishes in. He picked up a finger-load of suds and flicked them at you, making you try and crush his toes under your heels- to which you failed. “It’s hot in here.”

“That is probably the lamest excuse you've ever used to strip,” you teased as you kept doing your thing. Looking around the counter, he saw take-out containers. Before he could question them, you started talking again. “I really didn’t want to cook today, so I ordered in. I hope that's fine.” Touya shrugged.

He wouldn't want to come home after a day of work and cook either, so it worked for him.

Detaching from you, he danced over to the containers he knew were his and took them to the island where he slid into the barstool his sweater was on and sat down on it. As you finished up, you turned to finally take a proper look at your boyfriend after his day. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes narrowed.

Was that dried blood under his nose? And was his lip split?

“Touya?”

“Whuat,” he muttered with a trail of noodles hanging from his lips between chopsticks, muffling his voice. Ever the mannerless fool.

“Do we wanna talk about the blood on your face?”

He swallowed his bite as he started scrapping around for more noodles and fewer vegetables in his container. “No, not really.”

You rolled your eyes as you left the kitchen and him to his food. Digging around in the bathroom, you tossed a few things in a small basket and went back to the kitchen where he had successfully separated all his greens from his food and set them aside. You sat on the stool next to him as he finished.

“You know it’s not good for you if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. I ain’t eatin’ ‘em.” You spun to face him as you grabbed his knee and spun his stool to face you in turn. In your basket of bathroom items were things to clean up his face.

You took his chin in your hand and twisted his jaw back and forth to look for any other injuries. “I ain’t all that banged up. Just this,” he told you with a huff. Looking at his chest and shoulders and stomach- it seemed he was telling the truth. There were no other injuries.

You would hate to see the poor guy he got into it with if all Touya had was a split lip and... all three missing piercings? You hadn't actually noticed his piercings were completely gone.

“How in the world did you lose your piercings?”

“Some prick tore them out. Got pretty into it with ‘em over it.”

“Of course you did,” you rolled your eyes again as you emptied your basket and grabbed a cotton ball between the prongs of a pair of tweezers, and coated it in saline. “Look down,” you told him as his chin dipped to your instruction and you began to clean his piercing holes. You saw his lips twitch in a silent hiss as you cleaned them as gently as possible.

Touya didn’t move from your touch at all aside from a wince here or there. When you pulled back to clean the blood on his lip and skin, he kept as still as he could as he just looked down at you. Watching you work with your eyes focused and brows pulled in concentration always made him want to laugh at how cute you looked. You were a wonder to him.

A wonder on how he managed to snag you as his own.

When you finished, you were throwing your stuff back into the basket to take back into the bathroom when you felt a weight on your shoulder. Glancing without moving your head, you caught in the corner of your vision Touya’s nest of white hair brushing your cheek and chin. His forehead rested on your shoulder as you relaxed, your boney shoulder couldn’t be comfortable to lay on.

“You’ll want to leave any new piercing out of your nose for a bit.”

“Hmm,” he gave you a small hum, but you weren’t sure if he actually heard you or was just responding to respond. He had a bad habit of hearing but not exactly listening.

Moving your head as slowly as possible to not disturb whatever moment he was trying to create with you, you saw the digital numbers on the stove showing close to midnight. While it was rare to get a quiet and soft moment with Touya, you knew he couldn’t sit with his ass on a barstool and his head on your shoulder all night. He had to shower and get changed for bed where he can sleep on a comfortable mattress.

You rotated your arm causing his forehead to push further into you, sliding to where it rested against your neck, and his cheek pushed into your shoulder instead. You reached around and rubbed his back to which he hummed at- pleased with the touch. His skin was always so warm, it almost made you envious with each shiver you would get from the chilled winter air.

“Touya,” you softly called to not drill a nail into the peace of the kitchen. He said nothing. He didn’t even hum at you, but you knew he was listening. “We have to get up. You need a shower and sleep.”

“Can’t we stay like this a while longer?” You almost gave in but looked at the clock again. As far as you knew, he had to go back to work tomorrow so he needed to get into bed asap. It pulled at your heart, but you couldn't let him stay up any later than necessary.

“No, we can’t,” you let him down easily with a soft voice and with your hand still trailing up and down along his spine. “Come on,” you shrug, “up.”

He groaned as he sat up and slid from his stool, you doing the same as you grabbed your basket of things to put back in the bathroom. Touya followed you as he rubbed at his neck and silently let out a yawn he tried hiding from you just so he couldn’t avoid admitting you were right and that he needed to go to sleep.

As you were putting things back where they belonged, Dabi had opened the door of the wide, standing, glass shower and turned the water on- waiting for the temperature to be perfect. He looked over his shoulder, seeing you putting back the saline behind the mirror in the medicine cabinet. He took the chance when the mirror was away from him and you to sneak up behind you, the running shower water masking his footsteps.

He slowly reached around your head, shutting the cabinet as the mirror swung back to face you, Touya behind you. He dropped his arm over your shoulder and lowered his head to kiss the back of yours, his other arm wrapping lazily over your chest.

“Shower with me,” he cooed, dying his voice in honey to get you to join him without a fight. When you agreed, the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face made you want to pull on his bottom lip and reopen the split in it or maybe force open his mouth and rip out the bar in his tongue.

He always got what he wanted and it was so not fair.

After promising no funny business in the shower, getting out, drying off, and getting ready for bed, Touya was insistent that the thermostat be turned down to 68F which was absolutely not going to happen. That was way too cold for the middle of the night in the middle of winter! He may be a walking space heater, but you weren’t.

Except, when you crawled into bed, you puffed and pouted because of course he always got his way. The temperature in the dark house was a chilly 68F and you were bundled in blankets- sulking.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” he laughed as he yanked the blanket that was tucked around you away to slither his way beside you instead. As he tangled his legs with yours he was immediately pulling you closer to him by the back of your knees. One of his arms under your head to curl his wrist inward to scratch the back of your head and the other around your side to rub your back. You suddenly understood.

He just wanted to lay as close as possible to you and not verbally say it. You tried containing your small laughter at his attempt at being coy.

“What?” He groaned as he shut his eyes, trying to get sleep to come to him. You dug your face into his neck, which he happily accepted as he pushed his cheek against your forehead in return.

“Nothing,” you told him.

“Just go to sleep.”

When the next morning rolled around and Touya’s phone had begun to ring for the fourth time, you had pried his arm off you and looked over his shoulder. The screen was showing his father calling him and as you rubbed your eyes and reached over to answer it for him- since he slept like a log- your wrist was caught and you were shoved back down into his chest.

Touya, who had been awake for some time now, was well aware he was exceptionally late to the agency and no he was in no rush to get there any time soon. The old man can call all he wants- he wasn’t going in just yet. There was a reason the old man was the only member of his family to not know his address.

Endeavor can still suck it.

-x-x-x-

a/n: for some reason the image of prohero touya coming home to just coze with his partner after another day just popped in my brain and has been relentlessly curb-stomping me into an early grave

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #touya x reader #dabi fluff #bnha #boku no hero academia #dabi au #prohero dabi #prohero touya #au #bnha au #my hero academia #touya fluff

[spunkpunx]

Say You Love Me - Jimmy Darling

Plot: Reader is heartbroken when she hears Jimmy has lost his hands, but when they're replaced he decides to make up for lost time

Word count: 3105

Warnings: Smut, Smoking, Mild violence

The words hit me like a ton of bricks when Dell brought the news. Jimmy's hands were gone. My Jimmy's hands were gone. Taken. That no good piece of shit Richard Spencer and his lies. I couldn't believe Elsa had fallen for his bollocks, but I supposed that was his game. The rest of the freaks stood in shock.

"Oh no, not Jimmy!" Ima cried over dramatically. I felt my blood boil. My skin crawled as she wailed. I felt my ears burn up with my rage. She'd been here not five minutes and here she was, caterwauling over what they had done to him. I couldn't out loud admit what I felt about Jimmy, but I sure as hell could let it be known how I felt about her. I ran at her and swung one hard punch to the side of her head. The force did not knock her over, but the shock certainly did. 

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I spat out the words repeatedly as I continued to hit her face and chest once she had fallen. I felt my eyes prick as I screamed at her, before Paul and Eve pulled me away. The second the anger cleared I collapsed in tears. Penny came over to me as Eve followed Dell out the tent. She held me tight as I sobbed into her chest. Ima was taken out the tent, bloodied and bruised and sniveling. I lifted my head only to spit in her direction.

"Shh, shh," Penny cooed, stroking my hair. 

"What have they done to him?" I whimpered, my voice coming out far more feeble and cracked then I had ever heard it. "How's he going to survive in there without his hands?"

"I don't know," Penny told me, honestly. "I'm sure he'll find a way."

She took me back to my caravan and I poured myself a drink. I pulled an ashtray out the cupboard and lit a cigarette.

"You don't have to watch over me Penny. I'm sure you probably best go check on your man."

"I don't want to leave you like this," she admitted, sat delicately on the edge of my bed. She was still so beautiful, despite the lizard tattoo, and so kind as well. I couldn't bear to be around anyone at the minute though.

"I'll be fine," I told her softly, but when she didn't move I snapped at her. "Piss off! I don't want you here!" I hadn't meant to be so harsh, but she gathered herself up and left. I knocked back my drink in one. It burned my eyes and stung my throat but I hoped for my own sake it would help me sleep.

I went through more alcohol and more cigarettes. My ashtray overflowed. My head was spinning as I reached toward the bottom of the bottle. With my head heavy I fell over into my bed and pulled the covers round myself, only bothering to clumsily remove my shoes before shutting my eyes tight and trying to forget my thoughts. I lay there, my mind playing a reel of horrors of what could have happened to Jimmy. I pictured him beaten in a jail cell, battered to death like Meep was, or sat in despair at his own situation. I knew he couldn't have killed those women, even if he didn't, because he was here in this caravan when it happened. I knotted my fingers into my hair, reeling drunk. I was just as bad as he had been. 

I eventually passed out, but kept waking, sweaty and restless after nightmares. At one point my stomach turned and I chugged up my guts off the side of my bed. I rolled back over after that and caught half an hours rest before I woke again. The night went on like that until the sun rose and Eve came in to get me up. 

"Oh sweetheart," she muttered upon seeing my sorry state. She delicately picked her way to the bed past the vomit and brought me out of bed to go sit on the seat I had. I blubbered pathetically while she tossed a towel over my mess and brought me a glass of water. I was still slightly drunk, but tried to be as co-operative as possible. Eve sat next to me, pulling me in for a hug while I continued to feel like a maudlin burden on her. She took me over to have breakfast with the others, and I hiccuped my way through some bread and butter, as everyone threw pitiful stares my way. I began to sober up. 

"I'm sorry, Eve. I'm sorry I'm so useless."

"Don't be silly, come with me," she directed, taking my hand and leading me away from the show ground. As we walked further away I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"It's awful nice of you to try cheer me up but I'd rather not go anywhere," I told Eve, following her through the undergrowth. We passed the spot where Ethel had ended her life, which brought back more memories of how Jimmy had been after she passed. My eyes welled, but I tried hard to keep it suppressed. I didn't want anyone to think I was being such a pathetic mess over Jimmy Darling. I didn't want to be another of the freaks that he's fucked and now loves him.

"It's Elsa who said you ought to come here," Eve explained. It was probably her plan to distract me from my wallowing, or punish me for what I did to Ima. I expected hard labour ahead of me.  We reached a small barn with the doors locked. Eve produced a key, unlocking the chains. "Now listen. Elsa says its your job to look after him," she instructed pulling the door open to let me see inside. It took me a minute to realise there was a bed, a bed and a familiar face. 

"Jimmy!" I gasped, rushing to his side. I burst into tears again, this time from pure relief. "Oh baby your hands!" 

By his side lay two bloodied stumps wrapped in bandage. His eyes filled with tears when he looked at me. 

"Princess I haven't ever seen you cry before," he told me lightheartedly, but his voice cracked and he wept. I placed my hand on his face and he leaned into my touch as I wiped his tear with my thumb. I turned back to give Eve a thank you but she had left. I turned to Jimmy. 

"I thought you were gonna be gone forever," I told him, sniffling. 

"Me too baby." I bent down and pressed my lips down against his. We shared a salty kiss. I felt him flinch hard and cut off the kiss when he lifted his arm hold me. He immediately broke down in tears again. "I'm never going to be able to hold you again," he whimpered, and I sensed that there was certainly more to it than that. It stung to see him in such a sorry state.

"Oh Jimmy don't upset yourself," I tried to comfort him. "I have to change your bandages. Okay?" He shook his head. "I let you do it for me," I reminded him.

"Well you have no fucking idea how much it hurts," he snapped. I understood his frustration, but I couldn't help but pull away, hurt. His eyes softened. "I'm sorry (y/n), I just... I just don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Hold, still." I ran my hand down his arm slowly until I reached the bandage trying to cause minimum pain. I unwrapped it slowly, Jimmy putting on a brave face. As I pulled the bloodied part away from his wound he flinched and gritted his teeth. "This is really gonna sting," I warned as I poured alcohol onto cotton to clean his injury. He bit down on his pillow and nodded for me to go ahead. I wiped it as gently as I could and tried to ignore his muffled howl. "I'm sorry." He let the pillow from his teeth.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, doll," he assured, breathless from pain. I took his stump in my hands, wrapping it in bandage.

"I tried to tell the police it wasn't you, but they wouldn't listen."

"It might have been me, I was there, I was blind drunk."

"It wasn't, Jimmy. You were in my caravan. You said you loved me."

"I do." He looked at me sincerely. I avoided his eye, focusing my attention back to binding up his arm.

"You don't Jimmy, you love Maggie, you only wanted me because you were scared she might leave you and you thought I wouldn't." I sighed. 

"That's not true, I kept coming back because I love you." Tears pricked my eyes again. He probably thought Maggie had left and was settling for me. I tied off the bandage and he raised his arm up to my face, sucking in his breath sharply as his stump brushed my cheek. "And you love me too."

"No, I don't," I lied. He watched me, his stare breaking me apart like it always had.

"Paul came by before you. I haven't seen you cry once before, (y/n), but he said you have been tearful all morning. He also told me about Ima," he teased, smugly. I didn't know it was possible to sound both so weak and so smug at the same time. 

"I was worried, it doesn't mean-" 

"Please just tell me it does. Just tell me you love me, it's all I ever wanted to hear." I let out a breath I never realised I was holding.

"I love you, Jimmy Darling." He smiled at me. I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before taking a few draws. I put it between his lips for him so he could take a puff. 

"Look at me," he complained. "Can't even hold my own cigarette."

"Hush now Jimmy. Things will take time," I reassured him, to little effect. We shared the rest of the cigarette and I moved round to change the bandage on the other side. Jimmy didn't speak until I'd finished and stood up to leave.

"Thank you, (y/n)," he said sincerely. I went back to his bedside, leaned down a pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'll be here to change your bandages again tomorrow,"  I told him softly.

Although Elsa had not left, she had still sold the show to Chester, who although had a definite screw loose, seemed harmless enough. He was bright, chirpy and certainly not bossy. His odd qualities only came from the wooden ventriloquist doll he was so attached to. The twins seemed quite smitten with him, and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were screwing him. 

I was civil with Maggie after her trickery, especially knowing how difficult the world could be, but Jimmy had far from forgiven her. This was a hard situation to negotiate. She had asked about him, and I knew she cared, but Jimmy was set in his hatred of her. It was hard to sympathise with a woman who had been part in a scheme resulting in the death of Ma Petite and the loss of Jimmy's hands. For the most part I told the truth. Jimmy was not going to soften any time soon.

I apologised to Ima too, hard as it was. She didn't really take my apology, but it hardly bothered me. It was mainly for the sake of the others, and to keep the peace. 

That night, Dell was shot. He, it turned out, had been the one to kill Ma Petite. I felt bad for his death. As shitty as his actions were, I always felt he was trying his hardest for a better life. Still, killing another freak was unforgivable, and Ma Petite was innocence itself. It was my job to deliver the news to Jimmy, which was horrible.

"He was my father!" 

"I know Jimmy! I'm sorry!"

"Don't you dare start apologising for those murderers, (y/n)!"

"Jimmy he killed Ma Petite!" I ended up snapping. "He killed an innocent and he paid the price." Jimmy broke down into tears again, and I ended up wrapping my arms around him.

"I'm losing everything."

"Come on, baby. It hurts to see you cry so much," I mumbled into his neck. He sobbed into my shoulder.

"Don't ever leave me (y/n). Don't ever break my heart.”

The day Jimmy's hands were ready was the happiest I had seen him in months. I came into the barn again to see him, when I spotted him sat on the bed. The moment he saw me he stood up and rushed toward me. I opened my arms to him and he caught me in his grasp, lifting me off my toes. He kissed me, properly. His dark eyes seemed full of hope. I took his arms from around me and held one of his new hands in mine. Mr. Dolcefino had created perfect wooden hands, still with Jimmy's finger shapes. They were works of art.

"They're beautiful, baby," I told him, smiling.

"They ain't half as functional as they were, but my hands have never looked so good."

"Your hands always looked good." I kissed him again, harder this time. He pulled me flush against him.

"It kills me I can't touch you the same baby," he told me, running his wrists down my side in place of his hands.

"I don't care, Jimmy. I love you," I said, and it was the first time I'd said it since he asked me to. He pulled me in again for another kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth and pushing the backs of my knees against the bed. "Easy tiger," I teased.

"I haven't held you in so long (y/n)," he replied, pushing himself even closer to me, my body flush with his own. I felt him, hard against my thigh. I kissed him again, hard, and let him push me onto the bed, his own weight on top of mine. He began to nip at my neck, and I sighed contentedly. He went to cup my breast with his hand, but came short when he realised his hands could not move the same, could not feel. "Baby, I'm sorry," he apologised, sitting up on his knees and pulling away. I sat up with him and put my hands around his neck, fiddling with the hair at its nape.

"You aren't giving up that easy are you?" I jibed. "After all, you have a mouth in perfect working order." He grinned at me, pulling me into another hungry kiss. He nibbled down my neck again.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to undress yourself, doll." I did as instructed, pulling my jumper over my head while Jimmy watched. He returned to kissing my collarbone as I undid my bra. His kisses travelled over my breasts, wooden hand against my side. He kissed along my chest, eventually moving to take one of my nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it as I sighed. He bit down on it and I yelped, scolding him lightly by giving him a little slap on the arm. He grinned again at my reaction, before kissing his way down my sternum. He stopped for a second, giving me an opportunity to pull my trousers off for him. I went to pull my underwear down but he stopped me, instead using his teeth to pull them down and bringing them the rest of the way with his prosthetic. I laughed at his actions, until he buried his face into my heat, licking over my clit again and again. I felt myself get quickly wetter as he flicked his tongue up my slit. His attention went back to my clit, circling it as I dug my fingers into his hair, pulling at it and moaning as I did. I felt my cheeks flush when he came back up the bed to kiss me again, my taste still on his lips. "I'm feeling a little uncomfortable in these pants, do you think you can help doll?" he asked. I happily obliged.

"Of course baby." I pulled his shirt of his shoulders slowly, the removed his vest, taking my time to run my hands all across his chest and take it all in again. I ran my hand over his stomach and reached to palm him through his trousers. He groaned and closed his eyes. Then I took off the trousers, getting him to sit up in order to help me. I could see the shame in his eyes so as soon as they were off I kissed him hard and put my hands into his pants, stroking his cock. He let out the most delicious moan into the kiss. After a minute of this we were both desperate for it so I bit his earlobe and pulled his cock out of his pants, guiding it to the right place. He pushed into me slowly.

"Fuck," he swore, before capturing my mouth with his and thrusting again. I let out another moan into his mouth as he bit down hard on my lip. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, speeding up his thrusts with considerable lack of control. It had been a while since we had sex, so the desperation in his movements was very apparent. He let out the most beautiful gasps and moans, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair as he continued to nip and suck at my collarbone. I tugged at his brown curls and he groaned breathily. He recaptured my lips in his own and I let out a moan as he pushed deeper into me.

"Jimmy," I panted into his ear, before pulling on his earlobe with my teeth. He let out what was almost a growl and fucked me even harder. I felt myself drawing closer to finishing and let out a desperate string of swears.

“Come on, baby doll, fuckin finish for me,” Jimmy murmured deeply, kissing along my jaw and neck before biting down on my collarbone. I let out a gasp as I felt a wave of pleasure over me, clenching around him and digging my nails into his back. He kept going, his thrusts sloppy, coaxing me through my orgasm until a faltering moan fell from his lips and he pulled out, spilling his load onto my stomach. He lay on top of me, spent, and I pulled my fingers through his hair, running my nails against his scalp.

“You really love me?” I asked, as his hot breath brushed my neck. Before he answered he pressed soft kisses against my shoulder.

“Of course I do, doll face.”

#jimmy darling #jimmy darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #ahs smut #ahs freakshow #ahs x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #american horror story

[bandaged-writer]

Hello! I recently came across your blog and boy am I glad I did. I really love your writing style I think it's very unique! Also I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing a cockwarming hc (or whatever you're comfortable with) on Dazai. Thank you!

Warnings: public cockwarming, dirty talk, dazai being a lil shit

Word count: 757

I've never heard that my writing style was unique, tysm nonnie. let me know what you think, guys u.u

It was nothing new for the members of the Armed Detective Agency to see you sit on Dazai's lap while the brunette typed away on his computer, went through several files of cases or simply lazed around like the sloth he was. 

Bandaged arms were tightly wrapped around your waist and pulled your back flush to Dazai's chest whose chin rested on your shoulder. "Belladonna, how are you still so tight?" Dazai whispered, his lips brushed the shell of your ear and sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. A blush bloomed on the apples of your cheeks as you tried so hard to keep your composure, to keep up the facade of being okay when in reality nothing was okay. "For how long you've been keeping my cock warm, one might think you'd finally loosen up, love."

The suicidal brunette thought it was a fun idea for you sit on his cock while he was busy with work after Kunikida had ruined some sleepy morning sex with you by yelling at Dazai through the phone. With a plan in mind, Dazai asked you to wear the dress he got you; an innocent request had it not been for his hidden intentions. 

That was how you found yourself innocently sitting on Dazai's lap with his hardened length deeply nestled within your dripping walls and the tip pressed up against a spot so sweet that it could make you see stars. The skirt of your dress skillfully hid the way you were soaking Dazai's lap, but there was nothing to conceal the tears of frustration which threatened to roll down your cheeks. 

Your hands gripped the edge of Dazai's desk, knuckles turning white and your breathing heavier than usual. All you wanted was to wipe that smirk off Dazai's stupid, handsome face. "Please, move, Osamu. Just a little bit." You whimpered loud enough only for Dazai to hear. How embarrassing would it be if Atsushi and Kunikida were to find out what was happening right across the room? Never in your life would you be able to live that down. 

"Patience, angel face." Dazai pressed a pure kiss to your cheek, one hand gripping your hip tightly enough to leave bruises while his other hand snuck its way underneath the desk and beneath your dress. The tips of his fingers danced along your inner thigh, three taps silently telling you to spread your legs further apart which you happily did after taking a cautious look around. 

Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you nearly bit the sensitive flesh bloody as Dazai rubbed tight circles into your clit and gently rubbed the bundle of nerves, causing your cunt to flutter and clench around him. Dazai hissed sharply through his teeth and bit down on your neck, the view being covered by your hair. "I could stay in your little pussy all day, keeping it nice and wet for me to fuck." He spoke into your skin, his cock twitching and throbbing within within your walls. 

Slowly but surely, your patience slipped through your fingers like water, the little bit of composure you had was swiftly cut like a thread made of silk. Grinding your hips down into Dazai's to tease him, your hands soon tugged on some of his fluffy locks and immediately caught his attention. Dazai's eyes were glazed over with lust, his pupils blown and ready to drown you in whatever fantasy which was playing in his head like a movie. "Meet me in the infirmary."

With those words being said, you simply got off your lover's lap and suppressed the moan which nearly slipped your lips as Dazai's shaft slid from your cunt. Luckily, Yosano was out stocking up on medicine and other goods when your feet carried you to your destination, your boyfriend hot on your heels. 

The sound of the door being locked reached your ears and before you knew it, Dazai bent you over the desk in the infirmary, bunching the skirt of your dress up around your waist. Slender fingers tugged your panties down your hips until the soiled fabric pooled at your feet. "You're so impatient to get off, it's almost adorable." Dazai spread your legs apart by gently knocking his feet against your ankles, a smirk gracing his features as he saw your juices dripping down your legs. You whined in response. 

"Can you keep quiet for me? Unless you want the entire Agency to know what I'm doing to you."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai smut

[detectiveriley]

oh, because i love you (Geraskier Mini-Fic for Witcher Bog Exchange)

This is a mini-exchange gift for @stinastar​! I hope you like it lovely!

Archive link here

Rating: Teen and up audiences Fandom: The Witcher (all media types) Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier Additional Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings, Getting Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Canon-Typical Violence

Description: It was incredibly stupid, Jaskier realizes belatedly, to go wandering around the abandoned ruins, at night, alone. To his relief, Geralt comes to his rescue. Jaskier hasn't seen Geralt in full witcher mode before, but it's Geralt. He'll get used to it. But he's not sure what to make of the conversation that follows.

Story under the cut!

 All of the air left Jaskier’s body as the sonic shriek threw him all the way across the stone circle. He slammed into the wall before tumbling to the ground. Pain radiated from everywhere, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding. It had been incredibly stupid, Jaskier realized belatedly, to wander out near the abandoned ruins, at night, alone.

 It hadn’t been his plan, originally. They had just made camp near the town where there was supposed to be work. But Geralt had been busy doing his witcher-ing, and Jaskier had gotten bored. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy watching Geralt working. On the contrary, Jaskier enjoyed the way Geralt carefully sharpened his swords, and sorted his potions with calloused fingers. But Jaskier could imagine plenty of other things Geralt could be doing with his hands. Things that Geralt probably wouldn’t approve of. So that night, before his trousers got any tighter, Jaskier excused himself to go on a walk and clear his head. He didn’t think Geralt had even noticed.

 That was how Jaskier had ended up all alone, facing off against a monster. He had nothing with which to defend himself, not even his lute. The thing, which looked like a young woman but wasn’t, had caught him off-guard.

 She was watching him now, with a bone-chilling smile and hungry eyes. Jaskier struggled to prop himself up. His ribs, along with the rest of him, twinged in protest. The collision with the crumbling stone wall hadn’t finished him off, but it seemed likely that the she-beast would. His vision swam and he groaned, blinking.

 When his eyes focused again, there was a shadow above him. Craning his neck, he saw a black mass, underneath a halo of white. Then it turned, and Jaskier’s heart skipped.

 “Ge-r-ralt,” he managed, his lips curling into a bloody smile, maybe Jaskier should have been frightened. He’d never seen Geralt like this before- eyes pitch black, dark veins reaching out around them across his pale, mottled skin. He could see now where the rumors came from- that witchers were monsters, half-breeds of some dark magic that bound the flesh of beasts to human bone. If he did not know Geralt, perhaps he would have been petrified. Perhaps he would have screamed.

 But Jaskier had never been more relieved.

 Now that he was no longer facing certain death, Jaskier faded in and out of consciousness. Dimly, he heard the sounds of fierce combat, the monster shrieking and Geralt grunting with effort. His eyes flew open when Geralt landed next to  him, shouting in pain and anger.

 “G’ralt?” he slurred, even as darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.

 “M’fine,” the witcher growled, shaking his head and crouching to strike again. “Stay down.”

 Jaskier obeyed gladly. Geralt was there now, he was safe. Probably. He sent a quick prayer up to Melitele with his last conscious thought before darkness claimed him.

 ~

 When Jaskier awoke again, he was no longer splayed against the cold, hard rock or the ruin’s floor. He was in bed. He was still in pain, but marginally less so. And he wasn’t alone.

 Geralt was watching him like a hawk. He looked… not great. His potions, whatever they were, had since worn off, and he looked like himself again. But he looked like he hadn’t slept.

 Jaskier tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse cough. Wordlessly, Geralt handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. He waited as Jaskier downed it greedily. He didn’t remember being so thirsty at the ruins.

 “How long was I out?” he wondered aloud.

 “A day and a half,” Geralt answered, “You went down pretty hard.”

 Wincing, Jaskier nodded. “I was there, I remember.”

 “How do you feel?”

 Geralt’s brow was furrowed with concern. Jaskier straightened and assured him, “I feel fine. Could be worse. But we’re both alive! And safe.”

 Geralt tensed at that, and Jaskier held his breath.      Here it comes    , he thought. The dreaded lecture about himself in harm’s way, and how he couldn’t always rely on Geralt to rescue him.

 Instead, Geralt simply said, “You didn’t look afraid.”

 Jaskier tilted his head. “Well, I      was,     but when you showed up… then I knew I’d be alright.”

 “No.” Geralt’s voice was abnormally soft, and he was looking down at his hands. “I meant that you didn’t look like you were afraid of me.”

 Jaskier blinked. Then he laughed. “Why would I- I’ve never been afraid of you, why would I have been afraid?”

 Geralt seemed to shrink. “The way I looked that night, at the ruins…” He trailed off. After a long moment, Geralt added, “I’m a monster.”

 Jaskier scoffed. “Are not.”

 “Jaskier…”

 “You are not! The only monster there that night was the thing that actively tried to kill me, and you saved me. That makes you a hero.”

 “That’s not what everyone else thinks.”

 Jaskier furrowed his brow. “I don’t give a flying fuck what everyone else thinks.”

 Geralt actually laughed at that. Jaskier smiled back. He knew that the witcher could be hard on himself, and it broke Jaskier’s heart. The idea that Geralt thought Jaskier should be afraid of him was unbearable.

 The bard hesitated. Perhaps he was still bleary from sleep, perhaps it was a concussion. He wasn’t sure he should say what he wanted to say next. But he’d be damned if he said nothing.

 “I hope you know that, no matter what- black, witcher-y eyes, covered in monster guts or blood- that you’ll always be Geralt to me.” He reached out to take Geralt’s hand in his own. “      My    Geralt. Do you understand?”

 The witcher nodded curtly. “I think so.” After a moment, he continued. “Witchers… don’t get happy endings,” he said, his voice low and tender, “We age, we slow, and we die, in combat usually. I don’t know what end awaits me, but… I didn’t think I’d make any friends between now and then.”

 Jaskier swallowed. Right.      Friends    . He moved to pull away, but Geralt’s grip on his hand tightened. Geralt turned it over so their palms were pressed together. “I used to think… Hmm. Fuck.”

 Jaskier smiled gently. There was that gruff but earnest spirit that had endeared the witcher so closely to Jaskier’s heart. He stroked the back of Geralt’s hand with his thumb. “Take your time.”

 After another few minutes, Geralt spoke again. “I thought once that you just followed me for inspiration, and stayed for coin. And I let you, because… well, you didn’t leave me much choice.” They both chuckled at that. “But… you’ve given me more than I deserve.”

 Tilting his head, Jaskier asked, “How so?”

 “You’ve become… someone I care for,” Geralt offered quietly, “which most witcher’s don’t have the luxury of. But… you seem to care for me, too. More than I’ve earned. In equal measure.”

 “Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, leaning forward to cup Geralt’s cheek with his free hand. “I care for you quite a bit more than that.”

 Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into Jaskier’s touch, humming. It was closer than they’d ever been, and Jaskier’s heart quickened at the thought of it.

 Geralt noticed immediately. Gingerly, he placed Jaskier’s hand back at his side. “Get some rest. We can continue this when you’re better.”

 “You should, too,” Jaskier admonished, “I adore you, dear heart, but you look like shit.”

 Geralt smirked, chuckling in response. “That’s nothing new.”

 Jaskier’s eyes softened. “But really, when was the last time you slept?” When Geralt didn’t answer for a few moments, Jaskier sighed and adjusted himself, scooting to the far side of the bed, before patting the space beside him. “All right, come on then.” Geralt hesitated, and Jaskier added, “It doesn't have to mean anything. Just rest. You very obviously need it.”

 Geralt sighed before relenting, laying down next to Jaskier with care so as not to aggravate the bard’s injuries. To Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt threw an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and pulled him in. When Jaskier gave him a look, Geralt sighed.

 “I almost lost you back there,” he murmured, “so I’ve gotta keep an eye on you. Keep you out of trouble.”

 Jaskier laughed. “Obviously. You’ll stay with me then?”

 “Always.”

fin  

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #witcher #witcher fic #witcher bog mini exchange #mini exchange #exchange fic #stinastar #hurt comfort #jaskier whump #witcher whump #soft geralt

[jaminjims]

「SAFE PLACE」

anon request: Hello! Can you do an ot7, the reader is a female 8th member prompt 38 and 92 together thank you so much! Can't wait for more uploads from you.

prompts: “whatever you do, don’t make a sound” and “breathe with me, yeah? come on. breathe. you got it - there you go”

pairing: bts ot7 x f!reader

genre: suspense, angst, hang in there, it gets fluffy at the end

warnings: (oof y’all i made this one pretty serious) guns, gunshots, saseangs, panic attacks, gunshot wound (but only a graze, nothing life threatening)

words: 2.9k

~**~

You sighed as you stretched your arms above your head. Today’s dance practice was a good one and you felt satisfied with the progress you and the boys made on the choreo.

Hoseok handed you a water bottle as Jungkook handed you a towel so you could dry off your sweaty face. You all laughed when Kook threw a towel at Jin’s head instead of handing it to him. The two started chasing each other around while you picked up your small bag that was by the door.

“Where you going y/n-ah?” Jimin questioned when he saw you making your way to the door.

“Bathroom.”

Tae jumped up and opened the door for you, “Don’t get lost, M’lady.”

You hit him lightly on the shoulder, “Haha. I’ll be back in a few, don’t die while I’m gone.”

“Yah, like anyone could even touch this face.” Jin bantered back.

You just laughed and left for the bathroom, not knowing how your words would soon turn into a possibility in the near future.

~~

You washed your face to clean it up just a little bit more. As you dried off and stretched a little bit more to loosen up your muscles, the lights suddenly went off.

You looked confusedly at the lights before going to the lightswitch and turning it on, except when you did, nothing happened. You flipped it a few more times before you assumed the lights in the bathroom must have been blown or something.

You were making your way out of the bathroom to tell a staff member about fixing the lights, but when you opened the door you realized that it just wasn’t the bathroom lights that went out, it was the whole floor.

Since the floor with the dance practice rooms and music booths were relatively high up in the building, not many people visited it except the idols themselves and a few personnel. You usually liked the peacefulness the quiet brought, but as you looked into the eerily quiet and dark hallways, you couldn’t help the subtle pick up of your heartbeat.

You left the bathroom door close softly behind you - the need to be silent making it into your head for some reason. You only made it a few steps away from the bathroom before there was suddenly shouting coming from the elevators a few halls down. Your eyes widened a little with panic as you struggled to realize what was happening.

You stood still in the hallway, trying to figure out what on earth was going on when you felt the sudden white hot pain in your right arm before you heard the immediate gunshot that came after.

You shouted out in pain and panic as you heard another one. You other hand went up to hold the apparent gunshot wound you had gotten as your brain struggled to understand what the hell just happened. You had just gotten shot at! In the BigHit building!

Your breath picked up as your mouth suddenly went very dry. Each breath burned your throat as you got up from the floor.

Before you could get up all the way to find a safer place, you were suddenly yanked back down to the ground. You screamed out but there was a hand over your mouth. Tears immediately gathered in your eyes as you thought the worst as you were dragged back toward the bathrooms. You struggled in the captors hold, trying to break free.

As you and the mystery person got into the confines of the dark bathroom, you were sobbing by now and breathing so fast you almost choked a couple times. The person let you go and you back away from them frantically.

“Shit.” The girl? whispered under her breath. She lit a tiny flashlight and lit up the tiny pitch black bathroom. You looked up in panic and freight, but the face that greeted you made you halt all movement.

“J-Jeongyeon-unnie?” Your brain couldn’t keep up with what was happening around you and you were confused as you saw one of your best friends and bodyguards squatting down in front of you.

You were still crying and breathing fast when you felt her hands gently cradle your head, “Y/n, look at me.”

You did as she said but you were still crying loudly. Jeongyeon cursed again and looked at the bathroom door before looking back at you. “You need to calm down y/n-ah. You need to listen to me and listen carefully, can you do that?”

You tried your best to calm down your crying as you nodded your head that was tearstained, still held gently in her hands. “There has been a major breach in security and there have been a group of saesangs that have made their way into the building. Y/n, they are armed and extremely dangerous, so you need to do exactly as I say.”

At that you almost let out another sob, but you stopped yourself and just nodded frantically again. “Good. You need to go into a stall and lock the door. Stand up on the toilet so your feet can’t be seen from the bottom. Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.” Jeongyeon whipped some of the tears that were still trailing down your face and pulled you in for a hug.

You clutched on to her and struggled to keep your cries at bay and be silent like she told you too. You were terrified and confused and already exhausted, but the adrenaline running through your system still kept you wide awake and alert.

You pulled away and Jeongyeon gasped as she looked at your arm. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” She whisper shouted.

To be honest, you completely forgot about your wound, and with all the adreniline pumping through you, you could barely feel it. But looking at the bullet wound, the pain was brought back ten fold and you would have screamed out again if it didn’t feel like all the air was knocked out of you.

Your breathing that had calmed down a little since Jeongyeon-unnie’s arrival started to pick up again. Before you could start hyperventilating though, Jeongyeon took your arm gently and pushed your bloody sleeve up to inspect the wound.

She sighed a little in relief, “It’s just a small bullet graze, nothing too serious I think. But we need to wrap your arm.” She looked down at her white tee shirt and ripped the edge off and tied it around your wounded upper arm.

You tried to be as quiet as you could as she helped you, but once she stood back up and started walking toward the bathroom door, you jumped up after her.

You were slightly dizzy but shook the feeling off, “Unnie, where are you going?!” You whisper shouted.

“I have to check on the other staff and help detain the intruders Y/n.”

“Ani, I won’t let you go out there.” Your hands where shaking as you held hers.

She sighed again and led you to the furthest bathroom stall. She pushed you up onto the toilet and held your shoulders. “I need to check on everyone else, Y/n. I need to make sure the intruders don’t hurt you, or anyone. It’s my job.”

You started crying again and shook your head frantically. You were about to open your mouth in protest before she beat you to it. “Please, let me protect you. I wouldn’t be able to bare it if something happened to you.”

You gripped her shoulders in return and she pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged her back with just as much ferocity and cried silently into her shoulder. After a few seconds she pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“Stay safe.”

You could do nothing as you watched her leave the bathroom stall and softly close the bathroom door behind her. You carefully made your why off the toilet and locked the stall door.

The small backpack on your shoulder hit the toilet paper dispenser with a clang and you jumped. Your arm throbbed and you made your way back on to the toilet. A couple of silent minutes went by before a sudden thought struck you.

You weren’t the only one on this floor, your boys were here too. Your family was also here on this floor with several armed shooters and that fact alone almost had you passing out on the spot.

With your veins surging with new adrenaline, you scrambled to get your backpack from off of your shoulder and search the front pocket for your phone. You opened it with shaky hands and opened your contacts. You immediately dialed the first number you saw.

Jin’s contact name showed up and you put the phone to your ear as you bit on your thumb nail. After several rings the phone went to voicemail and new tears made it down your face as well as a surge of panic.

You dialed the next number which happened to be Taehyungs, but he didn’t pick up either. You tried Kook, Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok but they all didn’t pick up the phone.

You immediately started fearing the worst and you were so close to a panic attack you were starting to feel lightheaded. You felt nothing but pain, fear, and exhaustion as you clicked on the last contact, Namjoon’s.

Several rings went by, and just when you thought he also wouldn’t answer, his voice was heard. “Y/n? Y/n, oh my god.”

With tears still streaming down your face, you whispered into the phone, “J-Joonie.”

It also sounded like he might have been crying or was about to when he whispered, “Where are you?”

You choked on a silent sob and sniffed in, moving the hair that stuck to your face out of the way, “I-I’m still in the bathroom. Joonie, please t-tell me everyone is ok.”

“Shit,” he sounded stressed and afraid, “yeah everyone is ok. Baby, stay where you are, don’t move and stay out of sight, ok?”

You nodded frantically over the phone even when he couldn’t see you. Your breathing calmed down just a little bit at knowing that they were all ok.

“I’m so scared, Namjoon.”

“I know, jagi. Just stay calm ok? We are all ok and we will get out of this soon.”

You didn’t say anything back but the two of you stayed on the phone for a few more minutes before the call suddenly dropped. You panicked when you realized that your phone had just run out of batteries. Perfect timing.

You leaned your head back against the cold tile of the bathroom wall behind you as your legs started to cramp up with your squatting position on the toilet. You covered your mouth to stifle the sobs that wanted to come out.

How is this happening? Why is it happening? You were feeling very overwhelmed and you didn’t know what to do.

Hours, or maybe it was minutes - you couldn’t tell with the darkness surrounding you like it did - went by and your legs were now feeling numb. The adrenaline had worn off and you were left feeling the full force of pain from wound on your arm.

Even though it was only a graze it hurt like hell and felt like your arm was about to explode. The fear you felt was doing nothing to help and you just wanted it all to be over.

Suddenly and without warning, the bathroom door was kicked open and just like that, the adrenaline was back running through you as the fear of what just happened almost made you fall and collapse off the toilet seat.

Your eyes widened with terror as you covered your mouth with both hands, trying to be as quiet as you could.

You saw footsteps slowly walk toward the stalls and open them on by one, and your breathing picked up exponentially when the person stopped in front of the last stall and tried to push it open. When they saw it was locked, a harsh pull was all it took for the door to give and it flew open.

In your desperation and terror, you threw your bag at them and pushed them out of the way as you ran out of the stall. Before you could get very far though, you felt arms circle you from behind and you screamed, flailing out to get out of your captors grip.

You were in full on panic mode and only saw grey as you heard more footsteps make their way inside the bathroom. You were hyperventilating and could barely breathe because you were going to die here and this is it and you didn’t even say by to your family or the ones you loved most-

Your head was taken in a soft grip much like with Jeongyeon Unnie and made you look at them. You had a hard time recognizing the face and you didn’t stop trying to escape. You think your hand made contact with something but you weren’t sure as you still struggled.

Your head was gripped a little tighter as you were forced to face whoever was holding it. “Y/n. I am Min Yoongi and I will not hurt you. You are safe with me. The boy holding you is Jung Hoseok. You know us, remember? Come back to us, follow my warmth.”

Your head cleared just a little bit at hearing his voice and feeling his hands. You stopped struggling and met Yoongi’s eyes. “Y-yoongi?”

You cracked out his name and his heart broke for your state. “Yes baby. Breathe with me, yeah? Come on. Breathe. You got it - there you go.”

As you calmed down more and more and could take in the situation around you, you realized that Hobi, Yoongi, and the rest of the boys were surrounding you in the small bathroom, looking scared, worried, and tired themselves.

You launched forward and captured Yoongi in the tightest hug you had possibly ever given someone and started sobbing without restraint. He rubbed your back as someone carded their hand through your hair. You think you hear Jungkook or Jimin cry with you but you aren’t sure.

After what seemed like hours but was probably minutes, you calmed down and were just sniffinling as the adrenaline of what the hell just happened wore off for, hopefully, the last time. You looked at all the faces of the boys around you and closed your eyes with relief, “I’m so happy you’re safe.” It came out a broken whisper but they heard it anyway.

All of you slowly made your way out of the bathroom, holding on to each other; feeling as though if you let go something bad was going to happen again. You had at least three pairs of hands on you at one time because, well, you were the one they were worried about the most.

Jeongyeon pushed her way through the staff and medical personnel that made their way to this floor after realizing that the group was there. You almost started crying again as she pulled you into a hug, “Unnie, I’m so glad you’re ok.”

She pulled back and inspected your face. She too looked extremely tired but relief washed over her when she realized that you had gotten no more injuries.

“Same here, Y/n-ah. How about we go and get your arm cleaned up?”

At that the boys all had confused looks on their faces, “What happened to your arm?” Taehyung questioned.

Jimin gently pulled your right arm up and realized that it was bleeding. He gasped, “Why didn’t you tell us you got hurt!?”

You shrugged as it throbbed, “Sorry.”

“Aish, this kid.” Jin sighed and pulled a hand down his face. “Come on, we need to have it checked out, jagi.”

As the boys plus Jeongyeon crowded around the medical worker who had arrived, you had your arm gently tended to.

“It isn’t deep at all, and it’ll heal within the next few weeks. It might leave a scar though.” She said as she finished wrapping gauze and bandage around it.

The eight surrounding you sighed in relief at the news. It wasn’t serious and that’s the best they hoped for.

After you all made your statements to the police, you were instructed to go outside so they could do a deep cleanse of the building to make sure there were no more threats and no one else was injured. There was a big crowd outside of the BigHit building and you did not have the energy to deal with your fans, as much as you loved them. The others seemed to feel the same, and were quick to follow Jeongyeon past ARMY and into a van so you could all go home.

It was later, after you all were settled at the dorm that you realized Jin had a bruise on his face. “Yah, what happened?” Namjoon questioned.

Jin looked a little worried as he briefly looked over at you. You gasped in realization and jumped up from where you were snuggling beside Kook. “Did I do that?”

Jin chuckled a little, “I guess our princess is the only one who can touch this face.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself and the others that were sitting on the couch snickered, “Yah, that’s not funny.” You went up and hit him lightly on the shoulder.

Jin started laughing too and Namjoon just sighed with a smile on his face. At the end of the day, he was just happy his family was intact and safe.

You looked around at all of them and sighed good-naturedly. “Aish, I love you guys.”

[end]

~**~

end note: y’all 👁👄👁 i don’t think i’ve ever written anything like,, so serious before. imo it feels rushed and idk something feels off but i tried my best anonie! i had no intentions of writing it like this but apparently i did anyway so here we are. anywho, thank you so much for the request! i hope you liked it and it wasn’t to much angst lovelys 💖

masterlist

request something!

#bts #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim seokjin #min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts suspense #bts x female reader #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #bts 8th member #kim namjoon fanfiction #kim taehyung fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jung hoseok fanfiction #park jimin fanfiction #kim seokjin fanfiction #min yoongi fanfiction #rm #v #suga #jin #jhope #bangtan sonyeondan

[applejuizz]

laughter of youth.

the scout regiment has managed to rescue eren and recover annie’s crystal from their enemies, yet at the cost of many soldiers’ lives. levi learns a valuable lesson of trust. characters: levi ackerman x gn! reader (platonic!), historia reiss, sasha braus, jean kirstein, mikasa ackerman, eren jaeger, connie springer warnings: canon violence (vague descriptions), mentions of blood/wounds word count: 1.764 inspired by attack on titan 2: final battle and the story of “our man”, the customizable in-game character.

Paperwork after paperwork after all the paperwork...

Levi had come to dread the sound of hasty footsteps pacing up to his wooden office door and its prolonged creak as Miss Four Eyes allowed themselves in carrying yet another pile of experiment reports, barely containing their unreasonable excitement. While they fervently sought the tiniest free space to fit the monstrosity held in their arms, their flow of Titan anatomy ramblings never ceased.

Levi, you won’t believe what Eren managed to do today...!

Victor - who the hell is Victor? - stood awake the whole night and was as energetic as ever in the morning! This new breed of Titans is quite interesting!

I keep naming these Titans and I won’t shut up already and I should slap myself before you kick me across the fields, Levi! - he couldn’t possibly describe the joy these words would bring him coming out of Hange’s mouth. Too good to be true, unfortunately.

He shifted into his chair, straightening his back and shaking off the annoyance that had been constantly pulling on his nerves for three days already.

Thankfully, his office was quiet and the hallway was blissfully empty. Hange had taken a day off from experiments to let Eren rest. On that note, Jean and Eren had stopped arguing for once, Sasha had ceased her relentless search of meat and he could finally relish in the silence surrounding him. It wasn’t often that he got to have such quiet moments to himself.

And because they were so rare, only when he got the chance to savor them did he realize how much he actually hated them.

It wasn’t that he disliked being alone - on the contrary, he loved solitude a little too much for his own good. Instead, he found that whenever he allowed his mind to rest, he was assaulted by intrusive thoughts and memories that he’d rather bury deep in the back of his consciousness. Perks of being a soldier.

His eyes took in rows and columns of observations on the papers in front of him. His hand signed each and every one of them away promptly, yet his mind was drifting, conjuring up crimson fields, disgusting Titan flesh sliced in half, the blood-curdling screams of soldiers trampled off their horses or chewed to their demise. Nothing he wasn’t used to. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t make his skin crawl sometimes.

He thought back to commander Erwin, weak and thinning, laying in a hospital bed with only an arm left. Levi knew his superior was a strong man; he didn’t worry much about his recovery. What did plant the seed of doubt in his heart was the fact that somehow, the man he’d thought nearly invincible had been so badly wounded, and that alone was a strong indicator of the deep shit they all were in.

And of course, the one member in his squad that had never returned from the battlefield hung dark and heavy over his consciousness, a shadow of guilt, the same damn story repeating itself over and over again. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, it came crawling back like an awful nightmare, looming over him along with the deaths of all the other people he has trusted and cared for. Isabel and Farlan, Petra, Eld, Günther, Oruo… and now them too.

I won’t die on you, sir!

Like hell you won’t.

Their promise rang in his ears as if trying to mock him. The shadows of his consciousness sneered at him: look what happens when you decide to trust people, you twerp. Should’ve known better. Haven’t you learned your lesson?

“Tsk.” He set the cup he’d mindlessly lifted back on his desk. The tea had gone cold. He’d have to ask someone to brew him another. Not exactly pleasant, but enough to distract him from the dark path his thoughts had gone onto.

Before he could even stand up from his chair, though, loud voices boomed from downstairs through the whole hideout and caused the floor beneath his feet to vibrate. They were followed by clattering of pots and Jaeger’s unmistakable yelling, obnoxious and over dramatic as always.

So much for his quiet moment.

With an exasperated sigh, Levi picked up his cup again and left his desk and the piles of papers behind, shaking off the last of his melancholy. These damn brats can’t get anything done without wrecking havoc first…

The kitchen was right beneath his office, so all he had to do was climb down the short flight of stairs, put the cadets back in their place, ask horseface to brew him some more tea and go back upstairs. Simple enough.

He came to the sight of Eren, Jean, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha and Connie all hunched around in a compact group, chattering loudly and all over each other. Historia’s dulcet tone surprisingly prevailed amongst deeper voices, although she was nowhere to be seen.

“Wait! You need bandages before anything else! The gash in your side isn’t looking good…”

“Yeah! You’ve literally been through hell and back!” Jean marvelled.

“No, guys! They need food!” Sasha exclaimed as if she'd made a grand discovery, grabbing a half-boiled potato straight out of the pot.

“Sasha, no! The potatoes aren’t done yet-”

“Oi, what the hell is going on here?!”

“C-Captain Levi!” Jaeger stumbled back on his feet, broom in his hands, his headscarf sitting askew on his head. The huddle immediately dispersed, everyone had gone dead silent. Levi scanned the room quickly, not paying much attention to the soldiers’ faces and rolled his eyes.

“I thought I told you to clean up the kitchen, not turn it into a pigsty!” He passed a critical hand over the table, gathering up the dust in his palm and making a grimace. Cleaning supplies, pots and cups were scattered all over the floor and the table, as if the cadets had all come to a mutual agreement of dropping everything at once just to see how many white hairs Levi would gain in his hair.

“B-but-”

“Get back to work and stop yelping, you’re turning my brain into mush.”

But before he could open his mouth to bark another order at Jean, his eyes finally landed on who was once the centre of the huddle: Historia Reiss holding on to a hunched figure’s arm, obviously attempting to provide support, but ending up resembling more of a lost puppy clinging to someone’s sleeve.

“Captain Levi!” the petite girl exclaimed, a hint of relief present in her voice, “I-I went to get water from the fountain and I found them there! They seem stable, but I think they might need a doctor-”

His thoughts were running at light’s speed, yet he couldn’t get his body to wake up from its frozen state at the bottom of the stairs. What must’ve only been seconds felt like hours. As if time had decided to finally slow down, to finally stop the nonsensical blurry of days, months, years passing by only to give him a chance to breathe. A chance to understand. Was it just too good to be true?

“Captain…?” Springer trailed off, eyes bulging out of his little bald head, and quickly recoiled as Jean subtly elbowed him in the stomach. Only then did Levi notice that he had been standing among the shattered porcelain of what used to be his teacup, his hand still hanging in the air as if clinging to the ghost of the object.

The cadet finally raised their eyes from the floor, face bloodied and battered, yet still brightened by youth and devotion.

“Captain Levi… sir.” They saluted in a weak voice, raising two fingers to their temple.

Their last name rolled off Levi’s lips in a stronger tone than he thought he’d manage, yet still trailed off a bit in disbelief. Clearing his throat, he stepped over the broken porcelain.

“So. You came back, huh?” Out of all the words piled up on the tip of his tongue, begging to spill out, the best he could come up with was a rhetorical question. But the soldier still let out a dry chuckle, straightening their back as much as their wounds allowed them to. Their legs wobbled and the Ackerman girl, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, immediately jumped in to offer extra support. Seeing the usually stone-faced Mikasa’s facial expression filled with a flurry of emotions similar to those churning in his heart allowed him to relax a bit.

“Of course.” The wounded cadet answered. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

Levi gave a slight nod, features stoic, yet he felt his heart grow with pride in his chest. The same glint of determination glowed in their eyes as it did back then, during their rookie days, when they had placed their fist over their heart and had sworn to stay alive. He had heard the same promise come out of so many of his dead comrades’ mouths that realistically, he shouldn’t have expected this particular soldier to honor it. Yet for some reason, unknown even to himself, he had chosen to place his fragile trust in them. Maybe it had been their thirst for revenge, or their sheer willpower which, dare he say, could surpass Eren’s; whatever it had been, he did not regret it.

He drew closer, steps light as feathers on the wooden floor and took advantage of their hunched position to card his fingers through their hair, ruffling it affectionately. These damn kids keep getting taller… he thought bitterly to himself. The gesture managed to transform their wince of pain into a look of total and innocent wonder. The look in the eyes of a kid who's just got the utmost gesture of validation from a parent.

“You’re a good kid,” he conceded, patting their scalp twice before letting his hand fall back to his side. He could barely recognize the gentle tone of his own voice. “Although were you not wounded, I’d have roundhouse kicked your ass for scaring everyone like this.”

The phrase hadn’t even been that funny, in his opinion, but they let out a joyous, loud laugh, contagious to the people around them. It even pulled a chuckle out of Mikasa.

And as he stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the laughter of youth, he finally understood. Placing his trust in these kids, fighting alongside them, protecting them with the price of his life were worth all the risks because they were humanity’s last hope. And he would do anything to one day see their joyful faces wiped clean of crimson wounds and dirt and death. Anything.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot imagines #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #connie springer #jean kirstein #historia reiss #sasha braus

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

jacqueline wilson’s ‘love lessons’

tw: abuse, pedophilia, characters making Bad Decisions, long unnecessary spiel about my childhood like I’m running a recipe blog

It’s funny how loads of the authors who helped shaped me into the vaguely humanoid being I am today have names beginning with the letter ‘J’; Judy Blume, Jeff Kinney, John Green, J.K. Rowling (yikes, I know) … and Jacqueline Wilson.

I’ve never owned a Jacqueline Wilson book of my own; they were always borrowed from a friend, or from a friend of a friend, or from a friend of a cousin- you get the gist. Her books, for me, come with an entire aesthetic: something reminiscent of yard sales, and reading under the covers with a flashlight, and being lulled into a false sense of security by the deceptively innocent Nick Sharratt illustration on the cover until someone’s best friend gets mowed over.

So I knew what I was getting into when I picked up Love Lessons. I knew this was going to be Fucked Up; and boy, was I right.

(Here’s the part where I warn you about spoilers.)

From an abusive dad to creepy child predator teachers to slut-shaming and victim blaming, this book has it all.

The main character is Prudence ‘Prue’ King, who is homeschooled at the beginning of the book, along with her sister, Grace. Their parents remain rooted in the early twentieth century, and are very strict about- well, everything. No TV, no computers, not a single mobile phone in the house; their clothing worse than the orphans’ from Annie; and their father remains distinctly distrustful of modern institutions like the school and the hospital; and so on, and so forth.

Daddy King suffers a stroke, and has to be taken to the hospital. Meanwhile, Mrs. King (a floppy, spineless woman who lives in fear and awe of her, frankly horrid, husband) sends the girls to school, behind the then invalid Mr. King’s back. Cue Prue and Grace being the freakshows of the school, with their strange clothing and overbearing mother.

Grace manages to make friends, but Prue remains alone. The kids are dicks, the teachers are dicks… well, all of them but one. And that’s the art teacher, Mr. Raxberry (I just couldn’t get over that name; it seems like something you’d name a mythical plant from Pixie Hollow or some shit. I’m assuming it isn’t an actual name, since the spelling & grammar check on my computer doesn’t seem to recognize it), or Rax, as he’s called.

Oh, yeah; Prudence’s favorite subject in school is art, and she’s a whiz at it. This is relevant, because reasons.

And here’s where stuff gets murky. Prue develops a crush on Rax- which is perfectly normal. I’m definitely no stranger to it; I’ve had crushes on my teachers, my mum admitted she used to think one of her professors was cute. And yeah, as I grew older, I grew out of those crushes and now have a markedly more refined taste in men (unless he’s 5’ 7’’, born in ’97 and named Bang Chan, I don’t want him); and my mum married my dad, so I’m assuming she did, too. Admittedly, now that my dad teaches at a university, it’s icky to think that there might be students who have crushes on him- but I digress.

My point is, loads of us have liked our teachers. But I doubt the majority of us have acted on it.

And Prue actively showing her interest in Rax isn’t the worst part. That’s a spot reserved for Rax reciprocating her feelings.

Guess Ezra Fitz and Ms. Grundy (yes, I watched Riverdale; please don’t cancel me) have a new addition to the Creep Club.

The age of consent in the UK is 16, if I’m not mistaken. Prue is 14. She’s just barely become a teenager, and she’s being preyed upon.

Because that is what Rax is. He’s a predator; he preys upon this vulnerable girl who’s never been in a relationship before- hell, she’s never even had friends- her father’s abusive, so she obviously doesn’t have the best experience when it comes to men- she’s unpopular at school, with the students and staff alike- and he lures her in. I don’t care how bloody nice he is to Sarah, or what a good dad he is (well, he’s really not, seeing as he cheated on the mother of his children WITH A BLOODY FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD)- the guy’s a fucking pedophile.

I was staunchly stuck at a yellow light with him; like, sure, maybe Prue thinks he’s flirting with her- maybe she’s looking at this all wrong, she doesn’t know how relationships work- see, he drew a picture of Sarah, too, in his secret notebook- Prue’s just reading into this too much- up until he says he loves her.

Dude. Humbert fucking Humbert. She’s fourteen, for Christ’s sake, and you’re married. You have two children. She’s a child. She’s probably closer to your son’s age than she is to yours.

(This is the part where I bury my head in my pillow. And scream. Extensively, and with passion.)

The book does make some genuinely good commentary on slut-shaming and victim blaming and abusive parenting. And on one hand, I can see why so many people find issue with the romanticization of the when I kissed the teacher trope- but I can defend it, too.

The book is in Prue’s perspective. She thinks she’s in love with Rax, so obviously, she’s not going to throw in some valuable moral at the end- because she’s too young and inexperienced to think otherwise. And sadly, there are loads of instances of child abuse that go unreported because the victims just don’t know better.

What I have issue with is how the school dealt with it, ultimately. Prudence, a child, has to deal with the consequences of the actions of a literal child predator. Sure, Rax ‘clears his name’ by cooking up some bullshit story about how it was only a crush and he didn’t encourage it, but you’d think other adults would know better and, oh, I dunno- dig deeper into it, instead of blaming it on a child?

“She says you told Mr. Raxberry you loved him and he held you in his arms and fondled you.”

Which Prudence denies, because, again, she doesn’t know better. She then goes on to say that they did nothing wrong. To which the adult speaking to her, in this case, the principal, Miss Wilmott, goes on to say:

“I’m not sure that’s entirely true… I feel that there are some aspects of your friendship that could be considered inappropriate.”

FYI, lady, he kissed her- multiple times (not that kissing her once makes him any more redeemable), and told her he loved her, and admitted to fantasizing about running away with her and leaving his family behind. Fun fact: do you know Prudence is underage?

You’d think that Miss Wilmott would maybe give this whole fiasco a favorable ending, but it turns out she listens to school gossip;

“I haven’t been at all happy with your attitude. You don’t seem to understand how to behave in school. I’ve heard tales of unsuitable underwear and then a silly romance with one of the boys in your class. I feel that in the space of a few short weeks you’ve made rather a bad name for yourself… I don’t know whether you intend to be deliberately insolent but you certainly come across as an unpleasantly opinionated and arrogant girl… I can’t help feeling that you’ll be much better off elsewhere. I shall try hard to engineer a suitable transfer to another school.”

And then she comes out with this gem:

“If you won’t leave, then I shall have to ensure that Mr. Raxberry finds another position.”

“No, you can’t do that! He’s a brilliant teacher.”

“You should have thought of that before you started acting in this ridiculous and precocious manner. If I were another kind of headteacher, I would have Mr. Raxberry instantly suspended. There could even be a court case. He would not only lose his job, he could find himself in very serious trouble. Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Girlboss, gaslight and gatekeep. The fucking trifecta.

Also, by ‘another kind of headteacher’, does she mean the kind of headteacher WHO DOESN’T LET CHILD PREDATORS ROAM FREELY WITHIN THEIR HALLS?

This bitch is out here blaming a child, a literal child, for the crimes of an adult man.

The only time Prue seems aware of the fact that Mr. Raxberry is actually a very shit person is her immediate thoughts that follow after she tells Miss Wilmott she’ll take the fall;

I so wanted to save darling Rax- and yet why hadn’t he wanted to save me? Had he told Miss Wilmott it was all my fault, that I’d got a ridiculous crush on him, that I’d made ludicrous advances to him? … I wanted to tell this horrible, patronizing woman how hungrily he’d kissed me, but I couldn’t do it. I loved him. I had to help him.

NO, SWEETHEART; YOU MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT.

And maybe I’m going overboard with all these excerpts, but here’s what Rax has to tell Prue, after school, following her expulsion:

“I let her think the worst of you, the best of me, just to save my skin. I said it was ridiculous talking about a love affair between us. I said you simply had a crush on me, and that I was just trying to be kind… You were brave enough to stand up to me and force me to acknowledge the truth… I love you… That’s why I had to take a risk and see you this one last time. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care… Every night when I close my eyes, I’ll think of us together in this car and how badly I wanted to drive off with you. I’ll imagine us walking hand in hand at the water’s edge… I wish I wasn’t such a coward.”

(I burrow into the pillow further. I’m trying to suffocate myself.)

And that’s where I think Wilson went wrong. Sure, Prudence getting expelled for something that was completely out of her hands is unfair, and horrible, but it’s real. That shit can happen.

What’s bad is showing Rax in a positive light after all that. If only Wilson had written Rax to not be the Romeo he thinks he is. Make him ignore Prudence, throw her under the bus in front of her face, instead of this star-crossed lovers bullshit it’s made out to be. Show your younger audience that Rax is not a good man. I’ve got a little over two weeks left for my twentieth; I can see why this is unacceptable. But I was a little younger than Prue when I watched Pretty Little Liars, and my only gripe with Aria dating Ezra was that Noel Kahn was so much cuter.

It shows when you scroll down the Goodreads reviews; you’ve got adults giving it one or two stars, and teenagers giving it four or five, with their biggest complaints being, “but Toby was cuter!!!”

Other non-pedophilia related complaints regarding the book include: Prudence being unlikable- which I didn’t really notice, considering she reacted to some people way better than I would’ve, even at 19 (which probably says a lot more about me than it does about Prue, but oh well). Still, Prudence obviously isn’t the most prudent of people- and again, she’s fourteen. Look me in eye and tell me you weren’t an arsehole at that age (unless you’re fourteen now, in which case, I assure you that you’ll look back on yourself someday and go ‘wtf was I thinking’). Bringing up Toby’s dyslexia in an argument was low, though.

There were people who thought the Kings’ almost-Amish lifestyle was exaggerated and unrealistic, but I assure you, it may very well be real. There are 8 billion people on the world- it’s fair to assume that several of them are complete weirdos.

Grace was a sweet character, and I adored her with every fiber of my being. As were her friends Iggy and Figgy. Honestly, I would’ve loved a book about Iggy, Figgy and Piggy’s (mis)adventures too.

#love lessons #jacqueline wilson #teacher #teacher crush #teacher x student #anti ezria #ezria #pretty little liars #aria montgomery #ezra fitz #when i kissed the teacher #book review #books

[nanaminsonyfans]

⛓️Taken⛓️

Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules

Request; Hey can I request a wei beifong x metal bender!reader were when they are fighting the red Lotus she gets captured and tortured? He goes crazy trying to find her and when they do she is badly hurt. I just want some angst with fluff at the end.

A/N; oh hell yeah. this is ANGST at it’s finest, we love a man in uniform to kick some fucking ass, also in this oneshot we are going to pretend they stayed in zaofu for like two months ^^ rock and roll buckroo

Pairing; Wei Beifong x Fem Metalbender!Reader

Warnings; Kiddnaping, torture, angst, descirption of wounds, cursing

Honestly, everything seemed okay at the time. You were apart of Team Avatar, just growing up as a kid on the streets you found Bolin and Mako, and they decided to take care of you. Birds of a feather stick together. Because you were apart of Team Avatar you got to travel with them to find the rest of the new airbenders. Asumi appreciated having a metalbender on a metal airship. Like, if there’s a dent you’ll bend it out ya know?

Being a metalbender meant you are also an earthbender, you never really liked bending rocks and stuff, plus you could manipulate metal into whatever you imagine. Knives, swords, bracelets, literally anything. When you arrived at Zoafu, you were amazed by how everyone manipulated the metal. A boy had caught your eye, his name was Wei Beifong. He was a twin to a brother named Wing, both the youngest of the family. That was amazing to you, being the youngest one of this entire group.

You both had a lot in common, shared the same sense of humor and competitiveness. You clicked immediately. Fell in love even, he was the flirt that always made you blush. “You look amazing today.” “Green is a great color on you.” “Wow, do you just metalbend? Because something else his bending up.” You always got flustered and stopped what you were doing. If you were bending while he said any of that? It stops immediately and the metal crashes to the ground.

Wei finally asked you out, and you became his girlfriend. You were so fucking happy and so was he. The relationship was amazing, everything was so pure and loving, practicing bending together, cuddles, power naps. Everything with him made you happy. Everyone was so happy for you, Mako and Bolin has never ever seen you that happy. Your smile was simply beautiful and everyone noticed. Korra, your close gal pal noticed more, happy about it. 

Everything changed when the Red Lotus attacked.

Korra was being abducted by them, and because you shared a room with the young Avatar, they took you as well. Knocked you out by hitting your head since they didn’t have another tranquilizer. Your head was bleeding from the force of the blow to your head, leaving a small droplet trail of blood. Pabu woke Mako and Bolin up, both waking up to fight and hopefully save both of you. 

They all tried their best, Wei fought with his aunt and mother to let him go down to save you but being a mother, Suyin refused. They weren’t able to get you, they were fast but Ming-Hua was faster, basically encapsulating your body in water. Bubbles of oxygen rose up to the top, everyone watched in horror as the last bubble rose from your mouth and nose. 

The Red Lotus immediately took you to the hideout that would eventually hold Korra. You woke up to a burning sensation in your chest, you rolled over and started to vomit up water mixed with the last thing you ate. Your head was pounding as you finally regained your vision that was blurry. Your clothing wasn’t the same as what you had on when you went to sleep the other night. More like rags. 

“Don’t bother trying to bend.” A man’s voice said, causing you to flinch and turn towards the voice. A man with tanned skin, broad shoulders, long black hair, and a small and thin mustache. You didn’t recognize this man so your face of confusion caused him to sigh. “I am Ghazan.” Okay, that name rang a bell. You heard of him from adults while growing up, he’s an earthbending master with the unique ability to lavabend. Metalbending was already a substyle of earthbending, but he was the only one you have ever heard of that could lavabend. Even growing up you thought it was a myth.

He also was a criminal, everything was making sense now. You tried to stand up but your chains and registrants only jiggled. “Yuh-You don’t know who I-I am.” You state, fear overtaking your body as if you could sense his power, and that fucking scared you. “You don’t think an earthbending master can’t tell one of their own?” Your eyes widened in which Ghazan just smirked and chuckled softly. “I didn’t know which type but, your face confirmed that suspension.” “Bastard.” You mumbled under your breath earning a slap to the face. “Watch your tone. You are not in control here.” 

Your eyes watered from the hit, your left cheek started to sting from that slap. You tried to bend the chains away to no avail. “Yeah keep trying, you can’t bend platinum.” Ghazan taunted and backed up to the doorway. That’s when you realized you were in a wooden cage, suspending above the ground. You started to panic. “What do you want with me?! I’m not important.” You yell, thinking that they could let you go, they obviously wouldn’t.

“We’ve been doing our best.” Kuvira said to Wei Beifong, who had been worried sick for you for two weeks now. “Well try HARDER.” He hissed and stormed off. “Wei…” Wing sighed and ran after his brother. “Listen, we all care about her and we are looking for her but there’s only so much we can do.” Wing explained to his brother that was now fuming with hatred and anger. “You didn’t care for Y/n the same way I did! You don’t understand how I fell! The person I love his captured and possibly being tortured-” His voice cracked as a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t even want to think about it.” He sniffled and quickly wiped his eyes before turning down the hall.

Your screams were deafening, this was mostly because Ghazan was burning you with lava, Ming-Hua delicately stabbing your sides with ice spikes, and Zaheer suffocating you then letting you slip unconscious. You felt so weak, like you were on the verge of death but they wouldn’t let you die. That was the worst punishment for you. You just wanted to die or see your friends and boyfriend again. Blood trickled down your leg as you blinked back tears from the spike stabbing your left thigh. Your throat was raw from screaming, so you didn’t even bother with it. Why scream? It’s been clear for weeks that no one was coming to your aid.

To your understanding, it has been five weeks since they originally brought you here. Yes, you were fed, dressed, cleaned, and you had been given water, but doesn’t mean the torture ever stopped. Each passing week they took their frustrations out on you, until you heard other’s come, murmurs of them being Airbenders. ‘Opal, oh my god Opal is with the airbenders.’ 

“Opal! Jinora! Ikki!” You scream, your voice cracking and raw, that’s when you saw then, under your cage. Oh no, these bastards took children? You weren’t anywhere close to the ground so you couldn’t even help them, shit. “Y/n? Oh my spirits you’re okay!” Opal said happily and looked up at you. “Wei? Is-Is he okay?” You whisper weakly and grip the wooden planks with your bloody and bruised body. “He’s worried, hopefully they’ll be here soon…”

It was easy, Korra is going to let the airbenders go and then they would reveal your location. Wei was nervously waiting along with the rest of the Zaofu soldiers, shaking from the anticipation and worry for his girlfriend. “She better be alive.” He mumbled under his breath as they waited on the side of the cliff, remembering the moment he found out you were taken.

Wei’s face fell when Bolin told him what had happened to you, his girlfriend, HIS Y/n. “What?” He snapped, his voice and expression going dark with murderous like intent. “Wei calm down-” Wing started, “Don’t FUCKING tell me what to do.” Wei snapped at his brother and whipped back around to Bolin. “So you’re telling me, you had her, you had them knocked out, and YET you didn’t fucking grab her? You had her in your sights and you didn’t do shit? Ha...haha.” He started to laugh a ran a shaky hand through his hair as tears started to flow down. “She’s gone...and it’s all of YOUR fault.” Wei made the ground beneath him bend into a crater as his emotions got stronger at the loss. He shoved Bolin back and stormed off, leaving a trail of tears behind. 

Wei Beifong was shattered at the loss of his first love. He never gave up hope on finding her, he made SURE everyone was looking for you. No stone was left unturned when searching for you. He was so hurt by this, he swore that the Red Lotus would be fucking obliterated for laying a finger on his Y/n.

Your vision blurred when seeing a familiar tanned skinned girl in blue, but your ears worked. “Strap the Avatar to the platinum chains, and let that earthbender down, she’s too weak to even hold her head up. Bring her to where the Avatar will be held.” The familiar voice spoke, Zaheer. Fuck sake, you were gonna die. You let out a bitter chuckle as you were dragged out of the cell by Ming-Hua and her waterbending. “You’re going to try and kill the Avatar yeah? Good luck, she’s a tough nut to crack. I doubt you’ll be able to do it.” 

Taunting earned you a firm slap to the face which made your vision get spotty and blurry for a second while your head spun. “Do you really want your last word to be bitter and taunting?” Ming asked with snark in her tone. “How’d you know? Really, I’ve been begging for the past three weeks now, thank you for finally taking that request.” You said faintly and breathlessly as you felt yourself loose consciousness. “Fuh...Fuck you...you…” You whisper as you tried to fight the sleep. ‘Damn, I really failed again huh? This shit sucks.’

Your ears rang as your eyes fluttered open, you heard movement, the earth under you was moving, you felt every vibration, you heard whooshes of fire, and a voice. Bolin? Mako? “...Y/n?! Y/n!” The familiar voice of Bolin called out to you. You coughed and looked around, moving your head. “Bo...lin?” You were weak, your voice showed that. “We have to go.” Mako said as he ran over to you, the entire cave seemed to shake. “If I’m going down, SO ARE YOU!” Ghazan yelled as boulders crashed down. The firebender scooped you up in his arms as he ran, Bolin following close behind. “Don’t drop her!” “I am not going to drop her! She weighs like nothing Bolin!” You laughed softly at their sibling bickering. 

“Tha...Thank you...Mako.” You whisper weakly, cupping his cheek. “Y/n save your energy.” Mako said, all big brother like because that’s our beloved mako. You squinted when you got outside. “Y/N?!” Wei’s voice snapped you toward the boy. He rushed over and took you from Mako’s arms. “What...what did they do to you?”

Your legs were covered in burns, gashes, bruises, your collarbone had semi-deep cuts, bruises around your neck, black eye, busted lip, bleeding nose. There wasn’t one place that wasn’t injured. Your hands seemed to be the worst. Your fingertips seemed like they were shaved down, your nails ripped out, and your knuckles bloody and bruised. 

“That doesn’t matter…” You whisper, tears running down your cheeks. “You came for me?” Your voice was soft, almost in disbelief. “Y/n, I never stopped looking.” Wei whispered back and took your hand, kissing your bloody knuckles. “Your safe now.” He said calmly as he noticed you shaking and trembling. Six weeks, that’s how long you were there. Finally, you were safe.

✨Epilogue✨

After a year of healing, you were finally able to do everything you did before you were kidnapped. When you were found, you had brain trauma from the constant suffocating and you had some nerve damage. You recovered, not fully but enough to be able to nothing for yourself, you regained your comfortability to bend again! Wei was with you every step of the way. He did his best to help you and honestly? That was enough for you. You had grown closer with his family as well, them being your family too now. I mean, you were obviously going to marry Wei so everyone accepted it. 

You fought along side them when Kuvira was being like, a major bitch, and Toph had taken a liking to you! After everything happened, a few years later once Wei and you turned 20 you finally had a wedding. Everyone was so happy, Bolin was your maid of honor because he apparently called dibs. You looked simply beautiful and Wei started crying because after everything, he’s just happy to have you, safe and sound.

#legend of korra #legend of korra x reader #wei beifong #wei beifong x reader #angst #fluff #legend of korra angst #red lotus #zaheer #ghazan #ming-hua

[swan-of-sunrise]

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Eight)

Summary: Jack berates himself for the awful way he’s treated his partner, and he decides to try and turn over a new leaf with her.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Eight Stark Mansion, Los Angeles (Previous Chapter)

The skies surrounding Howard Stark’s mansion were beginning to lighten when Jack finally returned from his walk, his bloodstained hands shoved deep into his pockets and his hair beyond rumpled from angrily running his fingers through it. He’d spent the better part of the night berating himself, both for knowingly sending (Y/N) into the orangery without backup and for the hurtful words he’d said to her all those weeks ago, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t also worried out of his mind for the injured and unconscious codebreaker inside the mansion.

He’d driven them directly to Stark’s mansion at breakneck speed, where the Jarvises had helped him carry (Y/N)’s limp form into one of the spare bedrooms and he watched as the butler stitched the large cut on her thigh closed; Ana had attempted to coax Jack into sitting so she could wrap his sprained ankle but he refused, opting to stand beside the bed and watch her husband work. His jaw would tightly clench each time the codebreaker flinched or whimpered in her sleep and he didn’t relax until Jarvis finished securing the bandage around her leg. With her wound properly treated, (Y/N)’s forehead smoothed out and she seemed to fall into a more peaceful slumber.

“Miss (Y/L/N) will be fine after a good night’s sleep.” Jarvis stood and wiped his bloody hands on a towel, an unusually firm look on his face as he removed his reading glasses. “Now, Chief Thompson, I believe an explanation is in order.”

Against his better judgement, Jack told the Jarvises everything about their secret case, from the file and their chilling discovery pertaining to Michael Carter to their spontaneous investigation into the orangery; to their credit, they promised not to breathe a word of it to Peggy or the SSR, but Jack could see that his story had disturbed them. It was then he decided to go for a walk around the vast estate to clear his head and get away from their prying eyes.

“And how’d that work out for you, you jackass?” He muttered under his breath as he walked. Rounding the corner of Stark’s pool house, Jack’s eyes immediately fell on the familiar emerald-green car parked in the driveway and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. He should’ve waited for another night to infiltrate the orangery, but he was so wrapped-up in the case that he’d ignored (Y/N)’s initial reservations. But what bothered him more was that she believed he didn’t care at all about her well-being or their partnership. Looking back on their past interactions, though, it was painfully easy to see why she’d believe that.

“I see you’ve returned from your walk, Chief Thompson!” Ana looked up from her book with a smile as Jack limped into the kitchen, the pain in his ankle having become more prominent than ever. “Are you feeling better?”

Jack ignored her question. “Is Agent (Y/L/N) awake yet?”

“No, not yet; Edwin is sitting with her now.” Ana stood and gestured to the vacant chair across from her. “Sit, and I’ll wrap your ankle for you.”

Jack opened his mouth to refuse but the stern glint in her eye told him not to argue with the petite woman. He sat, but when she gathered the supplies and prepared to kneel, he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, I’ll do it myself.” Ana raised a skeptical eyebrow but allowed him to take the supplies from her, sitting across from him at the table as he went about wrapping his ankle. “I learned how to do it in the Navy; most of the guys sprained their ankles running to their battle stations, so the medics taught us how to treat ‘em ourselves.”

“Very wise of them. Working for Mr. Stark one must be prepared for anything, so I took several nursing classes; just last year, I treated the ankle Mr. Stark sprained sneaking out of Barbara Stanwyck’s home and the wrist Edwin sprained attempting to recapture Bernard Stark.” Jack frowned in confusion. “He’s a pink flamingo.”

“Ah.”

Ana’s brow furrowed as her eyes focused on his neck. “You’re bleeding! Do you need a bandage for that?”

Jack’s hand shot up to where she was looking but all he felt was smooth skin; it was when he brought his hand back down and examined his stained fingers that he realized it was red lipstick on his neck, not blood. The memory of (Y/N) standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on his neck before flashing him a teasing grin filled his mind and the guilt he was feeling only intensified. “No, it’s fine, it’s just…it’s fine. Thank you.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Ana reading her book as Jack finished wrapping his ankle as quickly as he could. Once he finished, he put his sock and shoe back on and went to the sink to finally scrub the dried blood off of his hands. As he watched the pink-tinted water wash down the drain, he found himself blurting out, “Have you ever, um…you ever say something stupid to someone before? Like, really stupid?”

“Me? Oh, of course!” He turned, wiping his hands on a dishtowel; Ana had set down her book and was tracing the lettering with her fingers. “We are all flawed creatures, so it is only natural that we say things to others without fully thinking of the ramifications of our words.”

Nodding, Jack pressed his lips together and hesitated a moment before continuing. “And how have you…well, taken those words back?”

Ana smiled patiently up at him. “Once words are spoken, Chief Thompson, there’s no taking them back. But a heartfelt apology can always help to lessen the pain that they have caused.”

Based on the look she was giving him, Jack had a sneaking suspicion Ana knew exactly what he was talking about. Thankfully, though, whatever she was about to say was interrupted by Jarvis entering the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. “Miss (Y/L/N) is awake and appears to be in good health. She’s asked to speak with you, actually.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Jack clapped the butler on the shoulder before hurrying his way down the hallway to the guest room, pausing only a moment to run a nervous hand through his hair before knocking on the door.

“Come in.” He opened the door and was met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting upright in bed, relaxing against a mound of pillows and pressing an ice pack against her slightly-swollen cheek; the corner of her mouth twitched when their gazes met, but her (Y/E/C) eyes were caged and watchful as he moved to sit in the chair at her bedside. “Jarvis just gave me a clean bill of health and said my stitches look okay. He was worried and thought that I fainted because I lost too much blood so I had to explain to him that…well, I’m not exactly the biggest fan of gore. Overall, though, he’s a model caregiver; I’ve always said that if he didn’t become a butler, he would’ve been a great doctor.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, he and Ana could open their own practice together.” (Y/N) stared down at her lap and Jack nervously bit his lip; before he could lose his nerve, he leaned forward in his chair and spoke. “(Y/N), I’m sorry.” Her head shot up and the look of surprise in her eyes urged him to continue. “I should’ve listened to you about looking into the orangery another day, that way we could’ve been better prepared and you wouldn’t have gotten injured, but what I’m really sorry for is the way I’ve spoken and acted towards you over the past few weeks. You didn’t do anything to deserve all that and…and I should’ve been a better partner to you. I get it if you don’t wanna work this case anymore, and-”

(Y/N)’s free hand shot out and grabbed one of his, the action succeeding in shutting him up; he met her gaze once again and was stunned to see that she too seemed nervous. “I haven’t exactly been fair to you either. What I said in the car…I didn’t mean it. If you didn’t care about our partnership, then you wouldn’t have acted the way you did when you got me here last night.” Jack frowned in confusion and (Y/N) gave him a small smile. “Jarvis told me that you didn’t leave my bedside when he stitched me up, not even once, and he said that you flat-out refused to have your ankle treated until after I was taken care of.”

“Jarvis talks too much.”

“Well, I’m glad he told me, and…” She looked down at their clasped hands before looking back up at him, a sincere gleam in her eyes. “…and I’m sorry too, Jack, for everything.”

They shared a smile, a genuine smile, and after a moment they both seemed to realize that they were still holding hands; (Y/N) pulled hers back to rest on her bedcovers and Jack’s quickly shot up to smooth back his hair, already feeling his face heat up in embarrassment as the image of her smiling face filled his mind. To clear the tension of the room, he chuckled and casually remarked, “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my actual name and not ‘Flyboy’.”

“I could say the same thing but I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you, Flyboy.” (Y/N) smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Now, how about we go through the intel I gathered over some breakfast?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, Specs, let me see if I got it all straight,” Jack took a large bite of his blueberry muffin and a swig of black coffee before continuing. “The orangery’s being used to manufacture and distribute those vault-melting devices, they have a shipment that’s supposed to go out in the next few weeks, they bumped off Templeton for leaving a device behind at the crime scene and Michael’s goons are planning on ‘taking care of me’ next? Not much to worry ‘bout there since they seem to make pretty shit assassins, but the first few parts we can work with.”

(Y/N) nodded, setting her teacup down on its saucer and glancing down at the pad of paper filled with her messy scribbles. “I think that the first man I heard speak, the one worried about the SSR discovering their operation, could’ve been Adam Fieldman. It was dark but I may be able to identify him once we get ahold of his photograph.” She glanced up at him over the rims of her reading glasses. “We should definitely focus on him; based on the way he spoke, he might be an easy one to crack during an interrogation.”

Jack shrugged at her suggestion. “Agreed, but it’s not like the two of us can raid the place and bring him into the SSR for questioning; if we do that then everyone, including Carter, is gonna find out exactly what we’ve been up to. Oh, and are we just gonna breeze past the fact that you’ve been carrying a pen-bomb in your purse this whole time and you didn’t tell anyone about it?”

Ana, who had just entered the kitchen, let out a laugh. “Miss (Y/L/N) has many tricks up her sleeve, does she not? I must leave for my life-drawing class now, so I’ll see you all later!”

“Ah, goodbye darling!”

Ignoring the passionate goodbye kiss the husband and wife were sharing mere feet away, Jack raised an eyebrow at the codebreaker. “That thing wasn’t SSR tech, was it?”

“I may or may not have saved it from my old OSS days during the war.” (Y/N) gave him a mischievous grin. “I always knew it would come in handy someday.”

“Apparently.” Draining the last drops of coffee from his cup, Jack stood and took his dishes over to the sink where Jarvis had resumed cleaning up. “You got any ideas on what we should do, Jarvis?”

“Well, for one, I believe you should wash your own dishes, as you are neither my employer nor a severely injured guest.” Jarvis replied dryly before going over to where (Y/N) was seated at the table. “Are you finished with your breakfast, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/N) smiled up at the butler as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you, Jarvis, it was delicious but I can wash my own-”

“You must stay off your feet for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), or else your stitches may loosen. And absolutely no arguing.” Jarvis added sternly, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes but complied as he collected her dishes. “As for your current conundrum, Chief Thompson, it could easily be solved by simply telling Miss Carter exactly what you’re up to.”

Sighing, Jack looked up from the soapy water and exchanged a look with (Y/N) before meeting the butler’s hard gaze. “We told you, Jarvis, Carter can’t know about our investigation just yet.”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, a sympathetic expression on her face as Jarvis turned to her. “He’s right, Jarvis. I know how badly her brother’s death affected her; if we tell Peg that Michael faked his death and spent the last few years committing war crimes but somehow end up being wrong about it, it’ll crush her.” The codebreaker nervously tugged at the sleeve of her robe and let out a breath. “And if we end up being right…well, at least we’ll have some actual proof to go along with our word.”

“…I still don’t feel entirely comfortable keeping something this momentous from Miss Carter, but I suppose that you’re correct about needing proof.” All of the sudden, Jarvis’ drawn face brightened. “You could always ask the Los Angeles police force for their aid!”

“The L.A.P.D.? I’ve got a lot of connections, pal, but I don’t have any in the…” Jack whirled around and grinned as the distant memory of an enthusiastic young officer handing (Y/N) his card all those weeks ago suddenly came to the forefront of his mind. “It looks like we’ve gotta pay a visit to that rookie cop friend of yours, Specs.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Nine

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up​ @fluffymadamina​ @remmyswritings​ @ourstarsailor​ @darkusangelus​ @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck​ @yeetyeetchickenmeat​ @sameoldbaby​ @theserenityspace​ @seeing-but-not-observing​ @supervoldejaygent​ @momc95​ @brooke0297​ @kinda-c0nfused​ @outoftheregular  @mads-weasley​

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #edwin jarvis #ana jarvis #michael carter #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Baby Brothers

Summary: Dean shows up at the reader’s doorstep injured and looking for help. Little does he know, the reader is going to do more than fix up a few cuts for him...

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader

Word Count: 3,100ish

Warnings: language, injury

A/N: In this fic, the reader is 27, Dean 25 and Sam is 21...

______

“Hey, Y/N,” said Dean when you picked up the phone. It was rare for him to call. After Sam went off to college, you had left too. He had been more than angry and you were sick and tired of being the one that had everything put on them. But you still could hear the little brother in his voice. The ‘please help me’ he was quietly asking for.

“Where are you,” you asked, grabbing your purse and keys. 

“Your driveway,” he said. You walked to the front door and opened it up, Dean standing by Baby and forcing a smile. He was bruised and a little bloody and you sighed, waving him over. You ditched the keys and purse on the front table, Dean wincing when he stepped into the foyer.

“I got your floor all dirty,” he said quietly, lifting up his boots. “I’m sorry.”

“De, it’s fine,” you said, taking off his jacket, spotting the blood on his shirt. “Dean, you need a hospital.”

“I’m not going to a hospital,” he said.

“Were you shot?” you asked.

“Vamp slashed me a bit. Dad wasn’t happy,” said Dean. 

“Did he hit you?” you asked, looking at his bruised left cheek. Dean rolled his eyes and you snapped your fingers. “Did he hit you?”

“It was an accident. He got drunk and I pushed his buttons and I fucked up,” he said.

“No. I fucked up. When I left, I should have dragged your ass with me,” you said, picking up the purse and keys again.

“Y/N. I need a stitch job is all. I-”

“No, Dean. You are here because you need my help and I’m giving it to you whether you like it or not.”

Four Hours Later

“I’m gonna leave your medicine on the kitchen counter,” you said, Dean wearily taking a seat at the table. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“De,” you sighed, catching him wincing in his seat. “Come on. Let’s get you on something soft.”

You put an arm around him and helped him up, Dean pushing you away. 

“Lay off, Y/N. I’m fine,” he said. You grabbed his hair and he whined. “Sis. Stop. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“This isn’t a scrape on the knee. Don’t be a baby and I won’t treat you like one,” you said, running your hand over his head. “Dean.”

“Shut up,” he said, going to the counter and grabbing his medicine. “Thanks but I’m gone.”

You watched him head for the door when you grabbed his shirt collar gently.

“Deanie,” you said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Y/N,” he said.

“Deanie.”

“I’m not a little kid.”

“Deanie.”

He went lax and turned around, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“It hurts. Everything fucking hurts and I’m so tired of fucking up,” he said, reaching his arms around you. You hugged him gently, not entirely sure he’d had one in the three years since you’d last seen each other.

“It’s okay. We’ll fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?” you said, rubbing his back. You gingerly walked with him upstairs and into the guest room, helping get him out of his dirty clothes and into the bathroom. You cleaned him off in there, leaving him wrapped in a towel for a moment before you were back inside with his duffel bag. You found a clean pair of boxers and a fresh shirt for him. You left while he changed, helping him with the shirt when you returned. 

He seemed better when you got him tucked into bed with a blanket, promising to bring him up a late dinner in a few minutes.

By the time you came back with some water though, he was fast asleep.

“You’re okay, Dean. I promise.”

“Good morning,” you said when you saw Dean slowly make his way into the kitchen. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. How about we eat on the couch instead? I’m sure there’s some cartoons on.”

“Yeah,” he said and you noticed he still had a blanket wrapped around himself. 

Ten minutes later you carried in two plates of eggs and bacon and some orange juice.

“I made your favorite,” you said, handing him a fork.

“You put the maple syrup in with the bacon,” he said with a tiny smile.

“Best way to cook it,” you said. He was quiet as you ate, Dean pushing his plate onto the coffee table when he finished. You set your own down and felt him lean into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I called you a bitch,” he said, glancing up at you. 

“Let’s not go down that road. We both said a lot that night I walked away,” you said. 

“I should have stood up to dad for you after Sammy left,” he said.

“It was one week between when he left and I did. Dad, you don’t have to worry about me and dad. Besides, I’m the oldest,” you said.

“I’ve been bigger than you since I was 17,” said Dean as he sat up, fixing his blanket around himself. “He was so angry at you. I was afraid he might hurt you.”

“Dad’s never hurt me a day in his life. I was the girl,” you said, wrapping your arms around Dean. “I love you, De. I’m sorry I never did a better job of protecting you.”

“Y/N. You and Sam were the smart ones. I was always going to be a hunter,” said Dean. You frowned and he pulled back. “Y/N, I chose to be a hunter.”

“No, you didn’t. I didn’t chose to stick around after high school because I wanted to be one, Dean. No kid wants that,” you said.

“You hunted for six more years,” he said.

“I stuck around for my little brothers,” you said. “I was so angry at you when you dropped out of school. You are so fucking smart and you listened to dad and quit.”

“I got my GED,” said Dean.

“After I yelled at you to,” you said, moving your hands away, rubbing your face. “If I had pushed you to do homework more like Sam-”

“Sammy’s younger than us, both of us. I’m only two years younger than you, not even. You had no chance of me listening to you,” said Dean. “Not when Dad was around.”

“When I left, I should have took you with me,” you said.

“If I recall, you never wanted to see my face again,” said Dean, giving you half a smile.

“You were mean...and I was mean. I’m sorry,” you said.

“Me too.”

“Stay here, with me,” you said. He tilted his head and scrunched up his face. “You’re a grown man, Dean.”

“I’ll stick around a few days while I recover but I gotta tag up with dad and see if there’s any new hunts,” he said.

“No. You don’t. I’m putting my foot down. I want you to try this out for a little while. A normal life,” you said. He scoffed and stood up, heading for the stairs. You followed him and grabbed his arm, Dean pushing you back against the nearest wall. You glared up at him and he closed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried. I had a normal girlfriend for a few weeks. I even told her I hunted and she was cool with it. But that fell to shit and I don’t fit in with normal people or a normal life anymore. What am I gonna do with my GED? How am I ever going to afford a house like this? I have a juvie record. A real record. I will never be like you. You were strong. You never got caught shoplifting. You stood up to dad. I’ve never been able to do that. I will stay a few days and then I’m gone, okay? I’ll try to visit you sometimes, I promise,” he said.

“You still sound like the scared four year old that would hide in my bed except now, you sound just like dad too.”

You stormed up to your room and slammed the door shut. You could hear Dean come up slowly, pattering around in his room before you heard the thud of his duffel hit the floor. Immediately you left, catching Dean in the hall with it.

“I’m going,” he said quietly, dragging it towards the landing.

“Don’t worry about all of that shit or dad. Please. Stay a little while. Take a break from hunting. Please. Can we compromise on that?” you asked as you grabbed the bag. 

“I’ll give you two weeks,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, picking up the bag and carrying it back. “Come on, get back in your pajamas. You need to have a lazy day.”

“Y/N, what is all this stuff?” he asked as you dropped off a laundry basket full of new clothes to his room that night.

“New undies, socks, shirts, flannels...a bunch of new clothes since a majority of yours have holes. I picked up some different stuff at the grocery store so whatever you want for dinner we can make and all that. If you want something just jot it down on the list and I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” you said.

“Y/N, that’s like super expensive,” he said.

“Dean. I have this thing called a job. It’s all good,” you said. “You need anything else right now?”

“No. Thanks,” he said. You hummed and turned to go, Dean clearing his throat behind you. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?” you said.

“You ever hear from Sam?”

“When’s the last time you two talked?” you asked.

“Two years. I send him a birthday card every year but never heard anything back,” said Dean. 

“Yeah, we talk,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is he happy?”

You closed your eyes and nodded.

“Yes, he’s very happy. School’s good. He’s got a great girlfriend. She’s in the nursing program,” you said. “Sammy’s good.”

“Good for him,” said Dean, forcing a smile.

“You want to watch a movie?” you asked.

“I’m tired if that’s okay.”

“Yeah. No problem. Get some rest, De.”

One Week Later

“Y/N, what’s this?” asked Dean as he brought in your mail for you. You poked your head out from the kitchen.

“Local community college course offerings. I get one every few months,” you said, going back to the kitchen.

“This is the community college? It looks like some university,” he said.

“I went to school there,” you said.

“You did?” asked Dean.

“Mhm. I was able to work at a bar and take classes and then once I got my two year done, I finished up my four year online while I worked,” you said.

“What exactly do you do? You’ve kinda been home all week,” said Dean as he took a seat at the kitchen table with the catalogue.

“I work for a small firm. We do online investments. It’s a work from home gig which is cool,” you said.

“Wait, so you’re like rich?” he asked.

“I’m not rich, De,” you laughed. “But I do okay on my own.”

“Cool,” he said, flipping through the course offerings.

“You know, most of the classes are pretty reasonable. It’s like 3 grand for a whole year. If you want to take some, I’d pay,” you said. 

“I’ll never be able to get a real job, sis,” he said.

“Can I take a look at that?” you asked, sliding a BLT in front of him. He nodded and swapped with you, starting to eat his afternoon snack as you looked through the book. “There’s mechanical classes. Trade work. Accounting.”

“No accounting,” said Dean with a mouthful.

“There’s stuff in here I think you’d enjoy,” you said. “Hey, you know contractors can make a hell of a lot of money and run their own business and you’d be your own boss.”

“I can’t do that stuff.”

“You killed a ghoul when I was twelve. By yourself. You can totally go to school and start your own business. Big sis knows some good investment areas, just saying,” you said.

“What about the demon that killed mom?” asked Dean.

“Dad will keep going until it is dead. I don’t doubt that and that is his right. You have the right to live your own life too, Dean. You don’t have to hunt. You don’t have to give it up either. I know a part of you enjoys it. You’re so good, way better than I ever was. If you owned your own business...you could slip out on a hunt from time to time. I’d prefer if you never hunted again but you can have both,” you said. 

He finished eating and took back the catalogue, looking through it some more.

“Dad will kill me,” he said.

“No, he won’t. You’re a man. You don’t have to do what he says. You don’t have to do what anyone says. I want you to make your own choices is all.”

“I’d need a place to stay,” he said.

“I got the space. You can even park Baby in the garage…” you said.

“Can you help me fill out an application later?” he asked.

“Of course, De,” you said, ruffling his hair. 

One Month Later

“Yo, I brought home pizza and wings and aced my test today,” said Dean as he walked through the front door. “I hope you don’t got company cause I saw the car in the driveway and…”

He paused when he saw Sam sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” said Sam.

“Hey.”

You stood and took the food from Dean, watching as he slipped off his backpack. 

“I didn’t realize you were stopping by,” said Dean.

“Jess had a thing this weekend and I wanted to come see, Y/N. You too,” he said.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” you said, excusing yourself to the kitchen. You tried to give them their privacy but only lasted about a minute before you looked around the corner. You smiled when you saw them hugging, Dean looking a bit bashful as they said something to one another. “Food, boys.”

They exchanged a few more words before they came in and loaded up a few plates, the three of you wandering back to the family room. You swore you’d never seen either of them smile like that. They were like little boys again, teasing one another and you smiled, Dean so proud of himself to talk about his classes and his future plans with Sam.

Until you heard a truck pull up outside and you saw them both glance towards the front door.

“Boys. Stay put,” you said, going outside without looking back.

“Hi, sweetie,” said your dad, walking up the driveway. “You got company?”

“Yes. What do you want?” you asked.

“Your brother’s gone awol on me. He says he’s okay but he’s not grabbing new hunts from Bobby. I’m worried,” he said.

“Dean’s perfectly fine,” you said.

“He’s here, isn’t he,” he said, looking at the other car in the driveway and catching the Stanford sticker on the back. “Shit, both of them are?”

“Yes,” you said, holding out a hand when he went to walk past you. “I didn’t invite you into my house.”

“Y/N.”

“Last I checked, I was an ungrateful stuck up little girl that thought she was too good for hunting and didn’t care about my dead mother or my family,” you said, crossing your arms. “Yet I’m the one that raised my brothers. Dean and I raised Sam together while you were off hunting. I am still cleaning up your messes and you know what? Both of them are happy, a lot happier away from you and hunting and it’s going to stay that way.”

“I was fine with Dean taking a short break, get his head on straight so he doesn’t screw up like he did on that hunt but we both know he is a hunter through and through. You and Sam, you’re different. You’re good hunters but you don’t have the bite for it like Dean. He is good at it. He’s talented. Don’t you take him away from that.”

“He is a not a solider,” you growled. “He is a man that is afraid of you. I know you hit him for apparently ‘screwing up’ your stupid hunt. He’s not going near you again.”

“When you have kids, you make your own parenting choices,” he said. “But this-”

“I had kids when I was a fucking kid,” you snapped. “They misbehaved and you know what I did? Timeout. No TV. I didn’t spank them. I didn’t hit them and I would certainly not hit my grown child. So you can either leave and maybe someday when you finally get that demon, you can come back and attempt a relationship with your children or you can stay out for good.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for Dean.”

“I’m his big sister. I sure as hell get to make that choice for him, for both of them, when it comes to you.”

“Y/N,” said Dean as he stepped onto the front step. “Give us a minute.”

“A minute,” you said, sliding past him and into the house. You waited by the front window, Dean inside again more quickly than you expected. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said. You were about to go off on him when he smirked. “Oh, I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“You little shithead,” you said, hearing the truck pull out. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“I told him if he gets a lock on the demon that killed mom, I’ll come help but until then, I’m sticking around here,” said Dean. It wasn’t exactly the answer you’d been hoping for but it was good enough. 

“I can live with that,” you said, giving him a hug. 

“Me too. Hey after dinner, you guys want to catch a movie?” asked Dean. “Y/N’s treat.”

“Well if Y/N’s paying then obviously,” teased Sam.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you dorks.”

_____

#spn #supernatural #dean x sister!reader #dean winchester #one shot #dean winchester x sister!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

[rubix-writings]

Punisher Pt. 4

Fourth part of Punisher. This is a Chicago PD/Fire imagine with an original character. I don’t own any of the plot points or characters from the show. Also, it doesn’t follow any particular season or sequence in the shows.

Series Summary: Josephine (Jo) never expected to find support and pure love when she left Los Angeles. She ran away to Chicago and was content with living an insignificant, hidden life. But everything changes when she walks into Molly’s to get a job.

Josephine (OC) x Jay Halstead

The italicized lines are internal thoughts of the character.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, blood, mentions of violence/attack, long (!)

“Jo, can you get that order ready? I have to go do inventory in the back,” Hermann asks. His silver eyeglasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, the reflection of the paperwork on his clipboard plays across his lenses. I nod and start to pour a few glasses of wine to take over to the table in the back corner. A few weeks passed since my first day and Hermann and Stella have started to trust with a lot more responsibility around the bar. It’s been great getting closer with the regulars and I’ve even stopped by the firehouse to have lunch with everyone a few times. I pick up some empties on my way back to the bar and start to wash the used glasses. It was a pretty quiet night and the crowd has only thinned out as the night went on. 

“Hey Jo, how’s loverboy?” Emily insinuated. I met Emily and Silvie during one of my first shifts and they really latched onto Jay’s and my relationship, or lack thereof. We ended up having a few drinks after my shift on the same day Jay dropped me off at Molly’s. The way I feel when I’m with Jay is new, something I’ve never experienced before. When Jay is around I feel….. Safe. It’s like I can fully be myself, there are no eggshells to tiptoe around. 

“He’s at the table near the door, why don’t you go ask him?” I ask. 

“Oh please, you must have noticed how Jay likes to hang around Molly’s, but really only during your shifts,” Emily whispers.

“And how he’ll stay late on the nights you’re closing up,” Silvie lowers her voice to match Emily’s. I pause cleaning and lean onto the bartop in front of them.

“You guys just described yourselves,” I whisper back. 

“That’s not true, we are here… an average amount,” Emily fights back, but not really believing it. Silvie says nothing, but I can tell by the way her eyes are moving that she’s trying to do the math. I smirk and say nothing. They’re not wrong about the amount of time Jay spends at the bar. Sometimes he comes in with a few members of the Intelligence Unit or with Will, but he always spends time at the bar to talk. And then there are the times he’s come in alone and sat on the same stool all night to ensure his spot is saved. But I’ve tried to not think about it if I’m being completely honest. A part of me feels like I’m crossing a line I’ll never be able to step back, I’m supposed to be hidden, flying below the radar. I’ve really tried, people have offered to hang out on my days off or grab drinks and I always turn them down. I could never live with myself if any of these people got hurt because of me. I keep telling myself that I have everything exactly how I want it, but that is a big fat lie and I have no interest in fixing it. 

“Hey Jo, can I close out?” the breath in my lungs immediately dissipates. Jay really is punch you in the gut kind of beautiful. 

“Yeah, course,” I move further down the bar to the register. “How’s Will doing these days?”

“He’s good, the long shifts are killing him, but other than that he’s good.”

“Well maybe you shouldn't keep him out this late,” he smirks and hands me his credit card.

“Yeah, probably shouldn’t. He’s just being a good brother,” I hand Jay his receipts to sign. 

“Will you come around tomorrow?” Really smooth, that didn’t sound too eager at all.

“Can’t sadly, I pulled the short straw of late shift patrol.”

“Wow, how’d you get so lucky?” He hands me back the signed copy. 

“It’s a gift I guess. At least I’ll be with Adam, you remember him right?” Adam Ruzek, probably one of the tallest men I’ve ever seen. It’s hard to forget him since he acts like a teenage boy trapped in a man’s body. I smile and nod at Jay’s question. “Yeah, so at least I’ll have someone to talk to.”

“How are him and Kim doing, still on the outs?”

“Yeah. Hey don’t let me regret spilling that to you,” he taps his knuckles on the wooden bartop. 

“First, I’m offended. I’m an excellent secret keeper. Second, maybe it should be harder than a couple of beers for a detective to start disclosing secrets,” I shrug. 

“It’s called confiding actually.”

“Oh is that right,” I smile.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you around Jo,” Jay starts backing away towards the front door. 

“Bye Jay.”

Is it too serious to tell him to stay safe? The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to be dropped, but it never came. I look to the girls at the other end of the bar who give me a look of victory from Jay’s and my interaction. I simply roll my eyes and get back to work. 

****

My eyes are barely staying open as I park my car in front of my apartment building. That’s right, I have a car. A real shitty one to match my apartment. It does provide some comfort knowing that it’ll never get broken into. The frigid air does very little to wake me up, my body is deeply craving sleep. Between the double shift today and the closing shifts the nights before, I haven’t gotten enough sleep to say the least. My feet slowly trudge up the creaking stairs, for some reason someone years ago thought it would be a good idea to paint them white, but never did any touch ups and just left it to chip and fade over time. The ceiling in my apartment was “fixed” a week ago, but by the looks of it I wouldn’t be surprised if it dropped again. 

“Time for sleep,” I smile lazily. I plug my phone in to charge and go to the closet to hang up my coat. My bed has never looked so inviting, hell my water ruined coach looks like a good place to sleep right about now. I start to brush my teeth when I hear a muffled yell. I pause and wait for it to reoccur, but after a few seconds I start to believe it’s my tired mind playing tricks. 

“Help….please,” it’s so faint that if you weren’t looking for it you’d miss the outcry. A loud crash follows which causes the adrenaline to course through my veins and bolt out of my apartment. A woman lays in the hallway, I look to the stairs and the vibrant blood clashes with the white stairs and banister. She groans and tries to move.

“Hey, don’t move,” I say as softly as I can. I take off the hoodie that I always wear under my coat and start to push it under her head as a makeshift pillow. Her eyes flutter closed, but she doesn’t try to move anymore. I start to get up from my knees and her hand quickly snatches my forearm.

“Please don’t leave me,” her voice is hoarse. This is the first time I really look at her face that’s covered in blood and cuts. Her eyes are hollow and tired. I look down to her hand that’s also covered in blood, there’re cuts across her knuckles. She fought back. 

“I’ll be right back, I just need to get my phone. Just relax, you’re safe,” I had no place to tell her how to feel, but once she loosens her grip I take full advantage and run to my phone to call 911. As I’m explaining the events to the dispatcher I take the rolls of gauze and first aid kit from my apartment with me to the hallway. 

“What’s your name?” My voice is calm, I start to try and wrap the injuries bleeding the most. 

“Eve,” her voice faint and weak. 

“Hi Eve, I’m Jo. You’re not alone okay? I’m not leaving you,” she nods slightly keeping her eyes closed. “The police are coming.” Once I finish wrapping the wounds on her face, I start to look over the rest of her body to see if anything needs immediate attention. Her upper arm was slashed and she was stabbed in the leg which is basically gushing. They might’ve nicked the artery. As fast as I can without putting her in too much pain I wrap up her arm and start pilling on copious amounts of gauze to her leg wound. The bright red liquid stains the used gauze and my hands as it can’t be stopped by the gauze alone. I start to undo my belt and wrap it above the wound.

“Eve, this is going to hurt, but I need you to stay still so I can stop the bleeding okay?” she groans in response. Her skin is almost as pale as the white wooden floor. I leave her for one last time to get a wooden spoon from my kitchen. I start the tourniquet and try to push away Eve’s cries of pain. “I know, I’m sorry,” she doesn’t respond. Once the tourniquet is in place I get more gauze to put pressure on the wound. 

“Police! Call Out!” I’ve never felt so relieved to hear those words.

“Up here! Hurry!” I shout back. 

“Holy shit.”

“Jo?” My head snaps up to Jay’s face. 

“Jay, help her,” my exhaustion slowly defeating the adrenaline in my body. 

“I got this Jo,” Adam moves to put pressure on the leg wound. I slide back to lean against the wall.

“Jo, what happened?” Jay’s face directly in front of mine. I’ve never seen his eyes this close up before, there’s so many blues thrown together.

“I heard her yell for help, I think she fell down the stairs,” Jay follows my gaze to the stained stairs behind him. “Her name is Eve,” he nods and pulls away to talk into his radio. 

“Eve, Eve, can you hear my sweetheart?” Adam yells to Eve, she winces in response. “The ambulance should be here in a minute, just hold on okay?” Eve’s eyes flutter open and frantically look for me. 

“Hey, I’m right here. I’m not leaving,” I walk and practically collapse on the other side of her. Her bloody hand finds mine like it’s her only lifeline. 

“Ruzek, I’m going to clear the rest of the building. Jo stay with Adam,” normally I would fight and tell Jay to not go alone, but my body is gradually fading. 

“We’re good man, go,” Adam urges. “Jo, you okay there darling?” his voice sounds morphed in my mind. 

“Yeah I’m fine,” Adam reaches for his radio, I watch him talk but nothing comes out of his mouth. I shake my head to try and get my mind straight. 

“Paramedics!” 

“Up here guys!” Adam yells back. “Eve, the medics are here, you’re gonna be okay.”

“What do we got?” One medic asks, Adam takes it upon himself to explain the prior events as best as he can from the information I gave him earlier. I release Eve’s hand and move so the medics can help her, she seems to understand because Eve doesn’t fight me moving away. It felt like an out of body experience watching them try and save Eve. 

“There’s a blood trail leading a few floors up, went into the apartment it started from but it’s empty. Cars are on their way to secure the scene,” Jay is back, but I don’t look at him. “Hey Jo, why don’t you sit down?” Jay grabs my arms and gently leads me to a clean stair to sit. “What’s the ETA on that second ambulance?”

“Two minutes,” one medic answers while removing my sweatshirt from under Eve’s head to get her on the back board. 

“Second ambulance?” I ask.

“Yeah, just to check you out really quick. You might be going into shock,” Jay responds softly.

“I’m fine, just really tired,” my voice is barely above a whisper.

“Just in case, okay? Here,” Jay takes off his CPD bomber jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. 

“Jay give us a hand,” Adam calls while grabbing hold of one side the back board that holds Eve. 

“Yeah. Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” Jay rubs my back before getting up from the stair and helping get Eve down the stairs to the ambulance. I rest my head against the wall as my body enters full crash mode. I just want to sleep. “Jo, come on let’s go get you checked out,” Jay helps put my arms through the correct holes of his jacket and leads me down the steps to outside.

The steel of the ambulance is cold against my butt. A woman with red hair and bright green eyes starts taking my vitals. The blue and red lights of the cop cars light up the entire street. People are bringing a ton of equipment into my apartment building, whoever was sleeping in the building isn’t anymore. 

“Well everything looks good. Her body is crashing from all the adrenaline, so she’ll need some good rest, but other than that she’s fine,” the medic tells Jay. 

“Thanks Terry,” Jay replies before taking a seat next to me. He hands me a water bottle, I accept it with my blood stained hand. I should be acting more freaked out about the blood, but I’m too tired to lie. 

“You did a great job in there. You a nurse or something?” Terry asks me.

“Um, no,” I leave it at that. Like I said, I’m too tired to lie. A guy that’s mildly balding with a thick beard appears from around the corner of the ambulance. He has a massive camera balanced around his neck. 

“I need to take photos,” he says plainly. 

“Photos?” I ask confused. 

“C’mon man, can’t you give her a second to breathe?” Jay defends.

“You know the protocol Detective,” there’s no life in his words. I place the water bottle on the ambulance steel and take off Jay’s jacket. The man positions my hands to take photos for evidence. After he’s satisfied with the photos of my hands he starts to circle and take pictures of my clothes, the fact he does it silently makes me uncomfortable. I think Jay feels the same way since he wraps me again in his black jacket and tells the rude man that’s enough. Jay leads me back to my apartment. The building is full of officers and lab techs, the whole place is a crime scene. Jay and I don’t talk till we get inside my apartment. A part of me is embarrassed that he has to see my shitty apartment, but it’s quickly pushed away. 

“Do you know her?” Jay asks.

“No, but I don’t know anyone in this building,” I answer honestly. “I try to keep to myself.” 

“You can wash your hands,” I nod and move to the kitchen to start scrubbing the dried blood from my hands. “Maybe, you shouldn’t stay here tonight.”

“If you’re worried about the noise, I’m way too tired to care. Besides, this building has never been safer with all the cops crawling around,” I try to joke. 

“I have an extra bedroom Jo, it would be no trouble,” he pushes. 

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I promise,” the skin on my hands is just about raw once all the blood is off. I let my hands stay under cold water to try and ease the pain. “Um, will you let me know what you find out about Eve? Let me know if she’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard you’re a good secret keeper.”

“Thanks,” I hand him back his jacket. Jay smiles and hesitantly moves toward the door. 

“Before I go, at least take this,” he hands me his business card. “Call me if you don’t feel comfortable staying here, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Okay, yeah,” my fingers run over the raised lettering across the card. Without another word, Jay leaves. I lock the door and make my way to my room to finally get some long overdue sleep. I don’t look at the time, I know that won’t help me. The muffled talking and walking from outside my apartment gradually lull me to a deep sleep. 

A slight vibration slowly brings me out of my nightly slumber. I never plugged my phone in to charge after the events of last night, it’s settled next to me by my pillow. I have three missed calls from Hermann. It’s almost noon, but I’m still tired. I call back Hermann knowing he’s probably freaking out since I haven’t answered.

“Hey kid!” His immense energy brings a smile to my face.

“Hi Hermann, everything okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re good. I heard about last night, how are you?” Of course he did. 

“Yeah I’m good, still trying to wrap my head around it, I guess.”

“Of course. How about when you’re up for it you stop by Molly’s I want to ask you something.” “I can be there in an hour,” Hermann and I exchange our goodbyes. I groan spills out of my lips as I stretch my arms above my head. Once I finally move from my bed, I immediately go to shower, something I probably should’ve done last night. The boiling water feels euphoric against my skin and the steam cleans out my mind. I need to come up with a story with details to explain last night. There’s no way that people won’t push like they did last night, I was given space because of the tragic event. A dull pain flows down my legs as I clean the new bruises on my knees. I didn’t realize how hard I slammed my knees on the hardwood in the hall last night. Once I pull myself from the warm confides of the shower I have to rush to put on jeans and a sweater before being late to meet with Hermann. I don’t have time to blow dry my hair so I throw it up in a bun before grabbing my keys and running to my car. The hallways and stairs are covered in black dust from fingerprinting, it’s surprising how quickly they cleaned everything up. 

Luckily, there’s a free spot not too far from Molly’s. It’s decently full for a Saturday afternoon. The inside heat is slowly thawing my frozen hair and face from the freezing wind. 

“Jo, you want a cup of coffee?” Hermann is the only one behind the bar and I’m very grateful for that. 

“Yes please,” I sit at one of the stools and welcome the hot cup of coffee. 

“How’re you doing?” Hermann comes around the bartop to take the seat next to me. 

“I’m good, still a bit tired if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, what happened last night must’ve really taken it out of you.”

“I didn’t realize that all first responders are such gossips,” I take a sip of the hot coffee. 

“Oh the worst,” he laughs. “I’m not good about beating around the bush so I’ll just go right into it. I have an apartment above my garage. It was meant for my mother-in-law but she had to move into assisted living.”

“That’s - good for you?” I’m confused. 

“I think you should move in there. It’ll -”

“Oh Hermann I don’t think so, I have a place.”

“I know, but it’s a scene of a crime. They still haven’t found the person who did that to that poor girl. You can pay rent if that makes you feel better, and we don’t even have to see each other. It’s that separate from the main house. Look from what Jay said I don’t think it would be good for you to stay there,” Hermann’s eyes grow wide as we realizes he gave away his source. 

“Jay? Was this his idea?” Hermann stutters trying to find a way out of the hole he dug for Jay. “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow Hermann. Thanks for the offer,” I abandon the rest of the coffee and get up to leave Molly’s.

“Hey kid, it may not have been my idea but we would love to have you,” Hermann expresses sincerely. The anger that was boiling inside of me settles at his kind words for a moment.

“Thanks, I’ll let you know,” he nods and makes no effort to stop me from storming out of the bar this time. Once I enter the cold streets I’m met with a few members of the Intelligence Unit including the perpetrator himself, Jay Halstead. I exchange short greetings with each one before they head inside. 

“Hey how are you doing?” Jay says once everyone is gone. 

“Fine. I would ask you the same thing, but you must be tired since you’ve been so busy,” Jay furrows his brows.

“What? What are you talking about Jo?”

“I just had a really interesting conversation with Hermann. About my living situation. That you instigated,” I start to walk towards my car, ready to leave Jay without another word.

“Jo, please. Let me explain -” I spin around so fast it almost makes me dizzy. 

“No. Do you think that shitty apartment in a horrific neighborhood was my first choice? But I’m doing this on my own for once.”

“You don’t have to do this on your own.”

“Yeah well I also don’t need people making my choices for me. Goodbye Jay,” I turn and walk towards my car. Never in my life did I wish I was getting into a Lexus more than right now.

Tags (hopefully I did this right!) - @whit85-blog​

#Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #chicago one #chicago fire imagine #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x oc #punisher

[hermannsthumb]

Hermann preparing for date night with Newt by selecting where to eat solely by what he has a coupon for. Or, ya know, frugal connoisseur Hermann. <3 ksci

inspired by a convo re: the fact that ksci @k-sci-janitor likes to make fun of me for never letting a coupon go to waste even if it means walking like 2 miles in the cold to use it :/ like im gonna NOT get a free Baja blast. (there is one small little allusion to some M rated stuff towards the end in this)

-------------------

It’s not a rare occurrence that Hermann will treat Newt to dinner when the mood of dining out strikes them, but the point is that he’s doing it in a way that’s supremely…shifty tonight. Well, maybe not shifty. Weird? For one thing, he didn’t tell Newt where they were going until they were already on the bus headed there, for another, it’s their sharing-a-lab-anniversary, which tradition dictates they evenly split a bill (even if the origins have more to do with both trying to show up the other and take advantage and order the most expensive shit on the menu). The weirdest thing is definitely that, when Hermann got up to pay the bill five minutes ago—a small, folded piece of paper clutched in his hand—he left his wallet laying next to his wine glass on the table.

Newt stirs his straw around in his cup of soda, clinking ice cubes against the sides, and squints at the wallet. Did Hermann bring cash to pay with? He could’ve stuck some in his pockets without Newt seeing, or his bank card, even, which would explain the forlorn wallet. Or maybe forgetting the wallet was totally an accident, and he’ll be back in a few seconds to pick it up and pay for real when he realizes. That’s probably it.

When Hermann comes back to their table, though, he doesn’t bother with his wallet—he takes his seat, picks up his wine glass, and tips it at Newt. “That was quite lovely, wasn’t it?”

Newt hums. “It was.”

“I quite liked the fish I got,” Hermann says.

“I loved my noodles,” Newt says. “We should try to copy the recipe back at the base.” He sets his straw delicately on the table. “How’d you pay without your wallet?”

“My wallet?” Hermann says. He makes a show of catching sight of the wallet, arches his eyebrows in mock surprise, and picks it up. Here we go. “Oh, goodness. Did I forget this? Well—it’s not as if I needed it…” He tucks it neatly into his inner jacket pocket.

“Hermann,” Newt says, rolling his eyes. “What’d you do, get a hundred-percent discount by reminding them we saved the world a few months ago?” Hermann shakes his head, and takes a long sip of his wine. “Did you write a check? Did you pretend we got food poisoning or something?” Hermann shakes his head again, and this time, his mouth begins to creep up into a smug smile. Newt remembers the piece of paper. “Dude. You got us a fucking Groupon. No wonder you were being so weird about what I was ordering!”

(“I think we ought to stick with the entrees labelled B, Newton,” Hermann had said, flipping a page forward in Newt’s menu. “They look—er—far better.”

“More expensive,” Newt had said.

“What’s it matter? I’m paying.” Hermann had pointed at the noodle dish Newt had ended up getting. “Look, I reckon you’d like that.”)

Hermann finally grins triumphantly. “I did—and saved us quite a decent from our ‘date night’ fund. Pity it didn’t extend to dessert, I suppose, but we could always find some ice cream at the commissary later.”

Newt can’t even pretend to be exasperated. The noodles rocked. And they would’ve rocked even more if he knew that Hermann was saving them a few bucks. “You’re such a weirdo,” Newt says, shaking his head, though he’s mirroring Hermann’s grin. “Is that why you picked this place?”

“Not entirely,” Hermann says. He takes a long, slow sip of his wine. “Mostly I picked it to make a point.”

“About?”

“About my being right.”

Newt sighs. Only Hermann would dredge up old arguments on Lab Anniversary Night. It wasn’t even an argument, really—all that happened was that Hermann asked Newt to hand him his glasses cleaning cloth from his parka, and it took Newt almost ten minutes because Hermann’s pockets were so jam-packed with a million little coupons for everything from granola bars (which they can get from the mess hall for free) to mouthwash (which Newt can snag from the commissary, also for free, whenever they need it) that he couldn’t find anything but. A majority of them were expired. Then Newt remarked on how Hermann was nuts, and Hermann remarked on how Newt didn’t understand the value of making smart financial decisions, and they went back and forth for a bit like that. This was a whole week ago, too. In terms of Newt and Hermann arguments, that’s more than ancient history. “Are we really talking about the fucking coupons now?” Newt says.

“Frugality pays off,” Hermann says, cryptically. “Now we really ought to head out. The forecast is calling for rain, and I don’t fancy getting caught in it.”

They get caught in the rain anyway. Newt invites himself over to Hermann’s bunk to dry off, because Hermann bought a space heater back when they were stationed in Russia, and it travelled with him here to aid through the long nights of overpowering A/C. Right now, it’s aiding Newt through stripping out of his wet clothes. When he’s down to just his boxers, he snags the quilt from Hermann’s bed, and waits for him to finish up in his little en suite bathroom to hopefully catch a hot shower. One of the unexpected side effects of the world not ending and most nonessential personnel leaving the ‘dome in doves is that they almost never run out of hot water anymore. Newt can take a shower at midnight and not freeze his ass off. It’s awesome, really.

Hermann emerges from the bathroom in a dorky little pair of pajamas, a dressing gown knotted at his waist. “Oh, Newton,” he sighs, and prods at Newt’s blanket cocoon with his cane, “not my grandmother’s quilt.”

“I’m dry!” Newt says. “Mostly!”

He gives up the quilt to Hermann and ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stuck a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet at some point, for when he was too sleepy and lazy after makeout sessions to go back to his bunk, and sure enough he finds it alongside a suspiciously generic-looking tube of toothpaste. It doesn’t even have a label. He doesn’t think much of it until he starts to use it, which is when he immediately gags and begins to rinse his mouth out with hot water. “What the hell is this toothpaste?” he chokes out. “It tastes—awful.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. He ducks his head into the bathroom, looking a bit sheepish. “Well. I found a coupon for that brand, and I know it’s not very, er, pleasant, but—I saved forty percent, Newton.” Newt continues to rinse his mouth out, this time adding some mouthwash into the mix. “Oh, really, now you’re just being dramatic. It’s only toothpaste.”

“Dude,” Newt says. “I feel like I just rubbed, like, acid cement all over my gums.”

“Ah,” Hermann repeats, guiltily.

A bit later, Newt goes in to kiss Hermann goodnight as they settle into Hermann’s bed together, but pulls back with a sad little pout when Hermann merely flinches away from him. “Oh, Newton, I’m sorry,” Hermann says, quickly wrapping his arms around Newt and kissing his neck. It softens the blow somewhat. “It’s that bloody toothpaste. You still smell like it. You’re right, it’s rubbish.”

“Tell you what,” Newt says, grumpily. “I’ll buy you a brand new tube tomorrow. My treat.”

Newt mostly forgets about the coupon thing for a bit. The odd little item crops up in the lab that makes him roll his eyes fondly at Hermann, but nothing as major as the Groupon or toothpaste. Hermann’s preferred tea brand swapped out for something Newt’s never heard of in a flavor that Hermann clearly detests, if his face when he drinks it is anything to go by, for example, the chocolate digestives Hermann keeps in his desk replaced with plain ones, his new box of chalk all in a salmony shade of pink and weak enough to snap apart under his fingers if he presses down too hard on his chalkboard. When Newt asks about the changes, the answer’s always the same: Hermann had a coupon for them, or they were less expensive than his usual. Newt just wishes he could understand where this sudden bought of thriftiness came from. It’s not like it was back during the war, where they had to pinch pennies and save in every area they could if they wanted to supplement their nonexistent funding. They’re actually getting paychecks now, on behalf of the UN’s guilty conscience! They have free room and board! They even put a few neat bucks away from some (heavily-redacted) interviews they did back in late January.

What Newt’s getting at is Hermann doesn’t have to limit them ordering out sushi to only places with free delivery on date nights, or skimp on his pizza toppings (four-topping down to two) so they can use a better coupon, or buy any of those subpar teabags or digestives or toothpaste tubes. But he just…is.

The tipping point occurs on a Saturday night about a month after the Groupon incident.

“Nn. Hermann. Do that again.”

“Do—?"

“Yeah.” Newt groans, turning his head to the side. “Oh, shit.”

“Newton—” Hermann kisses his throat. “Newton, you’re—”

“Wait.” Newt pauses. “What is that?”

“Oh, er.” Hermann pulls his hand away. “You mean the—the—?”

“Yeah. It feels…weird.” He frowns. “That is not what we used last time.”

“Oh. No. It isn’t.” Hermann clears his throat. “Well, Newton—see—we were out, so I thought I’d—I’d buy a larger bottle, to last us longer, and I happened to find a coupon for this lovely—er—gallon-sized—”

“You’re kidding,” Newt says.

“Only I thought it was a very frugal purchase,” Hermann says. “We do tend to, er, burn through it rather quickly.”

Newt rolls away from him. “Dude. We need to have a talk.”

Some brief amount of time later, they sit together on the end of Hermann’s bed, clad in their pajama bottoms and, in Hermann’s case, one of Newt’s sweatshirts. Newt waits until Hermann meets his eyes blushingly before he proceeds. “What is up with you lately?” he says. “You’ve been acting so—weird. Weirder than usual,” he amends. “Since when have you cared about saving a couple bucks on random shit like pizza?”

Hermann fidgets, and sighs, and finally reaches to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieves a piece of paper folded into quadrants, and for a wild moment Newt thinks it might be another Groupon. “Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hermann says. “I was going to wait until it was all finalized—but it’s close enough now, so I suppose there’s no harm in it.” He thrusts the paper out at Newt, and Newt—still wondering if it’s not another Groupon—unfolds it with surprise to find what looks like a flight itinerary. Two tickets for Hong Kong to Boston, with a short layover; then two more tickets a week after they land for a short trip from Boston to some town in Maine Newt recognizes as being seaside. They’re made out to Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler and purchased a little over a week ago.

“You kept telling me you wanted me to meet your father,” Hermann says, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “And—I thought it might be nice, to have an—er—vacation, for a few days. We’ve certainly earned one. And it’s not as if we have any truly pressing obligations at the moment that can’t be put on hold for a week or two. I was planning on booking us a little cottage up in Maine—or maybe just a hotel room, I hadn’t decided—but we don’t have to if you don’t—”

“And you’ve been saving up for it?” Newt interrupts.

“For a few months now,” Hermann says. “Since February, in fact.”

“And that’s why…?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears turn red. “Every penny helped,” he says.

Newt carefully re-folds the itinerary, sets it aside, and then kisses Hermann soundly. It would be safe to say that Hermann’s thoughtful, romantic moods tend to be on the spontaneous side, probably as spontaneous as they are in Newt, so when one strikes Hermann (and in such a perfectly Hermann way as this one) Newt doesn’t like to take it for granted. “Of course I wanna go on vacation with you,” Newt says. “You rock. Seriously.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hermann says, looking pleased.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[dazenightmare]

Fucking Perish Together

Sneaky bastard, that is what I am >:)

Sequel to Birds of a Feather. Doesn’t make as much sense without it, but it can probably be read as a standalone.

Anyways, here’s the misadventures of Tubbo.

T.W.: Cursing, cussing, kidnapping, technically getting kidnapped, yelling, shouting, screaming, let me know if I need to add more!

~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo has been with them for five months.

Things have been getting easier for them since this addition, in more ways than one.

Tubbo, unlike Ranboo, was much more willing to learn Common to talk with them. Eventually, they realize whatever they teach Tubbo, they teach Ranboo too, after Wilbur accidentally walked in on them going over words with each other.

When they both are finally able to make short sentences, there’s pride. However, it is a surprise hearing the different accents the two had. Especially since nobody in their little circle talked the way Ranboo did.

They also learn that Tubbo is unnecessarily strong for someone his size. That’s helped them more than you could imagine, between battling, mining, and moving cargo around.

Tubbo also attaches himself to Tommy, much like how he’s done to Ranboo. For the longest time he switched between hanging out with them, and never liked being without neither for very long. While they account this may be a bit detrimental to Tubbo, it’s helping Ranboo come out of his shell, and Tommy seems genuinely happier with the lil fellow around, so they brush it off for now.

When Tubbo finally stopped spending every waking moment with the two, he gradually started to spend some time alone. Naturally, this worried everyone as Tubbo disappeared for extended periods of time.

Tubbo tired out easily, so what if he got far and was too tired to come back before night? He’s smaller than a lot of mobs, so what if too many swarm him to deal with? His only defense was his box, so what if he got separated from it?

They learn to let these worries go as after a couple weeks Tubbo showed them an EXP farm with a wide smile, then clung to Ranboo and Tommy as if nothing happened.

Of course, just like with every other member of the family they gained, there were downsides too...

——

It was night time, and everybody sat near the pub, currently watching Tommy jokingly hate on Ranboo with smiles. Something about Tubbo, who left to get some more fire wood and should be back any minute now.

At the thought, Niki frowned at the shore, glancing around.

Tubbo should’ve been back now, surely. Wonder what was keeping the Shulk.

Meanwhile, Tubbo hid in a burrow beneath a tree, glaring up at the night sky, staring at the swooping animal. Phantoms, the natural predator for any Shulks living in the overworld. Shulks preferred sleeping in their boxes, since sleeping in beds was too open, plus beds always blew up in the End, leaving old habits to die hard. Phantoms apparently take issue with this.

Okay, Tubbo thought to himself, eyeing the flying bastard. I am fucking freezing, and I won’t be safe until I get to my box or it becomes day. I am not spending my night under this fucking tree.

Then Tubbo turns his gaze to the flickering light far off, where he can just barely make out his friends.

“Waiting, running, waiting, running,” he mumbled to himself, looking back and forth between the predator and his friends.

Silently making his decision, Tubbo grimaces, picking up the sticks he gathered for the campfire. Before he can think it through, he starts sprinting across the clearing, screaming as loud as he could in hopes of going faster.

He can hear the screech of the phantom as it pursues him, and Tubbo’s screams turn a bit more genuine.

Back at the fire, his friends start to question where his is.

“He’s been gone for a while now,” Ranboo noted, holding his friend’s box in concern. “Should we check on him?”

Before anyone can throw in their nickel, Tubbo’s screaming makes it to their ears. They all look over to see the lad halfway across the field, just in time to see a phantom fucking snatch him.

“HOLY SHIT,” someone shouts, as they witness the phantom fly back into the sky, holding their screaming companion in it’s mouth.

“LET ME GO YOU FUCKING SELF-RIGHTEOUS PRICK! I’LL FUCKING STRANGLE YOU YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING WANKER! GODDAMN BONEY ASS WHORE!” They hear Tubbo shout. Some of them idly wonder how the Hell Tubbo learned such words. Most of them are panicking.

Philza takes off into the air while everyone shouts random things, most of it being overtaken by Tubbo swearing like a sailor. It takes a while before Philza is able to pry Tubbo out of its mouth, kill the phantom, and land with a shaken Tubbo in his hands.

Tubbo says nothing as he reaches for his box and climbs inside with a traumatized look. The box slams closed in Ranboo’s hands. They all stare at the box in silence as it opens a moment later, sticks being hurled out before it’s closed again.

——

“Piss sheep, piss sheep,” Tubbo chanted under his breath, pushing his box into the water before hopping in like it was a boat. “Visiting the piss sheep. Piss sheep, piss sheep.”

He paddled with his hands before getting tired. It was only when Tubbo was in the middle of the lake, without food, that he realized something.

“... I can’t fucking swim,” he stared into the water, bobbing up and down in his box, far away from any land. Tubbo sat there bobbing for half a day in shame before his using his comm.

“Hello?”

“Hey Niki,” Tubbo started, still staring into the water. He looks in the direction of Niki’s lagoon. “So... I can’t swim.”

“Uh... yeah?” Niki warily responded. He heard Wilbur on the other end of the comm, talking, and Niki whispering an “I don’t know”.

“You however, can swim.”

“Yes...?”

“Therefore, I am asking for your assistance.”

“Assistance with what?”

“... I didn’t want to say it, but I forgot I can’t swim. I am currently in my box in the middle of the lake without food, and have been sitting here in self-pity since this morning. Please help me.”

The line immediately went dead, making him frown. It didn’t take much to figure out why as he heard many people shouting from the lagoon. Tubbo merely shrugged and waited. Eventually Niki’s head popped out of the water in concern.

“Are you okay?!”

“Nothing but a broken dignity, thankfully,” Tubbo deadpanned. Niki stressed a bit more before pushing his box towards the lagoon as she swam.

It didn’t take too long before they were in the lagoon, Wilbur and Tommy immediately looking over him once he reached shore.

“How the fuck did you forget you can’t swim?” Tommy asked after they were sure Tubbo was only hungry.

“... I don’t want to talk about it.”

——

“Did you know shulker boxes function like chests?” Philza said as he built. Wilbur tilted his head.

“No.”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure Shulk boxes work in that way too!”

“Huh...”

Later that day, Wilbur found Tubbo walking around, following Ranboo who held his box.

“Hey Tubbo!”

“Yeah?”

“What do you keep in your box?” Wilbur asked, eyebrows furrowing. He wondered what could possibly be in such a space.

Tubbo lit up before making grabby hands towards his box. Once it was handed to him, he reached inside and pulled out nine stacks of flowers, showing them off to Wilbur proudly. Wilbur stared. This is not what he expected.

Wilbur teared up.

“That is just fucking adorable. You are adorable and I hate you.”

——

Today, an unstoppable force met an immovable object.

Or, in Tubbo’s case, a solid being met a not-so-solid but not-quite-liquid being.

He had just been minding his damn business, picking flowers in a field when suddenly he got fucking stepped on. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it was the new hybrid named Charlie, who was a slime. Now, Tubbo was STUCK in CHARLIE SLIMECICLE’S FOOT.

The worst part? THE FUCKER DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE! JUST KEPT ON WALKING!

Tubbo felt nothing but misery, being submerged in this foot, not being able to move and waiting for someone to notice he was here. They noticed he was gone, but not with them.

He had to sit here, and watch everybody search for him for the entire day, more and more worried. They found Tubbo’s box in the field he was stolen from, and now had it as they met at the lake to discuss it.

They sat there for about an hour discussing it after a whole day of search. The sun was setting, and just as Tubbo lost hope, Jack glanced down and managed to see him.

“HOLY FUCK!” Jack shouted as he flinched. If Tubbo could roll his eyes he would. The next twenty minutes was everyone freaking out as they tried to get him out of the foot.

Eventually Tommy managed to get him out, and after breathing heavily, Tubbo glared at Charlie.

“YOU SLIMY ASS BITCH! I’VE BEEN STUCK IN YOUR GODDAMN FOOT ALL DAY! TODAY WAS FLOWER DAY YOU BLOODY CUNT! YOU’RE LUCKY I CANNOT FUCKING HIT YOU OR YOU’D BE DEAD WHERE YOU STAND! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE WALKING!”

——

“Tubboooooo,” Tommy whined, laying on Tubbo’s box. “I’m sorryyyyyyy...”

“Vwoop.”

“He says ‘fuck off’,” Ranboo translated, watching from nearby. Tommy just groaned more.

“Tubbo... I’m really sorry... please come out...”

“Vwoop.”

“That’s a no.”

“Tubboooooooo...”

#mcyt #tubbo #tubbo_ #fic #origins mod smp