#im going to implode I’m scared

[rancidsugar]

[fuckitpossumorb]

I was thinking (big mistake) and came to multiple wild scenarios due to Pyke’s phoenix features, since im really into fire themes I was really hyped when I heard anything about a phoenix (fave fantasy critter) but the more I think about it the wilder it gets. Because there are two options to this, one this is just a solari thing everyone can do and two this is a reserved for a specific group of people.

When watching the second episode it is described as just a solari feature which I guess implies that it is something everyone can do and that is so freaking insane. Imagine a whole planet, a whole race of people who don’t die when they’re killed, not only that but they IMPLODE with radiant light that DAMAGES people in a 30 foot radius.

That’s crazy, I’m sorry, yes it’s not a lot of damage and yes they don’t come back at full Health but as they grow and become stronger they come back stronger and deal more damage that’s like,,, crazy. I wonder if it’s a widely known fact or if the solari are secretive about it, if because of that maybe it’s uncommon to see them around or smt.

Does it affect old age? Like do you die bc you’re old and then you come back for a little to fix some of your shit and then the grim reaper comes for you again? In the technical sense the player can choose whether to do it or not but in the context of the universe do the solari themselves do it? Can you go “yeah this is it”? Or does it just happen sometimes and sometimes not.

How does that affect their society, their religion, culture I need to know please.

If it is reduced to a certain amount of people though is it like a recessive gene or is it tied to Pyke’s training? Or both? Is there a congregation that searches for those with this special ability to nurture them? To keep them safe? Who knows!

If this is the case it might not be widespread knowledge so imagine the outside world’s reaction to this shit.

Imagine poor Rett, he’s in the middle of a fight and suddenly this man he’s been working with for a while falls, and Rett’s seen dead bodies he knows and it’s a shock and it’s surprising and scary and brings back terrible memories and just as he’s beginning to compartmentalize, to shove it all down for now so he can focus on getting to Pyke and administering medical attention there’s this massive surge of light.

It’s bright, it’s hot, more than hot burning and it’s coming from Pyke? The fuck? Suddenly a goddamn explosion of radiant light fills the room, the enemy staggers back slightly confused and the same man he just saw lying dead on the floor STANDS BACK UP ready to keep on going, I’m sorry??? I would scream.

Andy says that Rett’s tech scares the shit out of Pyke because it’s a controlled black hole who wouldn’t be fucking terrified of that shit, but I feel like it’s mutual because what do you mean you can die and sometimes come back what do you mean.

Because death is one of the few constants of the world and he’s SUBVERTING IT took the tight line between life and death and began using it as a jumping rope.

Now picture the prison. Imagine a group of prisoners gang up on Pyke and beat the shit out of him, the guards dont get there in time, his body goes slack and everyone just kind of stands and waits for a moment in shocked silence.

Then light, tons of it, radiating like solar waves and suddenly the guy bloodied on the floor is taking in gasping lungfuls of breath and all the hair on your face got singed. The inmates are stumped, the guards are stumped, the medics are like he did what now? Me personally I wouldn’t bother that guy anymore idk about y’all.

I know that stardust is generally a soft sci-fi system so it might never be explained in detail but I personally would like to know a little more about it. Be it that it’s actually important to Pyke’s backstory or just during a QnA my brain begs for more information with its grubby little hands.

This is on the same being of Pyke just fucking sprouting wings, like even if the whole explanation is that there is an old ass legend or smt about a blessing, or that they have a connection to the stars, or that they have some inherent restorative magic that only works on themselves im really curious,,,,

Anyways give me ur theories I want to know what people think.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

For the WIP Game: Harrow and Pip prompt?

Hi hello, welcome to my wip hell, fam. I started something way too big to finish by Harrow's birthday where Runaan comes across Parrow, and alas it is still unfinished... but I could finish! Anytime, I swear!

lmao.

Anyway I have some fun stuff written so far, so have a very large snippet because why not:

“Shopkeep,” he called. “Keep yer hair on, Moon Boy. I’m just finishin’ up.” She trundled around the corner, smiling at a clutch of deep green arrows. “This enough to hold you over?” she asked, holding them out. Runaan took one and examined it. A long, simple shaft of magically straightened wood, bound with a deadly obsidian tip and fletched with rich brown-and-green feathers. He frowned. “These are dawnsinger feathers.” “Ayep. Good and true. Whatcha got to trade for ‘em?” Runaan had tradeables in his pockets. Ethari made sure he never left home without something to barter with. But he needed more, first. “I wish to meet the bird you plucked these from.” The Earthblood’s barky brows drew together. “You don’t wanna do that, Moon Boy.” Runaan tried to draw himself up to his full height, but his horns smacked into the awning over the window. Annoyed, he leaned back onto the sill and stared the short woman in the eye. “I assure you, I do.” “Trade first, then. Or no deal.” She held out a gnarled hand expectantly. Runaan tried to glare her into submission, but she just smirked up at him. Despite her lack of height, she had the upper hand, and they both knew it. He sighed dramatically and fished in one of his pockets, pulling out a silvery chain with a complicated pendant swinging from it. “Wossit do, then?” she drawled, trying to act uninterested. But her eyes lit on it and locked in. It was Runaan’s turn to smirk. “Do you know the Moonshadow craftsman Ethari?” Her eyes widened slightly in recognition. “Every Earthblood worth her stones knows Ethari. ‘Ow do you know ‘im?” Runaan brushed a finger across his swirly-laden horn cuff. “Intimately.” She clucked her tongue and grinned. “Lucky boy. But, wossit do?” She nodded at the pendant again. Runaan flicked it gently with a fingertip, sending its concentric silvery rings spinning lazily around one another. “It is a calendar, oriented on the Moon. When you wear this, you’ll never be lost, and you’ll never be late.” She grabbed for the dangling pendant, but Runaan twitched his fingers, snapping it around his hand and into his quick grip. “It is yours, on my honor, after I see the bird.” She grumbled and swore under her breath about Moonshadows and their tricky honor. “Fine. You don’t look like you scare easily. Might actually stick around long enough to give me the trinket.” Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” “Cursed. Bird’s cursed. Might’a been kinder to do ‘im in and end his misery, but he’s got gorgeous feathers. Usually folk want those plain, but I can whip up a decent arrow too. Stay. Here.” She gave Runaan the stink eye and turned her back to fetch whatever passed for a cursed bird. Runaan tried to settle his stomach, but it fluttered with a tangle of nerves, pulling, hurting. He pressed a hand atop it. A faint squeak made him look up. The Earthblood was wheeling a birdcage into view. Inside perched an Emerald Dawnsinger, barely big enough to fit in the cage at all and plucked of most of its flight feathers. Runaan winced. “I know what you’re thinking-” the shopkeeper began. The bird took one look at Runaan and flailed like mad, trying to fall backward, to turn and run. None of which was possible in its tiny cage. It beat itself against the bars anyway, losing small feathers in its battle for freedom, crying out as if terrified. “-well, that’s new,” the Earthblood muttered, watching her bird panic. “Stop,” Runaan blurted. His chest felt like it was imploding. “I ain’t doin’ nothing!” she protested. “Not you. The… the bird. Stop,” Runaan said again. But the bird only tried harder to escape. It was going to hurt itself before it gave up. Lost among its strange cries and calls, Runaan swore he could hear a scratchy “...no, please…” “This is a new twist to the curse. The heck is goin’ on?” the Earthblood muttered. It’s me. I am what it fears. Of course I am.

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

OH OMG I have one more story (that I can think of right now)

Can we talk about the TITANIC and ocean gate for a moment? Yes, you heard me😭

So….when that submersible imploded as they were going down to wreckage June of last, it reignited my interest in the titanic and the history of it. So, I took it upon myself to try to find archives of old news articles from 1912, and it was so interesting to me reading about the survivors first-hand accounts of what happened, from the sinking all the way to when they were rescued eventually. I was also doing this at night (important) because I couldn’t sleep.

When it was time for me to sleep, I don’t remember if I was half asleep or in a deep sleep where I was then violently startled awake by this incident.

But, I remember feeling an intense buzzing sensation in my head and my whole body felt like it was on fire. Mind you, my room is always freezing because I LOVE it cold in my room. So I knew something was not right. And all of a sudden the buzzing sound became only slightly more clear and I heard some words like ��stop it” in a gruff, annoyed tone and I heard something along the lines of “leave it/us alone”

And I woke up sweating, breathing heavily, and immediately texted my one of my best friends what happened. And the only thing that came to my mind was I feel like their spirits are tired of being disturbed and probed into because of the worldwide fascination surrounding the passenger’s demise.

And this is why I have not googled anything else about the titanic that in depth ever again cause I’m actually scared😭I was lowkey shaking while typing this bc that’s the first time I’ve felt directly threatened

Also was at my old house^^

Oh girl—that definitely sounded like a sign for sure. I can relate to having the hot/cold flashes because I used to experience that around spirits/entities. The body knows! The body communicates to you their existence.

Those souls just wanna be put to rest 🙏🏻 im glad you had someone to talk to about it tho. I have a similar experience but not the Titanic, it was the Salem witch trials that took place

Your old house was on some shit

[micotines-addiction]

i see anger as my father

i would always be hiding in plain sight with a bated breath

pretending i didn’t exist

he would trudge around the house

his rage radiating into the trailer next door

even if you didn’t gaze upon him, you could still feel his anger

i’ll always remember as i felt the rough, red, bed sheets in between my fingers as he stomped near the dresser

how it was the only thing grounding me

my sister and i dashing out of the way of his war path

he was rolling his eyes around and acting amiss

wearing his ratty black shirt and family guy boxers

my stepmother gave me the pointer to just be quiet and pretend i didn’t exist

i really internalised that

it’s in every part of my being

pretend i don’t exist

everyone has experienced his rage

his quiet

that was the scariest part

the silence

he didn’t scream

he didn’t yell

it was the calm

he threw my stepbrother across the room once

i was sat in the corner

probably on the chair

or maybe on the floor?

they were bickering as thirteen-year-old boys and their stepfathers do

and i just saw my father

he who was supposed to do no wrong

(i idolised him)

heave him over his head and throw my stepbrother

i haven’t felt safe since then

i saw someone who i thought would protect me throw someone else into harms way

give into his rage instead of being level headed

that would happen to me if i made him mad enough

that would happen to me if i made ANYONE mad enough

whenever i know

(or even just assume)

people are mad at me and they’re quiet

i shut down

i freak out

i know something more is coming

whenever people are too quiet around me, i’m on edge that they’ll explode

i don’t know if it’s the fear of what they’re going to do to me or if it’s the fear of not knowing how i’ll react

anything will startle me during silent moments

i feel my skin crawl and i feel like im ready to hurl

my eyes grow wider and i’m ready to dash

my ears lay back on my head and i stare into headlights

my cotton tail sticks up and i freeze

whenever people are mad i’m being hunted

i’ve always tried to have the belief that anger can be a healthy emotion if channeled correctly

my best friend would just take her space

i never made my other best friend upset

i implode when i’m angry

it’s been taken out on me so much that i never want to do that to somebody

so when it seeps out i want to die

i never want anyone to feel that way by my hands

i shut down and i’m quiet

scared i’ll lash out

scared that any quips i offer will only make someone else’s rage grow

i’m scared by others rage and seemingly my own

[chicagofires]

https://youtu.be/VePD_Ro0bw4?si=vem7nqrl5CEvwxs2

Predictions post interview: Jack is not Kelly's son, Stellaride is about to implode & could Carver be on the way out?

i’m so glad that she basically confirmed that the theory is false. stellaride is going to scare me tonight i just know it. and honestly im not surprised about the whole carver stuff. jake still hasnt been officially promoted to series regular as far as i know, and the way his storylines been teased i wouldn’t be surprised

[ssreeder]

omg i don't think you can even begin to imagine how fucking happy i was while reading this chapter. i love happy zukka, they are so !!!! together thank u thank u thank u thank uuuuuuu.

i became fucking insane reading this i swear, i love how you write, all of the characters you write about feel so human and real and full of details and feeling i love it. like, ara is such a complex character i really enjoy reading her. i enjoy reading anybody actually and like, i sometimes forget that some characters are ocs instead of actual alta charters. i love katara and suki being besties and the interactions between toph and sokka. AND ZUKKA AJS2(+#+$IDO!!!!!!2?2(2929. omg just omg. i love how caring they are for eachother and I'm so glad they are more open and touchy with eachother, i now feel like they can actually start to heal together.

OOOO talking again about Ara, i maintain my point about wanting her to have some friends and to heal because she deserves it!!! i support womans rights and woman's wrongs (jk, I'm still a bit angry at her for like everything she did to zuko and i want to se some kind of interaction between them but at the same time i feel bad for her). oh and jet, yey I'm glad he's not dead and he's starting to realize how much of an asshole he was!!!! i also really liked the piandao bit, because it made me remember how much time everyone (hopefully) has to heal, so please don't kill anyone sreeady ☺️☺️

i love love love love love love love love love your ocs and your characterization and your worldbuilding and your writing and how fuckin long your chapters are!!!(god when I saw the wordcount of this one i almost screamed of pure joy). i am your biggest fan sreeady i swear 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

anyways, i am excited about the next chapter, i really want to read the whole family dinner thing because that could either way go akward asf or low-key bad (of hopefully good but i don't want to get my hopes up). i am not really excited about azul, don't get me wrong, i love her, but I'm really scared about what will happen when she finally arrived and stuff happens.

as i always say, i love you, you are the best and i hope you have the best week/month/anything ever because you deserve it (you have no idea how long I been waiting for cuddling zukka 🙏🙏🙏)

MILKYYYYYYYY!!!!

I’m really thrilled you enjoyed the last chapter haha, because honestly sometimes I get so used to writing angsty drama that I get to a soft scene & im like hmmmmmmmmm do i even remember what that is?? Haha.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR YOU OMG!!!! you seriously have no idea how many times I read this ask and smiled. I am so glad the cuddly soft zukka hit all the right spots haha, they are such dorks in love I just wanna smother them! (I won’t…. I promise haha)

You know you mention Ara and I gotta say I was expecting SO MUCH ARA HATE after last chapter but I was shocked people seem…. Idk…. More understanding? Idk I know she’s complicated & not a ‘good girl’ but when you explore her characters thoughts it really makes her that much more complex. Haha I’m not going to lie I’m not looking forward to her finding out about Shen though ahhh.

Speaking of dead fire benders you’re right it seems like pretty much DYING was the push Jet needed to confront his life choices. He was forced to look at his situation without voicing his excuses and blocking out his thoughts. Now hopefully he accepts those changes and grows form it but ehhhh jets my stubborn boy so we’ll see lol.

Milky milk milk I adore you. Thank you for this wonderful ask & sorry I used it to rant a but. I love reading your thoughts you are adorable :) I hope you enjoy the next chapter too lol. We get some fun moments (& Zuko imploding & exploding a bit haha)

[stiffyck]

stiff my tumblr on phone is fucking broken so i cant reblog anything but i just saw your post about scar naming himself after his gun and mumbo just having that mortified moment and i’m losing my mind i am i sure am i’m biting it im eating the art it’s in my head now oh my god /pos i would’ve just cried in dms but i’m simply to silly and scared to slash lh and i’m going to implode now

ANDNDJSKAJ IM GLAD IT GOT THAT REACTION OUT OF YOU I WAS GOING INSANE THINKING ABOUT THE IDEA SHFJSJ

[nagito-kissmaeda]

omg...but imagine sex with nagito on the beach 👀

ミ☆ Consider it imagined ;) Word Count: 2419

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, Explicit sexual content, a little angst but not heaps Read on AO3

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Komaeda stiffens beside you. The gentle rise and fall of his bare chest ceases entirely as he holds his breath. His hair has just started to dry again after your swim, the ends are beginning to curl but the majority of the strands still lack their usual volume. It makes him look smaller, more vulnerable.

You can’t help but wonder if it was genuine happenstance that you caught him in the ocean tonight, or if his luck had a hand in it. Thinking about his luck too much always stresses you out, would seeing him standing waist deep in the water - droplets running down his bare skin and glinting the perfect moonlight - be considered good luck or bad? Did he curse his talent in that moment, or did he see the adoration in your eyes, the way your breath caught at the sight of him, and praise it.

You hear Komaeda laugh, a familiar sound. Pleasant, but altogether fake, like a strawberry milkshake with too much syrup, “I will admit, that was quite a funny joke, if a little hurtful.” he looks at you from the corner of his eye, “Though i cannot rightly criticise you for making jokes at my expense, there is little else i am good for.”

It hurts that he thinks you would make such a cruel joke. It hurts that he doesn't have it in him to believe it.

The wind rushes by and you shiver. Even though you are mostly dry after your brief stint in the ocean, the cool air still makes your skin prickle. Komaeda’s jacket is spread out on the sand beneath the both of you, a gesture that is likely more intimate than he intended for it to be. You worry, frequently, that for all Komaeda’s posturing about talent and hope, that maybe you still don't fit the bill. That you may be worthy of his worship, but fall short of being worthy of his love.

“I wasn't joking.”

Komaeda chokes on what might have been a laugh before it died in the back of his throat. You can hear him shifting slightly, his hands clawing nervously at the jacket beneath him. Again you can't help but wonder, if this moment is good luck, or bad. The sound of your heart is so loud in your ears, and your hands are shaking so furiously that you are surprised the stars in the sky haven't all imploded. The moment feels big enough.

You hear a little more movement beside you, clenching your muscles in a bid to keep still, like even the slightest twitch from you will scare Komaeda away like some frightened animal. Ridiculous, Komaeda doesn't scare easily.

“I won’t stop you.” he whispers, you turn your head just enough to look at him. He’s rolled over onto his side, his slowly drying hair cascading down over his shoulder, pale eyes glinting in the moonlight. Your heart is hammering at your ribs.

You wet your lips with your tongue, and follow his lead, rolling onto your side and carefully examining his face. His eyelashes are really pretty, and they’re faint, but at this proximity you can see a small smattering of freckles across his nose. Like constellations on a cloudy night.

His lips taste like salt when yours press against them, chapped but soft and undeniably gentle. You shiver with more than just the cold when you dart your tongue out just a little, and he readily opens his mouth to accept it. He lets you explore the inside of his mouth, the sharp ridges of his teeth, the underside of his tongue; a moan cuts loose from your mouth and you tangle one of your hands in the back of his hair. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek and you almost sob.

“I want to do more than kiss you.”

His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, and your eyes meet his. He blinks slowly down at you, contemplative but hungry, “Again, if that is truly what you want. I won't stop you.”

There's a heavy weight in your chest at those words, at his assertion that you could have your way with him, but not a single shred of genuine reciprocation. You are ashamed of how weak your voice sounds when you whisper, “Do you...actually want to? Or are you just letting me because I want to?”

Komaeda’s head cocks to the side, “I don't understand why the distinction matters.”

“I’m not just chasing some momentary desire, Komaeda.” you laugh bitterly, “I have feelings for you. Romantic ones.”

He stiffens for a moment, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain. There's an icy chill down your spine as you prepare for his rejection. He loves everything about you, but he doesn't love you.

Unannounced, Komaeda swings his leg over your hips and rolls you onto your back. Looming over you with a smile that actually reaches his eyes. You can count how many times you have seen that on one hand, but here he is, grinning down at you with an indescribable warmth that you feel from your chest all the way down to your toes.

“I was more than happy to be used for your pleasure.” He breathes, eyes turning misty as they meet yours, “To be able to touch you for just one moment, but this...this.” a breathless laugh escapes him, shaking his boney shoulders, “for you to return my feelings...the bad luck around the corner must be immeasurable, but im…” he heaves a shaky breath, “im so happy.”

His feelings. His feelings. The words vibrate around your head as you struggle to even comprehend them. He has feelings for you. Nagito Komaeda is leaning over you, pale hair lit up by the moon eclipsed by his head. Bathing him in a halo of white light. He looks angelic, and he has feelings for you.

“I want you.” You breathe, “Please, Nagito.”

His breath hitches at the sound of his first name dropping from your mouth. So unbelievably intimate, so tender. He tilts his head down, and slots his lips against yours. This time his hands waste little time before wandering across your skin, the bathing suit you picked up from the supermarket hides little, and you feel your flesh buzz as his hands pass over it. In the end, his palm sits comfortably in the curve of your waist and his other hand is planted beside your head to keep his balance. The salt in his mouth is slowly dissipating, giving way to a taste that must only be him. Your arms twist around his back, tracing the bumps of his protruding vertebrae, dancing across his fragile skin.

Your tongue slips into his mouth and you feel his hips twitch. With only the layers of your bathing suits to separate your skin, you can feel his growing hardness very prominently. You buck your hips upward to feel it again, and Komaeda instinctively bites down on your lower lip.

“Oh no. Did I hurt you?” He whispers, pulling back and brushing across your lower lip with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, though I shouldn’t be surprised that someone as worthless as myself would cause you pain.” You feel him start to move, “I should go-“

In a feat of strength that surprises even you, Komaeda is now pinned underneath you, arms pushed backwards onto the jacket atop the sand and wrists gripped tight in your shaking hands.

“Don’t go.” You press a hot kiss to the side of his throat, “You didn’t hurt me. I liked it.” You graze his neck with your teeth and he quakes below you, “I don’t want to stop unless you do.”

His breathing is shaky, his thin body quivering so much that you're almost surprised you can’t hear his bones rattling, “I don’t...I can’t stop. If you could read my perverse thoughts right now, you would be disgusted by what you would find.”

You laugh, releasing his arms and running your fingers down his chest, “Doubtful. I think if anything I’ll find that your thoughts mirror my own.”

Komaeda squeaks when you pull one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking gently, you run your knuckles up and down the side of his ribs. Smiling when you can hear his heart race, “Such a pretty boy.” You whisper, circling his nipple with your tongue. His hips stutter upward to meet yours, he seems to like it when you whine.

“I...I…” Komaeda’s throat bobs, “I’m not doing anything...I should be worshipping you, but I’m just lying here…”

“Shh, Nagito.” You breath, grinding your hips down on his, gentle enough that he can only just feel it, “I like doing this to you, I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.”

“You...you’ve also been thinking about it?”

“Thinking, among other things.”

Komaeda barks a laugh, covering the lower half of his face with a hand, “Are you implying, that all those nights I fucked my pathetic hand thinking only of you, that you were-“

“Three cabins down, thinking about you?” You giggle, dragging your tongue up his collarbone, “That sounds about right.”

“I must be dreaming…” he whispers, looking past you and up at the sky, “it looks like the constellations are caught in your hair.” His shaky hand comes up and cups your cheek, “I don’t want to wake up.”

You smile, gently working his swim shorts down over his narrow hips, “Then don’t.”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, pretty face turning nervous as he is suddenly naked in the open air, though he isn't alone for long. He watches in awe as you toss your swimsuit off into the sand somewhere, eyes wide and watery as they trace the curves and angles of your body. His hips dig into your thighs when you position yourself on top of him, hands pressed gently on his chest, worried that his birdcage ribs might shatter if you put too much weight on them. You can feel his heart racing under your palms, fragile, perfect, beautiful boy. He is shaking under you, pale skin shining in the light of the moon. You lose your breath, completely enamoured with him, with his big green eyes, the mess of his hair, his collarbones so sharp that you swear you could cut yourself on them.

“I haven't done this before.”

Komaeda’s breathless silence is filled only with the ebb and flow of the ocean behind you, with the salt in the air and the stars in the sky. He sits up a little, arms shaking under his weight as he holds himself at eye level with you. He takes in a wheezy breath, one side of his mouth quirking up in a familiar nervous smile.

“You don't have to.” He whispers, “I...I’ll only disappoint you.”

It only takes a gentle push to his chest for him to fall backward onto the sand. Blinking up at you with wide eyes as you slowly start to lower yourself down onto him, “You could never disappoint me” you breathe, and then he is inside of you.

Just where he belongs.

The prettiest moan you have ever heard rips loose from his throat, his head tossed backward onto the sand and eyes scrunched shut. He is twitching inside of you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he isn't sure what to do with them. You lift yourself up just a little, and he almost sobs when you drop back down again. It feels good, you feel full. There's a twisting in your gut that tells you to just move, just move. You aren't sure how much longer you can resist it.

Komaeda is in a similar state. You are so warm, so tight, so perfect. He can feel his hips twitching with a desire to just give in, to pump himself as deep inside of you as possible. It’s pathetic, it’s selfish, but he wants you to be his. He wants to be so far inside that you can't pull him out again, he would do anything to be here forever. Completely naked, out in the open, in the middle of the night with you writhing on top of him. Your face twists in absolute pleasure, and he can't help lording over it. Over the fact that he is doing this to you.

Then, you moan again. Head lolling backwards as the guttural moan morphs into the syllables of his name.

He can’t hold back anymore. His hands snap up to your hips, digging in tight enough that your eyes open in shock, and he pushes his hips as far up as they will go. You call out his name again and it is all he can hear, hips snapping up again and again, dragging more perfect noises from your mouth and letting out moans of his own everytime he hears you say his name.

Your eyes drift down to his, letting out a sweet little whimper as he hits a spot inside of you that sets your insides boiling. Your nails dig tight into the taught flesh pulled across his ribs, turning his pale skin a bright red, your own hips meeting his every thrust with a desire to have him deeper, to have him faster. He throws his head back in a breathless laugh that almost sounds like a sob when he feels you clench around him, you’re perfect, you’re real and you’re so fucking tight.

You don't even have time to warn him before you topple over the edge, the world flashes white behind your eyes as your walls twitch around Komaeda’s desperate cock. He lets out a rattling breath, so close, so close, so close-

“Nagito” You breathe, “cum inside of me, please.”

He feels like he is going to explode, in more ways than one when he shoves himself up into you one last time, finally cumming with a high-strung moan that sounds suspiciously like a declaration of love.

Then, all is quiet again. The ocean breeze is your only company as the two of you come back down. At some point the jacket slipped out from under Komaeda, and now his messy hair is tangled with sand. You reach down and try to comb some of it out with your fingers, he nuzzles into your palm. Content.

You smile down at him.

“I love you too.”

[ttuesday]

Gimme some Arthur super fluffy BUT add some angst and everyone is scared shitless of him and you’re just like ☺️ and he is like “WHY?! IM SCARY I KILL PPL DAMMIT STOP CRAWLING INTO MY LAP/COT/JACKET AND HUGGING UP ON ME GIRL!!!!”

-ends up giving up bc he secretly loves it and when you try to move his arm just tightens- “ahem.... might as well just fuckin stay ya damn pain in my ass”

“I love you too my grumpy outlaw”

Arthur:

And just like:

STUPID GRIN

It also helps that mid snuggle in a saloon you blew someone’s head off for coming up on him from behind with a knife and THATS when you finally hear

“haha that’s ~my~ girl.” And you implode. Just confetti.

🙃😬��

honestly this was such an amazing ask, I don’t think I did it the justice it deserves but I tried my best! I haven’t written anything properly in a while so I’m a bit rusty but I definitely had fun doing this one lol. Thanks for the ask <3

Word Count: approx. 1000 

You told Arthur you’d meet him at Smithfield’s Saloon, Valentine’s biggest and most popular watering hole (not that it had much competition). He was unsure of meeting there, considering the last time he was at the saloon it ended with him beating up one of the locals in the middle of the street, but he eventually agreed.

It was a quiet evening in Smithfield’s. A handful of people sat at the different tables and the piano man played a mellow tune while some fellers focused on an intense game of black jack. You leaned against the bar, casually glancing over at the saloon doors every few minutes. Arthur was gone on a job for Strauss so you knew he’d probably be a bit late. You swirled around what was left in your beer bottle before downing it in one. 

“Howdy Miss,” a young, drunken fool (no, it wasn’t Sean) stumbled next to you, trying to smoothly lean against the bar.

“Not interested” you said coldly, in no mood to deal with random drunks. “Hey, c’mon now you don’t even know what I was gonna say” he protested, swaying a little too close to you.

You immediately tensed and snapped “Touch me and you’ll lose your fuckin’ hand”. You really weren’t in the mood. All you wanted was a quiet drink with Arthur, not to be chatted up by some drunk.

“Christ, woman” he swayed backwards. He kept talking but you were no longer listening, instead you focused on your lover entering the saloon. You weren’t the only person who noticed Arthur enter. The man at the piano stopped playing his tune, those seated at the tables went silent and even the bartender stopped cleaning a glass to look up and watch him. For a moment, no one in the saloon moved.

A smile spread across your face as you rushed over to Arthur, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck. You knew Arthur was hesitant to hug you back, too cautious of the people around ye. You broke away from him just enough to see his face. “I’ve been waiting a while,” you said before giving him a quick peck on the lips “I thought something might have happened”. 

“I’m fine” Arthur dismissed “just had to get some money for Strauss, nothing out of the ordinary”. 

As people in the saloon began to go back to what they were doing before Arthur had entered, you looped your arm around his and ye walked to the bar. Arthur ordered your drinks before noticing how you kept your arm entwined with his. “Ain’t you being very affectionate today” he gave a small chuckle. “Do you have a problem with that?” you asked playfully, leaning up and kissing his jawline.

Arthur picked up the drinks and walked over to a free table, shrugging “I wouldn’t say I have a problem with it”. “Then what is it?” you sat down next to him. “Darlin’ I ain’t a good man” he started his usual speech. You heard it time and time again. He isn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve a caring, sweet thing like you. “Arthur honey, you know that isn’t true” you replied, sipping at your beer.

He lowered his voice “Do you know how I’ve spent my day so far? I’ve beat up a sick man and for what? A couple of goddamn dollars. Did you not see how everyone in here looked at me when I first came in?”.

You smiled slightly “I thought it was kinda hot how they all looked like they were scared shitless of you”. He rolled his eyes yet you could see a fond smile tug at his lips.

You shifted in the wooden chair you sat on, finding it uncomfortable. You smirked as you tapped Arthur’s foot with your own under the table “That seat taken, cowboy?”. “I’ve just told you I’ve beaten up a sick man and all you’re thinking about is sitting on my lap,” he shook his head but he couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face “unbelievable”.

Giggling, you slid your drink over by Arthur and stood up, ready to move to your new seat. But that’s when the drunken fool from before returned. “I know a real comfy place to sit, Miss” he slurred his words, extending his arm out to grab you. But before he could, you grabbed his arm and yanked it behind his back. Next you pushed him towards the table, his head slamming down next to your drinks. You had subconsciously taken out your hunting knife and held it to the man’s throat. “I thought I warned you a while ago not to bother me” you snapped.

For the second time that evening, the whole saloon went quiet but this time, they were looking at you and not Arthur. Arthur glanced around before subtly placing his hand on your lower back “Alright darlin let’s not give the sheriff a reason to arrest us”

You debated it in your mind whether the kill was worth the hassle of getting the sheriff on your tail. You knew if that happened, Dutch would probably get pissed off too. You sighed and let the man go, placing your knife back into its holster. The man sprang up and nearly tripped over himself in the process. “S-sorry Miss, I didn’t mean to bother you” he stuttered as he went up the stairs and out of sight.

Arthur guided you down to his lap. “That’s m’girl, always ready to fight at a moment’s notice” he praised as you got comfortable, wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders. “You sure you want me sitting on a big bad outlaw’s lap?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. Arthur snaked his hand around your waist, holding you close “I guess I can allow it this time”.

You went to give him a quick kiss on the lips but Arthur immediately deepened it, running his tongue along your bottom lip before slowly pushing into your mouth. Momentarily pulling away, you grinned “I think we should rent a room tonight”. “That sounds like a great idea” Arthur agreed before kissing you deeply again.

[nerdyenby]

Punisher season 1 thoughts

• why is it actually good?! I’ve been operating on the assumption that it’s mediocre at best for YEARS I am fuming

• there are 3 different nightmare-inducing moments in the first episode alone, maybe I’m glad I didn’t watch this earlier

• why are so many of the characters scumbags??? it’s painful, man. I don’t want the r-slur in my tv, thanks

• man, I could never do military stuff, I just don’t get it

• Karen!!!!

• Frank and Sarah’s interactions are everything man, they’re so real and vulnerable and befriending someone who inadvertently fills the hole grief left behind is just grrrrrrrrr /pos

• Karen and Dinah my favorite girlbosses gaslighting each other into oblivion, who’s interviewing who here lmao, regardless I’m down and I want more

• Frank and David enemies to reluctant friends my beloved

• Frank kissing Karen on the cheek I am going to implode

• GOD the scene with Frank and Zack and then David coming and Frank having to push him away

• LEWIS! Gosh darn it, I’m not surprised but dang

• Frank comparing Karen to what Sarah means to David, oh my heart

• Karen has never not girlbossed, all day every day, as she should

• Frank and Curtis :((( I have nothing to say but the scene where he cuts the wire means so freaking much to me

• Gosh, the news finding out about Frank is such a cool scene

• Karen my beloved <333

• Sarah and the kids :(

• Dinah does some girlbossing of her own

• David and Leo :(((

• Frank is absolutely terrifying and I love that for him

• Marion pulling Orange through the mud and serving his rear to him on a platter AS SHE SHOULD

• Midani!!! FRANK!!!! The gang’s all here!!

• Frank and Leo :((

• IF DAVID’S DEAD IM GOING TO SCREAM

• NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

• YES!!!!

• Slap him, slap him, slap him, Sarah!!! Oh this is worse, actually

• Russo redemption arc :) still don’t like him but y’know

• Frank Castle the man who doesn’t know how to die, it’s almost sad

• Bill’s still a creep and a scumbag and I stand by that

• David goading Frank to call him a traitor and then breaking down “my friend is dying” :(((((

• Dinah’s father serving Frank without hesitation my beloved

• You racist, ableist piece of crap

• Psychological warfare ain’t cool, bro

• Everything about Frank wordlessly cutting those kids free and them collapsing in to each other before sinking to the floor and sitting with Frank and a quiet “Thank you”

• Frank in therapy means so much to me, you have no idea. It really is the difference between him and all the bad guys this season: they all refuse to acknowledge that they are broken and view needing help as weakness. Frank has never tried to justify his actions to anyone else, he knows he’s messed up, he wants to fix the world around him and his whole arc here is about him learning to acknowledge his wounds and start to let them heal

• The last words of this show being “I’m scared” do something to me. Frank has never been afraid of blood or violence or death, he’s afraid of living, of finding something worth staying alive for, and of losing it all over again

[queenofbaws]

as i cannot Bombard you with quarry prompts (yet) i will Instead ask for some ashley/sam since i feel we as a whole have forgotten this criminally underrated ship (and im glad to kno ur doing better ;w; hope u love the quarry as much as i have!!) (also idk if u still wanted number prompts but i cannot find the post so sorry abt that!!)

six(ish) sentence weekend ;P

“Sam, I...I appreciate the thought - really, I do! I do! - but um, I just...I don’t think this is going to help as much as you seem to, well...think it will.”

The look on Sam’s face made it unavoidably clear that she wasn’t about to buy that. Not even a little. She just kept sitting there across from her, her chin resting against her palms, fingers curled up against her cheeks almost to the point of puffing her lips out, slowly but certainly shaking her head. “Oh come on, trust me on this one, would you? I’m telling you, practice just makes it all way easier to get that stuff out. I used to do this with Hannah all the time!” As soon as it was out of her mouth, both of them paused, winced, and made the executive decision not to address the elephant in the room. That elephant, anyway. “Sooo,” Sam started up again, raising her voice as though it would help scare said elephant away, “Just pretend I’m Chris, and let’s get this crush out in the open!”

“Yeah, I, um...” The desire to implode had never been quite so strong. Ashley did her best to speed the process along, pulling her knees in tightly together, shrinking her shoulders in against her torso, knotting her hands and grinding her toes into the ground; any- and everything to shrink herself into a ball. It wasn’t that Sam’s idea was a bad one, per se, it just wasn’t...there were some flaws, leave it at that. There were...flaws. Big ones. With her logic. Among other things. “I just don’t think pretending to be Chris is going to help...this. Or, uh...anything. Really.”

At that, she dropped one of her hands from her face just so she could wave her off. “Ash, oh my gosh, I promise, okay? I promise I’m not gonna laugh at you or anything - as long as you don’t laugh at me for how bad this impression’s going to be.” She laughed then, her nose wrinkling up a bit in the way that it did, and Ashley found she had to physically force herself to keep sitting upright instead of collapsing flat onto the table between them. “Here, wait, let me get in character for a sec...then I think you’ll see the magic in this.”

“I really - ”

But before she could get anything else out, Sam was dramatically waving a hand in front of her face, her expression wavering between being tickled pink and being very, very, deathly serious. Her lips kept quivering like she was holding back a gale of laughter, and somewhere not all that deep inside of herself, Ashley had to wonder if she was doing it on purpose. It just...it wasn’t fair, that look on her face - it wasn’t fair at all!

She gave in. She did put her head down on the table. Then she moved her arms to form a sort of cushion around herself, doing her best to hide some of the flushing in her cheeks. And ears. And neck. And everything else.

Sam cleared her throat once, twice, and then shifted her posture so she sat awkwardly in her chair. “Heyyy,” she said, very clearly tamping down a wave of giggles as she deepened her voice. Both of her hands immediately formed finger-guns, and she waved them with impunity, taking down a boatload of invisible targets. “Who’s got two thumbs and enough dad jokes to ruin a barbecue?” Instead of using her thumbs as one might expect, she pointed her finger-guns at herself. “Thisss guy!”

Ashley grabbed the hem of her beanie and pulled it down over her eyes. “Sam, oh my God.”

“Awww snap! Sam’s here?” There was a screech to suggest she’d spun around in her chair, but given the whole beanie situation, Ashley couldn’t really say either way what sort of character work she was doing. “Quick, hide all the eggs - we can’t let her know we eat things!”

“Sam. Please.”

“No, hey, Ash, it’s fine, look! Just put the eggs on top of the fridge, okay? She’ll neeeeever reach them there. Not unless she like, climbs up onto a chair, I guess. Then again, she is kinda squirrely, so maybe...huh. Think we can distract her with some acorns? Those are vegan, right?”

Against her better judgement, she pulled her beanie back up a fraction of a fraction of an inch, peering Sam’s way through a vague screen of hair and loose threads. “You’re making this. Impossible. I hope you know that. Impossible.”

God help her, Sam just beamed - beamed! - sitting up straighter in her chair. “Just call me Tom Cruise,” she joked in that same awful Chris-voice. She let that hang in the air for a moment too long, then pretended it only just occurred to her that it hadn’t made sense. “Because, you know, Mission Impossible? That he’s in? Yeah, you get it, Ash. You get it.” The finger-guns were back with a vengeance.

She had to laugh. She had to! She couldn’t help it - the whole situation was so, so, so...so much! Too much, even! Her fingers bunched up in the hem of her beanie as she let the burst of nervous giggles finally bubble over, all the while forcing herself not to look Sam’s way. If she did, she thought she might just explode. The look of triumph on her face was also just so, so, so, so, so, so much. Too much. Too, too much. “This is dumb,” she managed to squeak out, her face only growing warmer when she heard how breathless she sounded in her own ears. “Sam, this is dumb!”

“Sam isn’t here, Ash,” she said, pretending to adjust a pair of invisible glasses. “I mean...oh shit, she is pretty tiny. Maybe she is here, just...quick, check under your chair. She could be anywhere.”

Why she did it, she couldn’t say; by all accounts it wasn’t the way she was used to acting, but the situation was so weird, and she just couldn’t stop giggling, and Sam was so intent on pretending to be Chris that it just built up and up and up until something in her burst. So she just...said it: “I like you. Like, a lot.”

She winced as she waited for a response. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Sick! I like you, like, a lot too, Ash. Like, a lot-lot. I like-like you a lot-lot.” The Chris impression slipped for just a second as Sam let out an ungodly snort at her own humor, holding a hand up like an old timey actress preparing to redo a line. She took a deep breath, let it out, and the laughter passed.

Oooh how Ashley wished it could be that easy. “No, I, um...okay.” She tried sitting up straighter, but couldn’t quite reach her full height, knotting her hands together on the table again. “This is...this is so stupid. I...oh my God. I...I have a crush on you, okay? It’s dumb, and you probably don’t feel the same way and I get that, I really do, but. I have a crush on you, and that’s...that.” She nodded her head slowly, an uncertain punctuation to an extremely certain statement, her eyes still flitting to anything but Sam’s face. “So. Yeah.”

There was a beat. And then, “O-oh my God, Ash, this is so sudden! We’ve been so tight for such a long time, I never thought you’d want to be the macaroni to my cheese. The peanut to my butter. The - ”

“Sam.”

“Shit, she was hiding under your chair, wasn’t she? I knew it, you can’t trust a vegan...they got that...natural camouflage.”

“Sam.” She hung her head again, fingers pressing hard into her cheeks in a last-ditch attempt to hide some of her blushing. “I haven’t had a crush on Chris in like. Months and months. And months. Okay? That’s why...that’s why I said this was pointless. I don’t have a crush on him at all.”

“Wait, you don’t?” she asked, dropping the voice (thank God) as her face scrunched up with confusion. “But then why did you just - ” The pause that followed felt like it lasted an eternity. Maybe two. Three. Three eternities. Threeternities. “Oh,” she said at last. “Oh.” And just when Ashley thought she was nearing that blessed implosion she’d been hoping for since the get-go, Sam laughed, “Well, I mean...huh! Guess we didn’t need the practice conversation at all, huh?”

It was only slowly that Ashley let herself glance Sam’s way, bracing herself for whatever she’d see there. But Sam was smiling - grinning, really - and before too long, she found she was helpless to keep from smiling back.

[pies-writes-and-more]

HEY CHRISTINA!! hope ur well and doing good 💕

im currently waiting for a table at a restaurant so i figured what better time to read a modern day romeo and juliet and like. FJAKHDKAA AWWWW 🥺🥺

overprotective friends iwa and oikawa make me go 🥺 god i LOVE haikyuu boys as brotherly friends they make my heart go brrr 🥺🥰

NOT TO MENTION USHIWAKA god i want to marry that man aaaaa hes so cute im gonna implode!! fun fact ushiwaka was actually one of my least favorites at first because i was scared of him LMAOO guess that backfired on me 😬

my vacation’s tomorrow and i cant wait!! im going to disneyland hehe so excited. hbu, any plans for the weekend or the rest of this week?

HIIII SOPHIAAAAA 💕💕💕💕 how’re you doing?????

LOL omg I love that you had time and were like yes fanfic time

Dineofnwofjeodj omg I’m so glad you liked it I was really nervous about it 😂😂😂 honestly I love the idea of poor oikawa and iwaizumi trying to balance their hatred for this man while also being like … we want YN to be happy …��.

Hehehehehhee ushijima 🥰🥰🥰 I am a huge sucker for big bois who are way too stoic and blunt and just a little bit dumb on reading social cues. But LOL don’t even worry I didn’t like ushijima at first either I don’t think. He annoyed me that he was all oikawa and never kageyama and hinata like I was like don’t look down on my bois 👀 but! Nonetheless I have grown to love himmmm (and hope I’ve made you love him too hehehehe)

I hope your food was good tho!!! AND OMG DISNEYLAND!!!!! I’ve always wanted to go 😭😭😭 I hope you have a ton of fun omg stay safe okay????

No plans over here! I’m just toying around with some fic ideas (anime crossover fics anyone? 👀) and trying to get through my studies ugh.

modern day Romeo and Juliet

[cracklingbooks]

hi so i have a fic request, but honestly i just want soldezangelo content so its fine if u dont feel like writing that haha

prompt: after nico wakes up from a terrifying nightmare, will and leo goes to comfort him and let him know how much they love him. :)

idk im just in a mood for fluff haha, but this also works for solangelo <3 thank you again!

Thank you very much for trusting me with your prompt, I hope you'll like how it turned out! I’ll be honest, I didn’t know that soldezangelo was a thing till today, so I wasn’t sure whether it was like a proper ship or a bromance or whatever... I’m sorry! So basically I made a solangelo + Leo thing! :)

I truly hope you like it, since it’s my first ever prompt! Ugh

I posted it on ao3 too 

He had no idea how he had arrived there, all he could remember were bits and pieces of the journey; long gaunt hands, dead trees with broken branches, darkness all around him. And oh, the feeling of complete solitude. It was encompassing.

Nico was the only one in that lonely land and he felt completely lost.

And then he saw it, like a beacon in the night: the faintest light in the distance and it was calling his name, like a sweet lullaby. It looked like the sun, but it was overshadowed by that thick foggy darkness; it looked impossibly far, but it was calling his name! It had to mean something, Nico was sure.

He started running, running, running, till his heart was about to explode and his lungs were imploding. The light didn’t look closer at all, but the voice kept shouting his name, always louder, till Nico thought it was going to break its voice.

That’s when he recognized it. Will. That was Will’s voice and he sounded incredibly pained.

Nico stumbled and while he was falling to his knees, he cried out Will’s name, holding his gaze fixed on the light like it was the only thing able to keep him together. He was falling and his pieces were crushing to the ground in a loud noise of clattering. He seemed to keep falling for centuries, because his body didn’t hit the soil right away.

His voice was scratched, broken like he was, “Will!”

He kept falling and falling, till the darkness swallowed him whole. That’s just what happened to lost boys.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but at some point, he was laying on the ground. It didn’t happen with a loud crush; he knew he was laying down because he felt the cold grass tickle his neck. His body was shivering impossibly and he felt nauseous, but above him there was the brightest starry sky he’d ever seen. He was back at Camp Half Blood.

He breathed deeply, trying to take everything in, but his lungs were hurting, so he started coughing convulsively.

“What…?” He heard a voice, but it was barely more than a whisper over the thundering blood in his ears. “Nico!”

Then there were two faces over him, hands running over his arms, looking for injuries.

You won’t find any scar, Nico wanted to say, I’m a broken boy, but there is no proof of that on my skin.

He tried to back away from those preoccupied touches, but his limbs were to heavy to be moved, much less controlled. He was trembling and colliding, he didn’t know how to stop. He just wanted everything to stop spinning so fast.

A light appeared from somewhere above him and was pointed at his face; he couldn’t see anything anymore over that terrible brightness, but the voice spoke again, sounding a little panicked, “He doesn’t seem hurt, but I don’t know if we can move him.”

There was a shy answer, but Nico couldn’t make the words out, because the newly appeared light brought back to his mind the light he’d seen earlier and he just needed to know that Will was okay. It took him a couple of tries, but in the end, he managed to croak out, “Will… please.”

There was a hand in his hair, pulling it back from his eyes. “You’re right, Nico.” The voice said, “Go call Will, and tell him to come here as fast as he can. Tell him Nico needs help, he’ll be here in no time. Go!”

The light disappeared immediately. A gentle hand helped him to sit up and suddenly he was staring right at Leo, his cheeks almost completely covered in grease, and his eyes were big and worried. He felt immediately relieved at the sight, because it was so familiar that he almost felt like he wasn’t completely lost. Just a little.

He swallowed the dump in his throat and Leo’s gaze never left his face.

“What happened?” Nico asked, squeezing his eyelids for a second, trying to make his eyes focus. He was seeing a blurry world.

“You should tell me, mate.” Leo replied, kindly. “We were going back to our cabin when we heard you shout and cough. Did someone hurt you?”

Nico shook his head.

Leo whispered the next question, like he wanted to give Nico the chance to pretend he didn’t hear his words, “Why are you crying, then?”

Nico hadn’t realized he was crying, but now that he knew he was doing it, he couldn’t stop. He tried to hide his face, letting his hair fall in front of his face. “I don’t know.” He said, honestly. “I’m just defective, I guess.”

Leo wasn’t having any of that. He shook his head and cupped Nico’s cheeks, tilting his head back to make him meet his gaze, “You aren’t, Nico. Not even a bit.”

Nico sighed and wrapped his arms around his own body, trying to stop the tremors. “You are a mechanic, Leo. You can fix anything.” He squeezed his eyes, trying to breathe, but it wasn’t working. “Fix me, please. Just fix me. I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

He sounded desperate and pathetic, he knew that, but the world was spinning and blurry and he just wanted it to fucking stop.

Without notice, Leo pulled him in his arms, clenching him in a bone-wrecking hug. Nico buried his face in the crook of his neck and let himself be rocked gently; Leo smelled like grease and steel and fire. Nico tried to let that scent warm him up.

Leo said, “You aren’t broken, Nico. Your heart may be a little chipped because of all the things you’ve been through, but each time you filled the cracks with gold. It may be heavy now, but it’s strong and beautiful and beating. You are alive, Nico, and if there is air in your lungs, it means you aren’t broken. So I need you to focus; breathe, please.”

And he did. He took in a deep breath and another and another, till eventually his lungs remembered how to work on their own.

There were loud footsteps and branches breaking and then Will was there, running toward them at full speed. He crushed by Nico’s side on his knees and Leo let him go, sitting back on his heels.

Nico’s relief rolled off of his body in hot waves at the sight of that messy blonde hair and those damn freckles of his, because Will was there and he was okay. He was okay okay okay. That was the most important thing.

Nico could deal with being broken, but he could’ve never been able to see Will being hurt or lost. Never. He could bear his own pain as long as he knew Will’s heart was happy and pumping blood in his body.

Will’s hands were everywhere. On Nico’s cheeks, his arms, his hair, his chest, his thighs, his neck. In that moment, Will wasn’t wearing his boyfriend face, no. He was full-on doctor. “Are you hurt? Do you have wounds? Did you hit your head?”

Nico shook his head three times, one for each question. Since Will didn’t even flinch, he added, “I’m okay.”

Will took in a sharp breath and held Nico in his arms so tightly that it was like he was trying to hold all of his shattered pieces together. It was with that smell of home and that familiar warmth, that Nico’s body family stopped trembling. He rubbed his forehead against Will’s neck and he felt like coming back to life.

Ah, Gods. He wasn’t sure whether he was listening to his own heartbeat or to Will’s or to a mix of both, but he felt completely filled with love. The darkness dissipated slowly, one steady beat after the other.

After a time – three minutes or maybe three centuries – Will eventually pulled back to look at his face, but kept his hands securely on Nico’s arms, almost as if he was worried that he could disappear at any moment right in front of his eyes.

Nico saw the exact second when Will’s face went from doctor to boyfriend. “Oh, you scared me to death, Nico! I’ll lock you in your cabin for the rest of the summer and you’ll never ever be allowed to be out of my sight ever again. You are an absolute menace, I almost had a heart attack! If I’ll have white hair by my mid-twenties, it’ll be your fault, damn you!” He was mumbling quickly; too many words to say in so little time. Relief was now rolling off of Will too, even if it was mixed with a lot of other feelings.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m not sure how I got here.” Nico’s mind was a little blurred and he couldn’t remember much of that day.

“You shadow-travelled in your sleep, Nico. You were having a nightmare and I tried to shake you awake and call your name, but you didn’t wake up. And then you just disappeared. I looked for you everywhere, but couldn’t find you anywhere. Then Leo’s brother found me and told me where you were. Thank the Gods they were here.” He turned to look at Leo and hugged him too, “Thank you, Leo. Gods, thank you.”

Leo shrugged and offered a little smile, “Boys with chipped hearts have to stick together.” He says and even if Will couldn’t really understand, Nico did.

What Leo meant was that Nico wasn’t alone. Not alone at all.

Leo stood up and grinned at them, before running his fingers fondly on their hair, “It’s better if I go to sleep. You’re in good hands now, Nico. I’ll see you both at breakfast, try to get some sleep, huh?”

Nico barely had the time to thank him, before he disappeared with a yawn in the trees, where one of his brothers were watching us curiously.

Soon, Nico and Will were alone and even if it took them quite some time, they managed to get to Nico’s cabin. He was leaning almost completely against Will’s body, because he was so knackered that his legs weren’t bothering working more than he strict necessary, but Will didn’t seem to mind at all; if anything, he held Nico closer with every step.

Will helped him change his pyjama, that was stained with grass and mud, and then changed his own (because of course he kept some of his clothes at the Hades’ cabin).

They slid under the blankets, in those sheets that smelled both like light and darkness, like Will and Nico. It had been a while since they had smelled just like Nico, since for the whole summer Will had slept with him.

Will pulled him closer and Nico placed his head on that spot on his chest, where he could feel both Will’s heartbeat in one ear and feel his warm breath caressing his opposite cheek. That was Nico’s favourite place in the whole world. Screw that, in the whole universe.

“I could’ve accidentally taken you with me when I shadow-travelled, I’m sorry.” Nico whispered, feeling guilty.

“I don’t care.” Will replied, softly.

“But you could’ve been hurt.” He insisted. The thought was almost unbearable.

“I don’t care,” he said again, rubbing circles on Nico’s back with his hands, “Besides, if you’d taken me with you, I could’ve made sure that you were okay sooner. So, please, next time take me with you. I’d like it better if you didn’t go away at all, but if you do, take me with you.”

Nico couldn’t really find any word to tell Will just how much in love with him he was, so he kissed softly his chest and hoped it was enough.

“Are you okay, by the way? Do you want to tell me about your nightmare? It could help.” Will whispered, holding Nico closer.

Since he barely remembered his nightmare, Nico shook his head a little. The only memory embroided in his mind was the feeling of losing Will in the darkness, so he said, “Just… don’t ever leave me, okay?”

“How could I ever? You own my heart, Nico; you know that.” He whispered; then, “I don’t say it often enough, but I love you. I love you.”

Nico tilted his head back a stole a kiss from those soft lips, “I love you, too.”

Then, safe from that blinding darkness and that feeling of solitude, Nico managed to fall asleep in the arms of his boyfriend, who held him tightly. The last thing he heard before drifting off was Will’s low sleepy voice murmuring a lullaby in his ear, like he always did whenever Nico had a nightmare.

His dreams were filled with kisses and rays of sunshine and home home home.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

•Lillies and daisies• Pt. 1

Prologue

Summary: Billy ends up stuck with a girl who stumbled into his place one night only to faint right after, when she wakes up she remembers nothing about herself or her life, now it’s up to billy to help her figure out what comes next.

A/N: After literally forever im back. I’m really excited about this story and maybe it’s starting to make some type of sense? I haven’t figured out the name thing yet butttt I’m sure I’m keeping the first person narrative. Let me know what you think

Warnings: Angst?, language, mentions of amnesia.

[[MORE]]

I was starting to wake up, and as soon as I took a deep breath, I knew something was missing. I didn't know what but it felt like a void.

I opened my eyes and saw white curtains hiding a bright sky.

Wait a second...  where am I?

This wasn't my room, in fact, I didn't remember what my room was like, but this wasn't it. 

Drowned on my thoughts, I slowly started realizing that my room wasn't the only thing I couldn't remember. My house, my family, my friends, myself, I couldn't even remember my name. I could barely notice that what I was wearing wasn't mine, merely because the t-shirt with "Pink Floyd" written on it was at least three sizes bigger.

It would be an understatement to say I was freaked out. I started breathing heavily and my eyes started getting watery, it felt like my head was soon going to implode from how fast my train of thought was going, it almost made me feel dizzy.

Before I could panic any longer, someone opened the door. A guy, with the bluest of eyes i’ve ever seen, probably due to my state. If I would have been in another situation, I probably would have... well, I don't know. I didn't remember what I would have done.

"So, sleeping beauty is awake. How was your nap, princess?" The guy said closing the door and coming closer to me.

Out of fear i hugged my legs to my chest sliding away from him "Who are you?" I asked, feeling how my voice cracked. Even my voice felt unfamiliar.

He seemed to have taken the hint and stayed right where he was standing. "Well, that's what I'm asking you". I could see the muscles of his arms tense while he crossed them.

"What do you mean? This is your house isn't it?" The amount of questions I had on my head were making me even more dizzy than before.

" Yeah, house you ran into without invitation last night,only to pass out right after." I was about to tell him I wasn't in a mood for jokes, but I could tell how serious he was, his eyes were darker than they had been seconds ago, and they seemed to be lightly tinted with concern.

"Sorry, I-I did what?"

"So you were that drunk huh?" I, for a second, thought he was as confused as me, but his face was so expressionless, I just couldn't tell.

"What? No... I mean I-I don't know"

"Right... Lets start with easier questions, princess. What's your name." I closed my eyes, I tried to remember as hard as I could but nothing came to my mind. "It's not that hard"

" I'm... i-i... I'm sorry, i can't remember." A single tear rolled down my cheek, while I pronounced those words.

" Shit" i heard him whisper "Do you remember where you live?" I shook my head silently " Do you remember anyone you know?" No, again.

" What's happening to me?" I said so low he almost couldn't hear it.

“Im no expert but i think you have amnesia, let me check your head.” he waited a couple seconds until he was sure i wouldn’t freak out if he came any closer, then he walked to the opposite side of the bed and sat behind me. His hands delicately started parting my hair and pressing softly. Nothing hurt until he got to the lower back of my head, as soon as his fingers touched that area i felt a pulsating pain so strong i had to hold my breath.

He quickly removed his hands apologizing for the pain. “It looks like you took a pretty rough hit here, i think there’s blood too but i’m not sure. I’m gonna bring you some ice, that might help with the pain.”

I heard his steps behind me and soon enough i saw him walk out of the room leaving the door open. When i looked behind me i noticed the pillow had some specs blood on it as well, not enough to get worried but it was still there. Not long after he was back with a pack of ice wrapped around a towel, he handed it to me and i carefully placed it on the wounded area.

I exhaled heavily trying to put all the pieces together. The fact that I didn't know where I was, who this guy was, who I was, and most importantly, where I came from. I believe neither of us knew what to say on a situation like this so we just stayed silent for a couple minutes.

He was the one to break the silence "Look, I gotta go out for a couple hours. You can spend the night here if you want, I don't mind." He started to pick up some stuff from the night table. As almost every other piece of furniture on the room, it was a medium light brown with an old looking vibe.

"Thank you so much, but I don't think it's reasonable to stay in a strangers house." I looked down and started playing with my fingers. For some reason the way he looked at me made me feel really nervous and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make a coherent sentence with his eyes looking into mine. "I'll get out of here as soon as I can, don't worry."

He stood there for a couple seconds just analyzing me, and then said:

"I'm Billy, I love music and I work at the record store. Lucky for you we are not strangers anymore." He winked at me and then walked out of the room.

I sat there with a racing heart and a racing mind, feeling all types of ways and absolutely nothing at the same time. Nothing made sense, i was confused and scared, and i didn’t know how i was gonna get myself out of this one.

I heard what I thought was the front door closing and I decided to stand up and go look for a bathroom. That didn't take me long because it happened to be inside his room following a walk-in closet, where I found some clothes that I supposed were mine, and if they weren't I was going to wear them anyways.

I walked in, and as soon as I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt shame tinting my cheeks a light pink. My makeup was completely fucked, I had worryingly big under eye bags, and my lips where pail and swollen for some reason.

-------------------------------------------------------

While washing my hair I noticed something interesting. The smell of the shampoo almost made me feel like normal again, it felt like something i’d felt before. I thought it was so ironic I found this stranger's hygiene product more personal and close to me than my own face. I didn't think anything else of it.

Half an hour later, i was putting on a coat that seemed somewhat my size. Billy must have had a girlfriend I didn't know about, a roommate or a sister, I don't know, but I was sure that coat wasn't his. I felt bad taking it without permission, but in my defense it was fall, which I figured because of the browny-orange trees outside of curly guy's window, and that meant it was gonna be windy and cold.

Before getting out of there I looked around. Something made me feel warm about his house, it looked rustic, everything was brown or warm toned, which matched perfectly with the season outside. I wondered if that was intentional.

On my way out I closed the door and spent a solid minute trying to decide if I should go right or left. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, I would have been lost either way, but a small dandelion seed flew right in from of my face, dancing with the wind going east, making the choice for me.

Just when I couldn't see the apartment behind me anymore, I realized how screwed i was, why did i think it was a good idea to walk out of the apartment in the first place? God, i didn't even knew which city I was in. I was starving and had no money to buy anything, or so I thought until I slipped my hand inside the coat to get it a little bit warmer, and I felt a handful of bills there. Lucky for me it was a ten dollar bill and two dollar bills, it wasn’t much but it could save me from starvation.

I started looking around for a place to eat from where I was standing and not far I saw something that seemed like a coffee shop. Without a second thought i walked in that direction feeling my stomach growl every time louder.

The smell of warm bread and coffee that smacked my face as I opened the door was glorious. I closed my eyes and smiled before walking to one of the empty tables and sitting on one of the dark wood tables closer to the window.

I was so distracted looking at the place, I didn't even noticed when one of the girls that worked there walked to my table and started talking to me. "Good morning and welcome to Harvey's, can I help you with your order?" She was looking at me with a bright smile on her face.

"I... umm..." what do people ordered on this type of places? My cheeks started to blush once again. "I want whatever the hell smells so good. What is it?"

" Oh, is a combination of our fresh bread and season special Hot cinnamon chocolate, should I bring you that?" The girl said on a sweet whisper, that made her British accent a little bit more obvious. British accent... did that mean i was in England? But then again Billy didn’t have an accent, which made me even more confused.

"Please" I smiled back, letting myself pick a little on the contagious happiness she expelled

I ran out of things to analyze moments later, so my mind went back to to everything that was wrong with me and my life.

It felt so terrible to be alone, and in the most literal possible way, I was. And then I started thinking if it was all my fault. Was I so bad that all the people and memories decided to run away from me? It sounded so dumb but in that vulnerable moment that’s what it felt like.

It was almost as if there was a void inside me and every thought was making it bigger and wider, which made me feel like if I was standing at the edge, like if at any moment I was gonna fall.

Tears slowly started to run down my cheeks, i almost didn’t notice them until one dropped to my hand placed on top of the table.

"Oh love" I heard the waitress next to me, gently rubbing my shoulder and then sitting in front of me. "Are you ok? Here, take a sip of your chocolate" I did as she told me, and took the napkin she had brought to wipe my eyes dry.

"I'm ok, just a little overwhelmed... that's all"

"Do you want to talk about it? The place doesn’t get busy until 10:30 so i’ve got a couple minutes free."

I really wanted to, so bad, and I couldn’t find a reason not to, why would I care when she was a stranger, just like everybody else? So, I told her everything, from the moment that I opened my eyes a couple hours before, until I walked into that place. And she listened, with that a sad look on her eyes that made them look a little more green “I’m so sorry, you must feel terrible. I wish I could help more, but all I can do right now is help you call Billy ."

“Do you know him?” I asked confused as i wiped my tears once again.

" Of course i know him, he’s pretty well known around here, specially by the girls. Such a pain in the ass but he’s a good guy. You got lucky there, you could’ve picked a creep’s house to break into and that would’ve been an issue.” she chuckled a little in hopes of lifting up the mood a bit.

" I... don't think calling him is such a good idea. Look, he has been very kind to help me and let me stay at his place last night, but for what I hear, he must have other people to welcome there, and I don't want to bother anyone. I’ll crash there tonight and i’ll figure something out tomorrow” i wanted to believe that so bad, maybe if i kept repeating it to myself it would come true

"I’m sorry, did you say he offered his place for tonight?" she said changing the sad expression on her face for an annoyed one. I nodded a little confused. “He did take you to the hospital, didn’t he?”

“No, he seemed really hurried to get out this morning, besides i’m fine, my head is hurting a lot less now.” that didn’t seem to relief her a single bit but before she got to say anything else, her eyes looked right behind me with surprise and I could only imagine who it was.

My heart dropped and unconsciously, I stopped breathing as soon as I heard his voice.

"Speaking of the devil” she said looking right at him, i still didn’t turn around, for some reason i felt he would be angry at me for leaving his place.

"I see you already met my guest, Mikie” he said in a relaxed tone. "I told you to stay at the apartment, you could’ve gotten lost." that was now directed to me, so i turned around to look at him.

Before i could reply, Mikie stood up from her place and said “She was starving dumbass, god knows how long it has been since she last ate something and you didn’t even think of offering her anything?” he didn’t reply, i guess he was as shocked by the situation as i was and the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “I need a word with you out side” that last part wasn’t a question, Mikie walked through the door and when Billy didn’t move, she yelled “Now Hargrove!”

[matildashoney]

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Eleven

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @cock-a-doodely-doo, @ihearthemcallingforyou​, @goldenfeelin​, @detroitkiwis​, @wherearethewatermelons​

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

this chapter contains themes of sexual content please read with caution.

author’s note: there are no words to describe what a despicable time this is in the world, right now. i know this is a trying time, and i am posting this chapter early to hopefully give you space from the negativitiy if you want one. take care of yourself. i love you. i’m here for you. i see you. here is a page of links for you to sign petitions, learn, and donate. i encourge everyone to educate themselves. thank you for reading.

Going out was fine in the beginning.

Talia and Mylie were sat in the chairs opposite Amelie, their drinks nursed in their hands, talking about their boyfriends and their lives and their jobs. Her phone is vibrating every so often, likely from Harry, but they’ve already given her flack for not going out with her friends enough – even though she sees her best friend nearly five times a week – and always being attached to his hip when they’re together – which makes sense when he’s out of the country about six months a year – and it’s made her too anxious to excuse herself to check it. Harry would understand when she explained it.

“Can you tell me what you two are staring at or are you just going to keep looking past me like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Getting a weird vibe from this guy that’s been staring at you all night,” Mylie says, squinting to try and get a better glance at who it was. “Don’t know, maybe I’m seeing things.”

“Anyways,” Talia interrupts, trying to break the underlying tension that is hovering above their table and causing all three girls to draw circles around their glasses, “How’s Harry? You two alright? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Amelie smiles, her lips tingling with the mixture of tequila and the sensation of Harry’s lips on hers. “Harry and I are good. Love that man, I do.” Her teeth clink against the rim of the glass, taking the rest of the drink smoothly down her throat and standing. “Want another?”

“One for me,” Mylie smiles, sliding her glass towards Amelie. “Want me to come?”

“Not that crowded,” Amelie shrugs, taking a deep breath and gathering all her anxiety into her stomach. “I can do it.”

You can do it. Ask for a drink, wait for it, leave. Two minutes max. You can do this. Harry would be really proud of you for going out and being able to do it. You can do it.

Amelie walks to the wooden bar, slightly less crowded than it had been an hour and a half ago when they arrived, Talia and Mylie’s attention turned towards their own conversation. Her arms lean on the sticky counter as she waits, the bartender walking away to make her drinks, her hand reaching into her pocket to grab her phone and message him back, to tell him that everything was going alright. Amelie’s mind is elsewhere, clouded with tequila and rum and the drink that the bartender made when they walked in.

Until a hand lingers a bit too long on her lower back and a breath hits the back of her neck.

Amelie’s muscles immediately tense, dropping her phone on the counter and her head turning over her shoulder, all of the oxygen knocking out of her lungs at the sight in front of her.

“Look at you,” Jack slurs, his hand brushing the curls hanging over Amelie’s shoulder behind her back. “Get rid of that boyfriend of yours, finally?”

Amelie gulps, shaking her head, her hands reaching for her phone, fingers shaking, her eyes drawing out a path that would take her to her friends and they could leave. Her thumb is too sweaty to swipe across her screen, and every breath that she takes seems to be weighted and never make it into her lungs.

“Doubt that he’d ever leave you alone when you’re out. Always has to ‘ave an eye on you,” he mumbles, drawing his fingertip along her arm, chuckling darkly when she shrugs him away. “Must not be here, then.”

“Leave me alone, Jack,” Amelie spits, her tone echoing the fear that is welling tears in her eyes. Harry’s contact was the first on her screen, a few swipes and there would be a message to get him to her.

He steps impossibly closer, their chests touching, his breath hitting her face. His height is much shorter than she remembers, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar as her eyes try to make contact with her friends or anyone that could see that the situation was uncomfortable.

And before Amelie could realise what was happening, Jack was leaning in to kiss her, his breath hot on her mouth, her head turning quickly as he grabbed her forearm, his lips hard and rough against her cheek. Her lips parted as she squeaked, her hand pressed against his chest, pushing him away. Her vision fades into flashing stars and her cheeks heat, all of the blood rushing to her head.

He stumbles backwards, fumbling into the security guard. His eyes fade into darkness that Amelie doesn’t recognise and there is this pit in her stomach that is making her want to be sick. Her eyes squeeze shut, trying to picture herself anywhere but where she is, anticipating his hand on her jaw and forcing her to kiss him like he likely would have, until one of the bartenders walks towards her, gently setting her hand on her shoulder and nodding towards the security guard, eyeing the situation.

Amelie is barely able to make out the words that are being said to her, only the thoughts about getting outside, to the fresh air, to the one setting where her lungs could get oxygen and feel full. Talia and Mylie nearly run over to her, grabbing her hands and her phone and bringing her outside, their concerned voices making her head feel like it’s going to implode at any given moment. Her hands are shaking as she messily scrambles to call the only person that would understand her, that would help her.

His phone barely reaches a second ring, his breathing slightly heavy through the receiver. His voice is rasped and worried as if the air was knocked out of his lungs the moment she called.

“Harry?” Amelie hiccups, her throat tight and tears falling down her cheeks.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Harry whispers, his legs swinging over the edge of their mattress and reaching for the nearest trainers.

“’m out and ‘m scared,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she walks further away from Mylie and Talia and beneath a light, her phone tight against her cheek, her body pressed against the brick wall. “Need to come home, Harry. I need you. I want to come home.”

“Mon ange, ce qui se passe?”

“’m sorry ‘m calling so late,” she chokes, trying to catch her breath.

“Hey, hey, j'ai besoin que tu respires pour moi,” he soothes, his voice calming and talking her through. His fingers brush through his hair, drying the sweat that gathered there. His voice is tense, hating that he’s not there to talk her through her panic attack, to squeeze her hand and remind her that he’s there because he’s sure that she’s near the point where she might go unconscious because of how heavy she’s breathing. “Don’t have to apologise to me. ‘m always here. Can you tell me where you are?”

“’m at some bar,” she says shakily, drying her eyes and trying to see anything she recognised around her. “Haven’t been to this one before, I don’t think. Mylie and Talia wanted to try it.”

Harry is starting to get nervous. He knows her. He is sure that she wouldn’t have called unless something was really wrong. That’s when he knows. He is sure that he knows what was making her feel uncomfortable, or who rather, and the thought alone makes him livid and his fists grip the duvet.

“Can I come and get you? Would that be that alright?” Harry questions nervously, a quiet hum in agreement all that was needed. He walks downstairs, mumbling that he would be right there, his hands reaching for a sweatshirt to toss over his torso to avoid meeting the bitter air. “Getting in the car, now,” he says, his fingers tugging at his roots and bringing it to a knot on the top of his head, the length becoming a burden with the knots and the strands sticking to his forehead. “’m gon’a stay on the phone until we’re together, alright?”

“Okay.”

And the line goes silent for a minute, Mylie and Talia walking over with their boyfriends and talking to Amelie, yet every thought in her head is spinning and she wishes that Harry would talk more to take her mind away from the feeling of his lips on her cheek and the harsh grasp that he had on her arm. His touch stung, cold and bruising, much like a wasp stinging the centre of someone’s chest. Her breathing is shaky, coming in pants, and Harry’s about to swear at every stoplight that he hits on his way to her.

Twenty minutes is twenty minutes too long.

His thumb drums dramatically against the steering wheel, his eyes scanning over the outside terraces of restaurants and bars and the nightclubs scattered in between. “Can you tell me what happened? Can you tell me why you want to leave?” Harry’s fingertips tap against the screen, using the directions to her location to guide him. Hearing her take a breath; Harry isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, even though that’s what he has to do. “Do you want to wait until we’re together?”

Amelie sucks in a breath. “Had fun at first,” she says very slowly, the alcohol evident in her voice, “and all ‘f us were dancing, drinking. Mylie and I wanted more, and it didn’t look like the line for the bar was too crowded, and it was me that offered to go. Felt someone touch m’ back but didn’t know who. Turned around and it was, you know.” Her voice goes silent. “He leaned in and said something ‘bout you, he smelt like booze,” she whispers. “’m not even sure what happened but ‘e went in to kiss me and I pushed ‘im away. I was really uncomfortable, Harry.” He can hear her start to cry, again. All Harry wants is to be holding Amelie in his arms, comforting her. “That’s not, I just. He isn’t supposed to do that.”

“No,” Harry breathes, trying to subdue his anger. He is furious. Only with Amelie’s luck would Jack be there the one night that she decided to go out without him. Jack was the reason Amelie only went out with Jenny or Harry, to begin with. Harry should’ve been there, with her, protecting her. Guilt rises into his chest, his throat, and he thinks he might be sick. “He isn’t supposed to do that. That’s wrong. This isn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

Amelie nods her head, oblivious to the fact that Harry can’t outright see her.

His chest heaves with a staggered breath as his tires roll to the nearest parking space, the sight of her making him want to collapse. Her eyes are hooded, and her cheeks are puffy. He could only imagine how hard she’s been crying. He can imagine that she’s nearly gone unconscious, by now. “Can see you, baby. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Amelie mutters, ending their call and turning slightly to where the slamming sound was coming from, Harry’s body coming into view as his feet pound against the pavement running towards her.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, immediately wrapping his arms around her head and pulling her into his arms, his lips touching her hair, his hands holding her tightly into him. “Are you alright?” Amelie grips onto his sweatshirt, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to only think about his breathing and his scent and his heartbeat that is beating in her hears with her head against his chest.

“Harry, we didn’t even know it was him,” Mylie rushes over, her hands tucked into her pockets, her heart breaking at the sight. Amelie always appeared so beyond the thing with Jack – not that they really knew what happened other than a messy breakup – but this put everything in an entirely new perspective. “Thought it was someone just watching us because of you two, honestly.”

Harry doesn’t want to blame Amelie’s friends. His frustration, his anger, his guilt, is begging him to blame someone other than himself. “Not your fault.” His hands gently brushing through Amelie’s curls and trying to soothe her. “Have they kicked him out?”

“Think so.”

“I’m going to go in there and talk to someone,” Harry says, his hands gently dropping from around Amelie’s torso and causing her to panic.

“Harry,” Amelie whispers dryly, barely lifting her head from his chest and squeezing his hips, “Harry, no.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry sighs, returning his hands to her hair and kissing her hairline, “you’re okay.” His cheek rests on her head, his eyes meeting the worried eyes of her friends, “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.” He kisses her hair, squeezing her shoulders and whispering, “Can I take you home? Can we go home?”

Amelie nods against his chest, grabbing his hand and interlocking her fingers with his, her body walking one step ahead to make the distance between where she once was. Harry opens the car door for her, kissing her temple and wiping the tears on her cheeks before moving back.

“Can you kiss me?”

“Course,” Harry smiles softly, disheartened by the trepidation in her voice. Her cheek turns to him, a tear wiped by her thumb as he whispers, “On your cheek?”

“Mhm.”

Harry’s heart sinks to his stomach. His lips gently touch her cheek, kissing away a tear that betrays her and falls against his mouth. He kisses her jaw, her cheek, her temple, making his way to her mouth to kiss her deeply, longingly. Her hand grabs his as he’s about to walk around and get into the car, her eyes flicking between his lips and his eyes. He kisses her, giving her reign, allowing her to mould her lips in whichever way she wants against his.

Harry has to take a breath, guilt washing over him in the worst way. He could’ve been there. He knows that she hates going out without him or Jenny. He knows that she doesn’t feel safe that way, that her anxiety is too overwhelming and makes her feel that way. Harry knows that Amelie wanted to prove that she was making progress more so to herself than anyone else, and she would have been so excited to tell him that she went to the bar all by herself and the night went great.

Until it didn’t.

“Have about twenty minutes until we get home,” Harry says, easing onto the street and beginning their journey home. “Glad you called me. Thank you for calling.”

“Had no idea what to do,” Amelie whispers dumbfounded, the alcohol still swirling in her brain. “Kept trying to press on your contact but m’hand was shaking and I couldn’t get it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, kissing her knuckles and squeezing her hand, the volume on the music silent. “Everything’s alright now. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Did I wake you?” she wonders, wet eyelashes pressed on her cheeks, her lips pursing together as the red tint of her lipstick begins to fade away. “Didn’t mean to.” Her hand reaches for the water settled in the console for her, taking a heavy sip and letting the cool liquid smooth down her throat.

Harry snorts, shaking his head and pressing a hard kiss to her hand. “Didn’t wake me, angel.”

“Oh no.”

His chuckle vibrates his chest, his heart warm as a smile tugs longingly at the corners of her lips. “Don’t think you want to know what I was doing.”

“Well, I mean, now yeah, since you’ve teased it, I want to know. Especially, since now, we’re together at a bright,” Amelie says, staring at the time on her phone and waiting a few seconds for the digits to process in her brain, “two in the morning.”

“Look, sometimes, things get a little, hard, and you have to do some things,” Harry begins, his lips curved in the cheesiest smile, a hard laugh bellowing from his chest as Amelie slips beneath the seatbelt and further into the seat, her hand covering her eyes. “You asked!”

“Oh my god.”

“Thinking of you, if that helps any.”

“No,” she says, biting her bottom lip to suppress a laugh itching at her throat, her cheeks flushed with his confession. “No, Harry, it really doesn’t.” Harry turns to stare at her, quirking his eyebrow suggestively and nodding his head. “Okay, a teensy bit.”

Harry and Amelie talk quietly about nonsense the rest of the way home, trying to distract from the sexual tension and the lingering conversation waiting to be had eventually. Her thighs were held tightly together, her hand and her phone between her legs, his hand holding hers on his thigh and away from the tent in his jeans.

Harry’s hand lingers on Amelie’s lower back as they walk inside, his hands gently holding her hips to make sure that she wouldn’t stumble going to their bedroom upstairs, her knees slightly shaky and her words drawn together as the alcohol begins to wear through her system.

Amelie’s eyes flicker to the alarm on the wall near their bedroom door. Harry nods towards the ensuite, his lips pursed together as her fingertips begin to take her clothes and toss everything into the laundry bin, taking her favourite robe from behind the door and wrapping it tightly around her torso. Harry waits for the three beeps before following her, frowning as she harshly takes a washcloth and begins rubbing at her cheek.

And Harry knows why.

“Baby,” Harry whispers, making eye contact in the mirror before setting his hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing her muscles and kissing her hair. “Gentle with yourself.”

“Can feel it on my skin,” Amelie whispers, her eyes welling with tears at the thought. “Want it to go away.”

“Can I do it? I’ll take it all off.” Harry waits for Amelie to nod, his hands holding her hips and lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her thighs spread slightly for him to stand between. “Love the way you do your makeup, you know. Always makes your eyes so bright.”

His hands gently wipe away the tears and the foundation and the running mascara, revealing her bare cheeks and supple lips and soft eyes, begging to be peppered with kisses. He kisses her cheek, his breathing choking in his throat as he waits to see how her reaction will go. Her cheek leans into his hand, her lips turning to meet his and her hands holding his shoulders, the kisses languid and sloppy and sweet.

“Come on,” Harry breathes, circling his hands around her waist and gently setting her on the ground, walking around her and turning on the water. “Know you better than anyone and the only way for you to avoid a hangover is a shower and a good night’s rest.”

Amelie wonders, hooking the robe near the shower door and stepping under the warm water, her hair wet and clinging to her skin beneath the pour. Her eyes meet his through the glass wall, her arms folding in front of her chest. “Coming in?”

“Don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Harry sighs, scratching the back of his head. He wanted nothing more than to be in the shower with her, to be touching her – even innocently – and telling her that he loves her. He wants to tell her now more than ever.

“Harry, ‘s just a shower.”

His fingers tuck between his teeth, biting at the skin nervously. He shrugs, nodding and pushing his jeans down his legs and slipping his shirt over his head. “Alright, alright.”

“Not even briefs?” she giggles, her fingertips gently massaging her shampoo into her hair, all of her movements drawn out with the lingering alcohol in her veins.

“Go on,” he laughs, stepping inside the shower, squeezing her shoulders and nudging her to turn under the water, his body slightly stepped to the side, “turn around and let me rinse out your hair. Gon’a got soap in your eyes if you keep opening them to talk to me.”

“Takin’ care ‘f me,” Amelie smirks, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him into her, puckering her lips and tilting her head back to inch her lips towards his.

“Always will,” Harry says assuredly, kissing the corner of her lips and gently squeezing out the water in her curls. “Could literally ask me to give you the clothes on my back and you’d have them.” His hands reach for her sponge, gently running the soap and water on the material and coasting it along her skin, kissing her neck and she leans into his touch.

Her voice is quiet, the water running over her skin as his hands gently rub into her shoulders, the muscles that tightened with the anxiety and the panic slowly loosening enough to allow her to have a night’s rest and to reconvene in the morning. His touched her hairline, allowing her to lay against his chest and have the water wash over their connected skin. “Have you seen anyone since we went on, you know.”

“On a break.”

Amelie nods, “That.”

“Haven’t seen anyone but your beautiful face every day,” Harry smiles softly, his thumb dragging along her cheek and his lips pecking her temple, his hands reaching to turn off the water and grab a towel from the rack nearest to them. “You’re it. Always.”

Amelie walks onto the rug first, holding onto Harry’s hand and wrapping the towel tightly around her torso her feet pressing into the fibres to dry and avoid slipping on the damp tile. Her hands reach for his warm sweatshirt on the counter, her hands rummaging around the drawer in their wardrobe for her favourite pair of silk shorts and pulling the material up her thighs.

Her voice is quiet as Harry gets dressed behind her, the cotton briefs clinging to his hips, his hair dried in a towel as she tucks the sweatshirt sleeves over her hands and walks to the bedframe, sorting her side of the bed and opening up the duvet for him to climb into.

“Cosy in that?” Harry asks, turning off the bathroom light and shutting the door, all of the lamps slowly beginning to turn over and the room becoming bright only by the moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

Harry’s fingers are about to shut his light when Amelie whispers, “Dumbest thing I’ve ever done was talk about that break.”

“Didn’t really give you much of a choice,” Harry sighs, turning to look at Amelie and sitting his back against the headboard.

“Have a choice, now,” she says, swinging her thigh over his waist, and straddling him, her fingertips coasting along his chest, her lips peppering kisses from his jaw to his neck.

“Hey,” he whispers, his head tilting slightly to allow her lips to make suckling marks on his neck. Harry was Amelie’s, undoubtedly and unabashedly. “Doll, we shouldn’t.”

“Baby.”

“Don’t want the first time we make love to be when you’re drunk, Ames. Don’t want you to regret that,” Harry gulps, his hands holding her thighs, gripping onto her lightly and feeling her skin under his fingertips.

“Could never regret you,” Amelie confesses, gently bringing her lips to hover over his, hot breaths panted over his mouth. “Kiss me, then. Not a fake kiss. Kiss me like you love me.” Her words are interrupted by hiccups, and Harry couldn’t find her more attractive – freshly showered, holding onto him, kissing him, wanting to profess how she feels; that’s more than he’s gotten in nearly a month. Her eyes meet his with all sincerity. “’ve been, dreamin’ about this.”

Harry’s thumb lightly pulls her bottom lip, “Have you? Missed these lips.”

Amelie kisses his fingertip, “Mhm.”

His fingers brush her hair away from her face, his hands cupping her jaw sweetly and kissing her cheek. “Are you sure?”

Her hands wrap around his wrists, having his hands firm on her face and unable to move. “Mhm.”

“Ames.” His voice is barely above a whisper, mouth inching towards her wet lips, the slight flush of pink on the flesh making his stomach flip with butterflies. His mouth is longing to be on hers.

“Je t’aime,” Amelie says, a smile tugging at her lips as Harry’s eyes move away from her lips and meet her stare, surprise and love overwhelming his emotions and features, “and I want you to kiss me.”

“Je t’aime,” Harry grins, brushing his nose against hers and lightly pressing a kiss to her lips. “Could listen to you say that for the rest of m’life.”

“And you will.”

Harry’s lips crash onto Amelie’s, their mouths messily colliding, their rhythm slowly building from sloppy to sweet, perfect alignment and steady intake of breaths as their tongue taste the lingering mint and tequila that is between their lips. Harry moans into her mouth, soaking in the way her fingers slowly inch into his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck, his hands holding her thighs and her back, their arms tightly around each other, barely giving space for their lungs to intake any oxygen.

Amelie’s kiss is begging for something more, desperate for Harry to take away whatever is lingering in her brain. Maybe it’s the anxiety. Maybe it’s the underlying doubt that they won’t work out a second time around. Maybe it’s the memory of someone else’s lips on her skin that she never wants to feel again. Harry answers it all with his lips on hers, kissing her cheeks and her mouth and her jaw and her cupid’s bow, leaving a bright red mark on the cut of her jaw below her ear and whispering his love for her.

Harry’s kiss is longing, aching for more of Amelie. His hair longed to be tugged by her, his neck marked by her teeth, his skin scratched by her nails, his sensed overwhelmed by her scent. He wanted all of her immersed in him, to be in her skin and knowing her. He wanted to erase the memories of anyone that’s ever hurt that, that’s ever made her feel like she deserves less than every star in the sky. His lips are slightly harder against hers when a tear slips down her cheek, needing her to feel his love deeper than the surface.

Her hand trails down his chest, lingering over where their thighs meet. “Have to give you a cut on tequila, Amelie Fay,” Harry chuckles dryly, gently moving her hand and bringing her fingers back to his hair. “Can’t resist you when you come home when you’re like this.”

“That’s what I love,” Amelie smiles, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Her lips touch right below his ear, gently marking his skin.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, gently sliding further into the duvet and bringing the covers over Amelie’s back, tucking their bodies together and his hands settling over the curves of her bum and trailing up her spine.

“Knowing that you have that control shows that you really love me,” she whispers against his skin, gently kissing over his jawline and making her way to the corner of his lips. “That’s good, you know, because, I love you.”

His eyes well with tears. Harry needed Amelie to say that more than he thought. “I love you. God, I love you. Don’t leave me, ever again,” he croaks, his fingers tangling in her hair and gently coaxing her to meet his glossy stare. “Need you, angel.”

“Need you,” Amelie murmurs, her thumbs gently wiping the tears from beneath his eyes. Her heart is thumping so loudly in her chest that it can be heard in her eardrums, a bass drum kicking a new beat. All that she wants is to have Harry’s lips on hers. “I love you. Je t’aime.”

“I love you. I’ll love you to the ends of the Earth. Do you hear me?” Harry breathes, his lips realigning with hers and making a home on the mouth that knows his so perfectly.

Her voice is hushed against his lips, barely breaking apart their kiss and the moonlight fanning over their bodies in the middle of the mattress. His hands are planted on her hips, firm and steady. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never, Ames. I never will.”

Harry can only pray that Amelie will feel the same in the morning.

~

“Oh mon Dieu. Oh mon Dieu. Oh mon Dieu.”

Harry could hear the panic in her voice. He’s only heard the stress and anxiety in her voice like this a few times, namely when they’re arguing, and there is a twisting in his stomach that is telling him that whatever is going to happen isn’t going to be good. He stirs, slowly prying his eyes open and blinking to focus his vision, the clock on his phone reading 06:28.

They’ve only been asleep for four hours, and Harry knows that Amelie’s had a nightmare that she didn’t wake up from.

Amelie’s hands were covering her face, her hair slightly matted from sweat and his fingers and the way he was tangled in her hair as they kissed. And the way the whole scene is panning out, it’s as if there is no recollection of the night before, her hands running over her body, ensuring that there are clothes covering her skin and the stickiness is only from the closeness of their bodies throughout the night. Amelie reaches to take Harry’s hand away from her hips, her knees pulling to her chest and her fingertips pushing against her temples.

And the panic attack is in action, full force, without a sign of hesitation or hindrance. Harry can see it happening.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Amelie mumbles under her breath, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that she swears Harry could hear it from beside her. “Harry, I need you to let go of me.”

“’ey,” Harry murmurs, the rasp in his voice coating every word with exhaustion, “tell me why you’re panicking. Can tell me, I’m right here. ‘s only a nightmare, you’re safe.”

“I, I.” Like that, every word in Amelie’s vocabulary is beginning to disappear. All she can see is the balcony and the promise of fresh air and the slight possibility of her heart to quit beating against her ribs in a way that would make it implode and rupture. “Let go, please.”

Harry immediately loosens his grip. He can see her making a mental path to the balcony and his heart falls to the pit of his stomach. He reaches for a pair sweatpants that are strewn on the chair near the vanity, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and yanking them onto his hips. “Jus’ le’ me turn the alarm off. One minute.” Harry walks to the bedroom door, clicking the buttons to turn the alarm to the setting that wouldn’t blare a horn when she opens the door. “Doll.”

Harry’s eyes follow Amelie as she rushes outside, satin shorts on her hips, her knuckles turning white as she holds onto the railing for dear life, as if moving would make the entire world turn upside down and she would be the first to fall. On the corner of the horizon, the sunrise is beginning to show promise of the new day, the dew clinging to her skin and slight breeze of the morning chill hitting her cheeks. Her thighs are covered in goosebumps, but there is nothing she can feel besides the heat of her blood pressure in her cheeks. He rubs his eyes, trying to gather all of his words and thoughts and wake himself enough to at least know why she’s panicking.

“Oh mon Dieu, je t'ai appelé. Je n'aurais pas dû appeler,” she murmurs, her words slurring together in a string of sound. “Qu'est-ce que je fais, bordel?” Heaving breaths, her chest is tight, the overwhelming weight on her lungs suffocating her.

Oh my god, I called you. I shouldn’t have called. What the fuck am I doing?

Harry takes a second to try and grasp what she’s saying. He can’t comprehend what she’s saying that quickly and that jumbled. “Say it again. Slower, please.”

“This is,” she says quietly, pausing to think but every word and thought is scrambled and making her head hurt. “Can’t breathe.”

“Ames,” Harry says calmly, taking a breath and standing beside her against the railing. He is well aware that she doesn’t like to be touched during a panic attack, that’ll it’ll cause her to hide away and never speak, but she has to see him, “slow down. Talk to me. Called me at the bar, last night, remember? Came home with you. Only us, here.”

“Can see everything,” Amelie whimpers, her fingertips curling around her hair, her nails scratching her scalp, her eyes squeezing shut. “Had a nightmare and it wasn’t you touching me. Can’t make it stop.” Harry’s eyes are fixated on her, his body seeming too close even though he is far away. “Don’t want to see it, again.” Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and Harry is sure that she’ll pass out at any moment if she doesn’t take a breath. He sighs as she turns away, laying her palms flat against the bench that decorated the space beneath the lingering window – the bench that she chose nearly a week after she moved in.

“Know that, baby,” Harry breathes, leaning his back against the balcony and watching her every movement, careful to not overwhelm or scare her. His voice is soft and soothing, all of his words chosen very carefully and particularly. “Want to take it all away from you.”

“But you can’t, Harry,” Amelie says desperately, taking a seat on the bench, her fingertips digging into her knees, her eyes set on the flowers beneath the balcony and in the garden. All of her hope is drained from her voice. “He’s never going to go away.”

“Amelie, that’s not true. Don’t start thinking backwards, now.”

“Do you think I did something to want to be this way? Is that why you said the things you did? Do you think that?” Her voice cracks between sobs, her chest shaking beneath the tears and the unsteady breathing. Her eyes can barely open with how heavy the tears are. “Harry, I don’t know why I’m like this. This wasn’t my choice.”

“Mon ange, écoutez-moi,” Harry whispers, his stomach twisted into knots and a sob lodged in his throat. He should’ve never said the things he did. Never. “Know that this wasn’t your fault, none of it. Have nothing to say for m’self other than ‘m a proper arsehole.” He takes a step forward, their feet barely touching. “Have had a lot of time for reflection and learning over the last month, you know. Understand a lot more, now. Don’t have to forgive me, but I am sorry, Amelie. I’m so sorry.”

Her fingernails scratch at her bare skin, leaving crescent marks in her flesh. “Jack told me I was going to be alone. He told me and I didn’t believe him,” Amelie sniffles, her teeth biting at her bottom lip and tearing at the skin. Her tongue swipes over the flesh, taking the blood that trickles from the cut. “You’re going to hate me like everyone else. You are. Only a matter of time.”

“You think that I’m going hate you,” he sighs, taking a seat from the corner of the balcony and bringing it towards the bench, his knees knocking with hers and his fingers set on his thighs, nervous to take her hands. “You think that I could hate the love of my life.” Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s when she lifts her head – he knew that would bring her attention to him. His heart falls into his stomach, taking in the tears staining her cheeks and the bright red circling her eyes. “I’ll never hate you.”

“Can’t believe you,” she mumbles, taking the sleeve of her sweatshirt and wiping her skin roughly, scratching at her cheeks and heaving a staggered breath into the fabric. “Anxiety, it ruins everything. Depression, it ruins everything. Me, I ruin everything.”

“No, you don’t ruin everything.”

“Our holiday was ruined by me.”

Harry’s lungs collapse in his chest. “Our holiday was not ruined by your anxiety. Us staying inside an extra day or two and leaving two days early didn’t affect our holiday in the slightest.” His hands hesitantly reach for hers, his throat swallowing a cry when her hands retract further into her sleeves. “Could have gone home the very next day with you and it wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

Having a spiral on holiday effectively ruins it, Harry.

“Can you listen to me fo’ a second? One minute, that’s all.” Amelie nods silently. “Haven’t felt this much guilt in a long time, and I am sorry. There were so many opportunities to make the conversations and the behaviours that were triggering to you stop, and I didn’t take them. Overstepped a boundary that you had and that was wrong.” Harry’s thumbs gently wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Had every sign that you needed me, that you were having anxiety, that your depression was there, and I did nothing. That’s all my fault. Not yours. Have every right to be mad at me, to not forgive me.” His heart squeezes so tight in his chest at the thought of her never forgiving him that he thinks he might break into sobs. “Don’t have to forgive me, that’s okay. Need you to know that I know what I did, I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it, again.”

I forgive you. I forgive you and I love you. That’s what Amelie wants to say. “Je n'aurais pas dû te laisser tomber amoureux de moi. I’m sorry I don’t communicate, and I tend to react on my emotions. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. Je suis désolé de ne pas suffire. Tu mérites mieux.”

“Don’t say that, Ames,” Harry whispers, aggressively wiping away the tears that fall down his cheeks and itch his skin. “Couldn’t have stopped me from falling in love with you if you tried and you are more than enough to me. All I want is you, you and me. Don’t you dare say that.” His eyes are welling over with tears, desperately wishing that they could go back to last night, where they were smiling and kissing and promising to be together, that they love each other and always will.

“Harry, you’re going to fall out of love with me. One day you’re not going to want me,” Amelie says, her jaw clenched as she wipes her eyes and stands on her feet, avoiding Harry’s reach for her hand and stepping towards the balcony railing, her eyes meeting the bare colours of the flowers in the garden.

“That’s not true, angel. I swear on my life. I swear to God. I love you,” Harry cries, pushing his body from the chair and sliding it away, disheartened by the way her shoulders tense at the words and her jaw tenses. “I love you.”

And despite the way Amelie refuses to turn around and utter the three words that Harry so desperately wants to hear, Harry knows that Amelie loves him, that she’s in love with him. He has to believe that, otherwise, all of his defences and will to let the words her anxiety is spewing from her lips pass without regard will disappear and he will break. But she needs him, right now, and he refuses to abandon her. Harry refuses to let Amelie slip through his fingers, again.

“But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our–”

Harry knows that Amelie’s anxiety can make her second guess everything, to make her overthink and believe in the falsities that have been told to her time and time again. Her thoughts make a façade making her believe that she is undeserving of the love in her life, and all the kindness that encompasses her. Her heart wrenches and twists and squeezes against her ribs, hiding away from saying the three words that she desperately wanted to, making an exterior that would guard anyone against ever touching her soul and her emotions and love, that would protect her in the least convincing way. All that Amelie’s gone through to be where she is, to make the art she creates, to love the way she loves, to treat others way she does, is played into the thoughts that make her question all of behaviours and reactions and relationships.

Anxiety makes her mistake the love in her life with hate for herself, and Harry refuses to let that happen again.

“Finish the quote, baby,” Harry says, standing behind Amelie and sucking in a deep breath. “But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our–”

“From our love,” Amelie whispers, releasing her grasp on the railing and taking a step backwards, returning to her seat on the bench. Her head is pounding and there is a heat creeping onto her cheeks, her blood pressure raising under the sporadic breaths leaving her chest.

“Tell me you love me, angel. Need you to tell me that you love me, baby. You have to remember that feeling,” Harry says slightly louder, slightly more abrasive, taking another step away from her to allow her to move without touching him, “and unless you say that you don’t love me, you’re not moving, you’re not leaving me.”

“Don’t shout at me.” Harry wasn’t shouting. Not yet, at least. He can feel himself getting ready to yell, though. He is ready to yell at the thoughts in Amelie’s brain that make her second guess everything she does, that make her feel like she’s not worthy to be loved by him, that make her feel like she isn’t enough.

“Fine,” Harry’s voice is bitter as he resumes sitting in the chair set in the middle of the balcony, his arms folded in front of his chest. “That’s fine.” He stares at her blankly, his emotions unable to be portrayed on his face. “Guess we’ll stay here all fucking day.”

This is where it ends, her anxiety says. This is where he falls out of love with you. This is where he kicks you out onto the streets and makes you go to your parents’ house, where you have to move out in a week and find a place to live and somehow pretend that you aren’t in love with him and have to settle for someone and marry them just because they like you enough. This is why you ended up with Jack. This is why bad things happen. This is why. This is.

“Um,” Amelie chokes out, tears beginning run along her cheeks, her skin burning with the heat of her blood pressure, “you know, I can go. I’ll leave. I’m sorry. I should go. I’m so fucking sorry. I ruin everything. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t want you to hate me. I’m sorry.” Her head is pounding so deeply in her temples that she has to squeeze her eyes shut, the tears falling onto her bare thighs, and she swears that if she makes one sudden movement, her mind will go unconscious.

Harry leans forward in the chair, sliding slightly forwards and leaning over his knees, their legs barely touching. “Did I not just tell you that you’re not leaving until you say you don’t love me.” He heaves a sigh, standing on his feet and walking to the railing, defeat etched into his features and sadness echoed in his words. “Tú devez arrêter de faire cela. Tú dois arrêter de me faire ça. ’m begging you to stop running away. You’re saying all of these things and insisting that you have to leave. Arrête de parler de partir et parle moi!” Harry shouts, slamming his hand into the metal bannister, his knuckles white as he clutches onto the rail, his body turned away from hers as she clings to the edge of the bench overlooking the garden, every muscle in her body frozen and unable to move. “Arrête de nous faire ça et dis moi ce qui ne va pas.”

You have to stop doing this. You have to stop doing this to me. Quit talking about leaving and talk to me! Stop doing this to us and tell me what’s wrong.

Say something, her brain screams. Say something before he hates you.

And quiet washes over them.

Harry swallows a sob, turning around and walking to Amelie, his feet carrying him over to the bench, his body uncomfortably kneeling against the concrete, his hands holding her thighs, making her feel his touch, making her know that he is there. “Je sais que tu m'aimes.”

Amelie’s eyes barely meet his, tears streaming and the light eyes that Harry knows are washed out, blurred, dim. Her hands shake against his, her chest rising and falling much too rapidly. All of this, every tear and shaky breath and unsteady hand is a make of anxiety and a nightmare and a toxic relationship. Harry wants to take it all away.

That’s the thing that Harry doesn’t understand. All of Amelie’s boundaries have disappeared with him. All of the guards to protect her heart and her brain and her soul. All of the measures to ensure that she never fell in love, that she never gave herself the opportunity to broken.

Harry has made all of that disappear, and that is what is so terrifying.

He has made her fall so in love that she would impulsively make any decision to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, to be with him because he said the three words that she needs to hear. He makes her feel so sure of herself, that she doesn’t think twice about it. He makes her feel like she is everything and anything, that she can do everything and anything.

That is the scariest thing; there is someone that makes you feel so loved, that you feel like you can do anything. Love is that powerful.

“Tú ne savez pas que,” Amelie whispers, desperately trying to break the intensity that is building between them. Telling Harry that she’s in love with him would prove her point, that the love that they have has broken every boundary she has ever set for herself, that she has ever set to protect herself. “Je vais tout foutre en l'air. Je vais te faire me détester.”

“Listen to me, baby, please,” Harry pleads, grabbing her hands and interlocking her fingers with his, squeezing and kissing her skin. “There’s nothing you could do to mess with you and me, that could fuck us over. Could never hate you, Amelie, ever. Have to believe me on that.”

One day you’re going to hate me. One day it’s going to happen. I am so afraid of that day. I don’t want you to hate me.

“Regarde-moi dans les yeux et dis-moi que tu ne m'aimes pas,” Harry retorts, secure in his judgement and every word that is rolling of his lips.

Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me.

Harry is angry with Amelie – angry that the anxiety is winning and that all those thoughts are going to change the way she sees herself, the way she sees him, the way she sees their relationship. Harry is angry with himself – angry that he hasn’t done enough to make sure that all those thoughts are gone, that they are deep enough in her worries that they’re never a second glance, that they’ve almost disappeared from the atmosphere. Harry is just fucking angry. “Have to say that, because that’s the only thing that could ever screw this up, fuck this up. That’s the only thing that could ever make me hate you.”

“Can’t do that,” Amelie mutters, sucking in a heavy breath and willing her eyes to meet his. Harry’s features portray his exhaustion, now, and her heart aches knowing that she’s caused this. She loves him. Amelie never wants him to feel this way. Harry moves only slightly, his arms gently coaxing around her waist and slowly encouraging her to stand. He wraps his arms around her, only tight enough to ensure that her knees wouldn’t give out, his face leaning away to stare at her. He can feel the sobs being held in her chest, the tightness in her breath, the shakiness as she clutches onto his back. “You know I can’t say that.”

“Pour une fois, s'il te plaît, arrête de te battre contre mon amour pour toi.”

For once, please, stop fighting against my love for you.

Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper compared to her rasped tone, thick with tears and regret and anxiety. “’s not that simple, Harry.” Harry releases her when she takes hold on the railing, his hands holding the metal beside her body, uneasy with how shaky she is against and frightened that she might fall. “Don’t deserve for you to love me, like this.”

“Tell me why. Tell me why you aren’t allowed to be in love. Tell me why I can’t love you.”

“Can’t,” Amelie murmurs, sucking in a heavy breath and turning around, tucking her arms in front of her chest and facing Harry, his eyes meeting hers and his arms tightening closer by her sides, holding her between him and the metal railing. “Can’t have a love like this.”

Harry is frustrated, his breathing heavy, his body adjusting the weight in his legs and making his eyes meet level with hers. “’m asking, no, begging, you, do not shut me out. One of your rules is to never leave someone that needs you. Guess what? I need you. Anxiety makes you think that no one needs you. Depression makes you think that no one needs you. I need you, Amelie. I fucking need you.”

“Harry.”

His cheeks stained with tears, his eyes glossed over and etched with pain. “Have all of me with you, and you promised that you wouldn’t leave me, that you need me.” Harry is desperate for Amelie, now. “On that day you scared me nearly to death because you wouldn’t answer m’calls or m’texts, remember, you told me you would never leave me. On the phone last night, when you were plastered and petrified to come home, our home, alone, you said you needed me. On our bed, last night, when we were kissing and touching, when you were clinging to me and squeezed me and kissed me, you said you always wanted us together. Can’t have you say goodbye to me this way, not when you promised.” Harry’s eyes are etched with pain and fear. He is afraid of what she is going to tell him, more so, what her anxiety is telling her to say. “Tell me this isn’t goodbye, fo’ fuck’s sake. I’m begging you, now, Ames.”

“This isn’t goodbye. This isn’t it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Amelie says quietly, her heart breaking watching the emotions move through his body. “I need you; I do. I need you, Harry. I’m not fighting you anymore. I’m sorry. I’m scared, I’m really scared. I’m sorry. Je t’aime. I’m sorry for everything. Je t’aime.”

Harry wraps his arms around her waist, his face tucked into her neck, tears wetting her skin, his hands squeezing her hips, gripping her sweatshirt in his fists. His grip is telling her that he’s there, telling him that she’s there. “Don’t fucking scare me like that ever again. Makin’ me think you can’t love me anymore.”

“Okay,” Amelie agrees quietly, untangling her arms from her chest, circling around his shoulders, her fingertips finding the baby curls at his neck, her face falling to his neck and her lips breathing out a sob. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Don’t,” Harry says flatly, his hands squeezing her torso, her chest tucked tightly against his, physically melting into his touch.

“Harry, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she cries, shaking her head against him, holding him tighter. “’m sorry.” Harry waits to say anything, knowing that she isn’t quite finished. “Gotta get better. Give me time.”

“J'attendrai avec tu,” he whispers, gently ghosting his fingers along her skin, reaching to take her cheeks in his hands and slowly bringing her to face him. “I love you. You’re not doing this alone.”

I’ll wait with you.

Harry takes a breath, gathering his emotions and steadying his breathing, his thumbs tracing over her cheekbones and drying the stray tears that stained her skin. “Je suis désolé, je n'ai pas pu le voir. Couldn’t see that things were getting bad.” His chest is so tight, his lungs could implode. He could apologise. He could make things right. He could fix this. “Wasn’t there for you like I should have been. I’m sorry. Going to be different, now, I promise.”

I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.

“Je ne voulais pas être un fardeau, that’s why I didn’t tell you,” she mutters, gently kissing his palm, her eyes glossy as she stares at him. “Going to talk to you from now on, I promise.”

I didn’t want to be a burden.

“’ey, you are never a burden,” Harry assures her, his lips touching her forehead, her nose, her chin comfortingly. “Could do nothing to make me not love you or be in love with you. Quite literally, you are everything to me.” All of Harry’s love pours through his words. “Only thing I need in this fucking life is you. Only you.”

“I,” Amelie breathes, squeezing her eyes and blinking away her tears, having a moment to gather her courage, the three words she has to say stuck in her throat. “I love you.”

Harry chastely touches his lips to hers, his heart breaking as he feels the tears stain his cheeks. He savours in the way she tastes, the way she kisses him with so much passion he knows her heart is his without having to say a word. His thumbs brush her cheeks, his lips repeatedly kissing hers for comfort, for love, for reassurance.

Harry doesn’t know what’s going to happen when his mouth leaves hers. He doesn’t know what she’s going to say and how she’s going to react. He doesn’t know anything other than his love for her, and the love that she has for him.

Harry remembers the quote that Amelie marked from their favourite novel, the one that reminded her of him, the reminded her of how she felt about loving him. All of it, every ounce of love that he has for her, all of the thoughts and dreams and feelings for her, everything makes sense.

They were meant to love each other.

Kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, Harry lets his lips linger on her hairline, his arms around her shoulders, bringing her into his chest and holding her tightly. Her hands are squeezing his torso, her face tucked into his neck and sucking in deep breaths, steadying her shaking and trying to process all the thoughts in her head.

“Can feel you thinking,” Harry whispers, his mouth on her hair, his eyes taking in the way the sun is beginning to rise over the mountains far off in the distance and the birds are beginning to sing their morning song.

“Thinking about Finch and Violet, and the Jovian-Plutonian Effect and the Moon,” Amelie tells, her fingertips drawing on his skin and her lips parting with the heavy breaths reaching her lungs. Her cheeks are starting to feel cooler, her blood pressure slowly lessening and her head beginning to feel less achy. “Think we were made to love each other, somehow. Don’t know how that happened, but I’d like to think we were.”

Harry grins, his arms loosening around her shoulders and his hands cupping her cheeks, his mouth tilting into a kiss and soaking in the way her lips so perfectly mould to his. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” His words are rushed over, needing to have her kiss, the sensation intoxicating and enticing. All that Harry wants is to share his love with her so intimately. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” Amelie breathes, squeezing his hips and gently sponging kisses along his jaw, making a light path to his ear. “Fais-moi l'amour.”

His head tilts to meet her lips, his hands gently coasting along her figure and wrapping under her thighs, encouraging her to settle on his hips, her legs tightly circled around his waist and her arms squeezing his shoulders, the balcony door quietly shutting as they messily walk towards the bed, as their breathing hitched together as their mouths entangle in longing and loving kisses. His heart is thumping against his ribs, nearly extending through his lungs and radiating through his fingertips. Her skin is glowing beneath the rising sun, his fingertips trailing over her cheeks and tucking beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling the material over her head and tossing it onto the ground. Her fingers shove the waistband of his sweats down his legs, their movements wanting and hurried.

“Missed this,” Harry breathes, light kisses feathering across her chest, suckling over the moon tattooed on her sternum, his hands dragging her silk shorts down her legs and laying a kiss on her calves as he slinks over her naked body. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” Amelie whimpers, a moan echoing around their bedroom as Harry’s fingertips gently taste her arousal, his thumb rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves between her spread thighs, her fingers wrapped in his hair as their kiss becomes more passionate and heavy with the wetness on their skin. “Entrez en moi.”

Harry nearly groans at the thought, “Might not take me that long since all ‘ve been using only m’hand for nearly a month.” His weight is supported on his forearms, his hand tugging at his cock, heavy in his hands, his thumb dragging her arousal over his throbbing tip and teasing her heat. “God, ‘ve missed being this close to you. J'ai manqué de faire l'amour avec toi.”

Harry and Amelie gasp in unison as his cock gently eases into her core, her warmth swallowing him, her velvet walls taking all of him inch by inch, her thighs around his waist and her muscles soft under his touch. His hips are flush against her pelvis, thrusting and grinding into her, his thumb drawing patterns on her nerves as her fingernails scratch at his back, dragging along his spine and breathing as his cock reaches her hilt, sponging against the sweetest spot inside of her. “Harry.”

“Love you,” Harry moans, his lips suckling on her throat and marking her skin with a bright magenta bruise. His pelvis grinds with the arch of her hips, her heels digging into his bum and bringing his cock as intimately inside her warmth as physically possible. Her arousal sounds around the bedroom as he thrusts into her, the wetness on their thighs and their sheets and their moans encouraging the sweet love. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you,” Amelie whispers, a tear falling down her cheek with the pleasure and the orgasm growing so deliciously in her stomach, squeezing his cock tightly inside and feeling as though the emotions and the love and pleasure is bringing her face to face with heaven. Harry was heaven. “Want you always.”

“Have me,” Harry grunts, his thumb pressing to her bundle of nerves and groaning into her neck as her orgasm spills around him, milking his orgasm inside her warmth and squeezing him deeper, her thighs shaking around his hips. His mouth presses kisses into her cheeks as their orgasms wash over their bodies, her glossy eyes meeting his as he whispers, “you fucking have me.”

~

All of Harry’s thoughts are jumbled and in disarray as the café comes into view. Amelie’s mural is painted on the concrete wall opposite of where his car is parked, and his forehead rests against the steering wheel for a moment, trying to centre his thoughts and not make any unreasonable decisions. He isn’t quite sure what made him turn down the wrong street and go in the opposite direction of the café that he and his girlfriend – that feels so good to think and say – get their coffee and breakfast from.

Maybe it’s the anger. Maybe it’s the hurt for Amelie.

Harry was lying beside Amelie in their bed, brushing his fingers through her curls, his lips touching her hairline as she sleeps soundly in his warmth. His skin was sticky, sweat covering his forehead and his hair slightly damp, his chest slowly rising and falling with his breathing. He finally was where he wanted to be, with his favourite person, speckled purple bruises appearing across her skin. He was taking in the sight, the way her skin shone brightly under the sun and the quiet hum of her breathing was making his heart beat faster.

And then before Harry could fully process what he was thinking, anger was the only emotion speaking to him, overwhelming his thoughts, thinking about the beautiful woman tucked in his arms. He kissed her forehead, tucked the comforter tighter around her naked body, his fingers tightened the string of the loose-fitting shorts around his waist and shoved his feet into the trainers near their bedroom door, walking quietly out of their house. Harry didn’t want to worry Amelie. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

Until Harry was doing something stupid.

“Harry! How are you, mate? Saw Amelie the other day,” Jack smiles devilishly, and Harry’s fists clench together. Amelie described that smile, the one that is a stroke of mischievous and malicious, and Harry could see why his features would make her nervous on sight. “Lookin’ better than ever, isn’t she?”

“You and I need to talk outside,” Harry says through gritted teeth, his keys tucked in his back pocket, his wallet and phone abandoned in his car. “Now.”

“Don’t think we do, Harry.”

“Jack, I swear to God,” Harry grunts, rolling his eyes and folding his arms in front of his chest. He’s taller than Jack, a bit more built muscularly, but there is a tone behind every word that comes out of his mouth that is threatening.

“Be right back,” Jack mentions, two or three younger workers staring awkwardly and shockingly at the interaction happening. Harry walks outside first, barely holding the door for Jack to follow suit.

Harry walks around to the mural, standing a few feet away from Jack and creating their distance. Jack takes one wrong move and Harry is ready to knock him straight in the jaw and never look back. One for Amelie. One for Harry. “Alright,” Harry spits, pursing his lips together as his jaw tightens, the intensity lingering in the foggy January air swelling over. “Firstly, I’m not your mate, I will never be your mate. Secondly, how the fuck did you know Amelie would be at that bar, last night? Do you fucking follow her or summat?” Jack opens his mouth with a smirk, Harry’s hand immediately waving his answer off. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Jack shrugs, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, moving to stand against the mural and setting the nicotine between his teeth. “That was just a coincidence. Good coincidence for me, but a coincidence nonetheless.”

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face,” Harry growls, his bottom lip pinched painfully between his fingertips, his eyes a deep shade of green that would be unrecognisable to anyone that stared at him. “I swear to God, Jack, if you ever say anything to Amelie, again, if you go to see her, if you blink towards her, if you even breathe near her, I will not hesitate to break your fuckin’ jaw.”

Jack chuckles, flicking the ash and taking a drag, blowing the smoke directly outside of Harry’s vision. “Do you ever stop to ask yourself why she always comes here? Out of all the bakeries and cafés and coffee shops, Amelie keeps coming back here. Why is that?”

“Hasn’t come here in six months,” Harry retorts, laughing at his insinuation. Amelie’s gone to The Beachwood nearly every day since they moved in together in August. His mind is well aware that his words are meant to get a rise, and it’s scary how much it’s working on Harry’s temper. “Don’t feel fucking flattered. She liked the coffee and your mother, you fuckin’ prick.”

“Did you ever think it could be because Amy misses me?” Jack teases, pursing his lips and shrugging his shoulders, the cigarette burning with a sizzle under his fingertips. “Maybe, I treated her better.”

Harry is seething, his cheeks puffed out with panted breaths and tears pricking his eyes with how angry he is. “Don’t fucking call her that. After all you did to her,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and twisting his heel in the pavement. “Left me, her boyfriend, to be the one to change everything. You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Could think of a few things we did together.”

“Jack, you’re fuckin’ treading on the thinnest ice.” Harry walks closer to Jack, laughing as the cigarette falls to the ground and smashes under his trainer, their chests barely missing each other, his breathing erratic as the anger builds inside of him. His fists are clenched, and his knuckles are white, and there is sudden gratitude for putting all his rings on his hand before leaving their house. Harry wanted it to hurt if anything were to happen. “One more thing is said, and it’s a promise that you’re done.”

“Harry, tell me, do you think it’s because I gave it to Amy better than you?” Jack taunts, his arms crossed in front of his chest as Harry’s fist begin to slink further up his body. His words make Harry want to vomit. “Bet Amelie thinks of me.”

And everything goes into darkness.

Harry swings, punching him swiftly in the jaw and the nose, shaking out his knuckles, his rings twisted on his fingers, the taunting boy planted on the tarmac, his back pressed against the mural on the wall as his mother comes barrelling outside. Jack struggles to stand, his nose bleeding heavily and an imprint of Harry’s rose ring on his cheek.

“Harry,” his mother gasps, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth at the sight of her son stumbling to stand on his feet, “what’s happened? I don’t like the look of this.”

Harry doesn’t know when he began crying, but there are tears on his cheeks and his breathing is erratic and there is a heaviness in his chest that could only be relieved by the girl sleeping beneath their duvet. His throat gulps a cry as he gathers his voice, the dark smile on Jack’s lips making his anger worsen. “Tell her what you did to Amelie. God knows you’ll live your life pretending it never happened, but you hurt her.” His voice is barely above a shout, the humming traffic and busy streets barely drawing attention to the two men fighting behind a café and an older woman trying to understand the reason. Harry refused to tell what happened – that wasn’t his story to tell – but he would make sure that someone told the truth. “Fuckin’ broke her down to bits.” Harry’s cheeks stained with tears, thinking about how broken his girlfriend was telling him what happened for the very first time. He’ll never erase the images of her face and the fear in her eyes when she told him what happened. “Amelie made me promise that I’d never tell anyone, but you should know that he did unspeakable things. He isn’t allowed near her, ever again.”

Harry looks at Sarah with a despaired expression on his features, a worried line written in his forehead, his lips pulled into a tight line and a nod acknowledging the end of their conversation. Her eyes travel between the two boys, fighting over malicious behaviours and abuse. “What have you done, Jack?” Her heart aches for the boy staring at her son, hatred in his eyes and a tear falling down his cheek.

Harry stalks away before their conversation can meet his ears, his fist clenching and unclenching to bring the feeling back. He angrily climbs into his car, locking the doors and taking in the sight in the mirror. His hair is falling out of the knot on his head, his knuckles red and bruised and bleeding, his rings scratching at the cuts made there.

Go home. Go home to your girl. Go home and love her.

Harry reaches for his phone, eyeing the five missed calls on his screen. His fingertip goes to click on Amelie’s contact, another call breaking through. He answers, bringing his phone to his ear as the engine in his car turns over and his head lays back against the headrest, his mind fully blank and his eyes seeing flashing colours.

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, “baby, I know where you are. Come home to me.”

Harry is sure that she’s only woken up a few minutes ago, the slight distance and rasp in her tone telling him so. “He deserved to have someone smack his face in,” Harry grits, hissing at the feeling of his thumb rubbing over his cut knuckle. “Fucking cunt.”

“Did you do something?”

“Yeah.” Harry can hear Amelie sigh disappointingly through the speaker. “Don’t know what he was saying to me, though, Ames. He deserved it.”

“You’re right,” Amelie agrees, breathing into the speaker and pausing to collect her thoughts, “and he does deserve that. But I’m here and I don’t want you getting hurt or in trouble.” Her silence is deafening to Harry. “Come home.”

“Don’t even know how I got here,” Harry breathes, looking at the café and the way the street is suddenly silent. “Honestly, I going to get us breakfast, and I looked up.”

“It’s okay,” Amelie breathes, her tone softening with her words, sensing the anxiety that is overwhelming Harry and trying to calm him. “You’re okay.”

Harry settles into his seat, shifting the gear and beginning to drive, his hand wiping away a tear and trying to gain composure of his emotions. “Coming home, now.”

“Good.”

Harry is seemingly mindless the entirety of the twenty-minute drive. All of his movements are done without intention, the directions and the attention and the calculated motions all felt without emotion and thought in his brain. His heart is heavy, aware that his actions might have caused harm to the only person that he cares about. He should’ve thought his actions through. He should’ve been more aware. Harry was just angry.

Going over all of the apologies in his head as he walks inside, Harry chokes out a breath as Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, bringing her into his chest and holding him tightly, his hand barely able to reach and shut the door behind them as he melts into her embrace. “Hey, baby.” His lips touch her neck as she hugs him tighter. “God, it feels good to have you in m’arms, again.”

“I love you,” Amelie says, gently coaxing Harry’s face out of her neck.

“Feels better to hear you say that,” Harry sighs, kissing her sweetly and squeezing his arms tighter around her waist. “I love you more.”

“Come on,” she smiles, kissing his cheek and interlocking their fingers, squeezing his hand, her eyes trying to avoid the cuts and scrapes covering his knuckles. “I’ll make you a coffee.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to handle in the kitchen,” he teases, tossing his phone and wallet and keys onto the side table and following her into the kitchen, his heart swelling as he takes in her minimal appearance – the vintage shirt that she wore on their first date and a simple pair of cotton panties on her hips – and the comfortability that she has with him. That’s all Harry wants.

“Considering I’m making lunch, right now, I don’t think it’s all too much to handle,” Amelie giggles, wiggling her eyebrows and rolling her eyes as Harry tucks his arm around her waist, clinging to her as she pours him a mug and walks towards the toasty press that his mother bought for the holidays.

“Lunch, hm? How fancy of you,” Harry hums, releasing her and moving to sit on the freshly painted stool near the island, amused at the way there was always a sense of fear whenever Amelie was in the kitchen.

Amelie turns over her shoulder with a pointed stare, her eyes squinting at Harry as his lips tug into a smirk and hide a laugh. “Don’t just stand there if you know I’m going to ruin it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, love.” Harry sets the mug on the counter and uses the tongs to pull the toasty out of the press. “How do you burn everything?”

“Good question,” she says, sipping quietly from her straw and staring at her boyfriend as he walks around her to clean the mess she’s made of their lunch. “Have to have you cook for a reason.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Harry says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest, his hand over her tummy, frustratedly unplugging the machine and bringing out the menu for delivery. “Fuck it, I’m ordering pizza. This is hopeless.”

“Have to clean your hand, Harry,” Amelie whispers, her fingertips running over the bruised and distressed skin, dried blood accumulated across his knuckles.

Harry shakes his head, kissing her hair and taking Amelie’s phone to ring the restaurant. His eyes widen as she takes the phone from his hands, setting it on the opposite side of the counter. “’s fine, angel.”

“Baby.”

Harry and Amelie stare at each other for a minute or two, silently arguing over who would win this argument. Her arms wrap around his waist, her cheek lying against his chest, her fingers gripping his waist in a tight hug, silently hoping that he’ll give in to her. She doesn’t want to know what was said to him, but she has to. Harry needs to hear that it isn’t true, that whatever thoughts were put in his head aren’t real. There wasn’t anyone to say that to her, and she refuses to let him ruin their relationship. Harry is everything to Amelie, and there isn’t anyone that’s going to get in the way of that.

He silently kisses her hair, squeezing her hip and telling her that she can lead the way. Hand in hand, they walk into their bedroom and to the bathroom, Harry sitting on the toilet and leaving his hand over the counter for Amelie to clean and bandage the right way. Her silence is overwhelming, and Harry wonders if she’s angry with him.

“Tell me what Jack said to you.”

His chin lifts from his chest, “Doesn’t matter,”

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, tears pricking her eyes as Harry winces with the sting of the peroxide, “tell me. That’s the only way I can tell you that he is wrong.”

He thinks for a moment and tears well in his eyes as he thinks about all that was said to him. “Coughed up saying you miss him and miss being with him,” Harry whispers, a tear falling down his cheek in betrayal. “Fuck.”

“Harry, baby,” she says, her thumb gently wiping his cheeks, her fingertips ghosting over his bruised knuckles.

“Can’t stop seeing you, fucking sixteen and abused by this prick, and he has the audacity to say those things to me,” he whimpers, stealing his hand away and covering his face, his elbows on his knees, his mouth covered by the heels of his hands. “Can’t stop seeing it. Need it to stop.”

Amelie’s cheeks flush with a heat of anger. “Bébé, bisous, s’il vous plait. Je t'aime. Putain, je t'aime. J'ai besoin qu'on oublie toutes ces choses qu'il a dites. Je veux l'oublier.” Her gentle voice is hurried and melodic, her hands prying away his from his face and bringing his eyes to meet hers. “Bisous. S'il vous plaît.”

Baby, kiss me. I love you. I fucking love you. I need us to forget all those things he said. I want to forget it. Kiss me. Please.

Harry’s hands grasp Amelie’s cheeks, their lips melting to each other and their tongues tasting the salty tears falling onto their skin. Her fingers grip onto his shirt, her thighs straddling his waist and her eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his hands roam across her figure. “Je ne te ferais jamais de mal, tu le sais, n'est-ce pas? J'ai besoin de savoir que tu le sais.” Harry stands, holding his arms under her and walking into their bedroom, their lips melted into a rhythm as they kiss and share their unspoken love, taking away all that was ever said against them. All that there is in this moment is Harry and Amelie.

I would never hurt you, you know that, right? I need to know that you know that.

“Oui, je sais.”

Harry lays Amelie gently on their unmade mattress, gently kissing along her jaw and neck, his hands lifting her shirt to kiss the pudge at her hips. “Need to kiss where he hurt,” he whispers against her skin, his mouth trailing wet kisses on her inner thighs and the tattoos that cover her legs. “Need to erase all that hurt from you.”

“Can’t you realise that you have? Made me see that I’m so much more than what happened,” Amelie whimpers, her thumbs running over his lips as his chest lays against her, her legs wrapped around his waist and his forearms beside her head to carry his weight. Kissing over his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, she says, “I love you. I do.”

“Love you,” Harry murmurs against her lips, soaking in the way her warmth encompasses him, “Love you to the planets that haven’t even discovered yet and wherever the hell you are. Would go to the ends of the Earth for you.”

“Know you would,” Amelie smiles, gently nudging their bodies forward and her fingertips prying her shirt away from her torso, leaving her skin naked and bare to Harry’s eyes. “Don’t you think I’d meet you halfway?”

“Know you would.” Harry smiles, kissing Amelie’s belly as his fingertips tug the cotton down her thighs and her fingers pull his shirt over his head messily. All of their kisses are messy, and their teeth are gnashing, and lips are being bitten in the sweetest way, the way that means they love each other so deeply and unconditionally that there is nothing else in the world that matters except their way their hands are touching each other.

And then Amelie’s phone starts vibrating.

Harry groans, his hands squeezing Amelie’s hips and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips to try and persuade her. “Don’t want to answer it.” His breath is hot against her mouth, intoxicating and making her want to ignore the call. “Ignore it.”

“Harry,” Amelie whines, “Could be Jenny in labour.”

“Fine.” Harry reaches for Amelie’s phone, swinging his leg over her thighs and settling on the edge of the mattress, his hand reaching out to make her wait as she goes to grab her shirt. “Don’t get dressed, yet.”

His fingertip slides on the bottom of the screen, their best friend’s voice echoing through the speaker and making a smile come to Amelie’s features. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her cheek lying against his bare back as she snuggles into him. “Don’t care if you two are in the middle of doing it,” Jenny says, breathing heavily and groaning as a contraction begins to wash over her. “Have to get to the hospital because I’m in labour.”

Harry’s eyes roll at the way Amelie smirks at him, her fingertips tickling his tummy as he squeezes her hands. “Ha.”

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes, “Alright. We’ll be there soon.”

“Told you,” Amelie giggles as Harry hangs up the phone, laying on her back and tugging at his hand as his head turns over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. “Better make this fast.”

Harry cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows rising and his eyes blinking rapidly to ensure that he really heard her correctly. “Doll.”

“Baby.”

Harry stares at Amelie in awe. Her smile is spread across her lips and her eyes are narrow as she desperately tries to persuade him to bury beneath the comforter with her, to have his skin melting into hers, to kiss her and pretend that they are the only thing in the universe that matters. His heart is pounding so heavily in his chest because she is the only thing in the universe that matters to him. Amelie is everything – all the colours, the stars, the sun and the moon, the songs and lyrics and melodies, the art and literature and the good and the bad. Amelie is all of that and more.

“I love you.”

Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him sweetly. “I love you. Always.”