#that harry forgets to confess back a few months down the line because like. he’s so used to it now

[seriouslysnape]

HIii! I was wondering if you could write something Fred (6th/7th year) x Gryffindor Reader (i know u dont usually write him) maybe something where reader and fred are best friends and shes in love with him but she thinks he dosent like her that way with a fuffy ending? maybe some angst not too much tho thank youuu <3 if you dont want to write fred (😭) you can write it for lupin (6th/7th year)

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His Favorite Girl

Fred Weasley x Gryffindor! Reader

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 3,430

“Woah. Guess I had more to drink than I thought.”

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The Gryffindor common room. An ever changing space for all Gryffindor students to unwind, study, or party, depending on the occasion. The common room was always crowded from wall to wall after a Quidditch match, especially when Gryffindor reigned victorious. The players all filed in, bursting with good energy and an itch to celebrate their win. Oliver Wood exploded inside first with an unmistakably beaming smile spreading across his face.

The Gryffindor students who hadn’t been able to make it to watch the match automatically knew that they had won based on Oliver’s visible jubilant mood. You were one of the unfortunate ones that hadn’t been able to make it, but you knew that the team would bring the party to you. The Weasley twins came bopping in next, George carrying a very happy Harry Potter on his shoulders. Harry leapt off of George’s shoulders before the tall twin could knock him into the top of the doorframe.

Your sights automatically set on the other Weasley twin. Fred was beaming with delight at their impressive win. Fred was damn proud to be a Gryffindor, and beating the brakes off of Slytherin was one of his favorite pastimes. He couldn’t be any happier at this moment. It warmed your heart to see him so joyful and full of glee.

You raked over his tall, slender yet muscular frame. His signature red hair was damp with sweat and parts of his face were caked with dirt.

Fred caught your stare, his smile never leaving his face as he gave you a friendly wink. You closed the Potions book in your lap, getting up from the sofa with a silent hope that your thumping heartbeat wasn’t obvious to anyone.

It was a hard thing to do. Keeping your ever growing crush and admiration for Fred Weasley under wraps was becoming more and more difficult as time went on. The seemingly simple solution (as all of your friends had told you) to do would be to “just tell him” how you felt. But it was MUCH easier said than done.

There were so many things that could possibly go wrong if you were to confess your feelings to Fred. You would be running the risk of ruining a beautiful friendship that had done nothing but blossom over the last seven years if he didn’t share that same admiration. You didn’t want to lose your best friend just because your heart felt differently than his.

At the same time, you wanted to tell him every scrap and ounce of how your soul felt lost without him. There had been a few times over the years where you had an opportunity to lay your heart out on the line for him. Each time you had this heavy feeling in your chest letting you know you needed to make a move.

You built up the courage each time, but were interrupted by George or another one of your friends before you could bite the bullet. You knew it wasn’t healthy to keep this holed away in yourself. Your love would only grow more. The more days that passed, the more you began to wonder how different your life would be if you never told him. Not to mention that graduation was only a few months away, and there was always the risk of losing contact with him when you went separate ways.

That is, IF you were to go separate ways.

On the other side of the coin, there was always a chance that Fred possibly did harbor the same admiration for you. That would totally change things in the long run. The idea of starting a romantic relationship, possibly getting married, and having a family was nothing short of perfect.

But you had to get to that point first.

Everyone rallied around Harry, shaking him excitedly and singing their praises to him for his incredible Snitch catch. Suddenly, blaring and thunderous chatter filled the common room as more exhilarated students piled in. Within the hour, a sea of Gryffindors occupied the room, complete with blasting music and an ungodly amount of alcohol.

Oliver had gathered a crowd of first years in one corner of the common room as he retold every solitary second of the match from his point of view, starting from the very beginning. The wide eyed first year wizards and witches were on the edge of their seats as they listened to his story, some of them beginning to wonder if they had what it took to be great Quidditch players.

On the other side of the room, you were settled once again on the sofa with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, who were seated in the arm chairs across from you. They were exhausted from playing all day, but that didn’t stop them from engaging in some girl talk.

Alicia and Katie were your dearest friends, and they were the only ones who knew about your crush on Fred. A crush that had quite honestly evolved into something much more. They were always keeping an ear out to see if Fred said anything remotely leading them to believe that he might like you back. As surprising as it was, Fred never really outwardly spoke about his romantic side.

Speaking of, Fred and George were in another corner of the room with Harry and Ron, doing God only knows what. Fred was considerably tipsy, but nothing even close to plastered. You had seen Fred drunk before, and needless to say, it was a hysterical sight.

“So, [Y/N],” Alicia spoke up, her dark skin looking extra glowy from the fire roaring in the fireplace; “Fred was awfully excited to come back to tell you that we won.”

Katie perked up, her head lifting from where it had been leaning on the back of the chair.

“Yeah! The first thing that he told George was that he couldn’t wait to tell you the news. Although, I guess Oliver kind of told everyone before Fred had the chance.”

“Really? He said that?” You asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Alicia nodded vigorously, gripping Katie’s forearm with elation. Alicia and Katie had never tried to set the two of you up, mainly because you had begged them not to. That didn’t stop them from trying to be the ultimate wingwomen. They believed that you and Fred would be a stellar couple. They were convinced you were made for one another.

They both feared that you’d never make an attempt to make it happen.

“He sure did. I heard him myself.” Katie replied.

Alicia glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward closer to you. Her voice was quiet, loud enough so only you and Katie could hear as she spoke.

“Graduation is coming up quickly. You’ve got to tell him.” She advised.

You sighed heavily. If you had a galleon for every time one of them had told you that, you’d be a wealthy woman. They just didn’t seem to get that it just isn’t that easy. You wouldn’t deny that proclaiming your deepest secret to someone didn’t scare you. It was terrifying to offer your heart and soul to someone, even when you knew that they might get broken as a result. You didn’t want to live with a broken heart.

But you didn’t want to live always asking yourself “what if”.

Before you could respond, a figure plopped themself next to you, his familiar scent sending flutters all through you. Fred basically snuggled up next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Despite the fact that you weren’t dating, Fred was comfortable enough with you to get extremely close, which didn’t help your situation at all.

Alicia and Katie held down their snickers and giggles at how you were clearly flustered. You tried not to wriggle too much under Fred’s hold, and draw any attention to yourself. He was your best friend, and you knew how to play it cool when he was around.

“Hi, [Y/N].” Fred slurred loudly over the noise.

You laughed softly at the smell of Firewhiskey that was radiating off of him. You weren’t much of a drinker, but you’d have a drink with Fred from time to time.

“Hey, Fred. Congratulations on the match.” You complimented.

Fred grinned proudly, looking down at your slumped body. His eyes were beginning to glaze over from the alcohol, but he looked as sober as ever. He had a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t identify.

“Thanks. Those bloody Slytherins got what they deserved.” He stated.

“Oliver seems over the moon with how it went.” You remarked, smiling as you looked behind you to see Oliver now standing on a table as he continued telling his thrilling tale.

When you turned back to Fred, you couldn’t help but notice how Fred hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. The butterflies in your belly were going totally bananas now. His gaze did eventually shift to the Potions book that was placed next to your feet, and he let out a guttural sound. He reached for it, noting that it had obviously been put to good use in the last several hours.

“Have you been studying?” He questioned, holding the book in his hand.

You sheepishly nodded, aimlessly reaching for the textbook. An offended look crossed Fred’s face as he held the book far out of your reach. Damn his long arms.

“I have a test on Monday. Advanced Potions is kicking my ass this year and I’ve just barely been getting by so I have to study extra time.” You expressed, laughing at your fruitless attempt to get the book back.

His sharp jaw fell open a tad and he stretched back even further to ensure you didn’t get the book back for now.

“You’re kidding me. I missed my favorite girl at the match because she was stuck in the common room studying for a TEST?” He acquired, not even aware of the weight behind his choice of words.

You felt your smile fade into more of a bashful expression. Your body slinked back into the cushions, forgetting all about the book. His words rang in your word.

Favorite girl.

Fred Weasley’s favorite girl.

Alicia and Katie were both wide eyed and jaw dropped at what he had just said. They were looking back and forth between the two of you like they were at an intense tennis match.

Fred was so aloof and oblivious to the fact that he had literally just melted your heart with a single sentence. You spent so much time with Fred that you just didn’t understand how he couldn’t see it.

Fred knew you backwards and forwards. He could see straight through you when you were lying or when you were sad, but claiming you were fine. He always remembered your favorite treats from Honeydukes and how you liked hot Butterbeer on cold winter nights. It made him happy to hear you talk about your favorite Muggle novels or tell him about something funny that happened in McGonagall’s class. He knew you better than anyone.

But why couldn’t he see the way you were yearning for him?

“You missed me?” You asked, shrinking even further into the cushions.

Fred looked at you as if that were the dumbest question he had ever been graced with. He lowered his arm at your sudden demeanor change, gently putting the book in your hand. Alicia and Katie leaned in carefully, eager to see where this conversation was going. Much to their disappointment, Fred didn’t get a chance to answer due to another member joining you on the couch.

George landed less gracefully than Fred had, basically landing on top of you and smothering you. Your shrieks were muffled in George’s Quidditch robes, Fred wrestling his brother off of you.

“Hey! George, get off of her.” He grunted, heaving his brother’s very limp body off of you.

Alicia threw her hands up in defeat at the interruption, Katie falling back into her chair. So close, yet so far. You gasped for air as George fell on the open seat next to Fred. George was way further gone than Fred. He was barely even able to keep his eyes open, let alone get any real, complete thought across.

“Nice timing, George.” Katie said sarcastically.

You gave her a menacing look, not wanting her to bring it up. George snorted, and his sentence came out more as one incoherent word.

“Did I interrupt something important?” He heavily slurred between hiccups.

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to George to ruin this for you. You were discouraged that your chance had been shot down once again, but it wasn’t George’s fault. You were just glad to see your friends in such high spirits. Soon enough, the rest of the party goers had crowded towards the center of the room where you were. The party raged on well into the night, a complete celebration with dancing, singing, and more drinking.

As easily as the party could’ve carried on and on, eventually the famed players’ exhaustion caught up with them and they all slowly dwindled down and sauntered off to their respective dorm rooms. You hugged Alicia and Katie goodnight, knowing they’d be passed out in their beds by the time you got up to your dorm room.

You spoke to Harry and Ron for a bit, giving Harry a friendly kiss on the top of his head for his winning catch. His pasty white cheeks went red as he and Ron retreated to their room in a fit of blushy giggles. That left just you and the twins in the common room that was now completely trashed. Empty cups and half spilled bottles of alcohol were scattered about, people even leaving behind some of their school stuff to be recollected in the morning.

George was a mumbling, intoxicated mess. He was close to falling asleep, and Fred wanted to get him to bed before he was completely unable to stand up. You’d be up for a while cleaning up the common room. You always hated leaving a room knowing it was messy, so you didn’t mind picking up after everyone. Fred knew you’d stay behind to clean up, but he didn’t want you to have to do it alone. He draped his babbling twin over his shoulders, grimacing at how George was usually heavier when he was drunk.

“I’m going to run George upstairs and then I’ll be back to lend you a hand.” He smiled, ignoring the things that George was trying to say to him.

“You don’t have to. I can handle it.” You said, tossing a handful of cups away.

“I know you can. I just don’t want you to be lonely is all.” He said, turning on his heel and marching up the boys’ dormitory stairs with George.

You felt a warm flush course through you at his words once more. You weren’t sure why you were extra sensitive to him tonight. Sure enough, Fred returned a few minutes later, almost stumbling into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. You both laughed as he gave a witty comment.

“Woah. Guess I had more to drink than I thought.” He said, walking into the room once he steadied himself.

“Is George okay?” You asked, accepting the pile of empty bottles that Fred placed into your trash bag.

You usually hand cleaned for the first few minutes, but would eventually grow bored and cast a spell from your wand to finish the work. It was seldom that the common room was this quiet, so you liked to bask in the silence for a little after there was a party.

Fred scoffed with a nod.

“Oh, yeah. He’ll be fine. Nasty hangover in the morning, but there’s a potion for that.”

As usual, the two of you were tired of cleaning, so you waved your wand with a quick cleaning charm. You both watched in amazement as the trash and everything else whisked around the room into trash bins, leaving the room spotless. You put your wand in your back pocket with a satisfied hum. Usually, this would be the time where you went to bed, but you were getting that familiar heavy feeling in your chest.

It immediately dawned on you that you had a perfect chance here. No one was around, and no one would be around for more than enough time.

“You want to sit and chat for a bit?” Fred questioned, noticing your dazed look; “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

The fireplace was still occupied with a cozy warm fire, which was very inviting. You nodded, following Fred to the same couch you had been on earlier. The common room was beyond peaceful now, your head almost lulling onto Fred’s shoulder in relaxation.

Oddly enough, you weren’t freaked out now. In all the past times you had tried to do this, you were a jittery mess and could barely get a word out without stuttering. You felt so at ease now, as if this was something you did often. You hadn’t even had a drop of alcohol tonight, so you couldn’t blame it on that.

“So what’s up?” Fred questioned after you didn’t initiate a conversation.

He had unknowingly opened a door that you knew you had to take. It was now or never.

“I’m just thinking about some things.” You admitted.

Fred’s curiosity was sparked now. He was always interested and willing to hear what was going on in your mind.

“What kind of things?” He pressed on.

Your sights were set on the flames in front of you, causing you to miss the way that Fred was looking at you with such fondness and care. He was cherishing every passing second of this moment.

“You and me.” You confessed.

Fred was filling with anticipation, not sure where you were going with this. He raised a brow.

“What about us?” He replied.

You took a breath.

“Fred, what did you mean when you said I was your favorite girl?” You queried.

Fred looked into your eyes that were peering up at him in a puppy-like way. He noticed that you were expecting an answer. Fred, as confident as ever, responded with a voice like butter, his accent a little thicker.

“Because you’re my favorite person in the world.” He revealed.

Your heart caught in your throat and your breathing hitched. So far so good.

“I am?” You asked to confirm

Fred’s arm that was around you pulled you in closer. You were being flooded with such a sense of intimacy that it was overwhelming. Your nose was level with his chin, and you were so close to his face that you swore you could hear the blood flowing through his face. Fred knew what was happening now, and he was ecstatic about it. He had wanted you all along, but never knew how’d you’d react. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare you off.

He thought about all the times he had seen you upset, and how it hurt him when you were pained with something. He always wished for nothing but happiness for you. He didn’t want to ruin things because of how he felt.

But now he was sure that you’d be here to stay.

“Absolutely you are. You’re all I ever think about.” He whispered, stroking your face with the side of his thumb that was wrapped around you.

This didn’t feel real, but felt all too real at the same time.

“Why are you whispering?” You smiled softly, whispering back to him.

He smirked, and whispered again.

“Because I want you to know how much I love you.”

A cannon of confetti seemingly exploded all throughout your body. Shock, desire, lust, love, want, everything went through you all at once. This wasn’t at all how you had imagined this happening, but you were happy that it did. It was very fitting for the two of you.

“Kiss me.” You whispered once more.

He lowered his head and his lips caught yours in a feverish way. All the pent up feelings from the last 6 years all loaded themselves into the kiss. It was a huge weight off of your shoulders.

“I love you,” You professed once Fred pulled away; “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to tell you that.”

Fred chuckled lightly, responding before kissing you again.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

[fruitcoops]

could we see coops first big fight when they’re married? (essentially pure angst)

Yes, we can! Don’t worry, I got your follow-up ask about a happy ending as well--there are no sad endings on this blog, just some bittersweet ones, and this is very soft and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Combined with prompts for...

1. Another of Coops’ serious talks

2. Remus overworking himself to keep up

3. From @colored-rain: Sirius sleeping at Dumo’s for a night

4. Slow dancing in the kitchen

TW for couples fighting, suppression, and marriage issues

“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.

Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”

“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.

“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.

Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”

“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”

“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”

Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”

“People can love each other and still break up!”

Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”

“We need to talk.”

“We need to sleep.”

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.

Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”

Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.

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Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.

“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.

“Loops—”

“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m not trying to be mean—”

“Well, you kind of were—”

“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”

“Do you think we moved too fast?”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”

Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”

He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”

Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”

“I literally sleep next to you!”

“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”

Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”

Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”

“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”

“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”

“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”

“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”

Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”

“Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”

“I don’t regret marrying you!

“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”

“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”

“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”

“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.

“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”

Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.

It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”

He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—

“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”

Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Re, are you okay?”

“Not really. Can you pick me up?”

Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At home.”

“…where’s Sirius?”

“At Dumo’s.”

“I’m on my way.”

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

Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.

“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.

“Don’t.”

“It was awful.”

“I bet.”

Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”

“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”

Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”

“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”

“Is that what you and James did?”

“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”

Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”

Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”

“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”

There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Remus snorted. “Simp.”

“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”

“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.

“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.

“Maybe!”

Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”

“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”

“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”

“That might be a while.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“Could be.”

“Remus.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”

“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.

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

“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.

The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”

“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”

“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”

“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”

“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”

Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”

She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”

Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.

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

By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.

He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”

“Who’s there?”

Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”

“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.

“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”

Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”

“Did you go see them?”

“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”

“Re—”

“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”

“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”

“I thought it might be too late.”

“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”

Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”

“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”

“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”

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

Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.

The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.

Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”

“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”

“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”

“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.

Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”

I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”

“Deal.”

[andilovetowrite]

The Chosen Couple (Part 2)

Peter Parker x Reader

(The reader is an Avenger)

Summary- Peter and you have a movie night to celebrate the school year ending, but the night takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings- Lots of fluff, interrupted confessions and some minor angst. I think a swear word or two with some fighting, but nothing graphic. Oh, also someone getting shot...

Posted: April 24,2021

Word Count- 2k

Here is Part 1 and Part 3

Watching Harry Potter on a rainy night in Queens while sipping coffee under a soft blanket with your best friend is the best way to live life. You both were almost halfway through the first movie, seeing Hermione and Ron argue back and forth. Meanwhile, Peter and you were too busy having one of your own.

“Okay, Ron is clearly out of place for wanting to go run around the castle, especially as a first-year!”

“But he just wanted to explore and figure out why Snape was a rat! Plus, they didn’t ask Hermione to come along with them”, Peter argued back, crossing his arm over his chest, making his biceps bulge against his thin sweatshirt. Resisting the urge to look at them, you retorted.

“Thank god she was with them! Otherwise, they would’ve died in the first 10 minutes.”

“Nuh-uh, they are smart.”

“So they think” We stared intently at each other until Harry’s voice cut in from in front of us, making both of you look back at the screen.

Looking at Peter from the corner of your eye, you tried to suppress a smile, but it broke through, making him smile as well. You let out a small laugh, grabbing another cookie.

“We do this every time.”, Peter said, elbowing you lightly.

“I know”, you said, playfully rolling your eyes, “you should just admit that Hermione makes the best decisions.”

Chuckling, he threw a few chips at you, making you gasp. Jumping up, you grabbed the pillow closest to yourself, chucking it at him. Hitting him smack across the face, his eyes widened. Throwing a hand over your mouth, you tried to stop the bursts of laughter that threatened to burst from you. “I’m sorry! I thought you could dodge that? You know, with your Peter Tingle?”

Peter groaned, throwing his head back. “Oh my god! Don’t ever say Tingle again. May saying it as it is bad, but you too?”

Smiling at his expressions, you sat down again, starting the movie again. He grabbed you closer, resting his head on your shoulder, arm wrapped around your waist. Usually, you wouldn’t mind, but this time, your heart was racing, whether it be from all the laughing or the fact that you and Peter looked very much like a couple, with his hoodie on you and arms circling your body, basically cocooning you. Hoping he couldn’t hear your heartbeat, you were proven wrong when he raised his head, looking concerned.

“You alright? Your heart’s going crazy.” Nodding too quickly, you looked back at the screen, trying to look engrossed in Professor Quirrell. You realised your mistake too late. “Okay, now I know something is wrong because you don’t even care for Voldemort’s funky face!”

“Nothing, I’m just exhausted”, you said, faking a yawn, “Sorry Pete, but I think I’m going to hit the hay. See you in the morning!” Standing up in one go, you started walking towards the door hurriedly, but a thin, sticky fluid attached to your elbow pulled you back in.

Ugh, you thought, wanting just to go back to the compound and get under your bed, burying these feelings under layers of logic and facts. Which all said that Peter thought of you as a friend, and saying anything would ruin what you have right now. Gasping as Peter pulled you back, you fell back, straight into his arms.

“Uh uh”, he said, clutching you to him tightly, making you feel his abs behind your back, which, unfortunately, didn’t help the red tint adorning your cheeks. “You never bunk movie nights. Especially not Harry Potter.”

He looked up at you, a soft pout on his lips, as he cocked his head to the side, puppy eyes showing through. You gulped harshly. “Uh, so…. I’m just a bit bored. I mean, I know every single line to Philosopher’s Stone.” Inwardly sighing at your answer, you looked at him, trying to judge what was going on in his head.

“Aw, c’mon. Every line?”

Glancing at the screen, you recited the following line without even trying. “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that”, you said, along with the voice of Dumbledore in the background. Raising his eyebrows, Peter nodded, still looking skeptical.

“Alright then. I mean, it is your night; let’s do what you want”, he said softly, smiling. Gazing at Peter, you grinned back, staring into his warm, brown eyes. Seconds passed, but you honestly couldn’t let your eyes leave his. And I could feel a low tingling in your abdomen. This moment felt so familiar but so foreign at the same time.

When you dad and mom left you at Tony’s place when you were only ten years old, you remember asking the mysterious man, who turned out to be your uncle, to see the brown-eyed boy across the street. He reluctantly agreed, driving you in his fast, flashy car to your old house. Running out of the vehicle, you bolted up the stairs, not stopping till you knocked on Peter’s door. He had opened the door immediately, flashing a conserved, small smile at you. Looking at him, you remember bursting out in tears at the sight of him, pulling him close to give him a bone-crushing hug. Shocked by it, Peter hugged you back, whispering soft words into your hair. Then when you were finally able to stop the steady flow of tears down your cheeks, he slowly pulled off you, staring you in your glassy, tear-riddled eyes. After promising each other that you would constantly visit the other person’s house and try and call each other, you mournfully said goodbye. You began walking sullenly back into the car, where Tony took your hand and told you to call Peter downstairs. After that, he took both of you out to ice cream, ruffling Peter’s hair and winking at you in the back seat.

Another time was right after your first fight as an Avenger.

It had been a small mission, just stopping a drug cartel from taking place. You remember Peter knowing that you were avenger straight away, him being the first one to ever see your controlled powers. Tony had been preparing you for this mission for months, making you train with Natasha and Steve for weeks on end. The instructions had been simple. Infiltrate the market, grab the dangerous serums that were being traded and knock out a couple guys. Simple, right?

Not that much. The first part of the mission was fine, when you went with Nat to the back of the market. You kept telling her that you could take care of yourself. All you had to do was stay at the exit, make sure that no one would escape the place before the police showed up. Pushing Nat out, you told her to go help out Tony in getting the serums. Reluctantly, she had walked away, making you stand all by yourself. Not but five minutes later, you wished she didn’t go away.

The back door had flung open, the metal flying at your face. Feeling the purple light buzz in your palms, you were able to narrowly throw the thick door to the side. Five men had run out, none of them having any weapons in their hands, and you could hear Tony in the background blasting off. Pushing yourself off the ground, you tried to grab the running men, throwing any materials in front of them, making their escape hard. However, this was the bad part. Casually walking out of the back door, a dark haired man with one arm raised his arm, a small hole in his metallic arm and shot at you. You weren’t even able to see who he was. Falling to the ground, you grunted, running your hand over the small bullet hole in your thigh. Pressing the com in your ear, you called the team, asking for help immediately. You hadn’t ever been shot in your life, so the blinding pain that had gone up your body had you whimpering on the ground. Thor had arrived soon after, looking around to find who shot you, but the man had disappeared. He picked you up, quickly flying you back to the tower, but you wouldn’t have known what had happened next, since you blacked out the minute your head hit the nurse’s bed. When you had woken up, the first thing you saw was a worn out Peter. Slumped back on a chair, fast asleep was Peter. you saw Tony walking back and forth outside the door, but when he saw you looking around, he had run in, quickly hugging you.

“Are you alright? How the hell did you get shot?!”

You opened your mouth to speak, but found you couldn’t say anything, your throat parched. “Oh yeah”, he said, handing you a small glass of water. Gulping it down quickly, you placed the glass down, looking at Tony, your eyes almost falling down. “Some guy walked out after you got the package. Had some type of electronic arm and had bullets in his arm. Couldn’t get a good look at his face though.”

Tony cursed under his breath, telling you to stay put, but before he could go, you grabbed his suit, pulling him back. Whispering, you asked him, “How long has Peter been here?”

“Oh, the kid has been here for 3 days straight”

“Three days!?”, you asked, forgetting to be quiet. Jumping up at your voice, Peter ran over to you, his hair messy and eyes red and puffy.

“Y/N!”, he exclaimed, practically throwing himself on you, hugging you tightly. “I thought you had died when you didn’t get home that night”. Shuddering against your shoulder, you pulled him closer.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily”, you said, trying to make the air lighter. Looking at Tony who was standing at the door, he gave a tiny smile, walking out and leaving both of you alone.

Thinking back on these times, you could feel your heart squeeze tighter at the thought of ever losing your best friend, but you couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t act like you two were just friends. Okay, Y/N, you can do this. After years of convincing yourself that you didn’t like Peter Parker, you were done with the lies and foreign feelings.

But suddenly, just as you were about to open your mouth, the lights flickered for a beat and then completely blacked out. Blinking quickly, you tried to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness, blindly reaching for your phone but going face-first into Peter’s body instead.

“Oof”, you said, pushing yourself off him Laughing, we both tried to compose ourselves, stumbling around the room. Tapping your wrists slightly, a small purple light showed up, lighting up the place around us.

“Okay, why don’t I go find a flashlight?”,Peter asked, walking towards his room. Nodding, you went the opposite direction, towards the door, hoping to get some light from the road outside. But when you got closer, you saw the mysterious box Tony gave Peter earlier. Curiosity took over you as you moved closer, carefully opening it to see what Peter was so embarrassed about earlier. To say you were shocked was an understatement.

Inside the wooden box was a small bouquet of roses. Fresh red, white pink roses. Next to them was a small box of chocolates. Specifically, Dairy Milk. Under that was a book. Your favourite book. In a brand new cover, crisp and clean against the red paper in the box. Stunned, you carefully picked it up, running your fingers across the embossed cover page. But your attention was detoured because there was a black card at the bottom of the roses, crumpled up hastily. Ah that's what Peter read earlier!, you thought, picking it up, smoothening it out. Your eyes roamed the page, reading the sprawled writing of Tony’s writing.

Hey Peter. Found this under your bed *smirking face*. Thought you might need it soon. Go get her Underoos!

Feeling your face heat up, you read the card again and again. Could it be for you? Could Peter actually like you back? But you got your answer quite quickly.

“What are you doing?!”, Peter asked, running quickly to you, webbing the box shut.

“Uh, just checking out what was in the box…”, you said, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Who’s it for Peter?”

He stared at you, and for a second, you thought he was going to say your name, tell you that he liked you back, tell you that he wanted to be more than friends. But it all went down the drain, and your heart sunk to your stomach when he blurted out. “MJ! It's for MJ.”

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

Oof, Peter. MJ? That’s not gonna go well. Anyway, thank you so much for reading all the way down till here, and I’ll be putting out the next part in a few more days.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Secret Relationship

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

Goodness and Justice Have Dwelt in Your Heart  by violetclarity Rated:  Mature Words:  1952 Tags:  Secret Relationship, Dark!Draco, Angst Summary:  “But sooner or later you would regret having consecrated your love to me, for you do not know my soul.” // An upside-down remix of Wolves and Lambs Look Not by LowerEastSide. Read on AO3

📜 just tell me when it’s alright by M0stlyVoid Rated:  Explicit Words:  23,002 Tags:  Secret Relationship, Rimming, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Forced Orgasm, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Bite Kink, Bruise Kink, Light Dom/sub Summary:  Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley Rated:  Not Rated Words:  10884 Tags: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, there's a lot of shagging, and a lot of unresolved emotions, because these two dudes are idiots, but we love them, and they love each other, Oops, its complicated though, OR IS IT Summary:  Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Difference Between a Cat and a Comma, Or, The One Where McGonagall Has Sass by shilo1364 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  18600 Tags: Mentor Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Eighth Year, background Ronmione, Transfigurations, HP: EWE, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Humor, Fluff and Humor, No Smut, No Sex, Ginny is Harry's best friend, harry is annoyed at Ron and hermione, Harry/Draco and Ginny/luna double-date, Inspired by a Tumblr pun, Thestrals, tea with Hagrid, Transfiguration (Harry Potter), Tie-Switching, Great Hall Relationship Reveal Summary:  Eighth year at Hogwarts is going to be boring. That's what Draco Malfoy thinks when the Wizengamot makes attendance a condition of his pardon. After all, after letting Death Eaters into the school, failing to kill his headmaster, and being forced to serve a homicidal madman, how could finishing up his education *possibly* be interesting? Answer: a coveted Transfigurations advanced study position, Minerva Mcgonagall's surprising fondness for him, Thestrals, tea with Hagrid, tutoring Harry Potter, Granger and Weasley's excessive PDA, and the perplexing nature of sleight-of-hand double-dates with Harry, Luna, and Ginny. And then, of course, there's righteously indignant (if misinformed) Weasley, Draco's own insecurities and flair for dramatics, and a long-suffering Kingsley Shacklebolt. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Parseltongue, Quidditch, and Smut, Oh My! by cassie_black Rated:  Mature Words:  14392 Tags: Fluff, Smut, Sexual Content, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Parseltongue, Secret Relationship, Angry Sex Summary:  Hot boys, ball games, and snake talk! (A very late Christmas present for the lovely nursedarry!) ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Still Life by orphan_account Rated:  Mature Words:  3011 Tags: London, POV Harry Potter, i guess!!! Summary:  N/A ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I'll Tell You A Secret (Just Don't Tell) by nerakrose Rated:  General Words:  18331 Tags: Coming Out, Domestic, Fluff, Cute, Community: trope_bingo, Curtain Fic, Secret Relationship, Car Accidents, But no one dies, HP: EWE, Forced coming out, Muggle Life, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World Summary:  Harry and Draco are living a fairly normal life with a fairly normal relationship, except for the part where it's, well, secret. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Code-Cracking For Gryffindors by Saras_Girl Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4065 Tags: N/A Summary:  Harry should know better than to conceal mysterious body art from dorm-mates who pay no heed to what happened to the cat. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Too precious to share by slowroad Rated:  Mature Words:  1667 Tags: Romance, Fluff, Humor, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary:  Harry and Draco are several months into their eighth year at Hogwarts. They have been in a relationship for a while now, but no one knows about them and they are happy to keep it that way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 On The Couch by Frayach Rated:  Explicit Words:  26035 Tags: Desperation, Soul-Searching, Passion, Therapy, Voyeurism, Infidelity Summary:  It’s a Mind Healer’s worse nightmare to lose a patient to suicide, but Mind Healer Nick Nichols can attest to the fact that a murder/suicide is even worse. If only Dr. Freud had come up with a sure cure for love. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Curiosity, Wonder, Spontaneous Delight by cloudings Rated:  Explicit Words:  114710 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, but its more like, enemies to friends with benefits to lovers?, Enemies with benefits?, Porn, Blow Jobs, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Scars, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Fantasizing, Flirting, if it seems like there are too many gay characters in this I say fuck you, Getting Together, coming to terms with sexuality, Sexuality, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Lesbian Ginny Weasley, Improper Use of the Imperius Curse, Dry Humping, Making Out, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, as he should, Drinking, Partying, Jealousy, Anal Sex Summary:  After Harry hears some rumours about Malfoy, he becomes more and more curious until he just has to get some answers. Malfoy is more than prepared to give him anything he needs, just as long as he gets something back in return. Harry’s not sure why he’s surprised that it’s something moderately illegal. In which Ron continues to get far too many eyefuls, Hermione has had quite enough with everybody, and Harry’s not sure why enemies to friends to friends with benefits isn’t enough for him. OR Harry becomes incredibly curious, and somewhere along the line ends up accidentally falling in love with Draco Malfoy. Because of course he bloody would. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  302209 Tags: Canon up until Epilogue, Triwizard, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Redemption, Forgiveness, Angst, Memory Loss, Secret Relationships, obliviate, secret boyfriends Summary:  Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness. Pairings: HP/DM (Slash) Timeframe: 1994-2002 Goblet to 4 yrs post-DH EWE Rating T for language, high angst, content. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Breakin' the Rules by orpheous87 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  3146 Tags: Implied Sexual Content, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Auror Partners, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Gay Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Secret Relationship, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, St Mungo's Hospital, Fluff, Coming Out, Happy Ending, Hurt Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  Harry and Draco are Auror partners. They're in a relationship that they've been forced to keep secret due to relationships between Aurors being forbidden. Harry is okay with this, as he hasn't come out to anyone other than Draco, but after a mission goes awry, their relationship is exposed. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Little Talks by Femme (femmequixotic), noeon (noe) Rated:  Explicit Words:  11351 Tags: N/A Summary:  Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 You Look the Way I Feel by yourdifferentoctober Rated:  Explicit Words:  108693 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mental Health Issues, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Top Harry Potter, Orgasm Delay/Denial, First Time, Praise Kink, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Snogging, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Falling In Love, Jealous Harry Potter, Possessive Harry Potter Summary:  Draco returns for his eighth year at Hogwarts in an attempt to salvage whatever he can of his future. His plan: sit as many N.E.W.T.s as possible, distance himself from the Malfoy name, and keep out of trouble. Of course, with his father on trial and at risk of unthinkable punishment, not to mention the anxiety-fueled "episodes" that have been plaguing him since summer, the school year doesn't go so smoothly. Especially when Harry Potter keeps seeking him out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Magnetism by Queenie_Mab Rated:  Explicit Words:  26028 Tags: Illustrated, Chaptered, Adaptation, Rimming, Anal Sex, Veritaserum, Bad Poetry, Bets, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Blow Jobs, Mistaken Identity, Bottom Harry Summary:  Muggle Romance Novelist Draco Malfoy is exiled in the Muggle world after the war, but as fate would have it, the chemistry between him and Harry Potter draws them together, no matter how much Draco resists. Adapted from the manga/anime, Gravitation by Maki Murakami ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 In Secret by Rei382 Rated:  General Words:  2119 Tags: Secret dating, Secret Relationship, Christmas, did I ever say how much I love arthur?, No I did not?, well now is my chance Summary:  Harry and Draco are secretly dating. At least, they think it's secretly. ❤️ Read on AO3

[bluebirdsbluebells]

love lost - part three

pairing: jj maybank x reader

words: 5.8k (i got carried away im sorry)

warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions of drugs, angst

a/n: i totally got carried away with this chapter. i was originally just going to keep writing and writing and writing it, but i decided to split it, so there will be a fourth and final chapter after this one. thank you guys so much for the love on this fic. also! the anons that sent in requests, just know that i am working on them! i’ve been a bit slow lately, but i’m trying my best to get them done!

series masterlist

_____

True to your word, you continued to stay away from JJ. Twice you saw him out and about, but you avoided him, keeping your head down and your gaze averted from his own. You could feel him watching you though, waiting to see if you would finally let him back in. That was just something that you knew you couldn’t do. One wrong move and you could be a broken mess on the floor yet again.

When JJ shattered you, you felt as if you lost faith in yourself as well. You could no longer believe anything that he had to say to you, but you felt as if you weren’t any kind of trustworthy either. You felt like you had betrayed yourself; fucked up along the way and created the mess without even realizing its eventual doom.

You tried to stay strong though. You didn’t want Harry to worry any more than he already was. You hadn’t told him about your encounter with JJ on the street, and you hadn’t told him about Rafe’s odd comments either. You thought that it was best to keep quiet and try to move on with your daily activities.

But you weren’t a superhero. Everyone had their breaking point. Maybe you were just unlucky, but it seemed that you had several.

He came up from behind you; swiftly; unnoticed by anyone else. There was a static between his skin and yours as he grazed his fingers along your shoulders, grabbing your attention. You spun around, nearly crashing into the isle of pasta behind you.

“Jesus,” you cursed, stepping away from him. He was too close; you could smell the weed on his breath and the strong odor of his cheap fabric softener. You swallowed tightly. “Can we talk now?” JJ asked, his eyes meeting yours with desperation. They were bloodshot and far from appearing dry, and although he may have been crying, you settled for the alternative. It was unlikely that he would’ve been shedding tears when he reeked of marajuana.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head as you side-stepped him, your breath catching in your throat.

Your mother had asked you to go out and get groceries for dinner that night. JJ was the last person you wanted to see, and you should’ve known that there were no safe places, not even the supermarket on a dreary Wednesday afternoon.

“Please Y/N?” JJ pleaded, stepping back in front of you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as he hovered over you, his hair falling into his reddening eyes. “You’re high,” you commented, your gaze dropping to the floor of the supermarket. There were a few cracks that ran along the tile, and you traced them with your eyes. JJ was wearing a pair of dirtied grey boots with black socks that poked above the tops.

“I came here to see you,” he said, rocking back on his heels. You tried to step around him again, but he moved to the side, blocking your path. In the back of your throat you felt a tickle, and you sucked in a breath, fighting with yourself to keep it together. “You followed me here, didn’t you,” you whispered, your head still staying turned to the ground, but you lifted your eyes to glance at him. “I told you that I would talk to you when I was ready.” “And you’re not ready?” JJ asked, his voice rising slightly. When you winced he licked his lips and lowered it, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. “You’re not ready?” He repeated quietly.

You shook your head, turning your neck to the side. “Get out of the way,” you said, your grip tightening on the plastic handle of your shopping basket. From down the aisle a woman rolled her cart towards the spices, one squeaky wheel screeching against the tile.

“Y/N, I just want to talk to you. I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine, but I just need to explain myself.” “There’s nothing to explain,” you muttered, pulling your lower lip through your teeth. “It’s perfectly clear.” “It’s not,” he corrected, holding up his hands as if he was trying to steady you, but you didn’t need comfort, you needed to get out of there. “If you would just let me-” “Excuse me,” you mumbled, then you turned on your heel, briskly walking away from him. Your eyes darted to the side as you hurried down the aisle, then quickly slipped into the one over, which was stocked with crackers and chips. You let out a shaky breath, then set down your basket, trying to collect yourself. He was following you. Following you. You had told him that you would give him a chance eventually, but he was too impatient to even respect that you wanted more time.

“Y/N.” He startled you, and you flinched back, nearly tripping over your shopping basket. JJ stood to your left, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He had a blank expression on his face, and if you had to pick one word for the look in his eyes you would’ve picked “defeated”.

“I told you that I would talk to you eventually,” you said, stooping down to pick the cart back up. “But that day isn’t today JJ.” “You won’t do it,” he said quietly. “You’ll just keep avoiding me and nothing will ever get said and you’ll slowly forget about me.” Your lips twitched; a sign that you were close to tears.

“You’re wrong,” you replied, shifting the basket between your sweaty palms. What you really wanted to say was ‘I won’t ever forget about you’, but you just couldn’t. “I told you I would listen and I will. Just-” “Now,” JJ said, shaking his head at you. “You’ll talk to me now. I can’t keep putting it off Y/N. I’ve tried to talk to JB but it’s not the same. I need you to hear it from me.” “Hear what from you?” You weren’t sure where the surge of frustration came from, but before you knew it your voice was cracking while you spat back at him. “Hear that you cheated on me with three girls while I was sick in bed on your birthday? It coming from you doesn’t make it any better JJ, because I had to find out from my best friend first. I don’t need to hear shit from you.” He stared at you, and inside of his chest you imagined his heart shrinking, his stomach falling. You wondered how bad his pain was compared to yours. Had he sobbed and shrieked and dry heaved all night until his ribs ached and his mind no longer functioned? You didn’t think so.

“Excuse me,” a quiet voice said from behind you, and you turned around to face an older man with his shopping cart. You felt your cheeks flush red as you stepped to the side. JJ did the same, and the man gave the both of you a small smile as he wheeled the trolley past, his eyes scanning over the items on the shelves. You waited until he had turned the corner before you exhaled a heavy breath, looking away from JJ and back down at the ground. “If you don’t drop what you’re doing and talk to me now, you’re never going to talk to me,” JJ said quietly. You didn’t answer, just swung the basket around your legs. It bumped into your thighs, and JJ watched as you did it over and over, refusing to reply. “Why does it matter if we speak now as opposed to months from today? Y/N it doesn’t.”

“Nothing you can say will ever justify what you did,” you answered, finally looking back up at him. “You know that, don’t know?” You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and then he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He seemed to take in your words, and then he took a slow step towards you, his head tilting as he spoke quietly. “I just want you to know what happened.” He was close to you. Three feet, maybe two. The smell of the weed wasn’t as strong as it had been when you first encountered him, but it would still be noticeable to any who passed him. You wouldn’t speak to him when he was high. You weren’t much of a smoker, but every once in a while you would hit a blunt or two with him and sit under the sky and talk. You would draw the line though. There were countless times when he would show up at your place completely shitfaced or crossed and you would take him in and look after him for the night, but when he fell asleep or left your place in the morning you were always panged with disappointment. You knew that it was his life and he could do whatever he wanted to do, but you found more often than not that he would smoke and drink to forget whatever he was going through. It was clear to you that he had done that then.

“If you want me to know so bad then tell me right here, right now,” you said. A pained expression crossed his face, and he shook his head. “I can’t.” “You can’t.” “I can’t do it in a fucking supermarket Y/N.” His voice rose, and you clenched your jaw, praying that you hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention. Your mother was probably at home wondering what was taking you so long. “Why not?” You whispered back, and your lip quivered as you spoke. “If it’s so important, then just fess up.” “You can’t just…” he trailed off, then let out an aggravated groan, causing the corners of your lips to turn down. “You need to hear everything. I- I haven’t been entirely honest with you Y/N.”

You blinked at him, disbelief on your face. “You think?” You snapped at him, and then you took a step back, shaking your head. You needed to control yourself. You couldn’t let your emotions get the best of you; a clear mind was what you had to have. Breathe in, breathe out. “I haven’t been honest about-” he swallowed “-other things either.”

To you, that was one of the most unbelievable sentences that you had ever heard in your life. JJ had left you broken and in despair after shattering your heart, and he was confessing that he had done not only that, but other things as well. You didn’t know what to say. You had no idea what to do. You wanted to burst into tears and fall into a heap in the middle of the store, but you also wanted to slap him straight across the face for telling you in the middle of a fucking grocery store that he had lied to you. Maybe it was what you deserved for not facing the problem head on.

You opened and closed your mouth at him, then slowly stepped away from him, shaking your head.

“You can’t do that to me,” you said hoarsely, and you watched as his face fell. He stepped towards you, holding out his hands, but you shook your head, pulling your basket away from him and picking up your pace. “Listen…” He started, but you held out your hand, urging him to stay back. You could see that he realized he had hurt you, and his shoulders sagged, but he stayed in place. You walked backwards all the way to the end of the aisle, and as soon as he was out of sight you beelined for the self-checkout. Tears brimmed your eyes as you aggressively slid all of your items across the small scanner, trying desperately to get it over with. You needed space, you needed air. You had to get out of that store. “Something wrong ma’am?” You heard a voice call from behind you, and you turned your head to see a middle aged man standing at your right, one hand gesturing to your items. They were scattered across the bagging shelf, and one slab of butter even sat on the ground. You hastily reached down to pick it up, trying to blink back your tears. “No,” you assured, giving him a short nod. “I’m just in a rush.” “Alright then,” he said, returning the nod. “Just be careful there. You may scan something twice.” He most likely was trying to get you to slow down so you didn’t miss scanning anything, but of course that was just his polite way of letting you know that he was watching. You took a deep breath, and then continued to swipe your items more carefully. You stuffed the things into your reusable bags, then hurriedly carried them outside. You didn’t worry about setting them carefully in the back, instead you just threw open the trunk and chucked the bags inside. There was a heavy weight on your chest, and you felt as if you were being threatened for air. As soon as your driver’s side door closed you let out a loud sob, one that wracked your shoulders. Your hands gripped to the steering wheel as you dropped your head, trying to heave in breath after breath. You weren’t sure if any tears actually fell from your eyes, but you still couldn’t see anything. Your vision was blurry and crowded, and suddenly you felt like if you were to try and stand, you would’ve crumpled to the ground, shrouded with betrayal.

There was a light tap on your passenger’s side window, but you didn’t lift your head. You had a pretty fucking good idea on who it was, and you weren’t pleased, but you didn’t have the energy to deny his presence for the millionth time. JJ opened the door slowly, then slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. For a solid minute or two he didn’t say anything, and the only things that could be heard were the shaky rasps of your breathing and the sticky sound of you peeling your sweaty palms off of the leather of the steering wheel.

“Y/N,” JJ said quietly, and you pinched your eyes closed, your jaw clenching yet again. A pang shot through your chest. It felt like someone was taking Finochietto retractor and spreading your ribs right open.

“Were you lying to me the whole time?” You whispered, opening your eyes, but you kept your gaze at your shoes. Your hands still gripped the steering wheel, and your head still hung between your arms.

JJ was silent, and you darted your eyes over to him. He had a blunt in his hands, but it was unlit, and he only rolled it between his fingers, watching it. “Can we start at the beginning?” He asked quietly, and you dropped your gaze back to your shoes.

“The beginning meaning the beginning of our relationship or the beginning meaning when you started sleeping with other girls.” He sucked in a breath. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.” You rolled your tongue along your teeth, then sniffled before letting out a humourless laugh. “That’s what they all say.” “I’m telling the truth Y/N.” “Five minutes ago you confessed that you were a liar JJ,” you said, raising your head from between your arms. “I don’t know what to believe.” Another pained look crossed his face, and he sighed heavily. JJ tucked the blunt back in his pocket, then ran his fingers through his hair.

“That’s fair,” he said slowly. You could tell he was trying very carefully to pick out the right words. One wrong move and you would kick him out and drive away, and he would probably never speak to you again. “That’s fair Y/N. You have every right not to trust me. I know that you probably won’t believe what I have to say, but I need to tell you. I haven’t been fucking sleeping or eating… I’ve just been thinking about you too much; thinking about how much of a shitty person I am.” “You are a shitty person,” you said, barely hesitating. “You really hurt me, do you know that.” He nodded, his eyes falling to his boots. “I know.” You looked at him for the longest that you had looked at him since the breakup. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes and hollowed out sockets. He had always had a nice golden glow to his skin, but right then he looked pale and sickly, like he truly hadn’t eaten or slept in days. His face showed the look of someone who had been broken, but it was his posture that really sold it for him. His normally radiating confidence was absent. JJ’s shoulders sagged, and he hunched into himself as if he was terrified of the world around him. His fingers jittered and tapped in his lap, and you could practically feel the anxiety that he was feeling. In a way you mimicked each other perfectly. If someone would’ve walked by and seen the two of you, they would’ve never been able to guess who was the cheater and who had been cheated on. You were both at a loss, and that was why you didn’t immediately scream at him to get out. There was a tiny little part of you that almost felt for him, and urged you to hear what he had to say simply out of desperation. That tiny little part of you was the one that wanted to believe that he had never intentionally broken your trust so easily, and that little part of you won.

“Once I get started you have to promise to let me finish,” JJ said, and his eyes lifted from the ground to look over at you. You were hesitant, unsure about whether or not you would be able to let him stay. You were unsure if the news he was about to break to would’ve been worse than what you had already gone through. You were terrified of living those weeks all over again but doubled in pain.

“Y/N?” JJ asked hopefully. “Do you promise?” Gloomily, you nodded. There wasn’t any going back after that.

“I didn’t sleep with anybody. I haven’t slept with anyone since you, I swear to god. Whatever John B. thought that he saw, he didn’t see it.” “They were all over you,” you said flatly, raising your head further from the wheel. It hit your headrest, and you let out a long, slow breath. “JB said they were on your lap-” “They were,” JJ confirmed, and you swallowed tightly. “Let me explain. Just- just let me explain.” “Fine,” you breathed, and your whole body ached. He had just told you that there was a girl on his lap like he was telling you what the time was. He was too casual about it.

Little did you know it was because he was trying to brace himself; prepare for what he was about to say next. He was terrified to admit it to you, terrified that you were going to hate him more than you already did. He had never been so scared in his life. He had prepared speeches to give to you about everything that he had done, but every time that he saw you he always lost everything he thought he had memorized, and he felt like it was the day that the two of you broke up all over again. He was so helpless, but he needed you to know.

“I was having a really good night,” JJ started, and you closed your eyes again. You felt so tense, and you knew that if you didn’t breathe and try to calm down you were just going to take whatever he had to say even harder. “You guys really decorated that place up. It looked really really good Y/N.” You could feel as he looked over at you. “It was so much fun, but I kept wishing that you were there. I took a shot for you. I took five actually, but I kept needing more. I was just downing them like there was no tomorrow.” He chuckled, as if he was recalling the night. The sound of his laughter made your stomach churn, and you dropped your head to the left, opening your eyes slowly. The car beside you was pulling out of it’s stall, and the woman driving gave you a smile before she sped off. You didn’t return it.

“And then I got a text from Barry.”

“Barry?” You asked, your ears perking at the name. So Rafe had been onto something. “Like… Barry Barry?”

“Yes,” JJ answered shortly. “That Barry.” You closed your mouth, feeling another sob start to make it’s way up your throat. Your breath hitched. If the situation actually hadn’t been cheating then…

“Drugs,” you whispered, praying to god that it wasn’t true. You had always looked down on Rafe for doing coke, and you had never expected that your boyfriend -- well, ex -- would’ve been one to do the same. Maybe it wasn’t like that, but nothing seemed to be much of what you expected anymore anyways.

Either JJ hadn’t heard you or he ignored your comment, but he continued on his story, his voice noticeably shakier. “He told me he had a little birthday gift for me,” JJ said quietly. “He said he got someone that was going to drop it off, and to wait for them out the back door. I guess he knew that John B. was having the party or something -- I don’t know -- but he told me to go out back and wait for the guy, so I did.” He paused, and you heard him swallow, his breath catching in his throat. “It wasn’t a guy though. It was three chicks.” Fuck.

“Krissy,” you mumbled, and you felt a single tear escape from your eye. It slid down your cheek, and then plopped onto the grey fabric of your shirt. “I thought they were the gifts and I told them you know ‘no I have a girlfriend’ and shit like that, but they said they were just there to give me the stuff, and then they would leave.” Out of the corner of your eye you watched as he raked his fingers through his hair, then swipe his thumb over his lip. His knee bounced as well, and you chewed on your cheek, worry growing inside of you. “I said they could come in for a second so I could take a look at what they brought and so they came inside and we went in this room. I- I didn’t have any bad intentions at all Y/N, I swear. I didn’t want John B. or anyone to see the-” “What did they bring?” You asked impatiently. You tasted blood from where you had bit your cheek. “What?” “What did Barry give you?”

JJ hesitated. “Drugs.” You felt your stomach drop. Barry had sent three obviously beautiful girls to give your taken boyfriend drugs for his eighteenth birthday. There was something that wasn’t adding up to you, but maybe it was just because you didn’t want to hear it.

“And did you do them?” “Y/N-” “Did you do them at the party?” You pressured. “There? With the girls? With Krissy? Is that when you slept with them?” “I told you didn’t sleep with anybody,” JJ answered firmly, and you sighed, releasing your grip on the steering wheel only long enough to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “But I did do the... the drugs.” “And what was it?” He didn’t hesitate that time.

“LSD.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and then your hands slipped down from the wheel. He had told you that he would never do any hardcore drugs, and he said that he meant it. But he also said that he would never lie to you, and he had.

“They said that I had to do it there, and so I did.” “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” JJ admitted. “And Y/N… I don’t remember much from that night. Everything was a blur, but I wasn’t in there long enough to do anything with them, and they were high but they knew not to touch me.” “But they did.” “I know,” JJ whispered. “I know. I was confused Y/N. I was confused and I couldn’t figure out what was going on and- fuck! I couldn’t even find the fucking door so I just stayed there with them hoping that it would wear off soon enough so I could go back to normal and I could tell how grateful I was that you helped plan such a great party.”

The weight in your chest slipped from your sternum to the pit of your stomach. Even if you wanted to get up and leave him, you wouldn’t have been able to walk or even stand. It seemed like you had a thousand pound sack of bricks on your lap, and your legs were being mutilated. You felt trapped there with JJ in that car. “Why would Barry do that for you JJ?” You asked, turning your head to look at him. Your eyes filled up with tears once they met his, and his lip quivered. He licked it, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his blunt, absentmindedly playing with it. “Because…” he sucked in a breath, then exhaled it slowly. “Because I know him well.” You were scared of what he had to say. You were absolutely terrified to listen, and he was absolutely terrified to speak. There was an unbelievable tension between the two of you, and it threatened to break your bones in on you. “So where’s the lie JJ?” You whispered, your voice shaky. “Where’s the part where you haven’t been entirely honest?” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he winced, looking away. Your expression matched his, and two more tears rolled out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” he rasped, his tongue swiping over his top lip. “I never knew how.” “Tell me what, JJ?” “The drugs.” “The dru- oh.” You knew then. You knew it. Everything went through your head in a millisecond, and you knew exactly why he had behaved the way he had all those times. It was shattering news. It wasn’t as horrible as you thought it would be because it wasn’t the situation you thought it would be -- which was that he was going to confess he had been cheating throughout your whole relationship -- but maybe in a way it was worse. At least if he had cheated you could’ve expected it because you already had prepared yourself for that confrontation, but the actual truth was something that you hadn’t braced for, and it hurt like a motherfucker. If he had been honest with you from the start you could’ve probably gotten over it, but he had lied to you.

“What kinds of drugs?” You choked out. “All kinds,” JJ whispered back. He was ashamed to tell you. “Coke, tabs of all kinds of shit. Molly- I did molly sometimes.”

“Is that where you always went?” You croaked, your throat incredibly dry. “When you said you have to leave?” He hung his head. For a long time the two of you sat in silence, you with tears streaming down your face and him rigid, barely breathing. At some point he lit up his joint, and he dragged on it until it was nothing but a stump, and then he flicked it out the window. You just stared blankly at the steering wheel, your whole body numb. There was a saying that went something like “I’d rather be hurt by the truth than comforted by a lie”, and in that moment there was nothing that you believed in more. All those months that you doubted yourself led to insecurities; were you good enough for him? Was he losing interest? Did he find you boring to be around? You could’ve saved yourself so much worrying if he had just told you the truth. When you began to doubt yourself you began to ultimately doubt him too, and late at night you questioned his loyalty. In a way though it felt as if you had still been cheated on. Felt like you were being cheated by the full honesty of your relationship. He wasn’t out with another girl, but he was with something that he couldn’t part with, not even to stay an extra hour after dinner, or hit a beautiful night at the beach. But your heart broke for him. He felt the need to lie to you. You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it was going to be okay, and that you were okay, but you just couldn’t. Your chest was being ripped apart slowly, and you struggled to breathe. You couldn’t walk, you couldn’t talk. You were helpless and torn and hurt more than over; a combined hurt though, both yours and his. “You shouldn’t have had to keep that a secret,” you finally said, drawing out your words slowly as if you were hearing yourself for the first time. You still felt a betrayal, and you turned to him, shaking your head slightly with disbelief. “You would’ve rather had me believe that you cheated on me than admit that you do drugs?”

JJ opened and closed his mouth, and then slowly the tears pooled in his eyes, and his nose twitched like he was trying to hold back a sneeze. But he wasn’t, he was trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to take over his body. His chest crumpled in on him, and your own was panged with guilt and sorrow. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he averted his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was so fucking ashamed to tell you and…” he trailed off and his voice broke as a cry took over his body. Seeing him in pain was a hundred thousand times more awful than just you being in pain. If you thought your heart had broken before, it was nothing compared to what you felt in that moment. You knew what he needed, and you gave it to him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, stretching yourself over the middle console as you pulled him into you.. He heaved heavy sobs into your chest, and you tugged him closer, your hands planting themselves firmly on his back. His body shook as he cried, repeating apologies over and over while your own tears fell into his hair and stained his shirt. “You don’t have to feel ashamed,” you whispered, your voice muffled by blonde locks. “You don’t ever have to feel like you need to hide anything.” “You hated that shit,” JJ sobbed, and you placed one hand on his head, right at the nape of his neck. “You hated it all, but with my dad and all the shit I had to deal with I just lost myself. I didn’t want you to think any less of me.” Your heart panged. Oh, how much you wished you could’ve taken his sadness from him. You wished that you could’ve stripped him from his pain and let him be swallowed by your arms and your embrace.

“Never,” you breathed, pinching your eyes shut. “Never. I would never.” “Molly Y/N. I did molly. I did hallucinogens,” he cried into your chest. You could feel the wetness of his tears seeping through your shirt, and if it was possible at all, you pulled him even closer, feeling the weight of his body against yours. It was uncomfortable over the middle console, but you didn’t care. He was in your arms after so many weeks of not being held, and you missed everything about him. You missed his scent and his laugh and his smile and his jokes and every little quirk that he had. But your pain still stood. “You really hurt me JJ,” you mumbled into his hair. “I expected the worst case scenario.” “Of course,” he whispered. “Of course.” You brought your hand up a little further on his head, then began to stroke your fingers through his hair. You could feel his body relax slightly into yours, and you let out a shaky breath. “Did you tell the others?” He shook his head into your neck. “Sort of. John B. I told almost everything, but he was still upset with me for lying.” You licked your lips, tasting the saltiness of your tears.

“Me too,” you said quietly. And the two of you stayed like that for a while longer. After you had stopped crying JJ still continued to sob, and his body didn’t stop shaking until he realized that you probably had somewhere to be. “I shouldn’t keep you,” he said, pulling away quickly and swiping at his eyes. “You bought that shit for a reason.” He gestured to the groceries.  You slowly pulled away as well, wiping at your own cheeks and running a hand through your hair. There was no way that you could hide your breakdown from Harry. You probably had a million texts from your mother too; it was way past dinner.

“I should’ve listened to you sooner,” you admitted quietly, pulling at the hem of your shirt. You could see the tear droplet stains on the fabric, but you didn’t care. “I was just scared of what you were going to say.” “I should’ve told you sooner,” JJ replied, his voice soft and sad. He had never been good with his emotions, you both knew that, but you could tell that everything he said then had come from the heart. He meant every word that he spoke, and he was truly sorry. It was a comforting feeling, to believe him again, but you knew that it would take a long time to trust him again. “I’m sorry I avoided you and- and doubted you.” “Don’t ever be sorry,” JJ rasped, cracking a sad smile as he wiped his eyes again. “Maybe… maybe we can talk tomorrow?” You looked down at your lap, sucking in a long breath. It was a big step to meet with JJ again. Well, meet with him intentionally. But you knew that you had to speak to him more. You weren’t just about to leave him when he needed you most. You nodded. “I’m not going to abandon you JJ. I’m so sorry.”

-

@daygiowvibe @kaylinfayezink @imsad05  @vibin-n-thrivin

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

“Forget what I said,

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back

I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

- Falling, Harry Styles

A/N: the long anticipated third installment of “that angsty threesome story.” this shit hurted y’all. that’s all i’m gonna say. hope you enjoy :) 

Sharing Isn’t Always Caring masterlist

word count: 13k

content: A N G S T, drunk sad!harry, melancholic relationship flashbacks, and Niall being an amazing friend. oh and lots of pining pain 

preview:

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons. 

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.” 

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution. 

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence.

or Harry and Y/N breakup after the incident and the next two months are the worst either of them have ever known

///

Two months and thirteen days. 

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up. 

It’s poetically ironic, if you ask him, and he felt like the universe was playing a cruel game at his expense. Though it’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

The length of time that had passed was coincidentally parallel to how much time he had spent sitting on his couch that dreaded Saturday morning— which had been two hours and thirteen minutes— wringing his hands, boiling in his regret, and waiting for her to come out of their bedroom with a verdict on their relationship. 

When Y/N had finally surfaced from her hiding spot, she had barely acknowledged him other than a few one-worded, snipped answers to his questions. She was headed out, she’d said, and that she would return later. Her path had been straight for the front door and the body language and aura she had displayed from the frame of their room door to the frame of the front door had been enough to clearly communicate a simple message: Don’t come after me. 

He had followed her to the edge of the corridor that led to the exit, but he knew better than to chase her once she was out of the door. He remained put and watched her walk out without so much as a glance back. 

She needed time, he had assured himself. Y/N needed a chance to cool off on her own and smothering her would do nothing but dig him further into the hole he was already neck-deep in. 

In hindsight, Harry should have gone after her. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, or maybe it wouldn’t have at all, but all he’s aware of now is that he’d never know.

The minute she got back, a few hours later when the sun had just finished dipping over the stretch of forest that extended beyond the balcony of their apartment, he could immediately tell he had to prepare for the worst. 

From the second Harry had met Y/N, he had always been able to read her. It’s something he prided himself in and something he always admired about the connection they shared— that it had been instant. It had been one of those rare pockets in life when he met someone and clicked with them automatically, so effortlessly that it was almost fictional. He’d always been a hopeless romantic and he had his mother and sister to thank for that; growing up with two women who constantly fed him stories about true love and the importance of emotions had molded his relationships down to the very core. And through that characteristic, which had been engraved within the man he had grown into, was how he and Y/N so easily came to be. 

Harry had been able to read the nervous excitement she was wading through on their first date, watching her with fond amusement as she had contemplated the menu, trying to pass as nonchalant but being betrayed by the obvious cinch in her brows. 

He had been able to read the first time she had wanted him to kiss her, eyes absorbing her features like the pages of a novel. He had picked up on the metaphors she depicted in the form of wine-swollen lips twitching with longing anticipation. He had picked up on the similes that translated into her slowly dilating pupils, the glittering specks of color that shimmered in the depths of her irises dancing with anxious enthusiasm as his face drew closer to her’s. He had picked up on the analogies that painted themselves onto the warm, supple skin of her cheeks as he cupped the side of her face with the palm of his large hand, fingers tucking lose strands of hair behind her ear as he thumbed over the faint smile lines chesiling themselves into existence along the edges of her mouth, her action thick with enamored awe. 

He had been able to read just how taken Y/N was with him the first time they had slept together. It was certain in how she had clung to the bare, sweaty muscles of his shoulders as her nails clawed memories along the soft sides of his torso, her head dangling over the edge of the kitchen island to allow him the intimate comfort of pressing hot, wet moans to the searing skin of her throat. He had whined and shuddered as he’d spread her open over the cold marble surface, fogging it with the heat of their conjoined bodies, the air tinged with the scent of desperate sex and blurbs of orgasm-drunken praises that to this day he can feel burn his lungs. Barely coherent mumbles of “God, been needing you for the longest time now.” and “Fuck, you’re an absolute dream.” and he had even made himself susceptible to some of his deepest vulnerabilities, confessing how quickly and dangerously he was falling for her in a breathless little whimper of, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Tiny zaps of invisible electricity had passed through her fingertips and into the flexing tendons of his back, revealing that she was just as scared and jittery and needy and absolutely whipped for him as he was for her. He had never been able to read her better than at that intense, emotion-packed moment, and he knows he’ll cherish that wordless instance of assurance for as long as he lives. 

The only other occasion that competes is the first time Harry had known Y/N loved him. They had planned to go bar-hopping with their friends but, in a spur of laziness and utter disinterest, had decided to stay back. The night had been filled with board games and hot chocolate and half-burnt quesadillas because Harry had bought a new panini press that he didn’t quite yet know how to work. He knew she loved him when he beat her at CandyLand for the third time in a row and in a whirlwind of victory dancing, he had knocked the coffee table with his knee and ended up with cooled cocoa all over his striped pajama pants rather than in his belly. 

He knew she loved him because she wasn’t upset that she’d have to help get the stain out and she wasn’t mad that he’d gotten marshmallow goo on the carpet and she wasn’t angry that his silliness had ended with her favorite vase rolling across the ground. All Y/N had been focused on was Harry and that ridiculous wide-toothed grin of his, her own lips nestling into an endeared smile as he giggled out of sheer shock at his ruined pants, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back against the couch cushions. Through teary, delight-blurred vision he saw her staring at him with this doe-like gaze, her eyes soft and glossier than he’d ever seen them, a tender laugh evident on her cheeks. Her eyebrows had been slightly furrowed with a type of disbelieving wonder at the utter moron she had chosen to share her heart with, but specifically at how she loved him all the more for it. 

That’s when Harry had read that she loved him and she had confirmed it with words about ten minutes later as they both sat on their knees against the ground, scrubbing at the mess he’d made and sharing soft little snickers under their breath. 

In the end, all of these milestone moments in their relationship had all funneled through his mind the minute Y/N had walked back into the living room on that forsaken day, hours later. They all sped past the inside of his eyelids every time he blinked, each one dissipating with each step she drew closer. She had stood before him as he sat forward tensely on the couch, forearms propped on his knees as he grasped his knuckles nervously, though they had stopped cracking ages ago. 

It all flashed back to him like a film on fast-forward and it was because for the first time ever, he wasn’t able to read her face and it fucking terrified him. 

Y/N’s eyes were the first factor that had given away the impending end. Even at the darkest of times, Harry could always count on Y/N’s eyes for support. They had always held a permanent admiring warmth towards him, even beneath clouds of rage or annoyance or worry. They had been empty that day. 

Her lips had been etched into a emotionally-detached straight line, though the corners dipped down ever so slightly. Her eyebrows were void of any wrinkle, groove, or lifting that would suggest even a smidge of sensitivity and somehow her cheeks seemed more sunken in, as if the last couple of hours had aged her years. 

Y/N had approached him with her hands cradling each other before her stomach, footsteps heavy against the carpeted ground, muffled yet somehow loud. She’d taken a seat before him on the glass coffee table, knees pressed together tightly and unintentionally brushing his as she settled her hands into the crease between her inner thighs, nails digging into her palms. Her shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of the world was using her back as shelf, the flyaway hairs that had fallen from her ponytail kissing along her jaw and caressing her temples almost apologetically, as if trying to comfort her for what was next. 

Y/N hadn’t spoken a single word before Harry was already breaking down. 

It wasn’t dramatic or spontaneous like the break-up scenes in the rom coms he often fancied; it was quiet and concise. The hot tears streamed down his cheekbones and followed the slope of his sharp jaw, squeezing out of his tear ducts and rolling along the bridge of his nose, itching the very tip, to which his instincts responded by spurring him into wiping away the water with the front of his shoulder. 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look up at her out of self-hatred and shame— how could he be as selfish as to cry when everything that was about to unfold had been solely of his doing. He knew he didn’t deserve the best outcome, but he had hoped for it. Prayed that she could find it in her tattered heart to grace him with the option to rebuild what he had so recklessly torn down. He didn’t deserve it and he’d felt like he never would, but he had promised himself he would try and earn it if she gave him the chance. 

But that was just the hopeless romantic in him flaring up again. Reality was sharper and much icier. 

Harry had taken in a deep, trembling inhale, feeling it cut his lungs and tug at the pit of his stomach. He’d released it in stuttery spurts through his nose, back muscles contracting with dread. He found it in himself to uncoil one of his index fingers, gently grazing the curve of Y/N’s right knee with the bed of his nail. 

She’d tensed up momentarily, toes curling into the rug below her feet, but didn’t shed him away. It was the first time he’d touched her since last night and though it made her feel sick to her stomach, she figured she’d allow it as a parting gift. 

The air stood still for a few elongated seconds that seemed to drag out for an eternity. Finally, one of them spoke up. 

“Y/N...” Harry had choked on the singular word, swallowing thickly in an attempt to recuperate. 

The syllables seemed to lodge in his throat, outright refusing to emerge, likely due to the fact that he spent the day soundlessly moping to himself. He forced them out anyways in a low croak. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons. 

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.” 

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution. 

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence. 

Harry had cleared his throat softly, mind treading through his jumbled thoughts to try and sew together a worthy sentence, the pad of his forefinger tracing down the visible threads of Y/N’s worn jeans. 

“I didn’t mean any of it.” 

Though it’s the truth, it sounds feeble and pathetic. His words had then started tumbling out of his mouth with no rhyme or rhythm but simply in an attempt to communicate his rawest emotions. 

“That’s not an excuse or anything, but I just want to make sure that you know. And if I knew all of this was going to happen, I would’ve never brought it up in the first place. You’re important to me— I hope that all the time we’ve spent together shows that— and to lose you over something like this…” Harry pauses, choking up at the sheer notion of having to let her go. He continues his speech slowly to avoid another mishap, though it quivers nonetheless. “To lose you over something that was so stupid on my part would tear me to shreds, Y/N. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There’s nothing I can do now except apologize until my voice gives out and pray that you give me the chance to make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it and I know that the damage I’ve done could be beyond repair, but I also know that I will spend every second trying to mend it if you allow me to. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I know we’re young and that it sounds dramatic and I’ve been told a billion times over that I love too deeply for my own good but I don’t care because I know it’s the truth. Without even the slightest bit of doubt.”

His words had echoed across the walls of the flat, the dim buttery light of the single lamp in the living room casting their seated shadows over the creme surfaces. The dark silhouettes of their bodies seemed to absorb his message, picking it right out of the air and engulfing it into the ominous shade. 

All that could be heard was Y/N’s faint breathing as she processed his confession and the occasional sniffle on his part. The silence stretched for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds— Harry had counted. A frail distraction, but a distraction either way.

A deep inhale had cut off his mental stopwatch and he could tell Y/N had cried recently before arriving because the air had to force itself through her stuffy nose. His index finger had twitched anxiously against her knee. He found himself counting again, this time the target had been the thin lines of the rug beneath the reinforced glass of the coffee table. He hadn't known it then, but his urge to count whatever he could to pass the time had been the start of what would later develop into a coping mechanism.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

It had only been a day but Harry had missed the sound of her voice more than he’d ever care to admit. She was talking to him rather than at him and it was enough to halt the fresh flood of tears that had been gathering across the glossy sheen of his irises. It was a victory, no matter how small. 

The sentence she spoke, however, was a whole new battle he had to face within itself. 

The words hurt, but luckily, they didn’t cut. There were dozens of harsher possibilities of what could’ve come out of her mouth and that makes him thankful for what he’d received. 

Harry had shifted in his seat, pulling the sleeve of his old Greenbay Packers sweatshirt over his free hand and tucking his arm across his stomach. His other hand remained on Y/N’s leg as non-intrusively as possible. “Is there anything you want to get out? Anything at all? I want to hear it no matter how bad you think it is. I deserve it as much as you deserve to express your feelings.” 

He hadn’t noticed when, but at some point he had absentmindedly tilted his head up to look at her. What brought it into clear attention was when she did the same and their eyes met. 

Y/N’s expression had crushed the oxygen from Harry’s lungs. 

He had hoped it would be different after everything he had said. That her eyes would hold some form of love within them, even if it was shrouded with sadness and disappointment. He had aimed to draw an ounce of forgiveness from her that he could cling onto and expand; he had aimed for redemption. 

Instead, her eyes held the same barren gaze that she had doted when she had walked in— vacant acceptance. 

Her own speech had confirmed his worst fears. 

“I don’t know if we have a future together. All I know is that right now, I feel like I could never forgive you for what you did. Watching you treat someone you barely knew the way you treat me made me feel like what we have isn’t real. Sex can be something both meaningless and meaningful and the lines between those two is finer than most people think. And even though I know in my heart that you’re telling the truth about not feeling anything towards her, I just can’t let it go. I can’t. I can’t get over the fact that you called her what you call me. That you kissed, touched, and held her the same way you do me. You made her feel the same way you make me feel. And the whole time, I was sitting there watching you do it, begging you not to and trying to communicate to you that you were crossing the line and you didn’t even notice.”

Y/N had lifted her hand from her lap, running the back of her wrist across her cheeks messily. Harry could see the tears sparkling on her lashes and he felt like his chest cavity was going to collapse in on itself. 

When she had spoken again, her voice was tight and packed with all of the pain she’d been holding onto since the incident happened. 

“You took all of the private little things that had built our relationship and shared them with someone else just to get your dick wet.” She releases a short spurt of a laugh, miserable and humorless, her palms smacking down against her thighs as she shrugs her shoulders for emphasis. “Intimacy is the most important factor of genuine love and you went and tossed it around like it was nothing. We’ll never be able to regain that; not in the way we had it before. I don’t know if I could ever trust you with it again. I shared myself with you because I love you— we opened up to each other in that way because we worked up to it. And now that you so carelessly let yourself have it with someone else, I’m too disappointed and hurt and fucking terrified to let you see me vulnerable like that again.”

Y/N had locked her eyes with Harry’s and his heart had shattered into a million shards. 

They had been swollen and bloodshot, tiny red veins webbing across the dull white, scraping at her irises and relentlessly chipping the color from them. There was no twinkle left whatsoever; the specks that normally decorated around her pupils had completely defused, disappearing into the murky sea of the muted shade behind them. 

“You broke my fucking heart, Harry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let you pick up the pieces.”

He had never heard her say his name like that, so dismal and void of emotion. He’d never felt more unworthy of love than at that moment and he knew there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He’d fucked up and now he had no choice but to marinate in it for the rest of his days. 

The process of separating was painfully fast. 

As it turns out, when she had left the morning after everything had happened, she had gone to visit Niall. 

Niall had been the mutual friend that had introduced Harry and Y/N in the first place so, naturally, Y/N’s first instinct had been to seek his counsel. She had kept the details of the breakup to herself but from how distraught she had seemed when Niall had opened the door to his flat, his hair sticking up at weird angles and his eyes crusted over with sleep, he had known it was not on good terms. She had stood there with dried trails of tears staining her cheeks as her entire body shook like a leaf and the second he had opened his arms caringly, she immediately collapsed into them, violent sobs wracking her body unapologetically. 

The Irish lad was as big-hearted and supportive as friends came and it was seen in how he offered her the spare room in his apartment that was normally occupied as a home gym. 

“I haven’t had a roomie since I was twenty but as long as y’don’t leave your dirty underwear in the living room, I think we’ll get along just swell.”

With Niall’s help, Y/N had finished moving out by the end of that same week. 

They did the brunt of the job while Harry was busy at work, though there was an awkward instance when he unexpectedly came home early on the last day of moving. 

Luckily enough, Niall had been the one retrieving the last couple of items so Y/N was saved from the ordeal. 

The two men had contemplated each other, Niall standing with the cardboard box tucked beneath his arm while Harry stood parallel to him stiffly, keys grasped tightly in his fist. Harry didn’t know how much Niall knew of what had happened, and he didn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth, so he had remained silent until the blue-eyed boy finally spoke up first. 

“Mate, I don’t know what happened between you two or why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this torn up before.” 

Harry had sighed, partially in relief, but mostly in forlorn agreement at Niall’s comment. This was Y/N’s indirect way of telling him that the reason behind their breakup was meant to be kept a secret amongst their friend group. It was one last act of kindness towards him on her part because both of them knew that if word got out on what had happened, everyone would likely turn on Harry and shun him out. Y/N didn’t want that for him— despite everything, she found herself genuinely wishing him the best because she still loved him. A part of her always would, no matter how deeply she tried to bury it. 

The last thing she needed was to cling onto bitterness and make him suffer; it would be counterproductive considering her end goal was to move on. The whole situation would stay hidden and hopefully everything would eventually blow over. 

Avoiding each other proved trickier than expected in the beginning, but it gradually became routine amidst their everyday lives. 

Y/N avoided grocery shopping at Harry’s favorite market and he proceeded to change the coffee shop he went to every morning before work, well aware that it was the one she fancied the most due to the specific brand of creamer they carried. Y/N insisted on the second closest movie theatre whenever she went out with her friends for a film, knowing that Harry liked the one closest to Niall’s apartment because it was smaller, more homey, and did free refills on popcorn and drinks. Harry started frequenting the gas station near the twenty-four hour gym instead of the one near Y/N’s place of work and started doing his early morning jogs at the park on the opposite side of town, which wasn’t too bad considering it was only about a ten minute drive. Y/N stopped going to art museums all together— they were mainly Harry’s thing, either way. 

When it came down to their friends, they did the best they could. Whenever there would be a plan to go out for lunch, dinner, drinking, or any other event, they made sure to invite one and not the other, alternating turns. It kept the situation fair, though birthday parties were much more complicated. Staying on opposite ends of the club or flat would have to do. 

No one ever questioned the breakup too thoroughly, thankfully. All Y/N told them was that it ended really badly and that what was best was that they stayed clear of each other. Harry stuck to whatever he learned Y/N had said, brushing off the occasional curiosity thrown his way with a tired, “I’d rather not talk about it, yeah?” 

They were grateful to all of their friends for not pushing for details too much and respecting their privacy. Family members were harder to shake off, but both managed to keep things under wraps with the right amount of sternness. 

///

Three weeks and four days had gone by, according to Harry’s calendar, and things were remaining seemingly civil. That is, until Harry had a bit too much to drink on the fifth day and ended up drunk calling Y/N as he sat on the floor of his kitchen, eating from what he was sure was an expired box of Cheerios while counting floor tiles and wondering why the fuck he even liked tequila in the first place. 

The phone had rung three times and then the line abruptly cut off, sending Harry right to voicemail. 

“Hey, this is Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

His eyes had immediately begun to water as her voice crackled through the speaker of his phone. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d heard it and he hates that he had almost forgotten its gentle trill. The bright chime of her words were so different than the last time he’d heard her speak— her tone was easy and good-natured rather than dismal and hurt and he missed when she would regard him that way. Now, it was directed at a random person on the other end of her phone line who she might not even know and for some reason, that made his stomach twist. 

The Cheerios had started to taste funny so he opened the cabinet across from his spot on the ground and chucked them in the bin. He had then leaned back against the wall of the kitchen island, head repeatedly thunking against the polished hardwood as he redialed her number and waited, tiny hiccups plucking at his vocal chords and shuddering his shoulders without consent.

This time, it had rang only once before cutting off, meaning that she knew it was him and that she was actively delicining.

But Harry’s stubborn and insistent— which admittedly are some of his worst traits— and the fact that he had been shit-faced had fueled these characteristics. He’d continued to call her another four times before the line was finally picked up. 

His voice had filled with enamored relief as he quickly sat up, a weak smile starting to spread his cracked lips. “Y/N, hi, I—”

“Harry, you gotta cut this shit out, man.” 

It wasn’t Y/N. The person speaking had a much deeper voice with a smooth, raspy undercurrent covered in a heavy Irish accent. Their tone held a stern yet concerned edge.

“This isn’t good for either of you. You’ve got to try and move on, H.” 

It was Niall and he was on Y/N’s phone and Harry could feel himself about to vomit. 

He had forced himself to speak, clutching his stomach with one hand as if it would keep the bile from rising. His words came out slurred and numb, tongue feeling heavy and unbelievably large in his mouth. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s asleep and you should be, too. It’s three in the morning.” 

Harry’s brows had cinched down angrily over his lashes. Somehow, in his muddled brain, he was able to form a coherent train of thought about the current situation. If Y/N was asleep, that meant her phone had probably been on a nightstand beside her bed or splayed across her duvet or even on the floor considering she had a habit of twisting and turning too much. If Niall had picked it up, it meant he had to be in close proximity to her. It meant he had been in her room, possibly in her bed...

Harry’s throat burned as acid rose from his stomach. 

“I wanna talk to—”

He was cut off by the alcohol he’d had earlier resurfacing and splattering across the off-white kitchen tiles he’d been counting. 

The spluttering noises filtered through the phone crystal clear, much to his friend’s disgust.

“Jesus, Harry, just get yourself together, will you?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and then Niall’s voice had come through again, gentler and less annoyed. “Do you need me to come over and help?” 

“No.” Harry had blurted out with panic evident in his demeanor. He’d wiped at his soiled mouth with the sleeve of his black Nike jumper, staring hollowly as the mess before him traveled across the cracks of his floor. An all too familiar swelling had started to fill his tear ducts. “No, I’m fine. Goodnight.” 

Apparently, it had been the third time he’d drunk-called in the span of two weeks, though he didn’t remember the first two times. He did remember this third time though— the stench stuck to his sweatshirt for a while. 

///

The next month that followed that cursed Friday night had been significantly better for Harry. 

He went out with friends and actually had fun more times than not, as long as he didn’t let his mind wander to what Y/N could be doing since she wasn’t with the group. Slowly but surely, he began to mend. 

The movies had always been his and Y/N’s favorite date idea so the first couple of times he’d gone out to see a film after the breakup had been tough, but he’d powered through the rough patches. Their favored seats at the very back of the cinema had gradually just become exactly that— seats. He was eventually able to enter a theatre without even as much as a glance to the last row. When Harry would go out to eat, he relearned not to order in excess anymore since he wouldn’t be needing those extra fries or two extra beef tacos or those couple buffalo wings she used to pick at religiously. Going out for drinks was easier on his wallet now that he could drink both of the two-for-one Happy Hour shots, the only issue being that sometimes he’d forget and order the next round while he had a perfectly untouched whiskey shot right there. He had sworn off tequila— he could still feel the way it had seared his throat, somehow manifesting an aftertaste of honeyed cereal.

Niall usually went out with the rest of the gang, but not as much as he used to and that bothered Harry extremely— bothered him to the point where he’d get the overwhelming urge to tear his hair out if he allowed himself to amble in his head too much. He hated being the jealous type, especially when he was no longer entitled to it. Especially not when Niall was such a nice best friend, willingly present for him on the nights where things went downhill and he needed someone to pick him off the ground— literally— and tell him that he would be alright.

The days Niall missed out were spent with Y/N and it wasn’t a secret. Harry had heard about how much closer they’d gotten recently through conversations that would happen across the other side of the booth, when his friends thought he wasn’t paying attention or that he was too sloshed to be properly present. He wasn’t, though. He was hyper-aware of every anecdote and syllable exchanged and it would make his mouth go sour. 

One night, he had drummed up enough courage to ask Niall outright about Y/N. They’d been out bowling and the Irish brunette had been standing off to the side waiting his turn, sipping on a pint and cackling his ass off every time Adam rolled the ball into the sideline gutters. 

Harry had been standing next to him for a while, leaning back against the machine that redispensed the bowling balls, taking tiny gulps of his third white rum margarita. The liquor filled his tummy with a certain type of empty warmth that numbed his better judgement and before he could talk himself out of it, the words were escaping his lips in a low, sheepish tone. 

“How’s Y/N?”

Niall had paused mid-sip, his entire body going rigid for a second as he kept the rim of his large glass perched at his lips. He had then pulled back from his beer, licking the froth off his Cupid’s Bow and craning his neck to acknowledge the green-eyed boy directly. 

“She’s doin’ good. Treading through the bills and tryin’ t’fill the rest with thrills, like we all do.” 

Despite the light nature of his response, Niall’s accent had been heavier and Harry’s not sure if it was due to the alcohol or the tension-packed subject of conversation. Probably both. 

Harry had nodded his head slowly— casually— and taken an ice cube into his mouth, cracking it with his teeth in the way Y/N used to scold him for. He had stared intently at the condensation gathering around the tips of his warm fingers for a few heartbeats before looking back up at Niall with aching curiosity. 

“Is she happy?”

The Irish bloke had opened his mouth to answer, and then hesitated, thinking over what he had been about to say. That teeny fraction of time filled Harry with enough nerve-grating suspense to that he was sure he’d pop a blood vessel.

Niall had cleared his throat softly, sighing tiredly through his nose. “She’s better than she was right after the split.” 

Harry hates that Y/N’s doing better. He knows how petty and selfish it comes off, but he can’t help it. If she’s doing better without him, it means she might never need him again— it means he’s replaceable to her. He can hardly fathom that thought without the backs of his eyes prickling. 

Harry had swallowed thickly, nose stinging and jaw clenching. “Is she seeing anyone?” 

Niall tilted his cup against his mouth, savoring the tanginess of the beer, grateful for its help in making this talk way easier. He’d given Harry a sympathetic slink of his head. “I don’t think that’s the type of question you should be asking, Har. One day, you might not like the answer you get.”

Harry’s fingers had tightened around the stout cylindrical glass in his grasp, rings biting into his skin. His voice came out strained but unwavering. “Is she?”

His friend’s blue eyes had flitted across different points of his face, sussing out Harry’s attitude and whether he could be convinced to back down on this specific topic. 

When it was obvious he wouldn’t budge, Niall sighed heavily once again, this time through his lips. “She’s not, no.”

Harry can’t quite place a name to the flood of emotions that had crashed into him like a tidal wave. The closest he can relate the experience to is breaking the surface of an ocean of suffocating uninformed doubt, instead filling his lungs with illogical optimism and stunned relief. 

There was hope for them, even if the sliver was fine as a hair. 

Harry had found himself drawing closer to Niall, eyes doe-like and pleading, the neon lights of the bowling alley washing his face out with bright purples and drunken blues. “I wanna see her.”

“You can’t.” The objection had been quick and authoritative, causing Harry to blink as if he’d just been smacked between the eyes.

“Why?” It was a stupid question— he knew why. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of them.

“Because you’re only going to set yourself back. And even though you might not be thinking of the consequences it could have, I am, and I’m not going to let you hurt her or yourself more than you already have.”

And that’s when Harry realized that Niall knew. He’d heard the whole story.

The guilt-ridden young man had broken eye contact, looking down at his scuffed heeled boots. “You know.” 

“She told me a while back.” Niall’s confirmation had hung across Harry’s shoulders like a lead jacket. “You fucked up, mate. Bad.”

A weak, remorseful, “I know.” was all he could muster. 

“She knows you didn’t mean it, but I don’t know if you can come back from this, H.”

Harry repeated his previous phrase, but this time, it had been heavy with a form of undignified recognition. He was slowly coming to terms with the crushing possibility that he might never get her back. 

He’d downed the last of his drink, feeling it reluctantly settle into his stomach. He had then locked gazes with Niall once again, his own conflicted and needy, which in turn caused his friend’s to mold into one of deep worry and pity. 

“Will you just...Will you tell her that I love her so much. That I love her to the point where it’s pathetic. And that I’m so fucking sorry. That a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of her and that I’d give fucking anything to earn her trust again...And that I found her Sherpa jumper under the bed and washed it in case she wants it back.” 

Niall had snorted lightly, shaking his head in amusement at Harry’s ability to be so unintentionally pure even under the most stressful circumstances. He’d tossed an arm across the jade-eyed boy’s loaded shoulders, pulling him into a hug that was very obviously needed. 

The reluctance had melted out of Harry in less than a breath, his arms wrapping around Niall’s torso, face pressing into the shorter man’s broad left shoulder. The tears he was holding back were evident in his quaking voice. “I miss her.”

Niall had remained silent for a while, not wanting to push any more boundaries. 

He had made due with running his palm across the expanse of Harry’s back in soothing circles, only speaking up when he felt his mate’s tears seeping into his knitted sweater. 

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah? You’re gonna get through this.” 

Niall wasn’t entirely sure if his words were the truth. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his best friend, so he comforted him to the best of his ability and prayed that whatever happened in the couple’s future would bring them closure. 

Harry had gotten home that night feeling deflated and more regretful than ever. The emotional exhaustion had fused into his muscles and joints and he’d ended up collapsing on the couch, too depleted to take the walk down the corridor that led to his bedroom. 

His sleep was restless and worthless, as it tended to be of late, but it beat having to sulk consciously. The pain was less sharp and his sorrows were covered in a hazy fog that somehow made everything bearable. He slept well into the afternoon and awoke with a mean kink in his neck and a dull thumping in the back of his skull— karma, obviously, for his lack of self-care and shitty drinking habits. Nothing coffee couldn’t fix.

///

As it turns out, Niall had struggled some to pass on Harry’s message to the intended party. 

Y/N had been sitting on the couch when he’d gotten home from the bowling alley, snuggled cozily in a Friends blanket Niall had gotten last Christmas in a game of White Elephant. She had been so focused on an episode of Master Chef that she hadn’t even heard him unlock the door. 

Y/N had momentarily glanced away from her show when she saw Niall enter the living room through her peripheral vision, watching as he toed off his rusty brown Clarks boots, kicking them into the corner beside the television stand. “How was bowling?”

“It was good! Mitch beat me by two points but, frankly, I think he cheated while I went to refill my pint.”

Y/N had scoffed in amusement, taking a sip of the chamomile tea in her Mickey Mouse mug, shaking her head distractedly. “Can you even cheat in bowling?”

Niall had shrugged his navy blue peacoat of his shoulders, draping it over the backrest of the worn recliner that was perpendicular to the couch she was currently inhabiting. He’d arched his eyebrows challengingly. “Obviously there has to be a way ‘cause I never lose. And especially never to Mitch and his shitty hand-eye coordination.”

Y/N had set down her mug in the small hole created by her crossed legs, the warmth of the drink radiating through the ceramic cup and seeping through her cloud-patterned pajama pants, heating her inner thighs soothingly. Her expression had then matched up to his, brows raised tauntingly. “Or maybe you were just off your game.”

Niall had slumped into the old recliner, sighing heavily as it creaked and extended. The Irish bloke had snuggled deeper into the cushioning of the seat, absentmindedly wiggling his toes in their rainbow polka-dotted socks before giving his housemate a pointed look. “Maybe you should shut up and go back to watching random people make squash noodles.” 

“Actually, it’s eggplant ravioli.”

“Actually, that sounds like arse.” 

A round of bubbly laughter had belted out of Y/N and it had been contagious, the same type of giggling escaping from Niall’s lips. Then, comfortable silence had fallen over the two as they centered their attention back onto the cooking show. 

Niall hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic. There was no real proper segway into conversations about exes— he didn’t want to upset Y/N with the sudden intrusion on her healing process. But he had made a promise to Harry. 

Aside from the obvious negative factors, mentioning him would also give Niall insight into how she was currently feeling about the entire situation. He’d be able to accurately gauge what her emotions had resolved on the matter and therefore be able to give Harry a solid response on whether he had any chance left for reconciliation. He’d be able to confidently tell him whether hanging on was worth it or if letting go was the best choice. 

Though Niall and Y/N had been living together for almost two months, she hadn’t started opening up to him fully about the breakup until three weeks in. And even with the whole story laid out bare for him to examine, Y/N shared very little of her mending path with him until they were five weeks in. For a while, her version of “opening up” was simply telling him what had occurred and he’d had to fill in the rest of the mental and emotional blanks himself. 

It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that she had been feeling like utter shit right after it happened— insecurity was awfully present as well as the haunting weight of thinking she wasn’t enough. Though Harry had put those worries to rest the day they had separated, they still lingered in her subconscious, constantly poking and prodding and picking at the membrane of recovery she had developed around her heart.

Y/N had felt numb for days after she had ended things. Boiling anger had created a buffer for the pain that was dwelling just under the surface and it had powered her for about three weeks. Then, at four in the morning on a random Thursday, her real emotions had burst through the fine cracks that had been webbing themselves into that unstable wall of rage. 

She’d had a dream about him that was actually a memory. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the scene as it had been one of many alike— they had been cuddling on the couch. But for some reason, it cracked something inside her. 

It had been scarily vivid to the point where she could feel the ridges of Harry’s finger pads tenderly passing over the skin of her exposed arm as she had laid between his legs, her head nestled into his strong chest, ear drums thumping with the sound of his relaxed heartbeat. She could feel his breathing, pectoral muscles rising and falling with penetrating inhales that had fallen into rhythm with her own. There had been faint movement above her and a sudden warmth had erupted across her forehead, his lips flushing caringly between her brows. The heated glow had washed down her temples and nose like syrup, vignetting her mind with a feathery, sleepy haze. It dripped over her tingling cheeks and buzzing ears, running down her neck and infusing into her chest, calming her from the inside out. He had whispered something unintelligible against her skin, his deep voice warbled as if he was talking underwater. Though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, the mellow, pleasant tone of his voice was enough to lull her. She had never felt happier, more fulfilled, and more at peace than at that moment. 

Harry had always been the one factor that could drown out the static of her troubles with the simplest caress of his touch. He could make any problem sink away just by cupping her jaw and thumbing over her cheekbones. Could make the end of the world creak to a stop just by knitting his mouth to her’s. Could melt away any obstacle by brushing his palm over the dip of her spine. He had always been there, and at the time, it had felt like he always would be. Through that assured remedy of relief, she had been able to live her life one step at a time, bracing even the worst moments with a clear mind and strengthened energy, all because he stood behind her— with his warm hands and consoling aura— every inch of the way. 

Y/N didn’t have that anymore and though she pushed it down and claimed it didn’t phase her, she was falling apart inside. 

It was only a matter of time before it came rushing out all at once. 

She had jerked awake from the dream as if she’d been stabbed, face wet with tears, her pillowcase dampened to the point where she would have to replace it. The breakdown that followed hadn’t included any screaming or slamming or stomping; it had been quiet and concise, much like Harry’s on the day she had left. 

She’d laid on her side, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her knees to her chest, drawing into her body as if it could keep all of her feelings from spilling out. Heavy tears had swelled her already bloodshot eyes, her entire face stinging as fresh sheens of water washed down the dried saltiness of the ones prior. Her nose had run so badly she’d had to resort to using an old t-shirt as a tissue. The sounds that had escaped her were low and broken— cracked, stuttery whimpers with no real words behind them. The noises were just another outlet for the aching to seep out; her eyes just weren’t enough. 

Her back had hunched over as she constricted into herself even further, burying her face into her sopping pillow, feeling hot tears soak into the saturated fabric. She could barely breathe that way and it helped calm her down some— no air meant no sobbing. No sobbing meant she was on the way to picking the pieces back up to put herself together again.

It took her awhile to come to her bearings. Her body had stopped shaking but the tears didn’t seem to want to go away. It irritated her that she couldn’t control this— she hated not being able to do anything other than just drown in it. 

Without meaning to, she had released a gut-wrenching growl of frustration that tapered off into another round of heart-breaking sobbing. Her stomach throbbed, the pain so deep it was almost palpable. 

Y/N had hoped the pillow would muffle it enough not to wake Niall, unaware that he was already up. He’d awoken on his own, making a trip to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. He’d been sipping at it slowly, mind still stuck in a meaningless dream, when the sudden noise had echoed down the hall that led to Y/N’s room. 

Niall rubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, irises grey with sleep. He had blinked a few times, downing the rest of his water and setting the glass down carefully onto the marble counter, trying to limit any sound interference as his ears strained to listen for any more crying. He had wanted to make sure he wasn’t imagining it in a half-unconscious stupor. 

But no, it was very much real. If he focused enough, he could just barely hear the soft sobbing coming from his friend’s bedroom. He had a good guess on what it was about.

He’d stood still for a moment, mulling over what he should do. His first instinct had been to go in and comfort her, but with more thought, he wondered if it would be better not to meddle in her grieving out of respect for her privacy. He knows that if he were crying over a bad breakup, he’d want to be left alone. But he also knows that shouldering a burden like the one she’d faced could put anyone in a really dark place; he wasn’t just going to stand around and let her crash and burn. 

Niall had wandered down the corridor attentively, footsteps light as to not startle Y/N. He’d turned to knob to the door with immense care, pushing it open with his shoulder and peeking in. 

The crying had stopped abruptly, which gave away that she knew he was there. He couldn’t see much in the dark room— the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the curtains didn’t do much for the fact that he was lacking his glasses— but he could see the silhouette of Y/N’s body curled up under the duvet, trembling ever so slightly with the effort of keeping in her sobbing. 

Her housemate had cleared his throat to get rid of the gravel in his dormant voice, as well as to fully alert her of his presence. His words had still come out in a raspy croak, but at least they were understandable. “You alright in here?” 

Y/N had sniffled feverishly, desperate to put out a collected facade. She hated when people saw her so vulnerable without her anticipating it. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in.” 

Her voice had cracked near the end of her response, giving away that she wasn’t good at all. The air had been silent for a moment, then Niall’s muddled footsteps thudded against the thick carpet.

Y/N could feel him standing behind her, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, the soft scent of his ocean-scented deodorant tickling her itching nose. “Are you sure?”

There had been no response other than the comforter tightening around her frame. Her hair was splayed across her face in a wild, matted mess, keeping him from being able to read her features. 

Niall had sighed heavily and then the bed had dipped with his weight, sheets shifting and springs squeaking as he settled into place beside her, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. 

More silence followed, Y/N refusing to budge. She hadn’t wanted to drag him into this considering he was still friends with Harry; she didn’t want to split him down the middle or force him to take care of her alongside her ex. She knew Niall too well, certain that he had been offering help to Harry, too. She’d heard him answer the array of drunken phone calls on her behalf so she wouldn’t have to deal with more trauma. She’d heard him leaving the house at unintelligible hours only to return smelling like Harry’s favorite vanilla cinnamon candle. She’d even found one of Harry’s t-shirts (which she had gotten him herself) in the laundry basket, which had probably been lent to Niall after an alcohol-related accident. 

Niall was too kind for his own good— too caring. Y/N had learned a lot about him in the time they had lived together and the one characteristic that stood out more than anything was his savior complex— his default setting to provide love and assurance to anyone that needed it, no matter the stress it put on himself. She didn’t want to take unfair advantage of that. 

Her friend’s voice had torn her out of her guilt trip, loaded with adamant concern. “Y/N, I’m not leaving this room until I know you’re genuinely better so stop being stubborn and let me help.” 

She’d jerked suddenly when she felt his large hand coast up her back. His touch was gentle and nurturing, squeezing her shoulder expectantly. It wasn’t hard for her to let go into him. 

Y/N had turned towards Niall, hand ducking out from beneath the duvet cocoon she’d swaddled herself in, moving her hair out of her splotchy face. Their eyes had locked and she’d immediately felt the remaining anguish flush out of her system. 

The look on his face was so kind and protective and it made her feel safer than she had in the last couple of weeks. Even in the limited lighting, she could see his eyes were glossy with the genuine desire to help her heal, inviting her to share her problems with him, silently promising that they could shoulder the weight of it together. She didn’t have to fight this on her own. 

Y/N had spent the rest of the night in Niall’s arms, crying into his chest and utterly drenching his Eagles t-shirt, though he didn’t complain once. He had kept his lips pressed to the top of her head, running his warm palm up and down her shuddering back and telling her that she shouldn’t bottle up her feelings— that it didn’t make her weak to show them, that openly sorting through them with someone else would make it less scary, and most importantly, that it was “okay not to be okay all the time.” 

For the next month or so, Y/N and Niall’s heart-to-hearts had been a real breakthrough for her. All of her undealt fear and self-doubt no longer badgered her anymore— it was almost all gone. She hadn’t felt this emotionally liberated since before the split and she could feel the shards of her heart welding themselves back together, ushering her into a more healthy, serene state of mind. She was on the road to her old self again and the relief it brought was otherworldly. 

It could be seen physically, too. The bags under her eyes had faded and her face carried a certain rejuvenated glow that it had lacked for weeks. Her smile and laughter were buoyant and loud again, not hindered by any inner conflict anymore whatsoever. When she went out with her friends, she didn’t find herself mentally checking out in the middle of conversations or movies or drinks like she had plenty of times before. She actively participated and engaged in events instead of just going through the motions and it felt so fucking good to get a taste of actual joy for the first time in so long. Things were looking up, and though she still had that hole in her chest that only Harry could fill, she was learning to deal with it in a beneficial and independent manner. It was okay not to be okay all the time. 

///

All of these instances had scattered across Niall’s eyes, whirling around in his skull as he sat back in the old recliner, trying to decide if he should pass on Harry’s bowling alley message onto Y/N. He knew she was doing way better, but he didn’t know if hearing from Harry would break her all over again. He didn’t want that, but he also didn’t want the sheer sound of his name to send her into a self-destructive spiral for the rest of her life— she had to learn to cope with him being mentioned regularly because it was bound to start happening again. People couldn’t walk on eggshells around both of them forever. 

And Niall also needed to know where she stood on her relationship to the British boy— whether she was willing to give it another shot or whether it was best to tell Harry to move on completely. They were adults, after all, so questions needed to be answered and ties needed to be either tightened or severed for good.

“Harry was there.” 

“I know, Niall. That’s the reason I wasn’t.” 

Her tone had taken him by surprise. It had been jokeful and amused, holding no obvious resentment he could detect. It’d been a good start to the Ex Talk, if Niall had ever seen one, as long as it didn’t turn into her using humor as a deflecting mechanism. 

“He asked about you.”

Y/N’s hands had tightened around her mug, crossed legs shifting her weight. She had broken away from the television screen, meeting Niall’s cautiously hesitant gaze. Her eyes had held an emotion that he couldn’t quite place— it was mostly blank, but it held a smidge of something he could only think to refer to as pained curiosity. 

When she’d spoken again, it had been soft and fragile. “What’d he say?” 

Niall had leaned forward in his seat, elbows propping onto his parted knees as his fingers sifted together, chin resting on his knuckles. His voice had been as cautious and hesitant as the look in his sky blue irises. “He said to tell you that he misses you and that he’s terribly sorry. That he’d do anything to earn your trust again, that a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t think about you, and that he loves you so much ‘to the point where it’s pathetic.’ His exact words.” 

Y/N had been quiet for a while afterward, the TV droning on in the background with chefs running around kitchens, cursing about food burning and incorrect ingredients. Niall hadn’t pushed her on an answer; he’d simply sat back with his hands flat across his belly, allowing her all the time she needed to process the speech. 

When she finally spoke up again, her voice had been taut, strained by the heaviness of the message she’d received. “Anything else?”

Niall had intentionally left the lightest part of the conversation for the end, hoping it would provide her with some form of ease, as minimal as it would be. “Yeah, he said you left your Sherpa jumper at his place and was wondering if you wanted it back. If I were you, I’d say yes. Fleece sweaters are fuck-you-in-the-arse expensive.” 

His comment had the intended affect, his heart fluttering with relief as he watched Y/N’s face break into a huge grin, eyes crinkling as airy laughter bounced all around her. Some of the tension in her body remained, but most of it had dissipated out. A fraction is better than none. 

Y/N had managed to talk through her giggles. “Yeah, I think I would like my sweater back, actually.” 

“Great!” Niall had clapped his hands together once, head wobbling in a jerky shake for silly emphasis. He’d pushed his palms against the armrests of the recliner, catapulting himself onto his feet and pointing at Y/N playfully. “I’ll get that sorted for you, then. Now, if you need me, I’m gonna be in my room, passed out on my bed for the next twelve hours, neck-deep in a beer coma. Feel free to check if I’m breathing every now and then, yeah? Got a dentist appointment next week that I’d hate to be dead for.” 

Y/N had sat on Harry’s words for the next week or so. They hadn’t spurred her into a meltdown (as she’s sure Niall had worried they would), but they did loiter in the back of her mind, keeping her awake past appropriate hours by playing her heart strings like a violin. 

There was one part of the message specifically that took up a chunk of her sleep more than the others, scattering inside her head and running along the crevices of her brain, the meaning behind it stirring the pit of her stomach into a hollowed frenzy: I love you so much to the point where it’s pathetic.

That one measly sentence carried so much baggage to unpack.

Harry’s choice of words were transparent on how he was dealing in the aftermath of the split. 

Y/N knew how much of a hopeless romantic he was— it had been obvious in the way he had put her on a pedestal for the entirety of their relationship, constantly showering her with all different types of affection to let her know how much he cherished her. It ranged from the simplest gestures— like keeping her favorite chocolates stocked inside the pantry at all times— to extravagant actions— like randomly buying her an expensive necklace she’d stared at for a bit too long at the mall. He was always aware of her, always going out of his way to show her how much he loved her, and she had never felt more appreciated than when she was with him. 

When it came to expressing that love verbally, Harry only ever connected it to words that carried positive connotations. Words like, “truly,” “madly,” “deeply,” “immensely,” “entirely,” and “wholeheartedly.” He wanted her to know that when he thought of her, any negativity was immediately expelled from his mind; she could always make him happy, no matter what. 

This being taken into consideration, one can understand why Y/N had been utterly baffled when Niall had told her that he’d referred to his love for her as “pathetic.” It gave her insight into just how hard he was taking the breakup— hard enough to the point where he was so desperate to get her back that he felt pathetic. This told her that he loved her so much he was willing to admit that it was sad and pitiful, especially since he was a grown man, and especially because they’d been split for just over two months. That span of time is long enough for a person to at least start moving on; long enough for someone to sever themselves from that stage of hopelessly clinging to what once was and to look forward to what the future could bring. 

But instead, Harry had allowed himself to regress back into a lapse of needy pining, pleading with Niall— and in public, no less— to tell her that he missed her so much it was embarrassing; that he cared for her to the extent that it was humiliating; that he loved her to the point where it was miserable. He wanted her to know that what he had done had been tearing at him nonstop since it happened, that it would likely haunt him for years to come, and that he would never forgive himself for it. 

All of these confessions weren’t any different than what he had told her the day they had broken up— they were the same bullets he’d hit when he was sitting before her, teary-eyed and distressed, begging her to give him another chance. However, for a reason unbeknownst to her, they penetrated deeper this time, slamming her square in the chest like someone had punched through her ribs, squeezing her heart with their fist.

Maybe it was the fact that she had finally let go of the splintering anger she’d been clutching onto from that day, which had likely blinded her from absorbing the rawness behind Harry’s apology. Maybe it was that she’d had weeks to work through all of her jumbled emotions, finally untangling herself from the bitterness that had been clouding her mind for what felt like ages. Maybe it was just the simple notion that she fucking missed him— missed him more than her pride would ever let her admit. 

Missed the way his nose would scrunch up in distaste when he didn’t agree with something, the way the edges of his eyes would wrinkle when he smiled, missed his boyish giggling and how it would go up in pitch when he laughed too hard. She missed the way his dimples would carve into his cheeks when he smirked, the way the little mole under the left corner of his lips would jolt with the slightest motion of his mouth, and the way his large, warm hands would feel as he would knot their fingers together, his thumb caressing over the tops of her knuckles. 

Y/N missed the way her head would sink into his chest when she would hug him, his arms cradling her against his body while he played with the ends of her hair. She missed the small group of freckles at the base of his neck— missed tracing them with her lips while he chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into spontaneous giggles at the feathery sensation. She missed the way he smelled, like mandarin shampoo and musky, spiced deodorant and his ocean salt cologne and that stupid fucking candle.

Y/N had remained on the fence for a few days about what to do, mentally jotting down the pros and cons of reaching out to Harry to make amends. The defining moment had been the day she’d gotten her sweater back. 

///

Niall had gone out with Harry to see a movie, returning home with the Sherpa jumper hung across one of his forearms, tucked into his elbow. He’d held it out for her between his thumbs and index fingers, flapping it back and forth triumphantly, eyebrows arched with dramatic glee as a huge goofy grin buckled his cheeks. “Look at what we have here, then!” 

He’d tossed it towards her on his way to the kitchen, belting out a cocky, “You’re welcome!” over his shoulder before disappearing behind the archway. 

The minute Y/N had caught the hoodie in her arms, the scent hit her like a bus. It invaded her nostrils without permission, sending a sharp ache through her chest. 

It was perfectly faint since Harry’s smell never tended to be overpowering— he had a very light hand when it came to cologne, well aware that too much could be agitating. That being said, the brand he used was potent even when dispensed in small amounts, so it’s salty sea aroma usually lasted through a couple of washes. He had probably nonchalantly chucked the jumper into the laundry with his clothes, which had resulted in the smell being strung through every single thread of the fabric. 

Beneath the initial layer of his cologne laid the softer scent of the vanilla cinnamon candle that she knew too well. It was tender and homey, just the right ratio of sugar and spice, its cozy undercurrent enveloping her in familiarity. 

It launched her into a round of fleeting flashbacks. 

The fractions in time consisted of a winter day spent snuggled on the sofa under thick blankets, half-empty mugs of hot cocoa discarded on the coffee table and a Netflix show drawling on aimlessly in the background. Not a single soul had paid attention to the screen; Y/N was too busy straddling Harry’s lap, planting wet, sloppy kisses down his throat as he dangled his head over the side of the armrest, hands gripping her hips needily as she rocked against the bulge in his sweatpants, a dreamy, pleasure-drunken smile adorning his swollen lips. Low hisses and weak whimpers had resonated from deep in his chest, rolling off his tongue as his mouth had absentmindedly fallen open at the warmth growing between her thighs. Her fingers had twisted into the loose curls along the back of his skull while she’d gasped his name all breathy and whiney along the underside of his jaw, working herself against him at a desperate pace, his palms trailing underneath her pajama bottoms to grope at her ass. 

Harry’s voice had been distant and echoey in the memory, but it made her cheeks sizzle nonetheless. “God, I love you so fucking much. Could spend the rest of my life between your thighs...Could spend the rest of it anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

Another flashback had shuffled forward like a deck of cards. This one was of a foggy, rainy evening spent napping soundly in their bed, limbs tangled messily with their bodies half-naked, her heated lips pressed to the lulled pulse that throbbed beneath Harry’s flushed neck. His hand had been petting over her mussed up hair, mouth pressed lovingly to the ridges between her brows, smoothing them out in order to defuse whatever was troubling her in her dreams. 

She’d awoken, her eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep, her mind partially conscious as she had taken in a long inhale, blowing it out through her nose. Harry had run the pad of his thumb over her lashes gently, helping her get rid of the blurriness that had taken her under. She had blinked up at him drowsily, a watery smile spreading her buzzing lips. Harry hadn’t said a single word and he didn’t have to— he’d just stared down at her over the tops of his lightly colored cheeks, the right edge of his mouth flicking upwards in endearment, his bright jade irises glossy with fondness. He didn’t have to say a single word because his expression silently told her everything she needed to know. 

Y/N had snapped out of the memories in the blink of an eye, a sudden tickling sensation bristling down her cheeks. She’d reached up to touch her face in confusion, the tips of her fingers coming back wet, the water glinting cruelly under the dim lighting of the living room. Her brows had furrowed in objection, both at her tears and at being so abruptly yanked out of moments in her life when she had been the happiest. Her body reacted out of instinct, desperately searching for a trace of him to clasp onto, her hands fumbling to bring the flouncy material of the sweater to her nose. 

She’d taken a saturated breath in, the pleasant odor hugging her trembling frame and kissing her heart. The tears had then started flowing freely across her waterline and down the bridge of her nose. They had seeped into the fleece hoodie and she’d immediately jerked back from it, not wanting the treasured item to suffer the same fate as most of her pillowcases. She didn’t want to do anything that would make her have to wash it— she refused to let the comforting aroma leave her. 

Y/N spent the next three days in that jumper, only taking it off to shower. She wore it religiously, taking it to work, to the superstore when she went grocery shopping with Niall, to lunch with a friend, to a doctor's appointment she barely paid attention to, and even to bed. In the span of seventy-two hours, she had developed an addiction to the scent that was woven into the fluffy article of clothing, needing to have it around her at all times in order to function properly. 

It was sad, really. It was just a smell and she knew it would eventually fade away, but she just couldn’t help herself from wanting to be wrapped in it every second of the day. It reminded her of a time in her life when everything seemed flawless— where there wasn’t a gaping hole in the center of her chest that could only be filled by the one person who had accidentally hurt her beyond compare. 

Y/N couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the flood of memories that the stupid hoodie had fished out from the corner of her subconscious, where she had shoved them with the intent of never looking back. They loitered her dreams, broadcasting over the inside of her eyelids for hours on end, dissolving away when her alarm blared beside her ear, leaving her with a hollow feeling toiling at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how long she could deal with it, but her sanity was starting to wear thin, cautioning her that she had to do something or else she’d go absolutely mad. 

On the night of the fourth day, Y/N finally cracked. 

///

Two months and thirteen days. 

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up. 

It is currently 11:43 PM, meaning that in a meer seventeen minutes, it would be two months and fourteen days since the split. 

Harry is laying in bed, as far away from his digital clock as possible, watching a random Christmas movie that Netflix had recommended, one hand buried in a bowl of kettle corn that he’d already refilled twice as the other holds his phone an acceptable distance above his face. 

The movie is cliche, if he’s being honest; something about Santa Claus dying and passing on the torch to his dead-beat son that didn’t want it, so it ended up going to his overly-perky younger sister instead. The twist was supposed to be that a woman had never been Santa Claus, but he could see that ending coming from a mile away, what with her natural ability to get along with kids and the fact that she dressed like a literal Elf on the Shelf. It’s heart-warming in the way that all Christmas films are and it had the witty humor one would expect it to, alongside a cute furry animal sidekick that people couldn’t help falling in love with. 

But it just didn’t really impress him. The message is sweet, the execution could’ve been better. 

Yet, he only deemed it fair that he finish the movie. He’s already three-fourths of the way done and though the intended surprise was obvious, he might as well see it through. 

In the middle of the climax scene where the young woman was putting on the Santa suit for the first time, his phone dings with a chime he hadn’t heard in too long— two months, thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and forty-four minutes, to be exact. 

Harry had been so startled he’d dropped his phone on his face.

“Ow! Fucking hell!” 

He sits up in one quick, stiff motion, the hand knuckle-deep in the popcorn bowl flying up and knocking the dish upside down, the sticky kernels rolling across his disheveled duvet. The sleek black device falls into his lap, nose pulsing in pain as it had taken most of the heat, his caramel-coated hand rubbing messily along his flannel pajama pants to try and get rid of the stickiness. He then pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to stifle some of the stinging, bumbling to get his smartphone into the palm of his clean hand. 

The screen lights up with a text message and Harry blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it in some type of pain-induced hallucination. 

But no, the message is very much real and it’s authenticity sends him into a dull stupor for a minute. He comes back to when the phone vibrates with another ring, alerting him for the second and last time that the person he wanted to talk to the most had actually reached out to him; it was in his best interest not to keep her waiting.

Y/N: Hey, are you free to talk tomorrow?

[goldenncherrybombb]

Back rubs and late night confessions

Hello everyone! So this is my first official blurb so I hope you all enjoy it!! 

Request something!

Masterlist ( you can also find all my writing by clicking the  “goldenncherrybomb” hashtag at the bottom ;)

I made a prompt list so I chose two of those. Once i finish the prompt list feel free to request a number(s).

“What? Does that feel good?” “I’ve had a rough day, and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with”

Summary: Y/n’s had a long day and just needs some cuddles and a back rub from her bestfriend.

Warning: Bestfriend!Harry, smut, explicit language, alcohol 

Word count: 2.8K

Y/n’s had a long day. After having to deal with many bitchy coworkers, tripping over a cord, and many more small things that added on to her already shitty day,all she needed was some wine, and some cuddles from her best friend. 

After turning on her car, and screaming into her steering wheel out of frustration, she pulls her phone out, unlocking it and calling the person she needed to see the most.

“‘Lo, love.” She visibly feels the stress of the day start to melt away at the sound of his voice. Harry is the only person that could turn the worst day around and make you forget all about it as he tells you a lame joke with his dimples appearing when he laughs at his own joke.

“Hi H, I’ve had a rough day, and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with ” 

Her voice is light, sounding defeated.He has been gone for too long and recently got back, and since then they have only been able to hangout twice due to their hectic schedules. So she misses him more than usual and really needs some Harry time.

She hears him chuckle lightly and some rustling before he speaks up again.

“I’ll have the drinks and snacks waiting for you.” She smiles widely, already feeling a million times better and excited for her night with Harry.

“I’ll be there soon! Love you, bubs.” Harry smiles on the other end of the line. His eyes light up when she tells him she loves him. His imagination wandered to different scenarios of her saying those three words.

“Love you too. Drive safe, darling.” She hangs up, smiling from ear to ear, those three words having the same affect on her. She knows it’s wrong. Harry’s her best friend. But she knows first hand how hard it is to not love the tall and talented green eyed man. 

She quickly leaves the parking lot, driving to Harry’s house as quickly, and safely, as she can. She already knows he has her favorite sweatshirt of his in the dryer, along with some clothes for her, so that way they would be warm when she arrives. It’s one of her favorite things that he does because he knows she hates being cold. 

She hops out of her car after shutting it off and parking it, quickly making her way into Harry’s home. She takes a deep breath when she enters, Harry’s house smelling like home. Once her shoes were off,and her keys were in his key bowl next to his, she made her way up into Harry’s room, not seeing him downstairs. 

She walks into his room and sees him pulling her favorite hoodie, a pair of her favorite fuzzy socks he bought just for her, one of his shirts, and a pair of boxers, from the laundry basket, neatly placing them on the bed for her. Once it was all set on the bed and she stopped staring at him with love in her eyes she ran over to his bed, jumping on it and sighing.  

“Fucking Christ Y/N! Nearly gave me a damn heart attack.” His hand clutches his heart as he speaks, laughing lightly and smiling at her as she giggles at him. “Yeh think that’s funny? Nearly killin’ me?” She shakes her head, laughing harder at his dramatics. He smirks when an idea pops in his head, her laughs coming to a stop when she sees the look on his face. Then suddenly he lands on top of her. She lets out a loud “oof” when he lands on her.

“You’re crushing me, yeh knobhead!” She giggles as he begins to tickle her sides. He chuckles into her neck, his curls tickling her skin. “Harry! ‘M gonna pee! Stop it!” 

“Always knew you were a bedwetter.”She scoffs and goes to retaliate but he moves to hover over her, speaking before she can get the chance to quip back with a smart remark. “I ordered pizza, have a load of snacks we can binge on all night, your favorite wine, and our movie is waiting for you downstairs once you shower and change.” She swears her heart bursts. He does this often. Always knowing exactly what she needs, sometimes before she even knows herself. He’s so unbelievably kind and so caring she often wonders how she got so lucky with a best friend like him. He always makes sure she is taking care of herself and is taken care of. She feels like a princess around him. 

“You got me pizza!” Her face lights up and it makes Harry smile even harder. 

“Yep, from our favorite place too.” She loops her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. 

“Thank you so much, H. You don’t know how much I love and appreciate you.” She could almost cry she’s so happy. Harry coos at her when he hears her sniffle.

“Don’t cry, pet. Yeh know how much I love yeh. I’d do anything fo’yeh. No go shower, yer  stinkin’ up the house.” Her mouth falls open as she playfully gets offended. He gets off of her to let her get up and she swat his bum as she scurries past him making him gasp and watch as she giggles and hurries to the bathroom so he can’t get her. 

***

“So you’re telling me that some dickhead ate your lunch, and it even had your name on it and they didn’t even say sorry?” Harry questions with raised eyebrows. Y/n moves her wine glass to his coffee table after finishing it before looking back up at Harry.

“Yes! Isn’t that ridiculous! This is the third bloody time this month and we aren’t even halfway through this month! I have no clue who it is. I bet it’s Sarah. Bloody cunt can’t keep her hands off of what isn’t hers!” She exclaims, remembering her delicious lasagna that got eaten by some asshole at work. 

“Sarah’s the one that got caught cheating on Michael with Jacbson right?” He questions, interested in her work drama, but more interested in how fired up she gets. 

“Yes! And rumor has it she is now cheating on Jacbson! Isn’t that ridiculous!?” Harry chuckles and shakes his head, drinking his wine. 

After her shower she went downstairs and found Harry walking in with the pizza in his hands. Their favorite movies title screen on the telly, snacks on the coffee table for later, and two wine glasses along with her favorite wine waiting for her and Harry next to the snacks.

The movie was long forgotten as conversation quickly picked up between the two as they ate. Harry telling her stories from when he was gone, and her doing the same. When the movie ended Y/n got up and put on one of her favorite records of Harry’s , Etta James ‘ A Sunday Kind of Love’ filling the room as they go back to conversing.

“H, can you give me a back rub, pleassseeeee.” She smiles up at him and gives him her best puppy dog eyes while batting her lashes. She knows he can’t so no to her, especially when she pulls ‘the face’, as he calls it. He dramatically huffs and rolls his eyes.

“I guess, princess.” She cheers before moving to lay down on the large couch, Harry watching as she takes off her shirt before laying down, waiting for him. He lets his eyes trail her figure, mesmerized by every dip, curve, and mark on her beautiful body. He quickly snaps himself out of it, scolding himself and blaming it on the wine before moving to start rubbing her back. She groans when he rubs her shoulder, feeling a large knot there. 

“What? Does that feel good? ” He questions through a chuckle as his hands work wanders on her back. Her eyes flutter before she hums in reply.

“I haven’t had a back rub in so long. I think I should hire a masseuse.” She chuckles before moaning when he rubs out another knot. Harry glances down at his pants, shaking his head at his friend that wants to make an appearance. “Maybe I should hire you.” He chuckles and continues rubbing her back. Once he is done getting the knots out he moves to peek at her face, noticing how her breathing evened out and her eyes are shut. So he begins to draw random things on her back. First it was a few random shapes, then some of his favorite lyrics. Once he was positive she was asleep he began to trace three words on her back. 

But she isn’t asleep. She has been silently trying to figure out what he has been writing on her back, figuring out most of the lyrics he traced on her back. When she feels him writing something new it takes her a minute to figure out what he is writing, but she quickly figures out. She almost chokes on her breath, trying her hardest not to tense up or move. Sure, they say they love each other, but they both know he isn’t writing those words on her back in a friendly way. She could almost cry, now knowing he feels the same way about her as she does him. 

“Hey H,” He jumps lightly at the sound of her tired voice. He thought she had been asleep for a good twenty minutes, but she wasn’t. “I love you, too.” His breath gets caught in his throat. He hid his feelings for so long, thinking there was no way she liked him the way he liked her. He was only her best friend to her, there is no way she could feel the same as him. But he was mistaken.

She rolls over to her back, looking up at him with a small smile on her lips and glossy eyes. He moves to hover over her slowly, his eyes still wide, looking awestruck with his mouth open slightly. His cross necklace dangles over her. She grabs it and messes with it nervously, tracing the outside with the pad of her thumb. 

“I-You love me? Like not in a friendly way? You actually-” She cuts him off by pulling on his necklace so he comes close to her and she presses a kiss on his lips. They both inhale through their noses sharply when their lips meet, their eyes fluttering closed as they have their first kiss. Their lips mold together perfectly as they melt into the kiss. Her lips taste like red wine and Harry swears he could kiss them for hours.

Harry pulls back, both of them looking into each other's eyes as they catch their breath. Both of their lips are slightly swollen and redder from the long kiss. Her cheeks go red and she gives him a dreary smile. 

“I love you, so damn much.” Both of them smile widely, his head dipping down to pepper kisses all over her neck as she giggles. He trails kisses from her neck, to under her jaw, to her cheek, then finally her lips, but this time, more harshly and needy. Her hands get tangled in his hair and he moves his hips down further by hers, she gasps when she feels him brush over her. He pulls back and shakes his head, looking down at her. “Why did it take us so long to do this?” She giggles and shrugs her shoulders.

“I don’t know, but let’s not waste anymore time.” He chuckles as she pulls him back down for another kiss. His hand moves to trace up her body. She shivers when his finger comes in contact with her bare skin. “H?” She questions breathlessly as Harry makes a deep purple mark on her neck. He hum in response before pulling away from her neck and moving to look into her eyes. 

“‘S everythin’ ok, darling?” She moves her hands to rest on the sides of his face, laughing breathlessly. 

“Yes, it’s more than ok.” His worry visibly fades, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I just think, we should,” she toys with the collar of his shirt in nervousness. But Harry catches on, smirking at her. 

“Words, Princess.” Her cheeks fade to a deeper red, her actions stopping and her gaze moving to his eyes. 

“I want you to fuck me Harry.” His eyes grow impossibly darker at her words and he quickly moves, picking her up off the couch and moving quickly to his bedroom. She giggles as he holds her up by the back of her thigh and her arms are pooped around her neck. She laughs even harder when Harry stubs his town on the side of his bed and almost falls, but luckily, they somehow land on the bed  

“Stop laughing at me! This is supposed to be romantic.” He tries to sound upset, but fails when his dimples finally show and his laugh rings through the air with hers. But her laugh stops when Harry quickly pulls her shorts down and kisses her clothed center. She gasps and arches her back a little, eager for more. 

Harry pulls her underwear down slowly, trailing kisses up her thigh as he discards her underwear behind him. She gasps again when he finally kisses where she needs him. Her hand flies to his hair and she pulls harshly with every movement of his tongue, making him groan against. When he slips his middle finger in her she pulls him up, reconnecting their lips as she tugs at his pants. He starts to nip at her neck before leaving purple marks all over her smooth skin. He moans into her neck when she wraps her hand around him, his fingers curling in her at the same time and repeatedly hitting the spot inside her that has her a mess under him

“N-fuck-Need you. Fuck you feel so good.” He grunts out, his thumb rubbing her clit and making her legs shake. 

“Take me, please, H.” In response he connects their lips, getting rid of his shirt and kicking of his pants the rest of the way. He slides his hands under her thighs and picks her up, surprising y/n as she gasps slightly at the unexpected change. He carries her up to his room, laying her on the bed gently. She arches her back when his hands move to unclasp her bra, the final piece of clothing that stands between them.

The moon shines through the large window in his room, lighting up the room just enough for them to see each other. Harry lifts his head up, both of them catching their breaths for a minute.

“Are yeh sure, love?” He checks, not wanting her to regret this and hoping that her feelings hadn’t changed.

“‘M sure, hundred percent.” Harry smiles at her briefly before reattaching their lips as he sinks into her slowly. She hisses when he is in fully, a burning and stretching feeling coursing through her lower region. “Please move, ‘m ok.” He nods and starts to move his hips slowly, checking up on her as she feels the pain turn into pleasure. Moans slip through their mouths as his pace picks up, her nails scratching down his back and her legs wrapping around his waist as he easily finds the spongy spot in her.

“Fuck, so tight around me.” He hisses and her moans get louder as he encourages her to release. Once she hits her climax he follows. His thrusts slow and when she flutters around him once more he comes undone. 

He collapses on her chest, leaving one more kiss on her breasts before pulling out and crashing beside her. Their chests heave up and down as they catch their breaths.

“Oh fuck, we really just did that.” She whispers, giggling slightly when he chuckles quietly next to her. He pulls her into his chest with his arm, nibbling on her earlobe before replying.

“And I quite enjoyed it.” She smiles lazily as he massages the top of her thigh, feeling only pure bliss. And she is confident that if she had to relive a moment, it would be this one. Both of them spent, their bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat, and the smell of sex in the air. “I love you.” He mumbles against her neck.

“And I love you.” She feels him smile against her as they both drift off to sleep. Both of them so sure their heart has never felt so full of love.

[rosy-cheekx]

"Don’t do that. don’t shut me out” and / or “We can talk through the door” - from the trauma sentence starters :)

Okay so this started as a one-off but, as usual, it spiraled outwards! The actual line will be in the next chapter. (That’s right, this bitch has two chapters! AND A PERSPECTIVE SHIFT)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201191/chapters/69105681

-

It had been hard for Martin to adjust, after the Lonely, after the months of spiraling into the quiet, cold dark, imprisoned in an ever-expanding labyrinth of his own isolation. A therapist he had years ago told him it takes three weeks to manifest a habit, and in the months without his mum, without Jon, Sasha, Tim, god without even Elias to irritate his last fraying nerve, he had time to form hundreds of new habits, his habits of loneliness.

When Peter had given him Elias’ old office, under the guise of space, focus, and mental health (Martin could spit at that looking back, the cruel irony), the room had been rearranged. The desk, which had previously sat in the center of the room, with two slightly uncomfortable chairs positioned in front of it, chairs Martin had been eager to burn in celebration of his new space, had been rearranged. The room was starkly empty, the chairs removed on his behalf, and the desk had been moved to the side of the room, out of view of the door and in fact behind the hinges, so the door swung open in front of his desk, blocking anyone who may sneak a peek in his office a view of him at work. After a while, it was natural to be in the corner of a room closest to the hinges; where the coatrack or a rubbish bin would typically be, there instead was Martin Blackwood, comfortable, solitary. Alone.

The habits expanded outside of the office. Soon enough he was shopping at markets in the quietest hours: during the airings of football matches, at the early-morning markets, at two in the morning because he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get warm under his duvet. His warm conversations with cashiers and barkers turned to solemn nods and gruff thank-yous, the refreshing smiles they associated with the sweater-clad figure reduced to slow blinks and nods of acknowledgement, and then not even that. They didn’t even wonder what had happened to that nice auburn-haired man who worked “down the street at the old spooky building, did-you-hear-about-those-worms?” Even takeout was too much to bear. The nights where leaving his flat was unconscionable, his delivery requests would always add, “leave outside the flat, tip is under the doormat.”

His neighbors didn’t remember him after a while. Mabel, the kind woman who lived across from him, introduced herself to him, asked when he moved in. Eventually she stopped noticing this new auburn man she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t seen at all, actually. No one lived across the hall from her, not in her memory. And she had an excellent memory, didn’t-you-know? It was all those crosswords.

Martin started locking his doors. That had been after Jon had returned. He knew that distinctly. Most of these habits loomed over his life slowly, like an ever-expanding fog, until he didn’t realize where they had begun, but the doors? That was a choice.

He wasn’t one for locks overall; his childhood home had forbidden them, save for the exterior doors. It hadn’t bothered him back then, though, and as he grew up and out of the shadow of his mother it never occurred to him that he could just shut people out like that. So easy, so simple, but so unnecessary for so long. Martin was the one breaking down those barriers, especially at the Institute. Getting Sasha to talk about her anger when they first moved into the Archives, her quiet confession that she had wanted that job for so long, had been told by Gertrude she was a promising candidate. That had been fixed with a cup of tea and the promise that he would support her if she wanted to quit, but that it seemed like Tim needed her, Jon too. Getting Tim to open up about Danny, his sorrow that had been simmering so long under the surface, a grief Martin didn’t quite know how to fathom. But he tried, with comforting touches and warm voice, trying to ease Tim back from the precipice over which he had been hovering. Not enough. Never enough. Even Jon had begun to be kinder to him, after Prentiss, after Martin had proven he wasn’t a waste of space in the Archives, begun to be honest and open about his take on the weird things they experienced here. He had even texted him rather frequently, towards the end, updating him on his trip to America and of the occasional sights that caught his eye (‘In Pittsburgh they put chips on sandwiches and salads, Martin, look at this! Image_0102 attached’ Even in text, his grammar was impeccable.) But after Jon recovered from his coma, lapse with death, whatever it had been, Martin had been too far gone. He couldn’t risk Jon bursting in, bothering him, worrying and fussing. So he’d called in a locksmith to install the simple bolt, enough to stop a distracted, harried Archivist (who had never quite learned it was polite to knock) from bursting into his office at all hours.

But after all that, after the Lonely and Peter Lukas and “look at me and tell me what you see,” it was hard to break the achingly comfortable habits. For the first few days in Scotland, Martin didn’t really remember what had happened. While out of the domain itself, he was still trapped in its cloying embrace, and everything felt too real, too looming, too much; it had been easy to slip into silence for hours in Daisy’s safehouse. Too easy to pull the fog around him and watch himself sit, drawn up behind the door, as he watched and listened and waited for Jon to forget about him. It had never happened though. No matter how many hiding places he found, cold and dark and solitary, Jon always found him, blanket and tea in tow (always a little too sweet for Martin’s liking), and his scalding embrace was enough to drag him back to reality, shivering and sweating, whispering apologies.

-

They needed supplies. Daisy had left behind plenty of MREs in her pantry, stuff they could theoretically rely on, but it was all very basic nutritionary needs and both Martin and Jon were vegetarians, (more or less, Martin had stopped eating red meat as a teenager and Jon entirely after working in the Archives) and the dehydrated pasta alfredo was gone, seemingly the only vegetarian item in Daisy’s stock. Martin hadn’t even tried to touch the canned fruit, the orange-yellow of the peaches haunting him.

Martin suspected it was also a desperate attempt for the pair to practice feeling normal again. To be just two friends? Companions? Coworkers? Boyfriends? people stocking up their fridge and going on with a normal, non-horror filled life. A secluded, bare safehouse was certainly not helping them adjust any quicker, though neither man had dared leave quite yet, be it the risk of losing what little security they had accrued here or the inability to leave the other alone quite yet.

“Is-Do you know if it’s busy today?” Martin had asked, trying desperately to shape his voice into calm curiosity.

Jon considered the question for a minute, expression soft, and dear lord Martin wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the way Jon’s shadows seemed to darken and solidify when he Learned, his whole form shifting in and out of focus imperceptibly like the background was blending into him and not the other way round, the way Martin was accustomed.

“Mm, not bad. No one interesting. A couple families shopping for the week, twelve customers, four employees, total-oh, fourteen, mum and son just walked in…” Martin’s eyebrow was raised. “Ah,” Jon cleared his throat. “Sorry. Fourteen people. If that’s too many, I can go by myself, you know. I’m not going to force you.”

“N-no, no. I should go. Exposure therapy, right?”

Jon had smiled warmly and tentatively rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder, before sliding the hand, scarred and calloused, to squeeze Martin’s own cold one.

-

The grocery was small, a locally run place playing tinny jazz through the speakers. As Martin stepped through the doors with Jon, he was struck by how warm it was in the store. He could feel the prickle of anxiety burning under his skin, bringing a flush to his cheeks. He could hear the whine of the electric lights piercing his skull and settling behind his eyes. He gripped the trolley’s handle tight, firmly keeping his eyes forward. He was fine, he could do this.

Martin was not fine. They had worked their way through the aisles quickly, Jon using his Knowledge to figure out where every item they needed had been located. Martin was on autopilot, quietly steering the cart and flinching when anyone came to close to him. The heat of life was radiating off everyone in the store, even Jon, and it was scalding, blinding, debilitating. He hadn’t noticed Jon asking him a question until, Jon carefully, gingerly, brought his hand to hover near Martin’s cheek, not touching, just waiting for a response.

“Martin?” he heard distantly, calling him back to reality, where fog didn’t drift over the aisles and the soft rush of waves didn’t echo in his ears.

“-mm?” The hand was gone, his skin tingled with the rush of cold returning to his face. He wished it would come back, to hold his face and promise it would be alright.

“I was wondering what tea you wanted to buy? I’m no expert and I know you have your preferences. I miss-” Jon cleared his throat. “I’ve missed your tea in the Archives. All the staff drank coffee after you left. Disgusting.”

Tea. This was something Martin could do. He took a step away from the trolley, his life raft, and studied the aisles, trying to will his mind to focus.

Tea, tea, tea. Rooibos and chamomile for sleepless nights. Herbal for variety. Jon likes caffeinated teas. Maybe some chai? That’ll be good when it gets really cold…god how long will we be here? Through winter? Forever? He could stay here forever if it meant Jon was there too.

He grabbed a couple of boxes of familiar brands, throwing them in the trolley, as well as whatever felt familiar, what he’d usually pick up.  

“I thought you didn’t like oolong.”

Martin frowned, glancing down at the box in his hand. “I don’t. Uh, force of habit I guess.” He set the box back quickly, as if it was burning his hand. “M’mum liked it so I would pick it up for her. Guess its been a while…” he trailed off, uncertain of what he was about to say. He’s bought tea since she died, hasn’t he?

He thinks back, through all his months in Elias’s office and at home.

Oh. Guess not.

Had he really not drunk tea at all? God, he had really changed more than he thought under the influence of Peter. Tea had been such a staple of his life, his personality, he was the one dragging Jon and Sasha and Tim to teahouses for his birthday and insisting he make a cuppa for everyone on the days that felt too dark. The last time he could remember holding a warm cup of tea in his hands was when he was sitting at Jon’s bedside in the hospital, reading him Keats in the desperate hope he would hate it so much he would wake up, even if just to scold his assistant.

Martin knew serving The Lonely had changed him. But here, in the aisle of a Scottish grocery, he was realizing how entirely debased he had become. Was he even Martin Blackwood anymore?

Martin blinked to see the grocery around him cloaked in fog. No, that wasn’t right. He was cloaked in fog. The world was a pale blue-grayscale, slightly translucent. He hadn’t been here in a while but the cool balm over his anxiety settled like cool cloth and he felt distantly quiet. Calm.  He left the store in a haze and began the slow trudge up to the safehouse. Jon wasn’t here in this place, which was probably for the best. Martin couldn’t hurt him here, couldn’t burden him with whatever pesky emotions he had felt in the grocery, whatever they had been. They were a distant memory now, oolong and guilt.

-

By the time Martin had hiked up the hill to the safehouse, he felt safe enough to leave the Lonely, and felt the cool numbness drift off him like steam as the world sharpened around him. With the world came the sharp sting of his realization came with it; the understanding that he wasn’t the same person he had been when he had said goodbye to Tim, Melanie, and Jon, and certainly not the same person he had been when he had backed through the doors to the Institute and let that dog in, what felt like decades ago now.

Martin Blackwood let the door swing shut behind him as he made his way inside, hearing the rumble of Jon’s car rolling up the gravel driveway. He moved quickly through the house, looking desperately for a place to escape as he heard the faint call of his name outside. He couldn’t-he just couldn’t talk to Jon right now; he didn’t know how to explain how betrayed he felt and by on fault but his own. The closest room was the bathroom, dark and clean, and pressed back against the door as he clicked the door shut, turning the latch on the door.

Click.

The bolt slid into the mechanism of the door frame, and that sound was what sent Martin spiraling.

he was alone he was alone he was alone.

[haileygarciasunshine]

Another Night

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Warning: Drinking

Word Count: 2,146

Requested: Yes!☺️🖤

A mix of Harry Styles “Falling” and Prompt #2 “You’re so fun to touch.” @oh-mymendes

I fell in love with this song so I’m going to make this angsty and fluffy🖤

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left

It was another night of drinking. Another night of falling into a pit of dispair. Another night of staring at the ceiling wondering what went wrong. Another night. If you could go back to that regretful night, you would. It had been three weeks post break up, and you had begun to turn into someone you didn’t recognize. Being in a relationship with Kylo Ren, required, a lot of effort, a lot of trust and communication, and most importantly, a lot of understanding. Kylo, didn’t want to make your relationship public, while at the beginning you were understanding, however you grew less and less understanding during the relationship, a year had gone by, and the man still didn’t want to make it known. 

He had practically, every female, throwing themselves at him, and yet he couldn’t understand why you wanted to go public. It began to feel like the relationship was a dirty little secret, and that’s not the type of relationship you wanted. The stress of being kept secret was enough to cause major turmoil in the relationship. Kylo, didn’t seem to be bothered by this at all. That is until the night of the break up, everything that was unsaid unraveled at an alarming rate.

“I just don’t understand!” You yelled in frustration, bringing your hand up to your face rubbing angerly.

“What are you not understanding!” 

“Why you don’t want anyone to know about us!”

“I am not having this argument again!” He huffed in anger, making his way to his bedroom.

Following him on his heels, you bellowed, “Is there someone else? I Just....” Your voice cracked before you could finish, as tears threatened to fall down your cheeks.

“You just what?” He spat in anger.

Sighing, you knew this fight wouldn’t end well, “I just need to know. We.... We can.... We can work through it?” It came out as more of a question than a statement. 

“What if I’ve decided I’ve had enough. That I don’t want to work through it?” He questioned while doing something in his closet. 

Kylo, knew what he was doing, he thought the best way to protect you, was to push you away. The truth is, that he loved you, more than anything in the entire galaxy. He even whisked away Megan, your girl friend, and Jake your best guy friend, to go look at rings with him. He wanted forever, and he wanted forever with you. 

There had been many, many threats against you. He wasn’t sure how they knew about you, which is why he wanted to keep the relationship “Secret,” he couldn’t be bothered to give a damn if anyone on the ship didn’t want you together. It was the looming threats on your life, from different sources, that bothered him. How could he expect to be a Husband if he couldn’t protect you?

Kylo, had busied himself in his closet, not being able to stand how much he was hurting you. Every word, he spat, he knew the damage that was done. He couldn’t bring himself, to witness the tears that were streaming down your face, or the hurt that was plastered on your face, all because of him. Kylo, knew you all too well, he knew the emotions that you would be feeling, using your greatest fear against you. Being hurt and alone were the only things you feared in the entire universe and here he was using them.

“What?” You gasped. The hurt in your voice taking over.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what anymore?”

“This..Us.”

“If you don’t end it, I will.”

Silence. For the first time in days, there was silence. The silence was mixed with something else. Defeat. It was the sound of two hearts breaking.

He knew how far he pushed you, when all he wanted to do was bury himself with you.

The sudden, sound of his chamber door closing, echoed through out. Now it was his turn to be truly afraid of being alone.

The sound of a gentle knock was heard throughout. Groaning, you slowly sat up. Now, only if the room would stop spinning you could get up. After, a few seconds you attempted to answer the door, stumbling and swaying in the process. Opening the door, you were greeted with two faces, that you weren’t expecting.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“We knew you’d be here... Uh, mind if we join you?”

Your best friends had shown up at your chambers, with alcohol in hand. You were surprised, to say the least, especially since you had kicked them out of your apartment, and barked at them how much you hated them a few nights prior.

“Please! I could use the company.” You offered with a soft smiled. Telling them all about, your broken heart.

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'

The alcohol, stopped numbing the pain forcing you to face the all too real heart break. You had tried to keep your life business as usual, but quickly found out just how much your life revolves around Kylo. It turned into a journey to self discovery again. Being able to step foot in the ship cafeteria was a new one. You and Megan would often stargaze and talk about life whenever you couldn’t sleep.

That didn’t stop you from missing him, no matter how hard you tried. Some nights, you laid awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if he ever talked about you, or if he was having just as hard of a time getting the thoughts of you out of his mind. You were exhausted. Just the smallest thought of Kylo, kept you up at night.

Practically every night, you found yourself wondering the halls as you were becoming an insomniac. However, tonight was a different story. Turning down one of the many, many hallways onboard the ship, you ran into a similar tall black figure.

“Kylo?” Disbelieve coursing through your body.

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you... Are you drunk?”

Suddenly, he found your question humorous, laughing before replying, “Just a smidge..”

‘Oh good,’ now I know how Megan and Jake felt you thought.

“Alright, let’s get you home big boy.”

“You’re coming home?”

“Well I’m just-“

Throwing his arms around you, he pulled you close to his body before continuing, “I’ve missed you baby.”

“Okay, Kylo. Come on.”

Kylo tripped and stumbled along the way to his chambers. As soon as you got him into bed, his enormous hand, clamped down on your wrist not letting you go.

“Stay... please.”

Turning to look at him, his eyes were filled with regret and sorrow. It seemed as if he was overwhelmed by them.

Breathing out in defeated you replied, “Okay.”

Once you were secure under the blankets, Kylo immediately, pulled you to his chest. Never in your whole relationship, have you seen the man drunk.

Giggling, he said, “You’re fun to touch! So soft.”

“Okay, Kylo. Time for bed,” you couldn’t help but laugh, at the drunk gentle giant.

“I’m sorry... the breakup was my fault.” He paused, but then continued with his confession, “There was too many threats on your life... I... I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

“Kylo....”

“I thought I was protecting you, if we broke up,” he let out a frustrated sigh, “I thought the threats would stop... but they didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve understood..”

“I know...You’re so caring, and understanding... Always putting my needs before your own... I just wanted to return the favor.”

“Kyl-.”

“I miss you.. I... I can change if you want me to...”

Not giving him the chance to continue, his drunken rambling, you took his face in your hand and kissed him. He reacted quicker than you thought possible. His lips were moving feverishly against yours.

“Let’s go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

Fresh brewed coffee filled the air. Remembering where you were, you quickly sat up. It wasn’t until you made your way past a mirror, that you realized you had fallen asleep in one of Kylo’s sweaters, easily making it past your knees serving as a night sweater.

“Goodmorning.” Kylo said, as he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N, uhm.. about last night I-“

You cut off his nervous ramblings again, with a kiss. The kiss deeped almost instantly, his hands wandering over your body, before landing at your hips. Your hands tangled themselves in his soft black hair. He pushed his hips into yours, trapping you against the lower kitchen cabinets. Before it could get anymore heated, he lifted you onto the counter so you were closer in height.

“You love me again?” His voice coming out wrecked.

“Baby, who says I stopped?”

Smiling at the nickname, he placed chaste kissing along your throat, with each kiss, came and “I love you.”

A month has gone by, since your reconciliation with Kylo. It was better than before, everyone knew you were together. If Kylo, could’ve climbed to the top of the space ship, and scream if for all the galaxy to hear, he would’ve. Little did you know, he was planning on asking you something very important.

Once you woke up, you made your way to the kitchen. There was a note, by the coffee pot. It read:

‘Be ready by 7pm. Everything you need, is already in our chambers.’

As soon as seven rolled around, you were bursting at the seams. Kylo, had picked a nude ball gown, with a white leaf tull to go over the top.

There was a rough knock at the door. Opening, the door you were met with five knights of Ren. Kylo, being the one that was missing.

“Miss Y/N, we are here to escort you, to meet Sir, Kylo.”

You followed them down, many twists and turns through the ship. It wasn’t until you reached a secluded hallway, that you were wondering what was happening.

Once you reached the designated hallway, the Knights of Ren, stepped away from you and stated, “From here, you proceed alone.”

After the tall man, stepped aside you saw the hallway lined, with dozens upon dozens, of pink peonies, your favorite flower. Below them, were white candles lighting the pathway for you walk.

Each flower, had a little note of a favorite memory, Kylo had with you. The closer you got to the end, more rose petals were spread along the floor. Your eyes falling on a familiar set of chocolate brown eyes. Once you got close enough, he got down on one knee and asked four simple words.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Kylo had taken the next step in your relationship, and wanted to make you his bride. Eternity was a long time, but not nearly as long, with you by his side.

Six months had passed, and it was your wedding day. You and Kylo, didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so you invited Megan and Jacob, along with the Knights of Ren, to your elopement. Seeing Kylo, in a tux for the first time was breath taking.

“I love you, Wife.” He overcome with joy.

Replying with enthusiasm you said, “I love you too, Husband.”

It wasn’t often you got to spend more than one day together. You were able to keep him away from work for three days, before there was an absolute emergency that they needed to whisk him away.

Four months after saying, “I Do.” You we’re beginning to feel extremely nauseous. It wasn’t long, before you were running sick, to the bathroom.

‘Maybe I’m pregnant.’ You thought. Shaking the idea from your head, you made your way to the kitchen, once again being overwhelmed with a nauseous feeling. Kylo, walked in the door, with the sickening smell. It was lunch. Once again, you took off in the direction of the bathroom. Resting your, head on the toilet lid, kylo was situated on the floor by you, gently rubbing your back, after he was done holding your hair back.

“Are you okay my love?”

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh, “I guess I’m not feeling well today.”

Letting your conscience speak, you took a pregnancy test. The results seemed to take forever, even though it was only a matter of minutes. Once the results showed, all the color that was left in your face, had drained.

Deciding it was now or never, you opened the bathroom door and was met with your eager husband.

“I’m pregnant.”

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XX. Buscando una Luna

A/N: This is angst. Lots. 

Preview: 

“What are you guys doing here? Did Harry invite you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t even know he was here.”

“Oh.”

Adam scratches the back of his head and doesn’t know where to look at. This is awkward, especially because whatever this is, he thought Harry would invite me but instead he must have invited that girl he’s with.

I don’t even know what this party is but I already feel like Harry’s secret lover and I don’t like it. I wonder if he’d have brought Camille or whether he didn’t invite me because he’s ashamed of me. Maybe that’s it. After all, he’s six years older and our circles are very different and his friends are older and I’m just a kid and-

“Blue.” Harry’s timid voice takes me out of my trance.

“Hi.” I look down at my feet.

BLUE’S POV

Marie opens the door for me in a second. Olivia gives me a timid smile from her spot on the couch. Her dark blond hair is tied up on a ponytail and she looks fragile, as if her world could crumble if you looked to hard on it.

I want to be here for her and I need to distract myself too. I can’t stop thinking about Harry and about what happened or almost happened or what he said last night. I keep reviewing every moment we’ve had together, when I could have maybe realized that he had feelings for me or I had feelings for him.

It seems so obvious to me now. The way my belly flips when his hand touches my skin, the way I smile when his hand rests on my knee, how I let him call me Blue… I need to stop.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.” Ollie smiles. “People have been calling me all morning.”

“What people?”

“His friends.” She shrugs. “The friends I thought we had in common. They were just trying to make sure I didn’t give him a bad name.”

“They’re terrible people.” Marie frowns.

I shake my head. I guess that’s not even the worst part, the worst part is how he made her feel but I suppose having everyone being a part of it, and on his side, is not helping. To me, the most important thing is this doesn’t hurt Ollie’s self-esteem. I don’t want her to think he’s right.

“I need to get out of here.” Ollie says before she has a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah, I bet the couch has the shape of your butt now.” Marie agrees.

Olivia chuckles and throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t mean the couch. I mean here” she draws a circle in the air with her finger pointing around the room “I need to get away.”

“You could start by going out.” I shrug.

She gives me a death glare and Marie busies herself with her tea.

“I don’t want to see any of them.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

“The sooner you do it, the less they’d have on you. They’re the ones who are in the wrong in here, Ollie, don’t forget it. Jack’s the one who should be ashamed, not you. You did nothing to be ashamed off.”

“I let him use me.” Her blue eyes set down on her lap. “I should have known better. It was always me caring for him… Even before we started dating, I would text him first, I was the one after him all the time…”

I sigh. I hate that she feels like this.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Marie objects. “I remember him calling you when we were together and him insisting on taking you home when we were all partying.”

“Yeah, because he wanted to fuck and I was the easy chick.”

“Do not say that.” I warn her. “There’s no such thing as an easy chick.”

Olivia’s eyes set into mine and her lips set into a thin line. Marie gets up and takes their plates for breakfast inside the kitchen.

“Did you tell Coco?”

I shake my head.

“I didn’t have the time to talk to her and I need to because she went on a date with Guido Matteoti just a couple nights ago and I know nothing about that either.”

“Matteoti?” Olivia’s eyes widen. “Is that Mario’s brother?”

I nod.

“We met him at a party. He’s nice and very good-looking.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

“Must be genetic.” She smiles. “I’m happy for Coco. She deserves that and to forget about that Chicco. He sucks.”

I chuckle.

“He really does.”

Olivia looks down at her hands on her lap again and starts fidgeting with her thumbs.

“I called Mario…” She confesses. “We talked for three hours. I told him everything.”

I give her a questioning look. What does she mean everything? Did she confess her crush?

“About Jack.” She explains, reading my mind. “I told him the whole story and he was so understanding and… Sweet.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Don’t hurt him, Ollie.”

Her blue eyes look into mine holding guilt and regret. She swallows.

“Do you think I messed up irreversibly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think… If I asked him for an ice-cream… He’d say yes?”

“Of course he would!” I smile. “That guy really likes you.”

“Really? And I was such a bitch to him… You know what I’m worried about? You don’t think I’m doing it in spitefulness, do you? Like because Jack hurt me… I’m trying to prove a point?”

“To whom exactly?”

She shrugs and her lips part but before she can answer someone rings the bell and we watch Marie rushing towards the door. Jason’s standing on the other side with his hands on his pockets.

“Hi, guys.”

“What’s wrong?”

Olivia sits on the edge of the couch and directs all her attention at the new guest. Looking over at Jason, I realize it’s true, something’s wrong; and I’m fascinated by Olivia’s sensor again. She can tell when one of us are down even before we ourselves can. Jason shrugs.

“Nothing important, just not my best Friday.”

“Tell us.” Ollie demands. “This is a support group. We all share.”

Jason shakes his head and gives me his best puppy eyes. Alright, this has to do with David. He’s apologizing to me even before he starts. I feel my shoulders tensing up and my spine hardening on my back. Gosh, I hate that guy.

“When you called me yesterday, I told David I wanted to come back home to be with you for the weekend.” He takes a seat on the dining table and intertwines his fingers over his lap. “I mean I think it’s pretty normal, how can someone get mad because of that? But he went crazy.” He shakes his head.

“What did he do?” I press.

Jason swallows and licks his lips. I swear to God if he laid a hand on him I’ll kill hill. I will murder him.

“God, it’s so embarrassing…” J starts. “We fought and then… We had sex.”

I frown. I mean that’s not healthy but it’s not that strange either. I remember Harry and I fucking after I threw the sweater he got me on the rubbish bin and Harry’s a wonderful man. But David isn’t.

“And?”

“And then he tied me to the bed and… Denied my orgasm and left.”

“WHAT?” Olivia stands up from the couch. “Are you being serious? How can someone do that?”

“He left you there? Tied up?” Marie’s eyes horrify. “How long for?”

“An hour…” He looks down at his lap and Maria walks towards him and wraps her small hands around his huge figure. “I… I saw it because I was facing the alarm clock on the beside table.”

“He’s sick, JJ.” Olivia wraps her arms around them both. “That son of a bitch is absolutely crazy.”

I don’t know what to say. It’s the exact same thing Javier did to me, the exact same thing. He can’t deny they’re alike now but this is not what I wanted. This is exactly the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted to protect him from this and I didn’t.

“You need to report him, J.”

“What? No.” He shakes his head.

“He’s abusing you, Jason, and that’s a crime.”

“This is not a gender violence situation, Indie. We’re both male.”

“So what? It’s an abusive relationship anyway.” My eyes fill with tears, how can he not see that? “This is not a gender situation, alright, but it’s still someone with a position of power taking advantage over someone who loves them. Jason, this is very severe. What he did this time… He went beyond the line. I know what it feels like, damn it, I’ve been there too, and I swear to God if you don’t bring this to an end, I’m killing him. I’ll go to prison if I have to.”

“It’s over, Indie.” He shakes his head. “This time… It was like he was handing me his real identity on a silver platter. I’ve been excusing him and fighting you but you were right. He’s just as bad as Javier… And I’m sorry for not listening to you sooner.”

“Shut up.”

I wrap my arms around him and his large hands manage to wrap around the three of us. I think the four of us are crying.

And here I was thinking my life was hard… Why? Because I’m falling in love?

Wait.

Am I?

“Alright” Marie gets back to her feet and wipes her tears away “enough of that. You know what we’re gonna do?”

The three of us look at her with surprised eyes. It’s never her who initiates the adventures but I’m so in for whatever it is she’s going to say.

“We’re gonna get ready, like the queens and king we are, and then we’re gonna go out and we’re gonna get drunk off our asses and-”  

“WE`RE GONNA END UP IN VEGAS!” Jason yells.

Marie’s face contours in horror and Olivia throws her head back and laughs like a maniac.

“Maybe that’s a little too crazy.” Marie slows him down but he smiles. “But the Golden Girls are fucking back.”

Some hours later, we’re all dressed up and fancy making our way towards Loft 39 as if we had just come out of one of those romcoms where the main character gets a massive glow up and gets the guy. Marie’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders as we walk and before us, there’s Jason and Ollie, cursing every couple on the way.

I think it’s strange, how the tables have turned. It was usually Jason and Ollie getting the guys and Marie and me being emotional support but now, finally being all back together as usual, it turns out Marie and me are luckier on the love department. I wonder on what side Coco would stand now.

Jason does a little dance as he waits for us to hand him our coats so he can put them all on the cloakroom and I laugh. I dance with Marie and Olivia right next to the entrance of the club as we wait for Jason to be back with our tickets and I look into their eyes and I feel like I’ve missed them so much, like I’ve missed this, being just us and being together and having no worries and then I realize it.

I’ve missed this, but not in the last few months but in the last four years. I’ve missed this feeling, this… sensation that there’s nothing wrong and for the first time since, I don’t feel guilty for it.

When Jason returns, the four of us make our way to the dance floor and enjoy how empty it is. It’s early so not too many people are even in the club, much less dancing so the four of us are the kings of the party. I wrap my arms around Jason and Marie and bring them in a circle. Ollie takes the hint and leans in too.

“Guys, I know the reason we went out is a sad one” I being “but I wanted to tell you- I’m so stupidly happy.”

I’m grinning so I am not expecting their reaction as their faces turn emotional and they hug me.

I guess it’s taking them by surprise too. I haven’t said that in a while. I haven’t felt that in a while but the truth is I am happy.

Harry makes me happy and I have every right to be. It’s taken me almost four years to understand that but for the first time since he passed, thinking about Dylan doesn’t make me want to die as well. He would be twenty three years old but I’m twenty two and I know this is what he’d want for me. Sometimes I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could ask him, how is everything after one leaves this planet and how does he see me from up there. I wonder if we’d still be together now, whether we’d be friends. I wonder if he’d even like me. But I think he’d like Harry. Everybody does.  

I don’t know how many drinks we’ve had because Jason keeps ordering whenever he sees one of us has ran out of alcohol but I’m so happy after all the prohibitions and every time he hasn’t drunk so he didn’t have to give explanations, he’s finally flowing and being back to the carefree Jason I know and love. He’s dancing, he’s smiling, he’s drinking and once again his strength takes me off guard. What happened to him was terrible and here he is now, as if nothing was wrong with the world. I’ll have to keep an eye on him though, he needs to go through the loss too.

I don’t want to check my phone because I’m having fun with my friends but I can’t help wondering what Harry is doing. I still hope he’ll text me to see what I’m up to and this time I’ll tell him where I am, I’ll even ask him to come over. I miss him. I like him and I want to spend time with him. That’s that.

Marie’s laughing hysterically as she tries to type something on her phone and Ollie and Jason keep messing with her. Marie’s smiling like a teenage girl too so I figure she’s texting Adam. I am happy and wary for her for she gets too excited and it’s easy to hurt her. If Adam does, I’ll ruin him.

There’s no use in waiting for Harry to text me. If Mohammed does not go to the mountain, the mountain will go to Mohammed.

Indie: Hi 😊

I stare at the screen like an idiot biting on my bottom lip but it’s only a few seconds until he’s typing.

Harry: Hi baby

Indie: Where are you?

Harry: Out

Very clarifying, yes.

Harry: You?

Indie: Out with the Golden Girls

Harry: Nice and you’re bored or what? Haha

Indie: Of course not!

Harry: Idk, it’s strange that you started the conversation…

I frown. Is it? Well, yes, it is. He’s been complaining about how cold I am since we met and he’s been about right but I don’t want to be that anymore.

Indie: Well, I miss you.

Harry’s typing… But I type before he can say anything weird.

Indie: Why don’t you come see me?

Harry: I can’t.

Great, he just rejected me. I dare to be the one initiating this for the first time and he rejects me. When have I rejected him? Never. And if I have, he has still come find me and has gotten what he wanted. I can’t believe this. I’m beyond embarrassed.

Harry: See you x

See you x? What the fuck? Why do I feel like I’m about to cry all of a sudden? I need to get away from here. I need some fresh air.

“Guys, it’s so hot in here. I’m going out to get some air.”

“Someone’s druuuuuuuunk.” Olivia sings.

Jason and her, being as drunk as they can get, laugh and dance together and Marie smiles and offers to come with me. I’d rather go alone if I’m honest, but I won’t reject her like Harry rejected me. See you x.

When we make it outside, Marie bites her bottom lip and gives me a questioning look but I just look ahead to the other side of the street. We rest our backs on the trees next to the club and my eyes drift to the place on our right. I think it’s like a property to rent for celebrations and stuff. We once saw a graduation party that went out of hand and the police ended up arresting some guys. People are crazy.

“What is it, lovey?” Marie asks.

“It’s nothing.” I shrug and shake my head. “I’m just a little drunk and overthinking.”

“Well, don’t.” She smiles. “You deserve to be happy, Indie-pixie. Moreover, I know no one who deserves to be happy more than you do.”

It’s not that… I have come to terms with that, Marie… It’s just I’m always there for Harry. When he wants me, I’m there. Yet when I want him, he’s not. And I don’t want to be the girl who always says yes, having him telling me no when he doesn’t feel like seeing me.

I look into Marie’s eyes considering whether I can confess this to her without making her hate Harry again. Of course I can, I can always talk to Marie. And I’m about to do it when I spot Harry himself behind her. He’s coming out of the reunion next door with a girl and she messes with his hair. My blood freezes on my veins. Marie tilts her neck and sees them too.

“Shit.” She whispers. “Is that-”

“Yes.” I interject.

I know she’s going to start comforting me and quite frankly I don’t want her to but before she can say anything, Adam waves his hand at her. Marie giggles like a teenager and next thing I know, I’m mindlessly following her towards the street so Romeo and Juliet can meet.

“Hi, girls.” Adam smiles and I can all but see the glint in his eyes.

“Hi.” My friend tucks her hair behind her ear and if she wasn’t so shy, I would leave already.

“Hi.”

“What are you guys doing here? Did Harry invite you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t even know he was here.”

“Oh.”

Adam scratches the back of his head and doesn’t know where to look at. This is awkward, especially because whatever this is, he thought Harry would invite me but instead he must have invited that girl he’s with.

I don’t even know what this party is but I already feel like Harry’s secret lover and I don’t like it. I wonder if he’d have brought Camille or whether he didn’t invite me because he’s ashamed of me. Maybe that’s it. After all, he’s six years older and our circles are very different and his friends are older and I’m just a kid and-

“Blue.” Harry’s timid voice takes me out of my trance.

“Hi.” I look down at my feet.

“You look very beautiful.”

My eyes search his. That’s the best thing he can come up with? I look very beautiful? But not beautiful enough for his party, I guess. I give him a closed lips smiled and he sighs.

“How are you?”

“This is awkward.” I tell him. “Let’s not act like it wasn’t. I’m gonna go back to Ollie and Jason but you should stay, Marie, with Adam; if that’s alright with the host?”

Harry swallows and I see his nostrils flaring. Now he’s mad that I just randomly appeared here. Well, it wasn’t my intention and there’s little I can do to change my own existence.

“Blue, wait.”

Harry’s hand reaches for my wrist when I’m about to leave so I turn around and face him.

“Don’t call me that.” I can see the pain in his eyes when I take away that right of his. “You should go back to your date.”

“My date?” Tilting his neck, he gets a glimpse of the girl who was with him just minutes ago before he turns back to me and holds both my hands. “She’s my cousin, baby.”

My jaw clenches and I feel my cheeks and neck hitting up. This is the most embarrassing thing that could have happened. My eyes look into his and only then I notice he’s ashamed.

“You don’t-” I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a pathetic loser. “I just better leave. It’s okay.”

“Why?”

My shoulders tense at his question. Is he really going to make me say it?

“A few minutes ago you missed me and wanted me to go see you and now that you’ve got me here you want to run away?”

“I don’t have you here because you came to me or because you wanted to see me. If you had wanted to see me, you would have told me. But you didn’t and that’s not something I can control but I don’t want to stand here and feel like shit.”

“Why are you feeling like shit?”

“Well, you- I texted you and you rejected me-”

“I didn’t reject you-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” He nods. “You always text me and expect me to be free for you, as if I have nothing better to do than being with you, and I mean- it makes sense, I always end up doing what you want, don’t I? And for once I texted you and you just told me no. And then- And then I suddenly bump into your friend and find out you are in a fucking party right next door and you didn’t- You clearly didn’t want me here and that’s fine, you don’t need to invite me to your parties but I still get to feel like your secret sexual toy.”

Harry’s eyes look worried and confused as he just stares at me in silence for the longest seconds. I guess he doesn’t know what to say. I sigh but wait for him to speak yet he never gets to because a female voice calls his name.

When he moves aside as he turns back towards her, I see his sister on her wheelchair at the door of the building. Her brows are furrowed and her lips the slightest bit parted but her expression changes and she gives me a big smile when our eyes meet.

“Indie.” She smiles.

It surprises me that she recognized me so shamelessly. I mean I recognized her too, I’ve stalked her on social media just like she did me; yet I thought we were going to pretend like that never happened. I guess she’s just as straightforward as her brother. With her seemingly delicate hands, she pushes the wheels of her wheelchair towards us.

“You came! I’m so glad you’re here.”

I’m going to correct her but for some reason I can’t bring myself to do it. She seems genuinely happy to see me and this is somehow a chance to learn what Harry has told his family about me, if he’s said anything at all, so I look at him, somewhat defiantly, and then give his sister a pacifist smile.

“Harry’s told me a lot about you.”

I raise my eyebrows, almost involuntarily, and wish I could tell her the same.

“Would you like a drink? Maybe we can sneak you in and chat a little before Mum sees you.” She giggles.

I smile and nod. I think I like her and if I ignore what happened tonight, I want to know Harry’s family to know more about him too. I follow her inside, Harry following the two of us in silence, and the second we get through the door I see golden balloons hanging from the ceiling that read HAPPY 31ST, GEMMA.

“Happy birthday.” I tell her then.

She tilts her neck and gives me a smile.

“Thank you.”

I notice how the entire party is aimed for people to be sitting down except from the dance floor and I smile. I hope she didn’t just set a dance floor for her guests to dance but that she dances among them like the birthday girl she is. Something tells me she does, anyway, what with the way she smiles and how happy she seems.

“I’ll go get your drinks.” Harry offers.

And like that he leaves the two of us alone. Gemma stops her chair on a table near the bar and her brown eyes set on me. I sit down on the chair next to her and she gives me a grateful smile.

“Adam told me.” She explains. “My idiot brother didn’t invite you because he was convinced you were going to say no.”

I frown confused but she just shrugs.

“Has he really told you about me?”

She smiles.

“He must be such an idiot for you to doubt it but yes, he has. Not much though, don’t worry, you’re not at disadvantage because I guess he hasn’t told you much about me, has he?”

“He… He told me about the accident.”

Her eyes widen as she sets them on mine before she frowns.

“Has he?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he hasn’t told me much, just-”

“No” Gemma shakes her head “it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, it makes him uncomfortable… So it just surprised me that he would tell you of his own accord.”

“Well, he did after he knew about my boyfriend’s car accident.”

“Yeah, Adam told me.” She nods. “It must have been terrible.”

I look into her eyes. How is she, out of all people, being this compassionate about this? She’s on a wheelchair for fuck’s sake. I don’t deserve this, I don’t. I’m about to confront her when Harry sets both our drinks on the table.

“I… I don’t want to be a bother so… I’m gonna go mingle a little… I… I’m sorry, Blue. If you want to talk, you know where I am.”

I purse my lips and watch him dramatically walk away. I’m surprised Gemma didn’t stop him so I give her a questioning look and find her having a sip of her flute glass. Her eyes widen at me before she sucks her lips inside her mouth and rests the glass against her thigh.

“We’re torturing him a little, aren’t we?” She asks. “For not inviting you sooner.”

I chuckle. She’s funny.

“I really wanted him to bring you along, you know? But he was afraid he was going to scare you away, I guess.” She shrugs. “This day… Is really hard on him, that’s why I wanted him to bring some emotional support.”

I frown. How is his sister’s birthday hard on him? What does he care she’s turning older?

“When’s your birthday?” She smiles.

Much like her brother, she seems to be able to change the mood in seconds. We were just talking, with a hint of sadness, about something serious, and then she asks me when my birthday is like little kids do in the playground.

“August 6th.”

“Uuhh, summer babies are wild.��

I chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little tipsy.” She laughs along. “It’s the first time I drink in a while, you know. I’m getting married in four months and I’ve been following this crazy diet, I can’t drink, I can’t eat chocolate. I have this terrible green smoothie for breakfast. If someone asks, I say it’s good so that I don’t look like a pathetic loser afraid of overweight but it’s not good.”

I laugh and she smiles.

“You know how hard it was to find a nice wedding dress for people sitting down? They were all too long or too tight and they made these weird wrinkles on my belly when sitting down? It was hard to find a good one and when I did it was a size too small. The dressmaker said she only did one of each model and she could always make them smaller but if she didn’t have fabric enough she couldn’t make them any bigger. Once again, skinny people have it easier, I guess; but I wanted that one, I just knew it was the one, you know? Has it ever happened to you? That you’ve looked at something and said it’s that one it is no other?”

I want to tell her not with things but with Dylan. That’s the exact way I used to feel about Dylan.  

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling, am I not?”

I shake my head and chuckle and she chuckles along.

“I guess these are just the kind of things I would talk about with a made of honour.” She smiles sadly. “Mine is in Nepal.”

My eyes widen and hers shut as she nods her head as if saying I know.

“She had to find herself for whatever reason the months prior to my wedding.”

We both laugh.

“I talk about this with Michal but he keeps telling me he’d marry me even if I made my way down the aisle on a bathing suit and weighing twenty pounds more.” She smiles.

“That’s sweet.”

“It is.”

As I’m casually scanning the crowd, my eyes meet with Harry’s, who quickly looks away as if my gaze burnt. I swallow and sigh.

“What is it with him?” She asks. “You guys were fighting outside, weren’t you?”

“Not fighting.” I shake my head. “I guess it’s just… Nevermind.” I chuckle.

I don’t even know what it is with him or with me or why we can’t seem to get along. But it’s like we can’t talk to one another.

“Adam told me to intervene before.” She confesses. “When you guys were outside and I just so casually appeared? Adam… Adam told me you guys were fighting because Harry hadn’t invited you and-”

“We weren’t fighting because of that.”

What is it with Adam? Why is he a part of this? He’s as nosy as Harry.

“We weren’t fighting to begin with. It’s just- Your brother says he never lies but I feel like he’s got more than one secret.”

And I don’t have a problem with him having secrets. God knows I have some too, but I don’t go around telling people I’m 100% honesty when I’m not. That’s the thing that bothers me.

“He just… He didn’t want you to get involved with our family because he thinks it’s a burden. He’s never said it and he never will but I know him and I think he’s just kind of embarrassed of me.”

I frown. Harry’s a lot of things but I won’t have his own sister thinking that little of him. I guess he really is bad at communication if that’s the idea his sister has on him when it’s nothing of the sort. It’s probably none of my business to say this but not saying it will just not be fair.

“I don’t think that’s how he feels.” I dare to disagree. “I mean- In any case, it’s me he’s ashamed of. I mean, I’m younger and a student… He might… I don’t know, this is his family. Maybe he doesn’t want them to know he’s seeing a girl.”

Gemma stays quiet but her eyes don’t leave mine and the attention she’s giving me pushes me to go on.

“He feels terrible for what happened. Maybe it’s not my place to say it but the only thing he’s ever told me about your accident is how terribly guilty he feels. He… Thinks it was his responsibility and… I get it, you know. I mean obviously it was worse for you, because you were the one who had the accident and you are the one suffering the consequences but… I’m talking from the other side. The person who lives the accident on the side of the bed. It’s hard not to feel as if you could have done something more to prevent it.”

I don’t know what has gotten into me, but maybe it’s the amount of gin I’ve had, or the realization that I might be doing exactly what I promised I wouldn’t but all of a sudden, I start feeling the weight of depression on my shoulders. It’s like I just realized Dylan existed and then disappeared and so I feel terribly guilty because even if it’s been just for a second, I have forgotten about him.

“When Dylan”

I don’t know why I’m saying this out loud, but Gemma is listening and Gemma doesn’t know this and she can’t have her own version and she can’t judge us because she doesn’t know us. And she’s been through an accident herself so she gets that part nobody else does.

“When Dylan passed away I wished I had died with him and every moment after that felt like a punishment. What happened to him… It could have been prevented. I could have-” I stop before my voice croaks and suck my lips inside my mouth trying to get the tears at bay.

I won’t ruin Gemma’s 31st birthday. This has nothing to do with her and she was cheerful and happy and all I wanted was for her to know her brother isn’t ashamed of her.

“The reason Harry hasn’t told me much about you is because it is painful for him to talk about you, not because he’s ashamed of you. I know because it’s the same for me when it comes about Dylan. Three months ago I couldn’t even say his name without crying.”

Gemma’s hand rests on top of mine. I look at our hands over the table and focus on how pale her skin is. It’s the beginning of December so naturally we’re all pale but in contrast with hers my skin looks like Pocahontas’.

“Thank you.” She whispers. “It’s a hard day for my brother but if you think he deserves the torturing, I’m all in.” I chuckle. “Otherwise, you could go talk to him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you arrived.”

I look at him and catch him staring but this time he doesn’t look away. It’s me who does, because I’m not sure what I want to tell him or even do at this point, so I scan the crowd to search for Marie. I think she went inside even before I did but I haven’t yet seen her.

Before I can tell Gemma I’m gonna go look for my friend, Michal arrives and asks her to dance. She gives me a look as if she needed to ask for permission and I smile and shake my head dismissing her question and then they both leave towards the dance floor.

I take out my phone to check whether Marie texts me that she was leaving with Adam or something but there’s no notification from her. I check on Ollie and Jason through text and they send me a video of the two of them singing on top of a table at Loft 39.

“Indie”

Looking up, I see the concern on Marie’s eyes and instantly feel the worry in my own heart.

“What is it? What happened? Are you okay?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to Adam. I know what happened.”

I sigh. I guess he’s told her about his erectile disfunction. I guess I’m supposed to act as if I had no idea about it so as to keep Harry’s secret.

“Harry was driving.”

I’m looking at her but I’m not seeing her. My breath catches on my throat, I get dizzy, I feel like I was just punched on the stomach. Harry was driving. Harry was driving and he’s had the chance to tell me. He’s got multiple chances yet he’s chosen not to.

It's not the fact that Harry was driving. It’s the fact that he claims he doesn’t lie and yet he never mentioned this. It’s really not about Harry driving but Dylan was driving too.

I need to get out of here.

“I’m going home.”

“I’m going with you.”

For the next few minutes, I work on autopilot. My feet move one after the other and the door gets closer but I am not registering or even controlling anything of what’s happening. Marie walks with me.

“Blue.”

I’m already on the street when I hear his voice and my mindless body, still in control, turns around so I can face him.

“Can we talk?”

“You were driving.”

His green eyes freeze, his jaw clenches and even though he’s right there, before me all I can see is the hospital room and Dylan’s mom crying and my own hands over my eyes.

“I-”

“And you didn’t tell me.” I cut him short. “You lied to me.”

“I- Baby, I-”

“Don’t.”

My heart is beating faster than ever. This feels like the explanation I never got. Baby, I- That’s what he would have said. Had he answered, to any of the times I had cried and screamed on his grave, he would have said baby, I… But he can’t, because he’s dead, and Harry was driving too.

“You could have- You know about Dylan. You know my last- You know he’s dead!”  I’m screaming but with the tears I can’t see his reaction. “He’s dead and you- You knew how I’d feel about that and you didn’t tell me!”

I wipe the tears away from my eyes and finally see him. He’s just standing there, over a feet away from me, not making a single movement. I wait for him to speak but something tells me he wouldn’t move even if I turned around and walked away now.

“And now what?” I yell instead. “You have nothing to say to me?”

Still no answer.

“You’re telling me you lied to me, you told me about a hundred different times you never lied and you still did and then- Then I told you about how my boyfriend killed himself in a car accident and you knew how hard that was on me and you were going to let me get in a relationship with someone just like him!”

He shuts his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed. Am I troubling him? My shoulders tense, I almost set my own skin on fire, I feel the anger eating me up from the inside.

“You’re not even going to talk?”

“I would rather not talk about this now.” He says that so calmly, as if I hadn’t just yelled at him in the middle of the street and it makes me furious.

“You would rather not talk about this now? You know what? You’re right, let’s not talk about this. Now or Ever. Let’s just… This was stupid anyway so you go your way, I’ll go mine and-”

“No!” His jaw clenches.

He’s mad but I’d rather have mad Harry than the zen unaffected one.

“Stop doing that! Stop pushing me away every time it gets a little uneasy.”

“Every time it gets a little uneasy? How is this a little uneasy? This is… Low, like you. You’re a fucking jerk.”

“Can you stop insulting me? Do you like treating me like shit? Does it turn you on? I’m a fucking jerk but you-”

“Just leave me alone.”

Whatever it is he was going to say, I don’t want to hear it. Just tonight I confessed to him I felt like a secret sexual toy and I know he brought sex up now because he knew it would make me feel bad. He’s an asshole and a liar and I’ve had enough of this.

“Why can’t we talk about this tomorrow, Blue?” He brings his fingers to his closed eyes and massages his eyebrows as if I had given him a headache. “Seriously, I don’t want to talk now.”

“I said don’t call me Blue ever again and why can’t you talk now? Do you have some date to go back to?”

“Because I’m high! Goddamn it, is it so hard to see? I’m fucking high, baby.”

My eyes fill with tears once again. I can’t believe this. It’s like it’s happening all over again.

I don’t say anything more and Marie’s arm wraps around my trembling shoulders as she walks with me towards a car. I don’t know whose car it is or who’s driving or even where we’re going because I can’t seem to stop crying. I don’t even know why I’m crying but I guess it’s just all coming back again.

I was seventeen when Dylan started smoking weed. We smoked together a few times even. I remember both lying on his bed, naked after making love high on weed and on each other and talking about life and about what we fear and what we wanted. I remember him telling me his biggest fear was never becoming the person he wanted to be. I naturally asked him who that person was and he just grinned and said “that’s the scary part, Indie, I have no idea.”

But then it started being more frequent and it was like there were two versions of Dylan. There was my Dylan, the guy who would pick me up at ungodly hours just to see the different lights of the sun, the guy who encouraged me to climb to his tree house when there was no ladder; and high Dylan. And I didn’t really like high Dylan.

I tried to stop it. I tried to open his eyes, make him see that he wasn’t being himself, that he was wasting his time and acting strange and losing friends and worrying his parents but he only got defensive and I hated myself for not knowing how to handle it.

And then he drove and he was high and he died.

[clumsyclifford]

i just miss your accent and your friends

Of all the people Michael might have expected to see at the CALM release party, Harry Styles isn’t one.

yeah i wrote mirry im also surprised about it you can all thank/blame @tigerteeff who put one fucking tag on this post and then i fucking blinked and had a fic. i have no explanation for you. title from cherry by harry styles.

read it on ao3 here

Of all the people Michael might have expected to see at the CALM release party, Harry Styles isn’t one.

It’s not like they hadn’t invited him. They always invite the One Direction boys. Niall and Liam came for Youngblood. But it’s been a good while since Michael’s seen Harry in person, and he can’t help but feel like there’s a rulebook he’s not read.

Harry sees Michael and starts towards him, and Michael just hopes if there is a rulebook, Harry’s not read it either. If they’re going to be on unsteady footing, at least they’ll be there together.

“About fucking time,” Michael hears Calum mutter, just as Harry gets close enough to be in earshot. “Is that Harry fuckin’ Styles? It’s Harry fuckin’ Styles!”

“My friends call me Harry,” Harry says, in that slow, easy drawl, and Michael thinks his heart is going to stop. He should be used to it, should be totally immune to Harry’s charm by now — it’s been so fucking long since anything, and it’s just Harry. It’s just fucking Harry.

And then Harry turns his fucking eyes onto Michael, and they’re still that sea-foam green that makes Michael unsure if he’s swimming or drowning, and Michael knows he’s done for.

“Hey, Michael,” Harry says smoothly.

Michael swallows while Calum claps him on the back. “Hey,” he returns. “Fancy seeing you here. Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to show up.”

“Neither did I,” Harry admits. “But I had to swing by and congratulate you lot, didn’t I? Fuckin’ smashed it with the record.”

Ashton appears out of nowhere, Luke in tow. “Hey, it’s Mr. Styles!”

“Who let this guy in?” Luke crows, and pulls Harry in for a hug. “Shit, mate, it’s been a long time!”

“I know, I know,” Harry says sheepishly. “I get distracted. I’ve got a lot going on.”

“Too right you do,” Calum says, grinning. “Fine Line? Talk about a fuckin’ smash.”

Harry beams, broad and open, the same way he always used to do whenever anyone would compliment him. He’s lost a lot of self-consciousness — a lot — and shed most of his insecurity, but this is the same; Harry’s pressing need to be validated, to be reminded that he’s good at what he does, and that people love him for doing it.

Michael can picture that same smile, seven years younger, shy and happy when Michael says you beat the level, way to go!

This isn’t the same Harry. But then, Michael’s not the same Michael.

“This isn’t my party, though,” Harry says dismissively. “CALM, eh?” He looks around at the four of them. “Promise I won’t be giving any I-knew-them-when speeches, but —”

“Don’t even start,” Ashton threatens, prodding at Harry’s shoulder. He glances over at Michael, then says, “Let’s go socialize, boys. It’s a party.”

Calum squeezes the back of Michael’s neck once and takes the out. Michael doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not, but he watches Calum and Luke trail after Ashton, presumably to go stand in a corner and pretend to socialize while watching Michael out of the corners of their eyes.

Michael shoves his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t fidget. Harry has no such reservations, and starts playing with the hem of his shirt. “I thought you might be cross with me,” Harry confesses. “‘S why I didn’t come to Youngblood. I wanted to. That one was also brilliant.”

Michael shakes his head. “I’d be a hypocrite to be cross.” They’re not exes, not really. Exes implies there had been a start and end date, and there hadn’t officially been. There hadn’t officially been anything, no proper MichaelandHarry era. There’d never been anything for Michael to mourn. “I ended it as much as you did.”

“That’s actually —” Harry glances around, at all the people milling about. “I was hoping I could talk to you, but it’s not really…” He purses his lips. “Is this your place?”

It kind of hurts, actually, that Harry doesn’t know whose house he’s at. “Ashton’s,” Michael says. “But we can use his room. It’s fine.”

Harry gestures, like lead the way, so Michael does. It’s weird doing it like this, because he can call to mind a good few parties from which he and Harry had escaped, hunting around for a vacant bedroom for very different reasons.

(Don’t get your hopes up, Michael thinks furiously to himself, there’s no use getting your hopes up, but it’s too late for that.)

People’s eyes follow them as they leave. Michael’s used to being watched, but it still makes him uncomfortable knowing there are people tracking his every move, wondering who he’s with and what they’re doing. If I knew, I’d tell you, he wants to shout at them.

Ashton’s room is far enough away from the party noise that with the door closed, it’s almost possible to forget there’s anything going on downstairs. Michael leans against the door as it clicks shut and waves a hand around. “This alright?” 

“I’m not that high-maintenance, you know,” Harry says wryly.

Michael scoffs, sort of smiling. “I find that hard to believe. Gucci, Harry?”

“I like it,” Harry defends. “I like…I don’t know.” He looks down at himself, so Michael decides it’s okay if he gives Harry a once-over too. If the Harry from 2013 met the Harry from 2020, Michael’s almost positive one of them would run screaming from the encounter, but that’s probably true of Michael, too. Admittedly, Harry has grown into himself in a way that makes Michael almost glow with pride. There’s no hint of the boy who’d been too scared to say how he felt to anyone, no trace left of the kid who’d once cried because he thought he would be judged for wearing nail varnish. It’s obvious that Harry is happier now. Everything about him is more there, and it’s clear in the way he carries himself, the way he smiles like he doesn’t care that people will see him enjoying something, the way he pulls his shoulders back in a flowy white button-up he’d never have dared approach with a ten-foot pole seven years ago.

“I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it,” Michael tells him. “I’m happy for you, you know. Like. I actually am. You seem happier. I can tell you are.”

“You do too,” Harry says. “I like your hair like this.”

Michael runs a hand self-consciously through his hair. It’s natural, has been for some time now. And Harry’s just complimented it, so Michael shouldn’t push, but he’s never been good at restraining himself. “You do?”

Harry shrugs. “It’s just more you, I think. Not, uh, that I’d really, like, know.”

“Well, Calum showed me some compelling research that convinced me not to dye my hair until it fell out,” Michael says lightly. He pauses; Harry’s just watching him, and Michael can’t remember the last time he had Harry’s attention at all, much less undivided like this. “You wanted to talk about something?”

“Right. I did, yeah.” Harry twists the rings on his fingers. Michael drops his gaze to the movement, and is momentarily distracted by Harry’s hands. Stop it, he scolds himself, and with great effort returns his eyes to Harry’s. It’s not much better in terms of not being distracted.

Michael waits, but Harry just shifts on his feet. “So…” Michael says slowly. “Talk?”

“Okay,” Harry says. “I miss you?” He clears his throat. “Uh. Yeah. I miss you. Spending time with you and talking to you, and seeing you all the time. And, like. Everything else. Which, like, I know I can’t just show up and say that, or — I’m not expecting anything from you, right. I just, I don’t know. We — we fell apart in a weird way, and,” he shakes his head. “I’ve always felt weird about it. But I’ve missed you a lot lately. Just — you’re one of the only people who never, um, expected anything from me? Or judged me for anything? Or wanted me to be something I wasn’t?”

Harry doesn’t say it, but Michael hears it anyway, that the other four people who used to be that for Harry aren’t exactly in his life anymore. Soon after the break, Michael and Ashton had gotten coffee with Niall, and he’d reassured them the break was as mutual as it could have been and that they’d be back on their feet in no time. As months turned into years, Michael started questioning the truth of that promise. 

They’ve grown up, is the thing. They’ve all grown up, all the One Direction boys, and 5SOS too. But while Michael thinks he and his bandmates have grown parallel to each other, it seems more and more like the former lads of One Direction have grown outward, every day further away from each other.  

Why don’t you go make up with one of them, then? Michael wants to ask, and he would if he could get his tongue unstuck from the inside of his mouth. They were your brothers.

“Anyway,” Harry says, with a self-conscious chuckle. “That’s all I wanted to say. I miss you, and…and I’m sorry for all the distance. I’d like to —” 

“Me too,” Michael says, words tripping out. “To all of it. I miss you. I’ve missed you. I’d like — whatever you were going to say.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“I can’t think of anything you would have said that I wouldn’t agree with,” Michael says. “Go on. Finish your sentence.”

Harry huffs a laugh. “I’d like to get to know this version of you.”

“Oh,” Michael says. “Never mind. I don’t want that.” Harry smacks his shoulder. “Oh my God, I’m joking!”

“Would you like to get coffee?” Harry says politely. Michael kicks him in the shins. “Ow! The hell!”

“Stop talking to me like I’m some stranger you’re humoring,” Michael says. “I’ve seen you naked. I’ve gotten you off. I categorically refuse to start from zero.”

Harry doesn’t redden, which is new; old Harry would have blushed and hidden his face in Michael’s shoulder. This Harry just tilts his chin back a little bit and says, “Fine. Come to my place.”

Michael hums appreciatively, anticipation thrumming in spades under his skin. This is new but familiar, like listening to an old song from childhood and finally, for the first time, understanding the lyrics. “Okay,” he says. “Tonight?”

Harry blinks. “If you want.”

“I do,” Michael says. “And as much as I want to stay here all night and talk to you, I should probably go back to my party. For my album. I’ve just released an album, I don’t know if you knew.”

“You’re a shit,” Harry says, grinning. “Go on. I want to catch up with the lads anyway. It really has been a long time.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I know,” Harry says, with a hint of bitterness. “I know. Believe me, I know. I’ve strained every relationship I used to have.”

Harry must be lonely, Michael realizes with a start. It seems impossible, for someone as…well, as Harry as Harry is, but there’s something secretly lost in the way Harry searches Michael’s face. If Michael were in Harry’s shoes, if 5SOS went on a break that sent them all spiraling in different musical directions, if it had been years since he’d spoken to the men he considers brothers now — it has to be lonely. It has to be lonely, knowing that the people who were there when you were learning to grow up don’t know you now that you’ve finally gone and done it.

Michael reaches out and laces his fingers with Harry’s. “Not this one,” he says. 

Harry smiles gratefully. They don’t say anything else before rejoining the festivities, but Harry also doesn’t let go of Michael’s hand when they’re amongst people, even when Calum smirks at them.

Before they put the album on to listen, everyone toasts to the band. Quietly, Michael adds, “To new beginnings.” 

Harry clinks their glasses together. “To old friends.”

“Or something,” Michael says.

“Or something.” Harry presses a kiss to Michael’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Michael feels his cheeks heat up. There’s no way to answer that without sounding too aloof or far too smitten, so he doesn’t. They both down their drinks, and Harry sticks to Michael’s side for the rest of the night, and Michael feels right at home.

[blouisparadise]

Here is a list of amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. Between the first month of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest and all the other fics that authors posted throughout the month, it’s clear that this was a great way to end off a great year of bottom Louis fics! We really hope you enjoy this list.

Happy reading, and have a Happy New Year!

1) The One Where Harry Fucks Louis While Wearing A Ballerina Dress  | Mature | 1440 words

So now here he is, Harry Styles, one of the biggest pop stars of this generation, about to head on national tv with a ballerina dress and an hard on. Life truly is amazing.

2) A XXX-Mas Miracle | Explicit | 2078 words

Harry's favorite camboy is doing something special for Christmas. He can't exactly miss it, can he? Absolutely not.

3) Pretty, Pretty Lights | Explicit | 2827 words

It's the first time Harry and Louis have been home for Christmas together since their parents got married. More importantly, it's the first time they've been home together since they'd presented. They meet up under the glowing lights of the Christmas tree.

4) Fine Line | Explicit | 3281 words

This is just a tiny fanfiction that in my head was really just a Survival Instinct spin off, but then became a thing of its own.

5) Starlight In Your Eyes Of Blue | Mature | 4360 words

Harry is in New York while Louis is back home at London waiting for Harry’s return. Unfortunately, Harry may be unable to come back home in time for Christmas and most importantly—Louis’ birthday. Louis can’t wait any longer to be in a bed that’s no longer empty but in the end it changes.

6) Christmas Glows With Love | Explicit | 4837 words

Harry, a photographer, is taking photos for a porn magazine cover. Louis, a solo porn star, is up for just about anything!

7) When You Touch Me, Paint Me Like A Van Gogh | Explicit | 4866 words

There's a cricket in the room.

Louis is pulled from a hazy dream state by the startling knowledge that there's a cricket in his room.

(Harry has been away for a month. He comes home to Louis in the middle of the night - dramatics and smut ensue.)

8) Have A Little Bit Of Pride | Mature | 5906 words

They had talked about going to pride together since they started dating 3 years, but had always been too busy during the month of June to make the move to actually go, but this year they had convinced the boys to go so they cleared their schedule to take part in as many activities as they could.

Or Harry is Louis' really hot boyfriend who keeps getting flirted with at pride, so Louis confronts Harry. Sex ensues.

9) Somebody Gets Hurt | Explicit | 6796 words

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been romantically linked for years. The couple threaten their careers after trying to amuse themselves on a slow day.

10) My Little Omega | Mature | 8339 words

Harry Styles is a well-known boxer that happens to be an alpha. He also happens to be in love with his omega neighbor, Louis.

11) Lights, Camera, Acción (You Can Be My Daddy) | Explicit | 8845 words

Basically, Louis is a slutty little camboy and Harry fucks him. It's literally just porn and the plot is only there to connect the smut scenes.

12) Should Be, Meant To Be | Explicit | 9174 words

Prompt #65: Louis signs up for a Sugar Daddy dating website on a drunken dare. He forgets for a while, until one night he gets a notification for a message request from none other than his really hot (really rich) boss, Harry Styles.

13) Winter Night Traveler | Explicit | 9398 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

A dangerous snowstorm leaves Louis stranded in his cabin. Lucky for him, he gets an unexpected visitor...

14) Call If You Need Me | Mature | 9419 words

If anyone asks later on, Louis plans to tell them that it’s all Niall’s fault.

15) The Time is Now for Me And You | Explicit | 9944 words

Note: This fic included because it is part of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest, but the main pairing is Liam/Louis rather than Harry/Louis.

Louis inhales shakily and then buries his face into the crook of Liam’s neck and cries. Liam just holds him close, keeping his hand moving lightly along Louis’ spine to let him know that he’s here and that he will be alright, despite Liam not knowing what’s going on.

It doesn’t take longer than a few minutes of crying before Louis extracts himself from Liam’s embrace, seemingly having collected himself enough to not break down again.

“Do you wanna tell me what all this is about?” Liam asks gently, keeping a gentle hand on Louis’ arm.

“We broke up.”

or; Liam is a weenie and Louis is a mess.

16) By the Still Of Your Hand | Mature | 10630 words

Louis has a little insecurity, Harry makes him feel better about it.

17) If My Heart Was A Compass, You'd Be North | Mature | 11121 words

Louis is a famous travel vlogger, and Harry is a famous vlogging food critic. They travel the world with their best friends and fall more in love with every continent they step foot on. When Louis' love declaration threatens Harry's dreams of giving Louis the perfect proposal, craziness ensues.

18) Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table | Explicit | 11262 words

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

19) Pour Decisions | Explicit | 12203 words

Prompt 80: AU where drunk!Louis fills out a fake job application for hot boss Harry Styles, including lurid details about his ‘desired position’ and ‘qualifications,’ and accidentally submits that instead of the real one.

20) Wrap Me Up In Your Love | Explicit | 13223 words

Every time Louis tries to tell Harry his big news, they always get interrupted. Louis becomes increasingly more frustrated as Harry becomes more confused about his Omega’s behavior. Or the one where Louis is pregnant and keeps getting interrupted in the most obscure ways every time he tries to tell Harry.

21) Just A Little Taste | Explicit | 13257 words

Louis works at The Blind Bat as a bartender during one of the busier times of the night. Typically, there’s one bartender on duty, his best mate Niall Horan, but Louis steps in to help with the demand. There’s always someone who needs a drink, a menu, or something to replenish their energy. He also has to look out of the humans who willingly allow vampires to feed on them. He’s quite protective of the regulars who come to get their kicks with a quick drink and a bite. A vampire’s bite, and the rush of endorphins that come with it, can be addicting. He should know.

22) Wake Me Up With It | Mature | 13699 words

The one where Louis makes Harry tell him a kink he's never gotten to try out, and then he offers to do it with him, which leads to Harry's heart exploding afterward when Louis seems to have meant it as a one-time thing. Featuring a pining Harry, a scared Louis, and excessive use of the word baby.

23) You'll Be Home For Christmas | Not Rated | 15214 words

“Honesty, Lou, just ask Harry for help.”

Louis remained silent as he continued to scowl at the Christmas calendar Niall had hung on their refrigerator.

“And be nice to my calendar filled with holiday cheer,” Niall instructed. “You’re going to burn a fucking hole in it from the way you’re glaring at the innocent thing. It’s not the calendar’s fault that your heat is starting so close to Christmas.”

24) Everything I Do | Explicit | 16390 words

Harry’s ready, has been for a while now, and he’s fairly certain Louis is too, it just hasn’t been on the top of their priority list. There have been offhand mentions, a comment here and there, more in jest than anything, no serious discussion or consideration. Harry stands up straighter, a stomach-churning thought forming in his mind. Has Louis been waiting for him to ask?

OR the one where Harry finds a book of Elizabethan courtship rituals which sets in motion a series of events that can lead to only one conclusion.

25) Don't Call Me Angel | Mature | 16648 words

Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.

26) Paint Me A Literature Of Love | Explicit | 18513 words

Harry loves literature. It also just so happens he falls in love with a painter who is the perfect subject for prose and poetry.

Louis loves art, specifically acrylic. It seems perfectly fitting that he finds a man that inspires him to paint with all the colours in his supply.

27) Sweeter Still When We're Alone  | Explicit | 20066 words

Louis is looking up at him, eyes glazed over and fucked out. His hair is a mess and Harry truly feels like he’s fallen under Louis’ spell.

“That’s right, you little witch,” he groans. He grabs the back of Louis’ hair and pulls it so that his head is tilted so far back that they’re barely centimetres apart, breathing in the same air. Harry closes his eyes and moves closer.

Nobody ever tells you that love potions taste like cherries.

28) Absolutely Smitten | Mature | 20121 words

Adopting Clifford was a way for Louis to finally cope with his loneliness, as a lively dog would spice up his life and his boring daily routine. Now, he surely didn’t expect Clifford to lead him to meet one strange man obsessed with his cat that he walks and cooks with.

Somehow, Louis falls in love pretty fast along the way.

Or. Louis is walking his dog. Harry is walking his cat. Leashes get tangled, and feelings too.

29) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

30) Written In The Stars (That's You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

Written for the prompt: Louis is a funny and bratty psychic and Harry is set on proving he's a scam.

31) Bloom | Explicit | 24887 words

When they first meet at Harry’s flower truck, Harry falls hard but Louis’ unavailable. Only before long, Harry reignites a spark that Louis thought long forgotten.

32) Swept Me Off My Feet (Took My Heart And Took Me Down) | Explicit | 25447 words

When Louis had decided to reopen his mother's bakery, he never thought a charming alpha would walk in through the door, let alone fall in love with him over tea, dessert and music.

33) The World Is Vast  | Explicit | 25858 words

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so fucking much.” Harry began to cry. “She was only 17 for fuck’s sake. She had her whole life ahead of her! She should be researching colleges and skipping school to hang out at the mall. She should be playing with her little brothers and helping her mother in the kitchen with dinner. This is bullshit! Complete bullshit! I thought I could do this, I thought…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he kicked the brick wall before collapsing against it, his head back, rain beating against his face, mixing with his tears.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Harry looked to Louis. He saw the same sadness and sorrow as the night before. He felt the same connection, the same feeling that he and Louis were alike - both broken looking to belong.

Or - The Killing Au.

34) Ours Are The Moments I Play In The Dark | Mature | 30830 words

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

35) Building Me Up (But Buttercup, You Lied) | Explicit | 31007 words

Harry’s mouth felt dry just saying those words. What he had with Louis was so much more than a simple ‘fuck buddies’ situation. It was slow kisses in the morning between soft sheets and shy smiles, it was holding hands in the afternoon while walking and eating ice cream. It was breakfast for dinner, laughing and licking honey from each other’s lips as they shared goals and even some secrets, it was happiness, it was glow.

To Harry, what he had with Louis meant everything. Until Louis decided it meant nothing.

36) From The Start | Explicit | 32171 words

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

37) Listen To Your Heart  | Explicit | 35019 words

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

38) Every Lonely Place | Explicit | 38062 words

Facing the fact that he’s been prioritizing his career over his relationship, Harry proposes to his longtime boyfriend Louis on a whim. But when yet another work emergency takes precedence over their plans, Louis decides he’s had enough. Harry goes to bed drunk and alone, and when he wakes, he finds himself in an entirely different world. Over and over again, Harry visits a lifetime he’s once lived, across time and dimensions. And wherever there’s a Harry Styles, there’s a Louis Tomlinson.

39) Now That This Old World Is Ending | Explicit | 49184 words

Needing a good distraction from his broken heart, Louis Tomlinson goes on a camping trip with his friends to Northern England. However, a different kind of distraction arises when his friends disappear from their camp. Hellbent on finding them, Louis soon discovers that the area has been taken over by a cult and teams up with a resentful archer with fire in his eyes and blood on his hands.

Far Cry inspired AU.

40) You'll Find Me (In The Region Of The Summer Stars)  | Explicit | 49929 words

Or the one where they're all greek gods except for Harry, who thanks to Niall has to defeat everything from sirens to giants to dragons in order to survive. What Harry doesn't know is what could be waiting for him at the end of his quest -anything from nymphs to dryads... or even a certain soulmate omega.

41) Thinking About The T-Shirt You Sleep In | Explicit | 52489 words

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

42) Warming Up to You | Explicit | 56227 words

“I feel you,” Harry nods along as he zips his bag open, carefully pulling out his fancy looking camera before pressing a button to turn it on. “I love taking pictures for a number of reasons, but I think the best part of the whole thing is that I’m able to go through my older pictures and have all these memories from those moments come back to me.”

He puts the camera against his eye and points at Louis, and before the shorter one can even react, he hears a ‘click’, and Harry’s smiling down at the screen of his camera.

“And I don't think I want to forget about the day I got stranded in a cabin with a pretty stranger,” he finishes off.

43) Not That Gone | Explicit | 61995 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

A few weeks after Louis and Harry, *ahem*, reconnect at their high school reunion, Harry temporarily moves back home. Louis isn't sure he has the emotional fortitude for a prolonged fling with the man of the dreams.

44) Beautiful Stranger | Explicit | 66074 words

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[licenselesswriter]

Ten Duel Commandments CH5

Duel Before The Sun is in the Sky

Friday, January 24, 2020

Maya wasn't the one who always remember the dates of important things, and even with her particular situation, she knew that he knew that today was their one-year anniversary. And that's why her relaxed posture gave one peaceful message, but her eyes wanted to kill him.

Lucas looks at his teammate, feeling for a second that he was in danger, "Sorry, Alex, but today, I have a date," he suddenly confesses.

Zay, surprised, looks at Maya, who was dumbfounded just like him.

Alex looks at him with a sincere smile, "Ohhh, Friar is back in the game? Good for you," he congratulates him, "Sadly, you're gonna make a lot of people mad at you," he adds.

Lucas looks at Alex, "Really? Why?" he asks.

"Well, we kinda bet on your sex, and dating life," he confesses.

Lucas gives Alex a disappointed look, "That's fantastic, do I want to know more?" he asks.

"Well, I'm, after all the mess you went with blondie there and her brunette friend, still have ten bucks on Missy, and thirty on Chai," he adds, "So please, tell me you're making me richer," he adds.

Lucas looks at him, confused, "I'm sorry, still?" he asks.

"Yeah, the pool says that you're gonna end with Brandon," Alex answers.

"Beg your pardon? Brandon?" Zay interferes.

"He's a line back runner," Alex explains, "Also good grades, and looks like Friar here love smart partners," he adds.

"He's right about that," Lucas says to Zay before giving Maya a fast glance.

"Excuse you," Zay says at him, "I'm Lucas's best friend. I've known him the longest. He got kicked out of school in Texas for me," he adds before facing Lucas, "My friend, if I wanted, I would rock your fucking world," he states, looking at his best friend directly into his eyes.

"Could you be any gayer?" Lucas asks his best friend.

"For God's sake, stop Chandlering me," Zay replies.

Alex looks at both of them, "You might not be gay, but you two are a married couple," he adds, "Ok, now, Friar, tell us who is the pretty lady joining you tonight," he continues.

"Relax, I'm going out with my Mom. She needs a few things from Bartlett yarns," Lucas lies.

Zay looks at him, "Oh, so in the end, you are gay," he teases him.

"Whatever you say, understudy," Lucas replies, mocking that he took the leading role in the school play last year.

"Asshole," Zay replies.

Alex put his hand on Lucas's shoulder, giving him a pity look, "See? Married couple," he says. 

After their conversation, the bell rings, and they all part ways, Isadora and Maya to History, Lucas and Zay to Spanish.

Once the boys where in the classroom, Zay finally asks, "Were you serious about going out with your mom today?" he asks

"Señor Babineaux, por favor, estamos en clase de español, asi que use español para sus conversaciones con el señor Friar (Mr. Babineaux, please, we're in Spanish class, so, use spanish for your chats with Mr. Friar,)" Señora Feinstein-Chang said to her student. 

"La señora Feinstein-Chang tiene razon mi amigo, estamos en clase de español, usa español por favor (Mrs. Feinstein-Chang is right my friend, we're in Spanish class, use Spanish please,)" Lucas comments on his teacher's words.

Zay looks at Lucas, unamused, "Hijo de (Son of,)" he wanted to say, only to be cut by the teacher.

"Señor Babineaux, si termina esa oracion, tendra un mes de detencion (Mr. Babineaux, if you finish that sentence, you will have one month of detention,)" she treats him.

Zay looks at Lucas, confused.

Lucas smiles, "One-month detention if you finish that sentence," he translates for him.

Zay looks to the ground, "Tu as de la chance que ce soit un cours d'espagnol (You're lucky this is a Spanish course,)" he mutters to Lucas in french.

Lucas chuckles until he felt the glare Mrs. Feinstein-Chang was giving them.

Once their classes ended, Maya walked into Topanga's for the first time since her fight with Riley five months ago, and once she saw her friends there, a pinch of pain and sorrow pierce her heart. Since Farkle's break-up with Isadora, Maya has been refraining herself from putting a foot in places where they are both alone, not because they don't want her with them, but because of the shame she felt for putting Isadora before Farkle.

But this time was different. This time, they call her, they reach first, which was a first for them. Maya looks at Topanga on the counter and gentle waves to her before walking to their friends. Once she was in front of them, she breaks their silence, "Mind if I use this spot?" she asks them.

Riley looks at her like she was a saint, "Please," she softly says.

Maya sits in front of them before looking at Farkle, "How bad are you handling things?" she asks.

Farkle looks at her like he was dead, "How you know I'm handling things bad?" he asks in a depressive tone.

"You were almost at my level of boredom in science. That speaks volumes," Maya answers.

"I've had better days," Farkle softly says, "No idea a break-up can be this messy, and it's only been a month," he adds.

Maya gently put her hand over his friend's hand, "Life is messy, and even when you feel bad right now, take it as new knowledge," she says, trying to comfort him.

Farkle looks back at her, "I doubt I can get anything from this," he replies.

Maya gives him a compassionate look, "At least you get the truth about you," she says, almost letting him know what she knows.

Surprised, Farkle feels the blood rush to his face, "That doesn't make me feel good at all," he replies, looking to the side, avoiding Maya's eyes.

Maya gently put her hand over Farkle's hand and caress it, giving him support, "Trust me, one day, it will," she says.

Riley looks at Maya with a soft smile, "Is that what you learned from my uncle?" she asks.

Maya chuckles, "In a way," she answers.

"Can't wait for you to become my aunt," Riley says, caressing Maya's hand.

Maya takes a deep breath and chuckles again, "We both know that's not gonna happen," she says, "But I like your enthusiasm," Maya adds.

Farkle looks at Riley, like doing some strange math in his head, "Wait, you're seeing someone?" he asks.

Riley immediately turns her head to Farkle, "Come on. She would never hide something like that from us," Riley fastly defends Maya.

Maya felt her stomach drops while her friends debate about her personal life, "Please, if I wanted to hide something, I could, perfectly," she nervously says.

Riley chuckles, "Yeah, maybe for a week, but that's not much," she replies.

Maya looks down, controlling her nerves, "I think I would be able to hide it a bit more than a week," she softly says.

"One month of homework says you can't hide it more than three months," Farkle bets.

Maya looks away from them, 'Boy, how wrong you are now,' she thinks to herself.

.

A few hours later, Maya walks into her apartment, only to find candles and the table already on, "Mom? I'm interrupting something?" she asks, hearing music from the kitchen.

Lucas walks out of her kitchen swaying to the rhythm of the music, "You don't have to say you love me, you don't have to say nothing, you don't have to say you're mine," he sings to Maya alongside the song on the background, "Sorry, not your Mom, different shade of blonde," he adds, before walking back into the kitchen.

"Shouldn't you be with your mom?" Maya asks.

Lucas comes back, this time with a rose on his hand, "Now you know Lucas Friar can lie like a pro," he answers before putting a soft kiss on her lips, "Also, you really thought I would forget our one-year anniversary?" he asks.

Maya looks at him, surprised, "Not gonna lie, you did one hell of a job with that lie, Friar," she says, gently passing her hands around his hips.

"Trust me. I would never forget the day you finally let me kiss you," Lucas replies, gently giving her the rose before kissing her again.

"What can I say? An elaborate lie, candlelight dinner, a rose, and a Harry Styles song, you bring your A-game today," she teases him before put a soft kiss on his lips.

Lucas holds Maya from her waist and looks directly into her eyes, "Want to guess what I made fr dinner?" he asks.

"I don't need to, my nose told me," she replies, gently caressing his waist with her fingers, "I love when you talk lasagna to me," she adds.

Lucas smiles at her, "I love you," he says to Maya.

Maya smiles back at him, "I love you too," she replies, "Now, lasagna, please," she adds.

Lucas chuckles, "At your service," he says before moving a few feet from her and walk into the kitchen.

Once they finish dinner, Lucas takes Maya to the couch, "Ok, you stay there, cozy and hot as usual, I'll be back in a minute," he says before running to the kitchen.

"Bring me Cheetos, please," she asks him.

"Check my bag next to the couch," he shouts from the kitchen.

Maya takes his bag, only to find a bag of Cheetos, a few cans of her favorite apple soda, and a DVD, "For real? you got me Cheetos, LaCroix Apple, and a movie? Now I feel bad because I only got you lingerie," she shouts back.

Lucas walks back with two cups of hot cocoa, "You mean lingerie for you to show off on me or lingerie for me?" he asks, hoping for the first option.

"Lingerie for me to show off, but now that you say it, I might get you Lingerie too. I bet you're going to look sexy AF with some," she teases him.

"Please, no," Lucas replies, giving her one of the cups, "You look good on that, not me. I look good on jeans," he adds.

"Also without them," Maya comments.

"Awww, you love me," Lucas says before sitting next to her.

"I do, now, movie," she says, poking his cheek.

Lucas takes the DVD from the case, "I know you think I got myself boyfriend points with the lasagna, but I'm gonna get more for this," he says before putting the DVD on the DVD player. The TV goes black, while Lucas turns off the lights before coming back to Maya.

"Is this 'Don't look behind you'?" Maya asks.

Lucas kisses her forehead, "Yeah, and after this, 'Held for Ranson'," he answers.

"I guess someone is gonna have a busy night tonight," Maya flirts with him.

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Lucas slowly wakes up, and as soon as his eyes open, they land on Maya painting a few feet away from him, making him smile, "You know, a man can get used to waking up to this view," he says, enjoying the lack of clothes his secret girlfriend was wearing.

Maya keeps painting without looking at him, "Yeah? Well, a woman can get used to sleeping next to you, even with your snores," she replies.

"I don't snore," Lucas defends himself getting up from her bed before gently hugging her from behind.

"Yeah, you do," she continues, feeling his warmth.

"You're mean to me," Lucas says, kissing her shoulder, "Should I make breakfast?" he asks.

Maya stays silent for a few seconds, "You know, I was thinking," she starts.

"That's new," Lucas teases her.

Maya hits him with her brush, painting his face, "As I was saying, I was thinking," she resumes, "Maybe we can go out for breakfast," she adds.

"Why? I mean, not against that, but people might see us," he questions her.

Maya smiles, still facing her canvas, "So?" she asks before turning to look at him, "Would that be so bad?" she asks.

"Are you for real?" Lucas asks, half happy, half surprised.

"Yeah, I mean, secret or not, you're still my boyfriend of one year who gives me a nice anniversary dinner," she answers, "You earn that," she adds.

Surprised, Lucas looks at her with a massive smile on his face, "I'm still dreaming?" he asks, making her laugh.

"You want me to take my offer back?" she asks back.

"Ohhh, and offer and a teasing in one morning, girl, you know how to push my buttons," Lucas replies before kissing her lips, "Where you want to have breakfast?" he asks.

"I have a place," she answers before turning to Lucas, kissing his lips, "But first," she says before gently push him into her bed.

"God, I love Saturdays," Lucas says with a smile.

.

Around an hour and a half later, Maya and Lucas walk into the Nighthawk Diner.

"Ok, still feels like home," Maya says.

"You're so cute when you remember things like that," Lucas comments before putting a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm always cute," Maya replies, softly punching his arm, "Let's get a table," she adds, pulling him by his hand.

"Maya!" They both heard as soon as they sit.

"Maddie!" Maya says, hugging the waitress that called her.

"How is my favorite teen doing?" she asks before landing eyes on Lucas, "Oh? And this gentleman is?" she asks.

Lucas looks at her, "Lucas Friar," he introduces himself before looking at Maya, "I'm her friend," he says.

"Friend?" Maddie asks Maya.

"Boyfriend," Maya corrects her, making Lucas smile.

"The Texas boy?" she asks.

"Yeah," Maya answers.

"I'm so happy for you, Maya," Maddie says, caressing Maya's shoulder in approval, "Great to meet you, Lucas. You can't go wrong with her," she adds. 

Lucas looks at Maya, "I know," he replies.

Maddie looks the way Lucas looks at Maya, wishing to have someone that looks at her the way Lucas looks at Maya, "Full breakfast?" she asks Maya.

"You know me so well," Maya replies, watching her Mother's former coworker leave them with a smile.

"I'm gonna put aside the fact that you called me boyfriend to ask, 'the Texas boy?'" Lucas asks, trying to mask his happiness for being called her boyfriend in public.

"Let's say that thanks to my Mother, everyone knows who you are here," Maya replies.

"Have I ever mention how much I like your Mom?" he asks, making Maya chuckle.

"A few times," Maya says.

Lucas chuckles, "You know, I wonder if your Mom was able to tell how I was feeling for you way before me?" he asks.

Maya smiles at him, "Who knows?" she replies, keeping to herself all the nights her Mother warn her that he looks at her in the same way Shawn looked at her when they marry.

A few minutes later, Maddie came back with two sets of eggs, bacon, orange juice, coffee, and pancakes, "Two sets of full breakfast, syrup for the gentleman, and for my favorite teen, whipped cream too," she says, putting everything on the table.

"Can I?" Lucas asks, trying to get some of her whipped cream.

"That depends on how much you value our private time together," Maya answers.

Lucas gives her an offended look, "Are you seriously holding sex for whipped cream?" he asks.

"You would be surprised about how many foods I would hold sex for," she replies.

"I'm dating the sin of gluttony," he teases her.

Maya smiles and puts the whole cream over her pancakes, "You're damn right, Huckleberry," she says before start eating. 

After one good and nutritious breakfast, they keep enjoying each other's company until Lucas was the first to get up, "If you excuse me, this has been way too much coffee," he says before walking to the bathroom.

"You're a pig," Maya comments.

Lucas blows her a kiss, "Your pig," he replies before disappearing into the corridor.

As if it was the most normal thing, Maya takes advantage of Lucas being out to steal his bacon, "You go, you lose," she says.

After five minutes of her stealing Lucas's breakfast, Maya heard a voice that she would recognize anywhere, "Maya?" she listened to her back.

Maya turns over, and there he was, Josh Matthews, "Josh?" she says.

"In the flesh," he replies with a smile before sitting on Lucas's seat, "Having breakfast with my niece?" he asks, taking off his sunglasses.

Maya blurt a chuckle, nervous, "Nope," she replies, "What you're doing here?" she asks.

"Hangover breakfast," he answers, "So, who's breakfast I'm eating?" he asks, taking one of the bacon strips on the plate.

Maya felt her stomach drop when she saw Lucas behind Josh, "That would be mine," he says.

"Howdy?" Josh says, confused.

"Hello," Lucas says.

Josh moves to the side, and Lucas takes his rightful place, "I'm gonna guess you only take one strip of bacon," Lucas says, looking at Maya.

"Guilty," Josh confesses. Maddie walks to them, and as soon as she was close enough, Josh smiles at her, "Hello Mads," he greets her.

"Joshy," Maddie replies, "Hangover breakfast?" she asks.

"Mads, you need to know that I love you to the moon and back," Josh says, thanking her.

"You're lucky my husband likes you," Maddie replies, making him laugh.

"Tell Oliver, I love him too. I don't want him to spit on my milkshake," he jokes.

"Please, we have ethics," Maddie replies walking from the table.

Josh smiles before focusing on Lucas and Maya again, "So, breakfast problem fixed," he states, "Did you went to a party that you're having breakfast together?" he asks.

Lucas looks at Maya and felt his stomach drop, he knew she would make something up, and he knew it wasn't for Josh, but Riley, but he still didn't like it.

Maya felt Lucas eyes on her and smiles at him, "Actually, we're having an anniversary breakfast," she confesses.

Surprised, Lucas looks at her, "Are you sure?" he asks, completely ignoring Josh's expression.

"Wait, so, my niece finally got over Howdy?" Josh asks.

Maya and Lucas look at each other in silence, only to face Josh's surprised expression.

"Wait, she doesn't know?" he asks.

"Yet," Lucas fastly says.

Josh looks at Maya with a disappointed look, "Man, that's fucked up," he says.

"We know," Maya says.

Maddie finally brings Josh's breakfast, "I need something to process that," he says and starts devouring his french fries.

Maya and Lucas let him eat in silence, and once his fries we're done, he looks at his burger, "Please tell me this is new," he says, taking a sip of his milkshake.

Lucas looks at Maya, worried.

"A year," Maya answers.

"What?!" Josh exclaims.

"We've been secretly dating a year," Maya confirms.

Lucas takes her hand and softly caress it, "I know this might be much, but can you please let us handle it?" he asks him.

Josh looks at Lucas and grabs his milkshake, "You, me, outside, now," he says.

Maya grabs Lucas hand, and he gives her a tranquilizing look, "Don't worry, it will be fine,"

Once they were outside, Josh takes Lucas aside where Maya wasn't able to hear them, "Ok, I have a few questions, so if I think you don't answer truthfully, I will tell my niece, do we have a deal?" he asks.

"Not like I have an option, so, deal," Lucas agrees.

"When you discover that you were in love with her?" Josh starts.

"Easy," Lucas says, "It was the day she went with Riley looking for herself and came back showered in purple paint," he answers.

"The day the triangle started?" Josh asks.

"Kinda," Lucas replies, "Trust me, I picked Maya that day, but she turns me down for Riley's well being," he adds.

"Wait, you went on the whole triangle thing because of her?" Josh asks.

"Yeah," Lucas replies, resting his back against the wall.

"Man, that's fucked up," Josh states.

"I know," Lucas comments.

"Let's go back inside," Josh says.

As soon as they come back, they notice how the rest of Lucas's bacon was gone.

"Don't judge me, stress eating," Maya defends herself.

Josh sits in front of his burger and takes a bite, then wash it with a bit of his milkshake, "You need to tell her, soon," he warns Maya, "Also, I'm gonna pretend this breakfast never happened," he adds, before looking at Lucas, "The chat we had outside, didn't happen," he then turns at Maya, "The fact that you are a couple now? I don't know anything about it," he continues, "Do we have a deal?" he asks.

Lucas and Maya look at each other, and Maya finally answers, "We do," she says.

(I don’t like Josh, but this time, i’m not gonna make him the bad guy)

[matildashoney]

loving you the anitdote n 6 seem like a perfect fit

OH MY GOD, IT SO IS.

SEND ME PROMPTS FROM THIS LIST!

Harry knew that he was testing the waters. 

Handing her the computer, Amelie’s eyes grew wide, her eyes flicking between Harry’s and the sex toy displayed on her screen. He was leaving for New York soon, away for a few days promoting the album and the upcoming tour, coming back to California to celebrate Jenny’s birthday and then they would be shipped off to London for a short period before Love on Tour would begin and they would be apart.

Harry said that he had a surprise, that he was thinking about purchasing something for her but needed her opinion before he did so.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be that big,” Amelie says, pinching her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger and tracing her eyes over his face, the curiosity in his eyes and smirk on his lips telling her that he would have a sly remark to retort.

“Supposed to be a replica of me,” Harry teases, his fingers squeezing her thigh and clasping his fingertips between her legs, his lips touching her cheek teasingly. “Well, your favourite part of me.”

“Your heart?”

“My heart, yeah,” Harry scoffs, his eyes glancing over the model of the toy on the screen, his measurements awkwardly inserted in the system.

Amelie shuts the laptop and sets it on the bedside table, swinging her legs over Harry’s waist and straddling his hips. His hands clutch her hips, his thumbs gently kneading the skin beneath the waistband of her satin shorts that he loved so much. “Je pense que tu es devenu fou.”

“I have not gone mad!” Harry exasperates, his fingertips trickling up her sweatshirt and settling on the curve of her waist where her chest lays. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t use it.”

“Not unless I was having a really bitter night,” Amelie confesses, carding her fingers through his hair and slowly leaning in to press against him. Her lips ghost across his ear, gently nipping at his earlobe, sponging kisses along the skin of his neck and peppering a line on his jaw. “I prefer the real thing, clearly. Did you forget that last month I flew out to see you at the very last minute.”

“Oh, you mean it wasn’t because you wanted to see me perform, again,” Harry chuckles breathlessly, a moan escaping his throat as her hips begin to grind against his, his hands tightening around her. Harry moans into her kiss, the way her taste is intoxicating making him lose track of his thoughts. “Offer is there if you want me to buy it for you, mon ange.”

“Think I’d rather just impulsively fly twelve hours to have the real version,” Amelie smirks, biting at Harry’s bottom lip and tugging, feeling the way his hands are slowly inching her satin down her thighs, his briefs all too tight against his groin.

“Je préfère aussi avoir le vrai truc.”

“You better.”

[meet-me-in-the-kitchen]

the reader passes out as soon as boyfriend!harry comes home from tour because she has been studying day and night to finish all her assignments before harry returns

EXHAUSTEDLY IN LOVE

It had been months since Harry had come home. Months spent sleeping on his side of the bed, burying her face in one of his pillows to catch his scent. Nights spent wearing his shirts, waiting for his calls, and settling with the recording of his voice during the voicemail message, in moments when she especially had missed him.

The point was, it had been ages since she’d seen her boyfriend, and Y/N is determined not to let coursework take away more time spent with him.

So, she scrambled to get it all done, in order to have more time for Harry’s kisses, cuddles, and love. She hadn’t felt him in so long, so without hesitation she’d buried herself under assignments, final projects, and studying for major examinations that would take place the following weeks. She started a few days before Harry was to get off the plane, starting with basic reviewing and taking creative breaks by writing and proofreading final essays and projects.

Somewhere along the way, she’d traded meals (the ones Harry had made with his own hands and left frozen for her in the fridge, because she can’t cook for shit and he’s too fond of her to let her become sick by eating burnt toast) for processed food, muffins and coffee. She stayed in their living room, where she had spread all of the work so it lid in unorganized heaps and papers scattered on the ground she could somehow navigate through. One half haphazardly crumpled and tossed ball of foil paper she’d eaten a muffin from had quickly turned to a couple, a dozen, and then bred to the point where it had escalated north to a much greater number. Wrappers littered the floor, despite her prior hate for disgusting messes rather than comfortable messes, she didn’t care. Coffee cups lay strewn aside, muffins half eaten, eyes bleary and nose sniffling a little from congestion.

The messiness crept up on her. Parts of her life began falling off, forming an eclectic debris that dribbled gradually into every corner. Empty sushi containers, Diet Coke cans, sweaters, sweatshirts (Harry’s), socks, her running shoes...when was the last time she’d washed her hair?

However, she really wanted to see Harry properly and get those assignments finished, so she writes that essay.

There is the thesis, which she painstakingly rewrites in every paragraph or else the teacher will say something like ‘???’. There is her restating the first bit of the thesis statement again, maybe with a different word or two. There’s that one character she does remember vaguely, and a purposefully verbose depiction of them so she can take up as much space as possible.

Transitional sentences she shambled together out of the remains of her hopes and dreams.

A rambling, off-topic sentence which probably should have been deleted but it's four in the morning and she honestly doesn’t care and I need those full ten pages. A drastic shift in the paper where for five seconds she actually thinks she knows what she’s talking about. There’s her analysis of a quote in which she tries to explain why it supports her thesis like explaining to a small child why the wind blows. It just does, okay, but I'm only going to be able to express this in really confused and circular speech. Here's her mentioning that character again, but this time she’s talking also about a second character. She secretly hopes she never has to take a test on this stuff. Concluding line. Transitional sentence, but with a vague sense of foreboding and dread attached to it. Her sore hands are starting to slow down. She has now grown to resent the two characters she has been talking about, and she sincerely hopes they both die in a fire, because literally nothing interesting happens to them; literally nothing interesting happened in this book whatsoever, but here's the analyzation of a quote dedicated to them.

When she’s sent in the last assignment and reviewed her brain numb, she feels wonder. Such magic. Somewhere in between killed-someone and just-saved-a-baby-dolphin. Euphoric. Such hope that she swears she just felt a rib snap. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. She falls back on their bed.

Then, there’s fatigue. Tiredness gnaws at her aching bones, her head heavy, and body feeling unusually cold. A little drowsy, too, because she’d grown alarmed at the distracting dry coughs she was having while reviewing macro economics two, and had downed a bunch of foul smelling (expired?) Tylenol, like taking shots.

Her fingers were blistered from writing down all of the information she remembers from anatomy class for the examination, because it’s been scientifically proven that if you physically write the information down, it’s easier to remember. She’s never been one to like organization, and seeing girls with carefully handwritten tumblr study notes makes her furious, because they’re so slow and her mind works so fast, she’s too impatient and unable to catch her train of thought before it flees the scene, and write in perfect times new roman, size twelve, double spaced and in gel pen shades of fuchsia. It comes to bite her in the ass when she witnesses the disastrous scene of flashcards and sushi and bad handwriting and realizes she must clean it up.

All in all, she wasn’t feeling her best, but Harry was here, and it would definitely pass, right?

—

The night came when Y/N drove to Heathrow airport to pick her boyfriend up, excited and eager to have him back, but also suppressing the low throbbing in her head. It was later at night, so rush hour has passed and traffic was laid back, and the crowd in the airport had significantly dwindled.

We’ll have a few moments privately to ourselves before the press come, she thought, content and dreaming of him.

The time comes when the lights start flashing, and she knows that he’s back.

“Harry,” she breathily laughed, biting her lips, and trying to blink back the welling tears in her eyes as she catches sight of his sparkling forest green eyes from behind the transparent barrier between them. He runs off of the plane, and she runs to him at the same time. It’s like a scene in the movie, before her body collided with his, his comforting, striking scent engulfing her and his strong arms wrapping around her, catching her as she jumped up into his arms. He buries his own face into her neck, breathing in her girlish scent. It’s a scene from a Lifetime movie. They both cry.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” he whispered the promise, before sealing their lips in their first kiss in months.

There’s a lot to say behind that kiss. In his head, mainly. Questions and worry that had been intensifying every waking moment to the nights prior to this one, when he had called Y/N and she had responded hours and sometimes days later with a text saying she was fine. It had been so long since they’d had a proper conversation, and it would be a lie if Harry hadn’t thought the distance was affecting them. Causing her to care less. Now, he was confused. In love, definitely, but confused at how the woman who had seemingly avoided him for days was now leaping in his arms, holding on tightly to him like a koala bear and clinging for life.

The screams behind them started growing, cameras clicking, and fans growing desperate. After pushing one last kiss against her lips, Harry smiled at her adoringly, dimples poking out as her eyes fluttered open.

“Come on, it’s time to go, Princess.”

She nodded, and they kept their heads down, security surrounding them methodically as they moved through the gathering crowd. Through the middle of it, however, Y/N begins to feel a bit dazed. No, not now, she thinks to herself, nervously. The flashes and clicks and screams do nothing for her terribly painful headache, and worsen the heavy feeling in her chest. Her legs feel detached from the rest of her body, moving robotically and at a quick pace as they move hand in hand, Harry pulling her closer to his chest in order to protect her from the crowd. Her hands are becoming sweaty, and she wonders if he can feel it.

She’s taking deep breaths, training her expressionless face to the ground, and trying to focus on the steadiness of Harry’s arm around her waist, how it was warm and unwavering. However, this lessens her attention and causes her to forget that one step as Harry and her step into the elevator, hidden by the security who let them pass and keep everyone else out. They’re the only two going inside, when her foot slips into the little crack in the machine, and she lurches forward. Harry’s arms tense around her, pulling her inside the elevator before it shuts on her foot.

“Jesus, you alright, baby?”

She tries to make a confirming noise, but it comes out as more of a groan, and she’s so hungry, her stomach is painfully empty. This strikes his alarm, and so he places his large hands on her shoulders, finger tilting her chin up as he gazes down at her with tentative, cautious green eyes, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Mhm,” she mumbles, not quite wanting to let go of his chest just yet. It was warm and smelled of him, and she was afraid she’d lose her balance if she let go. Instead, she slung her arms around his hips and closed her eyes, face against his chest. Before murmuring: “I just missed you so much, H.”

He relaxes some at this, visibly becoming less tense. His expression softened as he looked over at his girl.

“Sleepy?” He asked softly, a finger stroking her cheek while his other arm wrapped itself around her waist, securing her to him. She hummed, and he kissed her hair.

“You smell nice,” she confessed. “Like.. like... Harry candles.”

“Come on, love,” he laughed lightly, guiding her out of the lift and brushing it off as she stumbled some, again, blaming it on her exhaustion. “Let’s get you home, in bed. Y’very sleepy.”

“No,” she protested, eyes narrowing while she pointed at his chest determinedly as she remembered all the work she had done, waiting for this moment. “I’ve made dinner, and you’re going to eat that, and then I’m going to put on lingerie and look irresistible and you’re going to seduce me into getting into bed with you.”

“I’m going to seduce you, hm?” Harry teased, a signature smirk on his face. He nuzzled his face into her neck and peppered kisses there, after they’d gotten into the car and he had sat in the drivers seat next to the passengers seat, where she sat. “You don’t need lingerie. You’re already irresistible.”

With a weak smile and a killer migraine, she rolled her eyes.

“Shut up and drive, Styles.”

—

The aching in her body would go, and then come back full force as Harry drives, one hand easy on the steering wheel, other grasping hers and rubbing circles into her much smaller palms as he talked of the places he’d traveled and how much he’d missed her, home.

She’d smile and nod, but what was this? She’d spent all of her energy finishing her assignments to spend time with him, but now she spent the time she had feeling sick.

They’d entered into their flat, and Harry had heaved a long sigh, comforted in the private confines of his home. Y/N had instructed him to freshen up, swatted away his lingering hands from her hips, and gotten dinner ready. She’d made his favorite.

She was just setting the wine on the candlelit table, when the all consuming drowsiness for her again, but she breathed in and out and gulped down some cool water, waiting for it to pass and then fixing the table, again.

He’d snuck up behind her, planting his hands on her hips and sponging kisses down her delicate neck when she clenched a bit in surprise, before relaxing slightly, still a bit stiff.

“Wow,” he’d muttered, green eyes sparkling as they ran over what she’d done. She’d pushed him down into a chair. “This is amazing, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she promised, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ve waited so long. Now, come on! There’s a cake you have to cut.”

There’s an apparent slow burn that situated itself in her ribcage, her stomach twisting in unease as she continued to smile and walk towards the counter, uncovering a big cake she had made for him in his favorite flavour and colours. She grabbed a lighter and quickly lit all the candles, the heat causing her chest to flush uncomfortably, arms prickling due to the unwanted warmth. Her head spun.

Carefully, she had began walking toward Harry with the cake, a faint smile still on her face as he stared at her lovingly. She had placed the cake in front of him.

“Welcome back home, baby,” she’d murmured, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she held him, nuzzling her face into his neck, chest against his back. He lifted his hand to rest where hers did, before exhaling and blowing out the little fires on the candles, smoke billowing past them, as a result.

“I love you.”

She heard the phrase, but it sounded more distorted. The smoke and heat surrounding her becoming too much, migraine worsening, nausea uprising. She became more aware of her fatigue and hunger and dizziness. What was happening?

Harry’s own forehead had creased in concern as he eyed her after she hadn’t responded like she usually did. There was a strange, faraway look in her eyes, as he watched as her face fell with a frown downturning his own cherry lips. Eyes darkening in worry.

“Love?”

The last thing she felt was her own body turning against her, feeling weightless as her eyes closed shut. She collapsed, his arms quickly wrapping around her to break her fall.

—

Y/N felt as if she were nestled in a cloud, entrenched in softness and white and the warmth that could only be from the body heat of someone very close and very familiar. She yawned, stretching beneath the heavenly comforter. How long has it been since I’ve last slept here? Pushing the thought away, she had smiled sleepily. Harry must have changed the sheets into new, fresh ones. He was sweet.

Her eyes snapped wide open.

Harry.

“You’re awake.”

His voice was as gentle as the breeze, but his darkened eyes held emotions she couldn’t figure out, ones that caused her stomach to roll in unease.

“Drink,” he motioned to the glass filled with what looked like foggy water which he had ripped over slightly, nudging her lips. Inwardly grimacing, she parted her lips and he silently tipped the glass further into her mouth. Bleh. It was sugar water. “It’s to get your blood sugar up.”

“I spoke to the doctor,” he said. His voice hard as steel, but he restrained from sounding too firm or saying anything he didn’t mean. She already knew what he’d say.

“Harry,” Y/N whined, she was still tired. How about a rain check? She mused. On this conversation. I want to sleep some more.

“Y/N.”

His voice had a warning edge to it.

“You haven’t been eating,” he stared at her blankly as he stated the facts, but the worry in his eyes was now evident. She felt the urge to look away, but couldn’t. “—sleeping, and the doctor’s said you’ve been looking stressed. What’s going on? Tell me the truth.”

“I wanted to spend time with you..”

“So you deprived yourself of food and sleep?” He asked, disbelief colouring the sentence.

“I had a lot of coursework,” she confessed, looking down to where she fiddled with her fingers, a nervous habit. It all seemed so silly, now. “It’s becoming exam season, and I had a lot of projects and major assignments and reviewing to do.”

“You’re gone for ten months,” she pressed, a little pained. “I didn’t.. I didn’t want to spend the time I have with you doing coursework and stressing over prepositions and definitions, when we could be going places or doing nothing together. It’s been so long, Harry. I missed you.”

His eyes softened at the explanation, but hers were still downturned. She felt vulnerable. Had he missed her as much as she’d missed him?

“I guess, I kind of lost track of time and forgot to eat and stuff during all of the hustling to get things finished. I ate,” she offered with a weak smile, knowing it was futile. “I ate muffins and drank coffee.”

Harry shook his head at that.

“You silly girl,” he laughed wetly, tears springing to his own eyes as he pulled her near him, sponging soft kisses to her hairline and looking down at her sweetly. “I know the feeling. I hate being far from you, too, baby, but. You need to take care of yourself. You can’t be getting sick.”

She snuggled further into his warm chest, content with his familiar scent— of sandalwood and boy and home. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as close as physically possible, feeling every curve and dip he’d missed being against for so long.

“I was so worried,” he whispered. She felt her own heart ache at how he sounded a bit broken. “It was so sudden. One second you were smiling, and the next you’d fainted. I thought you were.. I thought something was wrong. I need you.”

“I’m sorry, H,” she apologized, sighing delicately as her boyfriend ran his fingers under the shirt (his) she was wearing, skin contacting with her warm back and tracing around until his palm lay flat against her bare stomach as he spooned her. “Hey.. did you change my clothes? “

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively: “did you see my new lingerie?”

He rolled his eyes in amusement, before dramatically widening them for exaggerated emphasis. “Loving you,” he poked her nose. “Is exhausting. I’ve lost years off of m’life.”

“Yes, but you get to see me naked. So, you see, it’s all worth it in the end.”

It was. These months apart. The forces that tried to break them apart. Every ache, every second apart was worth it. She was worth it, and so was he.

He laughed, lips stretching into a wide smile as he pulled her closer to him while continuing to smother her squirming self with smacking kisses.

MASTERLIST