Warning: none
1.8k+: fluff, famous!harry, university student!y/n, domestic life of two odd balls
| – | – | – |
It's now an hour until midnight and her paper looks somewhat decent. She thinks. She's made it through 1,397 words of her 2,000 word essay, so she figures she can grant herself a short break to see what's making Harry shout like a mad man while she gets another snack.
She travels down the hall, carrying an empty white bowl now stained by the blueberries that were in it earlier, and into the living room where she finds Harry sitting hunched over his phone. His hair is sticking up in different directions.
"Fucking finally!" He suddenly yells, rolling backwards while pumping his fist and phone in the air before sitting forward again. He returns to being stiff as a nail, concentrating heavily on his phone.
"Your back will hurt later if you stay hunched over like that," Y/N says as she enters their kitchen.
"S'already hurting but don't care. I finally got the hang of this," he mutters from the other room before yelling in celebratory fashion.
"Of what?" Y/N asks.
"Have you heard of that new Mario Kart game?"
or
The one where Harry plays Mario Kart Tour and slowly loses his mind while Y/N watches and it's pure domestic!fluff involving Mario Kart, adulting, a tower fan: the obvious necessities of a loving, healthy, relationship
-:-:-:-
"God fucking damn it!"
Y/N looks up from her laptop towards the door. "Bubba? You alright?" She asks and waits for a response. When she doesn't hear one she shrugs it off, thinking Harry probably sorted it out.
Several minutes later she hears him yell again. "No! Drift! Drift- Not that way- fuck-." His voice carries into the room, muffled by the door and the distance, but she can make out the genuine distress he's in.
Y/N checks the time. She'd been working on her paper for her gothic literature class since she arrived that afternoon (give or take the few hours she spent procrastinating) and had fallen into a steady zone of writing when Harry arrived just before seven. He'd spent his off day with Alexander, part of his London group of friends, to see some exhibit being showcased downtown. Y/N would have gone had she not had a paper due online at midnight, and knowing her habits and writing process she'd need the rest of the night to get it done.
However, she didn't chalk up Harry to be a distraction. She had marooned Harry to the rest of the house while she hid away in their bedroom, yet that didn't seem to matter at the moment. Last she saw of him was during one of her breaks to get herself a snack and a drink. He was lounging in their living room with his phone and laptop out, probably on a meeting call and answering e-mails. That was two hours ago.
It's now an hour until midnight and her paper looks somewhat decent. She thinks. She's made it through 1,397 words of her 2,000 word essay, so she figures she can grant herself a short break to see what's making Harry shout like a mad man while she gets another snack.
She travels down the hall, carrying an empty white bowl now stained by the blueberries that were in it earlier, and into the living room where she finds Harry sitting hunched over his phone. His hair is sticking up in different directions.
"Fucking finally!" He suddenly yells, rolling backwards while pumping his fist and phone in the air before sitting forward again. He returns to being stiff as a nail, concentrating heavily on his phone.
