sweethosterfield

i’m using this as a submission for wickedly soft wednesdays because holy shit did i get sappy on main @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin

❀✿ ·゜゜·．＊* ·゜゜·．❀✿

omG I can totally just imagine him being so sweet to you on instagram. constantly commenting on your pictures telling you how amazing or sexy you looked or him commenting something like “🔥🔥🔥” he’d love to hype you up any chance he got.

harrison would also always put you in his instagram stories when you two were together. like if you guys were out to dinner he’d take a cute little pic of you and post it to his insta story with the caption either like “out with my favorite person” or “😍😍😍” if you were doing something funny or dancing or singing or anything along those lines, he’d take a video and post it that too

then OH THEN. if you did something that like graduate or got a job or really anything that you worked hard for, he’d be the proudest boyfriend! he’d post a picture or story of you all happy and smiling with the caption like “THATS MY GIRLFRIEND EVERYBODY” or “im so proud of this one” and he’d just be so happy for you.

the pictures of you two on his page,,,SO CUTE. they would probably be ones where he was looking at you smiling really big while you looked at the camera or when you are both looking at each other and smiling. they’d be pics of you kissing his cheek and vice versa and basically they would be no pictures of you both looking at the camera. fans would comment shit like “get me someone who looks at me they way they look at each other” and they would love you guys together since you clearly made the other so so happy.

basically harrison’s instagram would be a fan page for you as he posted more about you then he did himself since he was just in complete awe of you every single day.

aww love i’m sorry, i’m here if you ever want to talk about it! i hope this helps a little, it made me feel soft💗 @thelazypangolin @lovelyspidey @fratboievans

❀✿ ·゜゜·．＊* ·゜゜·．❀✿

Today was the premiere of Harrison’s new short film. You were so proud of him and all his accomplishments, so you wanted to look good for him on his special day.

Scouring through your closet, you try on loads of different dresses but nothing seems to be right. The colors are all off, either being too bright or too dark for your skin tone. This size isn’t right, they’re too big around your shoulders, or too small around your hips. Nothing is making you look good, rather making you feel good.

You’ve struggled with your self image for years, people always telling you how you should look or how you should act, making hurtful comments about your appearance that slowly wore you down. Sighing, you fall to your bed, laying in just your underwear. Tears slowly stream down your face, as you’re feeling inadequate.

Hearing your cries from the living room, Harrison comes walks into your shared bedroom wearing nothing but some gray sweatpants. You’re so upset you can’t even enjoy his shirtless figure, that’s how you knew it was bad. “Love, is everything alright? Why aren’t you dressed yet?” He asks.

“Just go without me, I don’t want to keep you waiting.” You muffle into your pillow.

“Why would I go without you darling? Don’t you wanna come?” He joins you on the bed. With your back facing him, he scoots next you and stars rubbing circles on the small of your back.

“I do, but I can’t find an outfit. Nothing fits me, everything’s either too big or too small and i don’t want to bring you down with me. So just go without me, I don’t want to ruin your big night.”

Seeing you visibly upset, he places a soft kiss to your hair, before exiting the bedroom. Leaving you there to cry, thoughts that not even your boyfriend loves you flood your head, causing you to sob uncontrollably.

Entering the bedroom a few seconds later, this time he’s holding what looks to be a suit over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Well, I know how difficult it can be sometimes for you to find the perfect outfit and how you don’t always feel the best about yourself, even though i think you’re beautiful.” He smiles.

You smile, a smile giggle escaping your lips. “Haz where is this going?”

“Right, sorry! As i was saying, i think you’re beautiful, but i want you to feel beautiful, soooo i told JK your sizes and he made you this.” Harrison swings the hanger over his shoulder and brings it to his front, revealing a breathtaking red power suit.

“Oh my god. Haz. This-This, it’s beautiful. He made this… for me?” You stutter.

“He did! He also made me a matching suit, and I asked him to make them red since I know red makes you feel sexy. Do you like it?” He asks, biting his bottom lip with the top one.

Smiling wide, you walk over to Harrison and wrap your hands around his shoulder. You stand on your tippy toes and place a soft and sweet kiss to his lips.

“I love it, and I love you. Thank you Harrison, it’s perfect.”

“Of course darling, and I love you too.” He smiles back at you, “now go get dressed my sweet girl. I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look.”

a/n: okay weirdly enough I have secretly dated someone, and this is kind of how we got outed so hope you guys find this as funny as we did at the time. Also, this got so freaking long I’m so sorry. 

You and Harrison had been together for a while, at least 3 months at this stage. You started off as friends, running in the same circles for a little while, but at some point, you started to see each other differently. You’d be at a party, and he would insist on being your beer pong partner, or he’d be talking to a group of people in a corner and see you out of the corner of his eye, grabbing your wrist and pulling him next to you, his hand snaking around your waist and linking his fingers through your belt loops. The night it all came to a head was when you were the last two people on the couch, his eyes locked on yours and your tipsy gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips, just wondering what they would feel like on yours. And that’s when it happened. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him, and he kissed back. Hard. You didn’t know how long you’d been making out on this basement couch by the time you pulled away, not sure what this meant for your friendship, the group, anything. 

NO offense BUT, can you imagine having a crush on haz, and he knows about it? he would be incredibly sweet, but he’d tease the hell out of you at the same time.

for instance, it would be winter time, and haz brought you along on a photo shoot he was having outside with harry and tom. snow would be blowing around, and everything would be dandy and pretty. that is, until you were visibly cold.

you would be standing behind and little ways away from the camera, so you wouldn’t be in the shot. your hands would be wedged into your pockets, your teeth would be chattering, and you’d be lightly moving your legs to try and generate heat. harrison did tell you to bring an extra jacket, but you wanted to act all brave, so you ignored him. and boy did that not pay off.

when it came time for harrison and tom to switch places, haz would walk up to you and laugh at your visible stress, “cold, are ya? told you to bring another jacket.”

you would reply with a rather weirdly pronounced sentence, as your teeth kept chattering, “shut up, harrison.”

he would just open his arms, and motion for you to join him. after a few persistent head nods from him, you finally made your way over to him.

it sounded weird, but being domestic with Harrison….

probably your favorite thing about your relationship. 

cooking with him was, without a doubt, a highlight and rather amusing, especially when he wanted to cook for you. 

even he tried to hack the system.

“you know it’s not really cooking if you’re using the microwave, right?” you teased. 

his cheeks flushed as he smiled but his confidence was unscathed.

“still tastes the same to me,” he beamed, proud of what he had discovered. 

you watched him continue his task, only the upmost of admiration in your heart.

“stop being so cute.”

“who, me?”

he feigned surprise, basking in your vocal affections.

“i’m just making us lunch, darling.”

“you know who i’m talking about,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. he could feel the warmth of your cheek through his gray tshirt as you pressed against his back.

you felt the vibration of his voice on your face. 

“i’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, love.” he turned around in your arms, his hands coming to your shoulders.

“could you fill me in?”

you brought your hands from around his back, trailing up his chest to clasp together at the back of his neck, leaning more into him. his hands moved down to your hips, pulling you into him.

“you, harrison, need to stop being so cute.”

his voice got quiet, lips ghosting over yours.

“for you? never.”

ooooo s’cute i would honestly love to experience drunk!haz

♡ ♡ ♡

You’re best friend plops down on the couch next to you, letting out a soft groan as he moves a little too fast. You can’t help the small chuckle when his head falls to your lap. His sensitive eyes shut tight against the bright lights above you and you brush a few of the fallen curls off his forehead.

“Please, never let me drink again,” Harrison begs, once again running to you to ease the hangover from the night before.

He liked the way you played with his hair as he tried to nap and how there would always be a glass of water and aspirin waiting for when he woke up. He loved hearing your laugh when he no doubt said something stupid. He just never told you.

“So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me to tell me you love me last night?” you ask, mostly teasing but also just really want to know if he meant it.

Because you kind of loved that he always came over for you to nurse his hangover. Maybe you liked taking care of him and even enjoyed his dumb drunk quips about nothing a little more than you should.

His ocean eyes pop open, a blush rushes to his cheeks as the memories instantly flood back. “Uhh- don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Come on Haz, you can’t be that oblivious,” you smirk down at him. He hides his face with his hands and you have to admit, it’s fucking cute. You’ve never, ever seen him this nervous. You grab at his wrists to pull them away only to see a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Fine. I love you, what are you going to do about it?” he questions, reaching to slot his fingers between yours. His grin and those three little words make your heart beat so fast as you lean down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I’d say I love you, too.”

Okay, so Harrison is definitely aware of anxiety and depression (he might even have it himself we don’t know). He would also understand that both anxiety and depression come in many forms and people deal with them in different ways. So when he thinks you’ll be comfortable answering, he wants to know what he should do whenever you’re having one of your bad days. 

If you need your space, he gives it to you. If you need to cry your little heart out he’s there right next to you holding your hand. He doesn’t tell you the things that can make people feel worse like “just stop feeling sorry for yourself” or “go outside and get some fresh air”, etc. He knows that even the minor things in life can get overwhelming. 

So if crying while he gently holds you is what you want, you got it. Need to just shut your mind off and watch hours of movies? He’s got a whole list of them ready to go. He doesn’t push you to do anything you don’t want to do, unless it’s been previously discussed that you need a bit of a push, so he waits until you’re ready to talk. 

Harrison also wants to make sure that you stay healthy. Because having an anxiety attack or wave of depression can feel awful when it’s over. So he makes sure that you’ve always got a glass of water near by, mentions that maybe a nice shower would help, and makes sure that you don’t go to sleep on an empty stomach. 

You always thank him afterwards and try to joke about how you don’t know why he puts up with you. But then he reminds you that he’s not putting up with you. He loves you and will always be there for you. Just like he knows you always are for him when he needs you. 

*cracks knuckles before starts typing* 

I feel like Harrison has this tendency where he tries to come off as confident, or at least he tries to, when he’s really nervous. 

While I’m sure he’s experienced, I think he tends to get in his own head. So when he finds out that he might be taking the next step with someone…he might start overthinking. What if they think he’s bad? Or what if he gets excited too soon? 

He doesn’t want you to know that he’s nervous, so he tries to come off as confident and calm by rubbing your back, talking in a slow deep voice, and showing you the look he had in his eye. But you can see it. His hands were shaking as he ran his hands up and down your bare back. You actually think it’s sweet and you can’t help but smile at him before reaching up to kiss his lips. 

When the two of you move to the bed, Harrison now laying on top of you, he’s very careful. He just seems so sweet I don’t really see him trying to be in charge the first time he’s with someone. After what felt like hours of delicate touches and light kisses, you finally pulled away and looked up at him. 

“Harrison?” you asked, almost whispering. 

He looks down at you, “Yeah…?” 

“I want you to touch me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded, “Please.” 

After he’s given some encouragement, his nerves start to calm down. He finally starts to touch you, making sure that you feel good. I think Harrison is a bit of a pleaser. He wants to hear how he makes you feel. Every little moan to whisper of praise encourages Harrison to keep going. 

His nerves are definitely gone by then. Eventually you end up on top of him, Harrison’s feet planted on the bed as he thrusts up into you. He watches every reaction you have and can’t believe he ever thought sex between the two of you would be awkward. It feels so right he doesn’t ever want it to end. 

After you’ve both reached your peak, Harrison makes sure to take care of you. He doesn’t say much after, but is sure to shower you with affection. He can’t help but ask you how it was. To which you look up at him in shock like he even has to ask. 

Can

Harrison

Osterfield 

Be

So

Pretty?

“Harrison,” you whined out, brows furrowed as you clutched your head, hoping it would somehow ease the pain that drilled into your temples.

Harrison stood by the stove, barely ten foot away from you but you felt as though you were miles apart. Your skin was burning, flames so high it nearly blinded you, but you couldn’t stop the shivering, the coldness that seeped through your bones.

“Nearly ready, babe. How’s your head?” he asked over his shoulder, scooping up copious amounts of broccoli and cauliflower that he quickly dished onto a plate.

You groaned and his question and fell back into the couch, back of your head cushioned by the unreasonable amounts of pillows Harrison had supplied you with.

“My head’s fine. But I’m cold and you’re always warm. I don’t care about the pie, just come care for your dying girlfriend,” you cried out.

Harrison scoffed out a laugh and shook his head at your dramatic self. “You’re not dying, love,” he quipped playfully, piling the dishes in the sink and grabbing your plates of food.

“Here you go, babe,” Harrison spoke softly, setting the two plates down on the coffee table, lifting your legs from the couch and sitting down, pulling your legs back into his lap.

“Just eat a few mouthfuls, please?” he pouted at you, fingers gently rubbing your ankles and you sighed out a huff.

You threw your arm over your head, other one draping off the sofa. You peered at him from under your arm, sighing again when you saw him still pouting at you.

“Please? It’ll make me feel better knowing you’ve had at least something,” he near begged, bottom lip still jutted out as he squeezed your leg softly.

With a huff and a roll of your eyes, you gave in; sitting up on the couch and grabbing the plate, setting it on your lap.

Haz watched you for a few moments as you flicked the broccoli around your plate with the fork, how you grimaced at the sight of your usual favourite chicken pie.

“Haz, I don’t wanna,” you whined a little, shaking your head and pouting at your caring boyfriend. Harrison sighed and shook his head, standing from the sofa with his hands on your hips.

“Y/N, if you don’t eat, you’re not going to get better,” he spoke, voice assertive and it made you cower just a little. You knew he was right, but you just couldn’t do it.

“Yes, but I’m not hungry, Haz. I feel too sick to eat,” you argued back, food long forgotten on the coffee table as you now faced him with a frown.

Harrison gave you a look. “You feel sick because you haven’t eaten.”

You pouted and looked back at the food, stomach groaning and you knew he was right. You looked back up to him.

“Can we put on a film and cuddle? I promise I’ll eat it then because I won’t be thinking about it,” you suggested, eyes wide and hopeful and Haz squinted at you for a moment.

“Hmmm. Fine,” he gave in, turning off the lights and grabbing the remote.

Harrison sat back on the sofa, arm open for you to coddle into his side and bring your plates to sit in your laps.

As he put on a movie, he kissed your forehead, noting how your temperature had gone down dramatically since the last time he’d checked.

Eventually, you began to pick at your food, nibbling on the pastry of the pie and the little pieces of the chicken.

By the time the movie was over, your plate was almost empty and you were fast asleep on his shoulder, curled into his side and he smile at you.

“Just want you to get better, love. That’s all,” he whispered, manouvering you both so you lay side by side on the couch, your legs in his and head on his chest.

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word Count: 651

Warnings: None

Blurb request: “Okay, where are all my jumpers?” 

A/N: Short and sweet, just some silly fluff since it’s freezing here and I got inspired to finally get around to this request. Enjoy! 😊

It was a particularly freezing cold day in London, the puffs of steam from each building’s individual sources of heat dusted the skyline, and the snow that blanketed the ground shimmered from the thick layer of ice that coated it. Most people had decided to stay inside rather than risk the surely instant frostbite from the outside chill. Even the wildlife was abnormally quiet.

But you? You were outside, sat on the front step of the home you shared with your boyfriend, your bottom half long since frozen numb, a pout on your face aimed directly at the aforementioned boyfriend.

“Would you stop scowling at me, please?” Harrison asked, his hands fumbling with his phone. “I’m trying to get ahold of Tom to bring his spare key, but my bloody fingers are numb so I can’t get this stupid thing to work, and-”

“Well, maybe if someone hadn’t suggested we go out for a walk in weather that would even make a polar bear shiver, and that ‘someone’ had remembered to bring his keys before going on said icy cold wintry walk of death, we wouldn’t be having this problem,” you grumbled, resting your arms on your bent knees and burying your face in the nook it created.

In all fairness, you had enjoyed the so-called “Winter Walk of Death” with Harrison. No one else was outside so the city was quiet and peaceful, the small sliver of sunlight that peeked between the clouds above glinted beautifully off the ice and snow below, and you got to enjoy a few moments as just the two of you - not a single place to be or a worry in the world.

That quiet peacefulness without any worries ended, however, when you made your way back home, toes numb and bodies shivering, only for Harrison to realize he had managed to lock the two of you out, keys (and hope for a warm bed to run and cuddle up in) not anywhere in sight.

Harrison laughed, shaking his head at your pouting, and let out a quiet “yes, finally!” after managing to get through to Tom on the phone. You picked your head up, eyes full of hope as you watched Harrison pace back and forth, explaining the situation, and opted to ignore the loud laughter coming from the other line.

A few minutes passed before your ears perked at the familiar sound of Tom’s car approaching. You stood, your legs numb and wobbly, and smiled brightly, thankful to get inside.

“Your hero has arrived,” Tom called out to you both as he got out of his car with a dramatic bow.

“Oh, shut up and let us in, will you?” Harrison chuckled, nudging a fist on his friend’s shoulder as he fiddled with the keys.

“That’s no way to speak to the one who stands between you and a warm bed, is it?”

Soon enough, you were able to bolt inside your home and change out of your damp, frozen clothes into fresh, warm ones, and cuddle up on the bed under a mountain of blankets. You watched silently as your boyfriend dug through the depths of his closet and drawers, a huff passing his lips every few moments.

“Okay,” he sighed, turning to you. “Where are all my jumpers?”

You grinned sheepishly at him, tugging the blankets closer to your body. He cocked an eyebrow and walked over to you, pulling the blankets off. There you sat, clad in at least five or six of his jumpers, resembling something close to the little boy from A Christmas Story. You shrugged innocently, a small grin on your face, and giggled as Harrison sighed, a matching grin on his face as he tackled you back onto the bed.

“If you’re not going to share, you can at least cuddle me to keep me warm, too,” he laughed, his face buried into your neck. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

My paternal grandfather was born in 1906 (I have older parents). He and my grandmother came through Ellis Island.

My vocal coach’s grandparents survived the 1906 San Fransisco earthquake and fire. 

My great-grandfather lived to the age of 106. He often spoke of how strongly he remembered his nursemaid’s taffeta skirts rustling as she walked when he was a child. He was born in the 1870s. My grandmother recorded him on video in the 1980s talking about those Victorian bustle skirts he grew up with.

On my mother’s side, we tracked down a marriage record for her 17th-century English ancestors, their signatures still crystal-clear and confident on the yellowed parchment. The church where they were married still stands in London.

Samuel J. Seymour was born in 1860 and at age five, he witnessed the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Almost 100 years later, at age 96, he went on live television and recounted his firsthand account of the death of the president. You can watch the interview here.

The last survivor of the sinking of the Titanic, Millvina Dean, died in 2009. 

The oldest person ever, Jeanne Calment, lived to age 122. She died in 1997 after recording a pop album, the same year The Spice Girls were topping the charts; but she remembered that as a child, Vincent Van Gogh once visited her father’s paint shop. 

20GayTeen

Hello

Some Boy Aesthetics™ I’m in love with include:

Their tired grins? Have you seen a cute boy grin when he’s tired? Life Changing

Sleeves rolled up to forearms is all good and Well but also when they have Sweater Paws in their hoodies or jumpers? Makes the tallest of them seem so smol? I’m lov?

When they run their hand through their hair and it sticks up in places and it looks So Good

Collar Bones

Soft pudgy stomachs they absolutely make me melt