#very loosely based on my ma getting her crush on my dad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matildashoney · 4 years

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Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Eight

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

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @cock-a-doodely-do

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this chapter contains themes of anxiety, depression, and sexual content. please read with caution.

Harry felt hot. Hot couldn’t even properly describe the feeling. His thighs were clinging together beneath the duvet, sweat beading on his forehead, the hairs at the nape of his neck clinging to his skin. His arms felt empty, the pillow that is normally occupied by his girlfriend’s baby pink curls and red lips bare and only held by his hand. He grumbled, rolling his eyes at the stiffness between his legs, his briefs tighter on his skin as he slings the blanket over his body and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, the bedroom door propped slightly open.

Amelie was treading the corridor, her feet burning holes in the wood beneath her, her fingertips brushing through her matted hair, her figure adorning her boyfriend’s favourite coloured lace – the burgundy set – and her breasts nearly spilling from the cup because of her pacing.

Harry carefully stepped towards her, gently setting his hand on her hip, his lips touching her shoulder to coax her muscles to loosen. His hands squeeze her hips, his mouth laying on the back of her neck to kiss her, his hands holding her hair away from her skin.

“Non, papa, ils ont dit qu'ils ne viendraient pas le réparer aujourd’hui,” Amelie sighs, leaning her head back onto Harry’s shoulder, forcing a smile and pecking his cheek sweetly. “Êtes-tu? Cela vous dérange si Harry et moi nous changeons dans ma chambre? Il commence déjà à faire très chaud ici.”

Harry can hear Luca’s voice through the speaker, their words slipping so easily from their lips and his brain only understanding a measly sentence. Harry was getting better, day by day, speaking more, understanding more. He wanted to be able to speak to Amelie fluently in French, their own language to speak to each other when there were others around.

That’s how Harry wants to tell Amelie he loves her.

Harry waits until Amelie hangs up the phone to kiss her, circling his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to hers, smiling as her arms wrap around his shoulders and her hands hold his neck, her phone tossed on the nearest table, her thumbs tracing the cut of his jaw as their lips move together, their chaste kisses tasting the chapstick and remaining love of the previous night.

“Morning, mon ange,” Harry hums, his lips sticky with sweat as he kisses her cheek. “Do I even have to ask why it’s so bloody hot in here?”

“About an hour ago there was a weird sound coming from the vent in the studio and I went to look at the monitor and it said that the air was off,” Amelie yawns, hiding her face in Harry’s neck as he toys with the flimsy clasp of her bra. “Went to turn it on and the screen went black. Now, it’s fucking hot and the landlord won’t fix it, today. That’s what I was saying to Dad. Mama said we can go to their house early and change there.”

“Alright,” Harry says, snapping the clasp and dragging one strap down her arm, goosebumps prickling her skin with the touch of his finger. “Can go in a little bit. Have one thing to do first.”

“Thought you were going to take this as your opportunity to have sex with your girlfriend in her childhood bedroom,” Amelie giggles, her eyes fluttering shut as Harry plants a kiss to the swell of her breast peeking outside the cup. “Quiet and fast. Thought about it since you said it.”

“Naughty girl,” Harry hums against her skin, his thumb tucking into the waistband of her panties and chastely kissing her neck. “That a promise?”

“Think you can make it another hour, Mr Styles? Seems like your friend has other ideas.”

“My friend doesn’t know what’s good for him,” Harry grumbles, his eyes squeezing shut as Amelie’s hand ghosts across his bare stomach, his skin tightening under her touch. “Apparently neither do you.”

Amelie’s lips ghost across his, Harry’s hands tightening around her waist and his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. His thumbs nudge her panties slightly down her hips, making the material pool at her ankles. “Can’t get my hair wet in the shower.”

“Can feel a ‘but’ following that.”

“But,” Amelie mutters, her fingertip pulling on his lips and slowly pulling away. His eyes drag along her figure, his chest heaving with a breath and his cock twitching between his thighs. “I won’t get my hair wet if you fuck me from behind.”

“Get in the bathroom,” Harry growls, moving towards her and unclasping the lace around her chest. His fingertips fling the loose material to the ground, his hands patting her bum to nudge her into the bathroom faster. “Will not be needing this in there, thank you.”

Amelie silently swears under her breath, a shy, gracious smile perched on her lips as Harry steadies her hand and ensures that she wouldn’t slip against the slick base of the porcelain tub. His fingers shove the briefs down his thighs, his lips curved into a smirk as he admires her tying her hair away from her face and leaning against the tiled wall.

“Take your time,” Amelie teases, folding her arms in front of her chest and pursing her lips together into a straight line. “Not like I asked you to ta–”

Harry’s hand clasps over her mouth, tugging the curtain behind him and surrounding their naked bodies in a dimly lit steam. His back slightly arches with the pulse of the cold water against his skin, his hand dragging away from her mouth and dragging along her skin. “That’s colder than I thought.”

“Forgot to mention that the water heater is broken, too.” Amelie shrugs with Harry’s pointed stare, his hands pressing against the tile beside her ears and his lips beginning to sponge fluttering kisses along her jaw. “Don’t mention what I know you’re thinking about.”

“Turn around,” Harry says, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and lightly smacking her bum as his lips ghost across the back of her neck, the goosebumps prickling her skin with his light touch. His fingertips lace through hers, one hand on her hip, one hand interlocked with hers around her waist. “Got’a get you out of this place, baby.”

“Don’t talk about it, now,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip as his hand slowly separates her thighs and slicks his thumb over his tip, his arousal spreading over his cock, his thumb gently dragging along her heat and humming with the wetness collecting on his skin. His lips suckle into her shoulder, his shaft easing into her core, a whimper leaving his lips as she squeezes around him. “Can’t leave a mark.”

“Got a massive crush on you,” Harry grunts, his fingers squeezing her tighter and tugging her hips to meet his thrusts, his lips sloppily laying against her skin, the warm smacking sounds echoing against the tiled walls, her whimpers a melody to his ears.

Amelie smirks against her forearm, sweat beading at her forehead in spite of the freezing water pounding at their skin. “Might have a bigger one on you,” she says, a whine leaving her lips as Harry’s hips grind deeper against hers, thrusting harshly and making his cock reach her hilt and delve against the plush velvet that makes her toes curl and her orgasm burn in her stomach. Amelie knows what makes Harry go harder when they’re having sex, and telling him that she’s all his, is very much one of those ways. “Make me feel so good.”

“Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers into her neck, his lips laying lazily against the skin below her ear. Harry’s hand squeezes Amelie’s tightly, his voice thickened and rasped, his hand trailing up her chest and squeezing her breast, twirling her pert nipple between his fingertips. “Gon’a make you feel so good, always.”

“Like being yours,” Amelie moans, tightly squeezing his cock in her core and rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, gasping as Harry’s cock stretches her in the sweetest way. “Don’t wan’a be anyone else’s.”

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, mon ange,” he says, his lips gently laying against her neck and kissing her sweetly, his shaft squeezed so tightly into her core that he is sure he is lost in the feeling of her warmth. Harry nips at her neck, smirking as her thighs begin to shake beneath him, his words spurring her and encouraging her orgasm. “Go on.”

Harry’s orgasm courses through his body as Amelie squeezes around him. His forehead against her shoulder, his lips touching her shoulder blades, his arms wrapped tightly around her tummy. He smirks a dazed smile as she turns in his grasp, her eyes lightened and slightly hazy with the orgasmic bliss. Amelie’s smile is wide, her lips curved to blow her fringe away from her eyes, a tinge on her cheeks accompanied with the sweat on her skin, a vast comparison to the freezing cold pattering against their skin as they rinse the orgasm from between their thighs.

Confidence is the only thing Harry could describe as what’s come over Amelie over the last two months. His love for her has only grown, day by day, but there is something so beautiful about seeing your partner finally enjoying sex the way they should that makes you want to be with them more and more. Harry and Amelie couldn’t have enough of each other, especially when there was no restriction on their time together.

And lately, Harry and Amelie were ready to make sure there was never a restriction.

“Thank you for spending today with me,” Amelie says, a squeak leaving her lips as Harry pinches her hips and presses his lips chastely to her shoulder, making her wait a moment to step out of the freezing water. Her eyes meet his as she tucks her robe tightly around her torso, her hand patting her hair to ensure that it hadn’t gotten wet in the process. Harry walked out behind her, tucking a towel around his waist and laying his hands on her back to nudge her towards her bedroom. Taking his cheeks in her hands, her kisses his lips lightly, smirking as she mumbles against his pink flesh, “and m’entire family, and their neighbours.”

“Celebrating Fourth of July with m’girl and her family,” Harry coos, raking his fingers through his hair and shaking the wet locks beneath the curls, his lips pursed into a smile as Amelie tosses a pair of clean briefs towards him and points towards the clean clothing ready to be adorned by his figure. “Couldn’t picture a better day.”

“Jenny told Mama that she has to announce something,” she says, her lips pressed into a line as she attempts to clasp the backing of her bra, her eyes falling shut as Harry’s fingertips swiftly move to her back to ease the process, a kiss left tingling on her shoulder as he smacks her bum. “Dan must’ve told you.”

“Haven’t heard a word, but we’ll find out soon enough.” Harry heaves the bag sitting in the corner of the bedroom, setting it on the mattress and taking a seat, waiting patiently – or impatiently, rather – for Amelie to be done getting ready. He noticed that Amelie began wearing shorts more frequently, his eyes immediately falling to his favourite physical feature and his mouth watering at the thought of touching her. He selfishly loved that she was accepting that she could enjoy sex, because if he was being honest, Harry would have Amelie in bed with him all day, every day. “Get all of your things and we can get out of here. Gon’a melt before I can properly touch y’a if we don’t leave.”

“Oh mon dieu! That would be a shame that would be,” Amelie teases, pouting her lips and nodding her head to the side. Her hand fell to her cheek, shaking her head with a faux shame as she clicked her tongue as she walks towards the open bag, setting the sun cream and the bathing suits from the dresser into the tote to be taken with.

“One more word and I will be squeezing your boobies in front of the entire party,” Harry threatens, squinting and sneakily lifting the hem of her shirt, his fingertips inching treacherously close to her chest. Amelie slaps his hand away warningly, poking her finger into his chest. “You know I’ll do it.”

“Why is that your consequence? Of all the things you could say, you threaten to squeeze my tits,” she exasperates, laying her bathing suit on his, their wallets and other belonging tossed inside.

“Can’t say it’s a complete loss on my part,” he winks, his eyes widening as the suit that she would be wearing in a few short hours catches his attention in the light. Harry remembers the day Amelie bought the suit and he distinctly remembers untying the side and taking her in the dressing room with his hand over her mouth. “Oh, you’re going to wear that one.”

Harry needed to get off again if Amelie was going to wear that.

“Mhm,” Amelie hums, moving slightly to sling the bag over her shoulder, patting her phone into her pocket. Her lips touch his blushing cheeks, her heart warm with the thought of how easy it is to make him flustered.

“Like it,” Harry gulps, his fingertips tugging at his lips. His mouth tugs into a smile as her hand stretches out and wiggles towards his, waiting for his fingers to interlock with hers. “I like that one.”

“Know you do,” she winks, graciously accepting his arms around her and hugging him tightly. “C’mon, let’s go.” Nodding towards the bedroom door, they begin to make their way, flicking the lights and bolting the front door before making it onto the pavement outside. Harry follows closely behind as Amelie leads the way out, his fingers interlocked with hers and his lips puckering for a kiss as she settles in the passenger seat and pokes her head through the open window for him.

Harry’s fingertips thrum against Amelie’s thigh, his lips spread into a wide smile as she sings quietly under her breath to the songs playing through their playlist through his speakers. Her fingertips brush the hair on his neck sweetly, her thumb tracing over his cheekbone as he smiles, his lips pecking her palm as she cups his jaw. Her hand stays on his neck, scratching his skin comfortingly, the drive to her parents’ taking even longer with the early traffic. Neither Harry nor Amelie seem to mind the extra time alone.

“Doin’ okay?” Harry asks, squeezing her leg encouragingly and smiling at the way her spare hand splays over his much bigger one.

Harry can feel something in the pit of his stomach, something different. Amelie is quiet, much too quiet for how they usually are in the car.

“Think I missed you more than I thought,” Amelie giggles wetly, desperately trying to brush away the negative feeling sitting at the pit of her stomach making her nauseous, the anxiety in her throat, swiftly wiping away a tear and pulling her sunglasses further down her nose to hide the slight redness behind her eyes. “And I’m mad about the apartment.”

“Amelie,” Harry softens, squeezing her hand tighter and rubbing his thumb soothingly along her skin. He swiftly parks behind her father, unbuckling his seatbelt and nodding for her to follow, interlocking their fingers and kissing her hand, coaxing her to sit on his lap. His heart tightens at the distressed appearance on her face, the anxiety expressed in the stress between her eyebrows and the purse of her lips. “Ames, I’m going to get you out of there, okay? You’re going to get into a better place that doesn’t break every five seconds.”

“And you’re talking about your place.”

“Mean, I would love that, yes, but if that’s not what you want–”

Harry is cut short by knocking on the window, Phoebe standing with a popsicle between her lips and a much too large Visit Amsterdam! shirt on her torso. He kisses Amelie’s cheek, playfully smacking her bum as she opens the door and pecks his jaw. His keys toss into the tote open on the passenger seat floor, his hands reaching for the handles and swinging the bag over to Amelie.

Climbing out of the car, Amelie immediately tucks into Harry’s chest, one arm wrapped around his waist and one arm slinging around her shoulder, they walked together to the front door. Phoebe knocks impatiently, annoyed that she hadn’t left the door unlocked on her way out. Amelie ignores Phoebe’s teasing, the gagging noises as Harry kisses her hair and the eye roll as she pinches his hip making the two laugh.

Amelie nudges Harry to lean into her for her to speak privately, Luca and Fay seemingly not hearing their knocking and Phoebe leaving to go through the back. “Quit having that daydream about railing your girlfriend in her childhood bedroom, yet?” she whispers in his ear, her syllables drawn and enunciated to ensure that he heard every sound.

“Not a chance,” he growls, nipping at the skin beneath her ear and planting a hard kiss on her cheek to distract from the stiffness between his thighs. Harry is going to greet Luca and Fay, like this. He is going to greet his girlfriend’s parents with his cock throbbing between his thighs.

Before Harry could say another word, Luca was swinging the oak front door open with a beer pitched in his hand. Fay rushes to squeeze Amelie in a hug, her arms opening wide for Harry as she steps to the side, allowing her husband to greet their daughter.

“Bonjour, Fay. Ravie de te revoir,” Harry smiles, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheeks courteously, his lips spread in a grin as she claps excitedly with his French.

“Ravi de te voir! Regarde-toi! De mieux en mieux chaque jour!” her mother says excitedly, her hands clasped over her heart as her cheeks warm with the thought. Fay has never seen anyone try so hard to impress her daughter, to be good for her daughter, and Harry surpasses all that she could have ever imagined.

“I’m trying! I really am!” Harry says, his heart warm as Brandon waves at him through the open glass door in the far end of the kitchen. “Hey, B.”

“You and Harry go get settled,” Luca smiles warmly, nodding towards the stairwell and pointing towards the garden that was beginning to fill with their family. “Phoebe and Autumn and B are all outside waiting for you.”

Amelie purses her lips together, nodding at the suggestions, her thighs squeezing together to alleviate the heat that is pooling at her core. Harry offers his hand, squeezing her fingers as they walk to the base of the stairwell. “Meet you outside in like twenty minutes. Have to get changed and sun cream and all.”

Fay and Luca nod with smiles, walking into the garden to join the family gathered around the table and the pool, alcohol and popsicles being shared amongst the food. Harry nearly drags Amelie up the stairs, his head peering over the bannister once more to ensure their makeshift privacy.

Amelie giggles as Harry nudges her into her bedroom, his foot knocking the door closed, her hand tossing the tote onto the ground hurriedly. Her fingertips work at the buttons on his denim shorts, his hands tugging at the hem of her shirt and strewing the material messily on the carpet. His fingers unclasp her bralette easily, the lace nearly ripping beneath his harsh grasp and rushed movements.

Harry guides Amelie messily towards her mattress, suckling into her collarbone, a hiss leaving his lips as her hand squeezes his cock and gently coats his shaft with the arousal leaking from his tip. He shrugs his shirt away from his torso, their bodies naked and skin clammy as they lay against each other. His fingertips gently ghost across her body, his thumb gliding through her heat and taking her wetness on his fingertip, the warmth and heat radiating from her making him moan into her neck.

His lips attach to hers, his hand harshly pumping his cock, his tip leaking against her core. Amelie’s moans echo through her bedroom, the notion that they might get caught making the experience all the more enticing and enthralling. Harry knocks his hips roughly with his thrusts, their hands interlocked to prevent scratches on his back or bruising on her thighs.

“Doll, your parents are going to catch us ‘f you don’t quiet down,” Harry grunts, a whimper escaping his throat as her hips arch to meet his grind and her core squeezes him tight. Amelie’s lip is bitten between her teeth as she releases his hands and gently nudges his hips away, a whine leaving her mouth as his cock leaves her warmth. His eyes widen as she turns around, her stomach flat against the mattress, her face tucked into her pillow, her heat pressed against his cock. “Oh, fuck’s sake,” he moans, interlocking their fingers as he gently eases his cock into her core, the way her velvet walls tightened around him telling him how good she feels. He wants her to always feel good. “God, woman, you are going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Amelie giggles, flirtatiously biting his thumb between her teeth, her lips circling around the pad of his finger as his cock bottoms out and reaches the sweetest spot in her heat. “Fuck.”

“Think I do,” Harry moans, squeezing her hand tighter and kissing her shoulder as his hips continuously thrust into her. “Makin’ fun o’ me for wanting to shag in m’childhood bedroom, but it feels like this turns you on, too. Does it, mon ange? More like a devil, hm.”

“Don’t make me bite you,” she threatens, her teeth grazing the skin of his fingertip. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, I’d like that,” he smirks, his fingertips dragging along her spine, pausing swiftly when his thumb leaves the warmth of her lips. “Did I say you could take them out, love?” Amelie’s eyes widen with Harry’s acknowledgement, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks as she suckles the digit back between her lips, a moan muffled by his thumb as his hand meets the plush skin of her bum. “God, I’m obsessed with your body. I’m obsessed with you.”

Amelie hums quietly, unable to grasp the words to respond, squeezing her eyes shut with pleasure as Harry continues to rock against the velvet plush that brings her high.

“Going all shy on me with m’fingers in your mouth. How ironic.”

“Only do this with you,” Amelie confesses, moans releasing into his palm and hiding amongst the digits holding her tongue. “God, you make me feel so good.” Her words are filthy and sweet all at once, begging to never have him quit. Amelie has never felt this way, this good. “Harry.”

“Go on.” Harry’s thrusts still as Amelie tightens around him, the grinding and the way his cock reaches the depths of her warmth making her orgasm burn in her stomach. His hand squeezes hers as his hips swivel against her, the smacking sound drowned out by the splashing in the pool and the hiss of the barbecue on the floor below. “Keep squeezin’ me, angel. Make me cum.” Her warmth is intoxicating, the way her orgasm spills over him and invites him deeper, her thighs softening beneath his touch as his climax spills with hers.

“Je n'arrive pas à croire que nous venons de faire l'amour dans la chambre de mon enfance, avec mes parents à l'extérieur.”

“Doll,” Harry chuckles breathlessly, releasing her hand and gently running his fingertips over her spine soothingly, snagging a tissue from the bedside table and wiping between her thighs and his as she lays on her back. “’m a freshly fucked beginner,” he says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, tossing the tissue in the bin beside the bed. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“Can’t believe we just had sex in m’childhood bedroom, with my parents outside.” Amelie’s hands cover her cheeks as her skin flushes with embarrassment, her thighs spread apart and accommodating the man in front of her as he lays between. “God, I really hope they don’t know.” Her eyes narrow at him as he lays his hands flat beside her head, his lips pressing light kissing along her collarbone and working their way towards her chest. “Quit that,” she whispers, her fingertips scratching through his hair unconvincingly.

“Give me a minute to kiss your boobies. ’ve been neglecting them,” he murmurs, his lips puckering around her nipple and teasingly tugging before repeating, pecking the empty skin between her breasts before planting a heavy kiss on her cheek.

“Have to say that that was our quickest time yet,” Amelie breathes, turning on her side and staring at the clock sitting on the bedside table to read the time. Harry manoeuvres around her, clambering onto the carpet and reaching for their bathing suits in the bag. He tugs the white shorts onto his hips, tying the elastic before reaching for her suit and dangling the tie from his fingertip. “All of twelve minutes.” Harry tosses the suit towards her, smirking as she slips the top over her torso first, the material falling freely over her tummy and the flowers bouncing off her skin, her chest very much exposed to his eyes. “Our sex ranges from twelve minutes to what?” she asks rhetorically, standing on her feet and shimmying the bottoms up her thighs, retying the sides to ensure that the knot wouldn’t come undone outside. “About thirty minutes? Quite impressive for a couple of fresh adults in their early twenties.”

“Doll, your bar was set very, despicably low for a standard,” Harry tells, clicking his tongue and sticking the towels beneath his arm, his thumb and index finger squeezing her cheeks and bringing her in for a swift kiss before opening the door to leave the room. “C’mon. Before Fay and Luca think I’m corrupting their daughter.”

Harry playfully taps Amelie’s bum as they walk outside, earning a warning stare and a wink as the glass door closes behind them. Luca and Fay are oblivious – or seemingly so – to what’s happened upstairs, and for that, their daughter is outspokenly grateful, because she can see that Brandon and Autumn are very much in tune – whether they want to be or not – with what happened upstairs. Phoebe is preoccupied with a video call from her friends in New York, her earphones in and sunglasses perched on her nose as she lays on a lounger in the sunlight.

Amelie takes a seat on the bench at the table, sunlight hidden beneath the umbrella, Harry sitting beside her. He silently thanks Luca for the beer, taking a swig and rubbing her back comfortingly as she lays her cheek on his shoulder. Brandon and Autumn continue to talk mindlessly about their new apartment, the space rented above the record store that she works at becoming their new home in the upcoming weeks.

“Speaking of,” Luca says, crossing his foot over his knee and leaning into his chair, his sunglasses drooping down his nose as he stares at Amelie intently. His mouth adorns a moustache that is beginning to fade into a beard, his fingertips scratching at the scruff as he awaits his daughter’s response. “Has the landlord called you back, Amelie?”

“Mon chéri,” Fay sighs, brushing a stray hair away from Amelie’s face and trading concerned stares with her husband. Her lips purse together as she thinks about how to word her next sentence because she is well aware of how Amelie reacts to change – not very well. The last thing that Fay or Luca would want is to make their daughter uncomfortable with questions about moving her relationship forward at a pace she isn’t ready for, “have you and Harry talked about moving in together?”

“Mama,” Amelie sighs, bright eyes flickering with a nervous glance and lips pressed tightly in a line. Her hands begin to sweat with the thought. Harry has been asking her to think about moving in with him for nearly a month, somehow making it conversation during dinner or a film or in the moments when they’re – he’s – about to fall asleep.

Amelie wants to move in with Harry, that isn’t where the hesitation stems, it’s the thought that she would be completely immersed in him, fully involved, the relationship would be more than serious, and that would mean that she would grow dependent on him. Nothing scares Amelie more than being dependent.

“All you have is a couple months left of school and Harry’s only on tour until December,” Luca mentions calmly, humming with the thought as his lips purse around his mug of coffee. “Could save a lot of hassle in the long run, honeybee.”

“Do you know how many times a day I bring this up to her? Quite ridiculous what they’re having her pay, too. For all the problems that she’s had,” Harry says, shaking his head as his hand splays against the glass table dramatically, his nostrils flaring with the thought. He is so frustrated with how many people take advantage of her.

“Have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Leaking sinks,” Fay sighs, patting her daughter’s hand and standing up and walking inside to get the lemonade that was made earlier in the morning.

“Broken air conditioning,” Luca says, nodding towards Harry as he makes an addition to their statements.

“Beeping fire alarms,” Harry states, nodding as Brandon rolls his eyes at his younger sister and takes a swig of his root beer.

“Okay! Leave me alone about it. Will you?” Amelie begs, her eyes pleading as she stares at Harry, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as he squeezes her hip softly beneath the table. Turning towards Luca, she purses her lips and looks at him incredulously. “Aren’t you supposed to not be supportive of Harry, Papa? Isn’t that how that whole father thing works?”

“Is that how it goes? Guess I didn’t get the memo,” Luca laughs, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the respectful man hugging his daughter tightly against his chest. “Think that rule only applies when you bring home a connard, honeybee.”

One thing Amelie never expected was to hear her father say the words asshole or douche in any language.

“Luca!” Fay reprimands, her eyes widening and her hands clutching the glass pitcher tighter to her chest. Luca’s chest heaves with a sigh, certainly not expecting his wife to hear him. “Langue!”

“Désolé, mon amour,” Luca apologises, standing and taking the pitcher to set on the table, his lips touching her hairline sweetly. “Enough of this. Go enjoy the pool.”

Harry nods at Amelie towards the shining water, his skin prickling with sweat under the hot California sun. Her hand clutches his for support as she treads into the water, a sigh leaving her lips as the coolness makes contact with her heated skin. Amelie’s skin was slightly tanned from the days working on a mural for the Los Angeles Art Project – who mentioned featuring her in an upcoming exhibit later in the year – and Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her. He dips under the water, brushing the wet strays away from his forehead and tying his hair in a knot, slinking onto the side of the pool and settling on the edge before reaching for her hand.

“Move in with me,” Harry whispers, his torso blocking the sunlight from hitting her face, her arms folded on his thighs and her chin resting on her hands as she stares at him.

“Harry, I’m not doing this,” Amelie mutters, nudging her sunglasses further up her nose.

“And why is that? I’m going to continue asking you until you give me a solid answer as to why not.” Harry would never push her into something that she genuinely doesn’t want to do, but he can tell that her anxiety is the cause for her hesitation, that her mind is worrying her for reasons that aren’t necessarily logical and thought out.

“Know you are,” she sighs, gently taking his hand from her hair and kissing his knuckles, her feet lightly kicking beneath the water, her hair falling messily out of the bun on her head.

“Agree, then,” he muses, his thumb tracing her cheekbone and lightly tugging her lip, the light kiss to the pad of his finger making his heart beat heavily in his chest. Harry could want nothing more than to be waking up to Amelie every day of his life. “Make it easy.”

“Baby,” Amelie says, lifting her head and pursing her lips together, “we’ve been dating for six months, and we only met seven months ago.”

“And,” he retorts, eyes wide and eyebrows raised suggestively. Turning towards Luca and Fay near the barbeque, Harry calls, “When did you move in with Luca, Fay?”

“Before Luca said I love you,” Fay smirks, nudging her hip into Luca’s and taking a sip of her lemonade before taking a seat near beside youngest daughter on the empty lounger.

“Exhibit A,” Harry gestures, holding his hand out towards her mother and father and nodding.

“Explain to me why you want me to move in with you,” Amelie says seriously, pushing her sunglasses into her hair and meeting his intense stare, the green in his eyes shimmering beneath the sun.

Because I love you and I want to spend every minute with you.

“Because it makes sense fo’ us.” Harry’s words have an underlying meaning that only Amelie can understand. His tongue darts across his lips to wet them, his eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips enticingly. “Because I have a crush on you, and I want to spend all my time with you.”

“Can I think about it? And, I promise, I’ll actually think about it.”

“Fine,” Harry concedes, smirking as she tilts her head slightly and puckers her lips, patiently waiting for a kiss to meet her mouth. “Can’t wait to meet all the people that have known you forever. Going to hear all the dirt on you.”

“Only thing you’ll be hearing is me telling you to fuck off,” Amelie giggles, interlocking their hands and coaxing him into the water with her, a squeak leaving her lips as he splashes her. “Dan said that they have to ask us something, today.”

“Us?” Harry questions, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest, a smile perched on his lips as Amelie wraps her thighs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders.

“Mhm,” Amelie hums, kissing his cheek and gently scratching the back of his neck, the sun shining directly in their eyes and reflecting on the water around them.

“Do you think Jenny’s pregnant?”

“Pregnant? No way,” Amelie whispers, desperately trying to avoid having her younger sister or her mother hear her. Harry tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her temple innocently. “I mean, Jenny would’ve told me.”

“Maybe they wanted to wait until the coast was clear,” Harry shrugs, floating backwards until his back is against the wall, his head leaning on the towels he laid near the edge. “Had their ultrasounds and all that.”

“God, imagine if they’re pregnant,” Amelie says breathlessly, her lips tugging into a smile at the thought. “Aunt Ames,” she thinks aloud, smirking as Harry winks. “I like it.”

“They’ll have the sexiest aunt around, I’m sure,” Harry smirks, his jaw gaping open as Amelie pinches his hips warningly. “Ouch!”

“Look, they’re here,” Amelie says, nodding towards where her mother and father were crowding around the two new guests. “Help me out?” Harry smiles widely, stealing a kiss on her lips before climbing out of the pool, his eyes intently staring as his hands reach for hers. “Don’t stare, Harry. You’ll make yourself hard.”

“Call me out louder, love,” Harry gasps, his voice barely above a harsh whisper as he pulls her into his chest and annoyingly kisses her cheek wetly. “Don’t think your mum or dad heard you all the way inside.”

“Makes me feel very,” Amelie hums, hiding her face in Harry’s neck and absorbing into his warmth while the heat of the sun tanned her back, “flattered,” she continues, taking her face away from his chest and meeting his stare, “that you find me so attractive. Can truthfully say I’ve never had someone want me as much as you do.”

“Good thing I have you, then, innit?” Harry smirks, taking her cheeks in his hands and coaxing her to stare at him. His smile radiates a proudness unlike anything Amelie has ever seen in Harry – perhaps it was that he was proud that their relationship is going so strongly, or maybe, it was the idea that she is his girlfriend and he is given every excuse in the book to kiss her and love her and be obsessed with her. Harry was more than proud of Amelie, nonetheless. “Hate that no one appreciated you the way you should have been, but I’m happy I get to do it, now.”

“Harry,” Amelie breathes, tilting her face in his hands and pursing her lips. Her attention danced between his bright green eyes and his pink lips, unsure of which she wanted to focus on more, his name getting lost on her tongue.

“Hm,” Harry hums, inching his lips closer and closer to where Amelie wants him teasingly. “I’m just–”

“Don’t even think about doing anything gross in front of me, Harry,” Jenny interrupts, walking towards the two and lodging a hand between their chests to move the embrace that looked all too snug. “Happy Fourth, Ames.”

Harry kisses Jenny’s cheek, turning away and walking towards where Dan was talking to Luca. Jenny wraps Amelie in a hug, squeezing her tightly, their bodies rocking back and forth as the garden seemingly raises three octaves higher.

“Harry!”

“Danny!”

Jenny and Amelie stare at each other in confusion, their lips pressed in straight lines as Harry and Dan laugh and hug each other obnoxiously. “Since when does Dan go by Danny,” Amelie says, taking a towel from the ground and wrapping it around her torso, squeezing her hair into the water and nodding towards the open loungers near the opposite end of the pool.

“Harry jokingly said it once and Dan was like, ‘I like that. I’m gon’a go by Danny’. Now,” Jenny says, nodding towards the two men laughing and speaking loudly with Amelie’s eldest brother and father, pints of beer being passed around as Luca words the barbeque in the corner. “Danny and Harry.”

“You said you have news to tell us,” Amelie mentions, her sunglasses slinking to the bridge of her nose and her eyes meeting her best friend’s. There was something that she wasn’t understanding. “Only us, or everyone?”

Why wouldn’t Jenny tell you? How big is this secret? There isn’t a ring on her finger. Are they moving? There’s no way that you are going to be able to handle that and graduation and Harry on tour.

“Only want it to be you and Harry, first. We can tell everyone when the party starts to fill.”

“Harry!” Amelie shouts, gesturing to have Harry and Dan walk towards them. “Go near the garden and tell us?”

“Perfect,” Jenny grins, her lips pressing together as she reaches for her boyfriend, his hand clasping with hers as they walk towards the garden. Amelie pauses near the fence, their privacy secluded by a large oak tree that is planted near the rose bushes. “Okay so.”

“You’re pregnant.” Dan’s jaw drops at Harry’s statement, the giddiness in Harry’s smile telling Amelie that he was right – and she’ll never hear the end of it. Harry pulls Jenny into a hug as she nods excitedly, squeezing her tightly and spinning her around before setting her on her feet. “You are, I knew it.”

“Way to ruin it for me, Harry,” Jenny giggles, slightly relieved at the grins that are perched on their faces, the way Amelie’s eyes are beginning to prickle with tears making her heart warm. “’m pregnant, yes, and we’re having twins.”

“Twins,” Amelie whispers, her jaw gaping open and her hand unclasping from around Harry’s waist to cover her mouth. “Like two babies.”

“Like two babies, A,” Jenny grins, a wet laugh leaving her lips as Amelie wraps her arms tightly around her shoulders and squeezes her in an embrace, their laughter and their tears falling on each other’s skin.

“How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks. We wanted to wait until we had all of our ultrasounds and all that.”

Harry looks Amelie with a knowing smirk. Told you so, his bright eyes say, the smile on his lips tugging at her heart and making her want to kiss him.

Don’t even say a word, Amelie mouths, holding her best friend tighter and narrowing her eyes at Harry as he pats Dan’s shoulder.

“Can’t believe I’m telling you I’m pregnant, right now.”

“Me either,” Amelie laughs, hugging her best friend as tightly as possible and grinning widely at Dan. “Can’t believe you knocked her up before you proposed, asshole.”

“Don’t even start on that one,” Dan chuckles, shaking his head and hiding his face in Jenny’s hair as she wraps her arms around his waist. “Jenny will go on about it forever.”

“That’s well deserved,” Amelie laughs, leaning into Harry and graciously accepting the kiss on her head as his arm circles around her shoulder and hugs her tight.

Luca and Fay have to shout for their attention nearly an hour later as the neighbours begin to gather into the party and the music begins to play. Jenny, Dan, Amelie, and Harry standing in their circle, talking about the babies and the ultrasounds and the doctor appointments, the parties and the nursery before the guests arrive and mingling is ready to be engaged in.

Harry is introduced to nearly every person that Amelie has ever known. He is charming and kind and all of the laughter that he brings to the people around him has Amelie falling harder and deeper in love than she ever imagined. Harry cheers with Dan, talking about having a child and working in the industry and all that entails. Amelie and Jenny take a seat around the table with their childhood friends, the girls – Talia, Mylie, Jenny, Phoebe and Amelie – all gathered around to talk about their relationships and their lives and listen to Jenny make the announcement that would change her life forever.

“Amelie,” Talia says, leaning in slightly to avoid having her voice heard. “Harry fucking Styles?”

“You know, I say that every day. Especially, on the days I wake up with Harry,” Amelie giggles, lemonade soothing the heat in her throat and the arrangement of sweets and tarts around ending their hunger. “Harry is one of a kind. That’s for sure.”

“Harry looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky or something,” Mylie says, her eyes travelling between Amelie and Harry, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout his entire conversation. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we stole you away.”

Amelie smiles at that, turning her head over her shoulder to meet Harry’s gaze. His lips tug into a smirk as he winks at her, her cheeks blushing pink as the girls surrounding her makes sweet coos of encouragement. Amelie never had the opportunity to simply be with her friends when Jack was around. Harry was so utterly different – so welcoming, so encouraging, so loving.

“Harry is,” Amelie grins, her bottom lip pulled between her fingertips, her thoughts racing to find the proper words to describe the man that she is irrevocably in love with. “Harry’s my dream. That’s really the best way to describe him.”

“You look really happy, Amelie,” Talia smiles, squeezing Amelie’s hand encouragingly. “This is such a good look on you.”

“I am happy,” Amelie says confidently. “I really am.”

Amelie meets Harry’s stare across the garden, smiling when he waves towards her and opens his arms for a hug. Amelie’s chair squeaks awkwardly as she excuses herself from the table, Phoebe and Jenny teasing her lovingly, her hand waving them away as her feet carry her to the tall, olive-skinned man. He steps towards the glass door before he could see her, reaching inside for the tongs that Luca was asking for, his lips spreading into a grin at the sight of her appearance. Harry opens his arms for her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and kissing her forehead as she nuzzles into his chest, the heat of their skin almost unbearably warm to the touch.

Harry squeezes her tightly, questions slipping off his lips and passing through Amelie’s brain without comprehension. All Amelie can think about is his arms around her, the sun beating on their skin, and the happiness that is making her heart beat against her chest.

/ / /

Amelie huffed a breath, climbing out of her car and pushing her sunglasses into her hair, the bright sun peeking through the morning sunrise blinding her vision. San Diego was a nearly two-hour drive south from Burbank. Her insomnia was beginning to plague her again, sleeping roughly four hours before having Phoebe bounding through the bedroom door and insisting their journey start. Harry would be waiting for them around eleven, their tickets in hand and ready to introduce her younger sister to the people that shaped her adolescence and have time with his girlfriend. Harry misses Amelie much too easily when they’re apart.

“Do you want tea? That’s what I’m getting,” Amelie says, her hands shoving her wallet and her phone in her pocket, her eyes stinging with the sunlight. Phoebe tapped anxiously on her phone screen, her thumbs typing into her keyboard, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that it could be heard in her ears. “Earth to Phoebe.”

“Tea is fine, yeah,” Phoebe sighs, pursing her lips together and taking a breath. “Wait. Since when, do you drink tea instead of coffee?”

“When I’m feeling anxious,” Amelie confesses, adjusting the belt on her jeans and setting her sunglasses on her nose. “Gemma told me it helps, so I’m trying it.”

“You should record whatever he says to you, Cherry.”

“Or we can pray that he isn’t working.”

Amelie closes the car door behind her, blowing a kiss to Phoebe, forcing her lips into a smile as the gravel crunched beneath her feet walking towards the café settled across the street. Her heartbeat is in her ears, nausea in her stomach, her mind clouded and heavy with anxiety. Harry didn’t know that the nightmares came back and that’s why she isn’t sleeping. Amelie didn’t tell him. Harry would worry too much and find a way for them to sleep together every night – even when it surely wasn’t possible – if he knew. Her thoughts are preoccupied when she steps into the brightly lit restaurant, the few regular guests that come every morning sitting at their unspoken assigned tables, Sarah – Jack’s mother – grinning brightly at Amelie as she slides her sunglasses onto her head and adjusts the collar of the shirt she’d stolen from Harry’s closet earlier in the week.

“Hello! Hi, sweetheart,” his mother coos, rushing around the counter and wiping her hands on her apron, wrapping her arms around her, the tense muscles and forced embrace going unnoticed. Sarah never meant any harm to Amelie, and yet there was never the motherly comfort with her once Amelie and Jack went their separate ways. “Haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been? Travelling the world, I see!”

“Something like that,” Amelie smiles forcefully, her lungs knocking out of breath as Jack enters her vision. Her eyes try to break away from his, but there he is, taunting her, making her feel like the smallest creature in the room without having to say a word. “I’m good. How are you?”

Good. Hah. Good – is that what you call waking up in a cold sweat at three in the morning or tensing whenever Harry wants to kiss you in front of his friends? Is that it?

“Great, honey! You look good! Healthy!” Sarah grins, releasing Amelie from her embrace and walking around the counter. “Did you want coffee? Anything you want is yours, as always.”

“Need two breakfast teas and two chocolate chip muffins,” Amelie says, her voice lowering as she walks closer to the till, Jack crossing his arms and sporting a devilish grin as he presses the buttons on the register. “Phoebe and I are going to San Diego, today.”

“That’s not too bad of a drive, is it?”

“Not really. There’s a concert, tonight,” Amelie smiles, tears prickling in her eyes at the sight of Harry’s name lighting up her phone. “Harry says ‘Hello’.”

“He’s so lovely,” his mother compliments, carefully setting the caps on the tea and setting the containers on the counter before her. “Tell him I said ‘Hello’, as well. Jack, Amelie doesn’t owe us anything, you know that.”

His manipulative smile makes Amelie’s skin crawl with goosebumps, the way his mother kisses his cheek and sets the muffins nearly on the counter without noticing the tension rising between them making her heart ache. Amelie mumbles her gratitude, taking the beverages and the muffins and pulling out her phone to ring Harry, holding her breath as his mother squeezes her once more and insists on having her son walk her out.

Oh, how courteous of Jack.

Carefully setting the teas and muffins on the outside bench, Amelie clicks on Harry’s name, trying desperately to have her screen cooperate and his contact to be called.

Maybe if Harry heard what Jack said, it would be easier to make something happen, to have him stay away.

His voice itches beneath her skin, the sound making her spine tighten and her ears twitch. He waits to say anything until Amelie turns around, her lip pulled between her teeth, her hands gripping their breakfast, ready to break for the car and drive away. “Thought you loved yourself more than just being a shiny toy to fuck with, Amelie. All of that ‘self-love’ bullshit you used to say you wanted. How much can you really love yourself if you’re letting someone fuck you and then leave for months at a time?”

“Go fuck yourself, Jack,” Amelie spits. Her arms gather everything from the table, her heart aching in her chest as Harry’s name lights her screen, again, confused as to why she isn’t answering her phone. Harry doesn’t need to hear this. He doesn’t need to hear all of the foul things that Jack has to say. Amelie could save him the heartache from that.

That’s all Amelie really could do.

Jack scoffs at Amelie. “Does it feel good, Amy? Do you like knowing you’re just another one on his list? Harry Styles has a reputation, you know. One after the other,” Jack says, tutting his tongue and taking a step closer, his face much too close to her. One more step and Jack’s breath would hit her face. “Could probably bet that he’s fucking someone, right now, and not even thinking about you.”

Amy. When Jack and Amelie were children, he could never pronounce her name the right way, taking to Amy as they grew up. He was the only person to ever call her that. The name made her skin burn with embarrassment and anxiety.

“Have no idea what you’re talking about, Jack,” Amelie says, her hands clenching into fists, her nails beginning to dig at her palms. Her anxiety was manifesting in her chest, her heart skipping beats and her lungs tightening. The thought of Harry with someone else made Amelie want to be sick. “Harry isn’t like that. You don’t know him.”

“Don’t think you do either,” Jack chuckles angrily, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, huffing a breath as Amelie takes a breath and begins walking towards the car. Jack’s stare meets Phoebe’s, who’s phone is perched against her ear and her eyes are wide with concern. He turns to Amelie, “You’re so naïve, Amelie. Tell me why a well-known, celebrity popstar would want to be with you. Tell me why Harry Styles decided that you, not so little you, should be his girlfriend.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jack.”

Jack grabs Amelie’s arm, pulling her into his chest, his breath fanning across her face. “Always remember that I gave it to you, first,” Jack murmurs, poking his tongue across his lips and staring between her eyes and her mouth. “Don’t you remember? On my bed, in my room. Kissed your cheeks when you said it hurt,” Jack feigned a faux pout, jutting his bottom lip to tease her, “then you were begging to have me.”

“Few times, Jack,” Amelie stutters, knocking her foot against his shin and separating their distance, taking enough steps away to gain separation. “Only had sex a few times, and I don’t recall a time that was very good for me.” Amelie wills the tears to go away, to hide the idea that his words are getting under her skin. Amelie thinks of Harry, thinks of his lips on hers. “God, you wish you could be half the man Harry is.” Harry wouldn’t do this to her. “Harry would never do what you did to me. Ever.”

Jack shakes his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest and taking a step forward. “Hope for your sake that that’s true.”

“Don’t come any fucking closer to me.”

“Fine,” Jack concedes, holding his hands in the air and beginning to walk away, an evil smile on his lips. His eyes trail across her figure, taking her in, his tongue darting across his teeth predatorily and making Amelie’s skin crawl. “Don’t come crying to me when you realise, I was right.”

Kissed your cheeks when you said it hurt. Begging to have me. His words replay in Amelie’s mind over and over, the thoughts of the intimate moments they once shared being tainted by his lacklustre care for her wellbeing and loving her.

Amelie quickly turns on her heel, pacing against the gravel, profanities slipping from her lips as a car beeps their horn loudly, nearly running her over as her feet carry over the street without a glance at the oncoming traffic. Her eyebrows furrow together as her younger sister hurriedly rushes to end the phone call, her hands reaching out to help Amelie get in the car as fast as possible as the door swings open.

“Take these,” Amelie says, her hands rushing to wipe the tears away and gather her emotions. Climbing into the car, her seatbelt buckles in the clasp and her head lay back against the rest, her sunglasses falling down her nose and exposing the redness beginning to circle around her eyes.

“What was Jack saying to you?”

“Nothing, Phoebe,” Amelie murmurs, shaking her head and patting her cheeks, gathering the mental strength and make the journey without having a breakdown. Phoebe sets their teas in the console, taking the muffin out and beginning to pick at the top. Harry has texted her five times since she abruptly ended their call. “C’mon,” Amelie forces a smile and Phoebe can easily see, “you have backstage to attend.”

“Amelie,” Phoebe says softly, turning the radio volume lower and forcing her sister to speak to her. Amelie wouldn’t ever talk about what happens with Jack, not with Phoebe.

“Phoebe,” Amelie sterns, taking a sip of her tea and taking a deep breath, the directions on her phone calculating and beginning to move towards their destination. Her foot was easy on the gas, yet there was this undeniable tension that begged her to speed into oblivion and never come back, “don’t say anything to Harry, okay? Don’t need him getting all worried about me, especially before the show.”

Phoebe bites her lip guiltily. “Jack is going to keep harassing you if you don’t do something about it, Cherry.” Harry was on the phone while she was watching the interaction between Amelie and Jack. He was trying to get more information out of Phoebe than Amelie would share with either of them. Harry was concerned, Phoebe was concerned. “You deserve better. Harry would never let that keep going on.”

“Don’t want to go to court or anything.” Her voice is quiet with the confession. Amelie takes the exit onto the interstate, heaving a breath as Burbank disappears from their rear-view mirror, only traffic and beaches and forest lining the distance. “Harry will be dragged into it somehow and I don’t want that for him.”

“He should at least have a choice,” Phoebe argued, crossing her arms in front of her chest and kicking her feet onto the dash. “Jack should get his fucking teeth punched in.”

“Agreed,” Amelie smiles, releasing her tight grip on the steering wheel and opening her hand for her younger sister to take. “Come on, hold my hand.”

“I am not Harry, I am not holding your sweaty hand,” Phoebe teases, plugging her phone into the speaker and playing the setlist for the concert. “I’m nervous, Cherry.”

“Why are you nervous? They’re literally only boys,” Amelie laughs, shaking her head and turning to stare at Phoebe. “Harry is excited to introduce you. He says I don’t give the intended effect.”

“Don’t tell me that’s some like, sex, thing,” Phoebe gags, pointing her index finger into her mouth and pretending to be sick. “Don’t need to know.”

“You’re sick,” Amelie giggles, gently pushing her hand against Phoebe’s cheek and forcing her to look away. Her relationship with her sister is one that she cherishes more than she could possibly explain in words, especially in the moments that Phoebe knows exactly how to take her mind away from the impending spiral. “Go on, turn the volume up. Feel like as Harry Styles’ girlfriend I should know at least his solos in the show.”

“Maybe you should,” Phoebe laughs. Her fingers curl around the dial, cranking the volume and beginning to belt the lyrics at the top of her lungs. Phoebe’s favourite moments would always be the ones that were simply her and Amelie, without any interruption and inclusion, the silliness and the laughter and the smiles that were brought by the memories making her heart happy.

Amelie and Phoebe take the slightly longer route to San Diego, taking a few minutes to coast along the shoreline to Fireproof and listen to the new songs that Harry shared with her earlier in the week. The moment was theirs, and Amelie never wanted it to go away.

Harry instructs Amelie on getting into the venue and meeting at the backstage entryway as their car pulls into Qualcomm Stadium, the San Diego sun beating through the windshield and making sweat bead at her forehead. He is waiting patiently – impatiently more so – at the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets and a smile perched on his lips as he waits on their – her – arrival. Having not seen Amelie in nearly two days, Harry was anticipating having his lips on hers.

Amelie was also supposed to receive the news from the Los Angeles Art Project, today, but Harry didn’t know that.

Harry nearly runs across the pavement, Amelie’s car parking behind a large tour bus and hiding herself and Phoebe away from the prying eyes of the fans outside the makeshift fences. Amelie’s lips break into a smile – a real smile – with the sight of him, his body adorned in a grey shirt and black jeans, his boots worn in and ripping at the soles. His hair was pulled out of his face, likely kept that way to avoid having sweat and dirt ruin the curls before the show in eight hours.

His hands clutch the hood of her car, dipping his head inside the vehicle and meshing his lips with hers, smirking against her mouth as she forces her smile at bay, pecking his lips once and twice more before chastely kissing his cheek and poking his belly, encouraging him to move away and let her take her belongings outside. Harry takes a small step back, instinctively interlocking their hands and kissing her knuckles as she makes her way onto the tarmac, her figure tucking into his chest as he embraces her.

“Hi,” Harry whispers against her hair, his hands gently releasing hers and cupping her cheeks, his thumbs pushing her sunglasses onto her head to properly look at her. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Hey,” Amelie breathes, sighing heavily and meshing her lips with his. Harry can tell that Amelie needs to feel his touch, to simply forget whatever was said to her, and so his lips slot against hers and he kisses her until oxygen is needed. “Needed that.”

“Feeling okay?”

“Better now,” Amelie smiles, squeezing his hip encouragingly and laying her head on his chest, the sound of his heart soothing to her ears. Harry squeezes her tightly, breathing in the hint of vanilla that tinges her skin before looking to her younger sister standing uncomfortably at the hood of her car.

“Hi Phoebe,” Harry smirks, releasing Amelie from his grasp and splaying his hands across her spine, nudging them towards the entrance of the arena. “Phoebo.” Harry makes himself chuckle, poking her shoulders and gently nudging her side to side as he walks behind her, Amelie at his side. “Phoobu.”

“Ooh, good one, Harry.”

“Man of the classics,” Harry cheers, waving his arms towards the opening door and nodding to Basil and Paul, a smirk on his lips as Phoebe’s jaw drops at the sight backstage. “What can I say?”

“Nothing at all,” Phoebe murmurs, her hand covering her mouth as one of the security guards sets a backstage pass in her hands. Her fingertips immediately put the pass around her neck, her eyes wide at the sight of Styles Guest written on the back. “Is everyone in there?”

“Niall and Louis, I think,” Harry says. His index finger points towards the open dressing room at the end of the corridor, loud banging and obnoxious laughter echoing outside and telling everyone that they are there. “Liam went to work out.” Harry notices Phoebe pause outside the entryway, his hand releasing Amelie’s and nodding towards the room where Niall is calling her name. “Casual, Phoebo. Another day in the life.”

“Casual,” Phoebe laughs, shaking her head and rubbing her hands over her cheeks. Her eyes meet his, searching for reassurance. “Harry, I don’t think you realise what is happening in my brain, right now.”

Harry smiles comfortingly, setting his hand on her shoulder and nudging her into the dressing room, Louis and Niall immediately leaving Amelie’s side to rush over. Phoebe’s eyes prick with tears as Niall and Louis embrace her tightly, Harry taking a step towards Amelie and allowing Phoebe to talk and have introductions, Liam joining into the room shortly thereafter.

“Hey, um,” Phoebe stutters, swiftly erasing all of the notifications on her phone and opening the camera, her eyes hopeful as she stares at Louis. “Would you mind if we took a picture?”

“’Course, love!” Louis cheers, waving over to Harry and Niall and Liam and handing Amelie the phone. “C’mon, lads.” Harry wraps his arms around her shoulder, Niall standing on the opposite side, Louis and Liam posing as they take multiple pictures. “Ah, there we go.”

“Cherry,” Phoebe grins, Amelie’s hum acknowledging her call for attention. “I can share this, right?”

“Absolutely,” Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around Phoebe and squeezing her tight, the happiness radiating from her younger sister’s smile making her heart warm.

“Fuck you to Ashley and Sarah in school,” Phoebe giggles, her eyes widening as Louis and Liam repeat her words.

“Fuck you, Ashley and Sarah,” Niall chuckles, tossing his hand in the air to high five Phoebe and laying dramatically on the couch behind him, Harry settled on the arm and waiting for Amelie to make her way to him.

“Are they coming to the show?” Louis asks, his hands nursing a styrofoam cup of tea and shoving his elbow into Liam’s chest as he teasingly reaches around him.

“Everyone is coming to the show.”

Amelie’s ringing phone draws everyone’s attention. An unknown number on the screen, Amelie purses her lips nervously and takes a step towards the corridor, peering around for an empty room to take the call. Los Angeles Art Project should be calling, which means that her dream is likely to be crushed at any moment. Her anxiety begins to overwhelm her brain and there is a heavy part of her that wants to decline the call and pretend that the suggestion was never said aloud, to begin with.

Phoebe calls her attention, bringing her to reality. “Have to take this,” Amelie stutters, smiling softly at her sister and moving towards the hallway.

Harry calls her name, quirking his head to the side questioningly, mouthing to her, Los Angeles Art Project?

Her shoulders shrug unknowingly, “I have no idea.”

Amelie sighs, taking a deep breath and walking into the empty dining hall, all of the staff mulling about behind a makeshift wall in the kitchen, the swinging doors closed, Amelie left to have a quiet space to speak at the table. Her fingertip slides against the bottom of her screen, the phone perched between her shoulder and her ear as she picks at the cuticles on her nails nervously.

“May I speak with Amelie Ben–” a woman chirps, her voice light and airy, the happiness in her tone alleviating the slightest amount of pressure in her chest.

“Beneventini,” Amelie interrupts, knowing the difficulty that most have with her surname and sparing the gruesome and uncomfortable two minutes that it would take to sound the syllables. “This is she.”

“Hi, Amelie! This is Harper Warden from the Los Angeles Art Project!”

“Oh, my,” Amelie breathes, her heart racing in her chest at the thought. Harper Warden is the chair of the Los Angeles Art Project, the woman that directs all the exhibits and infiltrates the major museums in New York and London and Paris. “Hi! How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” Harper cheers, her tone echoing a pure joy that Amelie wishes to have. “After reviewing all of your work and the murals that you have been producing throughout the city, the Los Angeles Art Project would love to offer you an exhibit of your own in December!”

“Oh mon dieu.” Amelie’s voice is lost in her throat, tears pricking at her eyes, her teeth biting her lip to prevent a sob from choking through her throat. An exhibit in December. That was Amelie’s dream. “Me?”

“Yes! Everyone is obsessed with your work,” Harper smiles, her hands clapping together as she sorts through the images on her desk of Amelie’s work. “You created the mural in the restaurant in Burbank, didn’t you? Your signature is one of a kind.”

“Thank you so much,” Amelie gushes, her thumbs wiping away a stray tear that’s fallen down her cheek. The only thought in her mind is echoing to tell Harry. “I, I’d love to do the exhibit. I’d be honoured.”

“Fabulous,” Harper excites, her fingertips tapping against a keyboard and the speaker on her phone beginning to cut out. “I will email you with the contract and all of the information and you can send that back as soon as you’re ready. Congratulations, Ms Beneventini. Your work truly deserves to shine.”

“Thank you so much,” Amelie grins, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her forehead falls to her forearms as Harper ends the call, a tear falling into the plastic table and a quiet sob leaving her lips.

Amelie’s dream is finally coming true, and Harry is the first person she gets to tell.

“Ames,” Harry murmurs, his hand holding the door open and poking his through the doorframe. His features are etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the sight of a tear falling down her cheek. “Are you alright?”

“Harry.”

“Hey,” Harry breathes, opening his arms and graciously accepting her into his warmth. He squeezes her tightly, his lips touching her hair, the light pink beginning to fade. “What’s going on?”

“I got it,” Amelie smiles, pulling her face away from his chest and staring into his eyes. Harry’s lips pull into the widest smile, his dimple indenting his cheek, his chest inflating with a breath as he circles his arms around her waist and lifts her above the ground, circling their bodies in a massive hug.

“No fucking way.” Harry stares at Amelie with disbelief, shaking his head and tugging at his bottom lip, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, her toes barely on the ground to reach his height. “You’re kidding. You have to be.”

“Harper Warden, the chair of the Los Angeles freaking Art Project, Harry, told me on the phone a few minutes before you got in,” she tells, her eyes beginning to well with tears at the realisation. “Harry, the Los Angeles Art Project wants me.”

“Fuck yeah, they do. How could they not? Have you seen what you can do?” Harry excites, squeezing his arms around her hips and planting his lips on her cheek. “Mon ange, look at me.” Her bright eyes meet Harry’s and there is nothing more that he wants than to kiss her and tell her he loves her. “No one, and I mean no one, deserves this more than you do.”

“I–” Amelie opens her mouth to say the three words scratching the back of her throat. “I am so happy you’re the first person I get to tell.”

Harry can feel what Amelie was going to say. “I am, too.”

“Can I have a congratulatory kiss?”

“You can have more than a kiss,” Harry smirks, holding her cheeks sweetly and slotting his lips with hers, their kiss sloppy and broken with smiles and pecks and laughter as her fingertips pinch his waist. “I am so fucking proud of you, Amelie. Can’t wait to see your name on the flyers and posters and everyone rushing to have a picture.”

“Thank you,” Amelie whispers, her fingertips wrapped around the hem of his shirt. His hands splayed over the expanse of her back, his finger twirling around the curls at the ends of her hair and soaking in the quiet moment.

“For what?”

“Encouraging me.”

“Hey,” Harry says, his thumb tucked under her chin, coaxing her face to lift slightly and her eyes to meet his. “I will always encourage and support you.”

“Know that.” Amelie does know. That is the one thing that she is sure of. Harry would always be there for her.

“Can I go brag about how m’girlfriend is having her own exhibit, now? Not like I didn’t already know you were going to get it, but,” Harry smirks, slinging his arm around her shoulder and gesturing towards the corridor where Niall and Phoebe’s voices could be heard from a mile away.

“Can you pretend to not be a know-it-all, just once? Maybe go one day without it.”

“Not as fun.”

Harry struts into the dressing room with Amelie’s hand clasped in his, the excitement in his voice echoing around the entirety of backstage as he proclaims the announcement of the exhibit and the acknowledgement that everyone is going to be attending. Niall teases that he is going to make an announcement on stage, that he is going to embarrass her as all friends should. Phoebe squeezes Amelie in a hug, telling her that there is no one on the planet making a difference like her. Louis and Liam wrap in her a hug, their cooing making her laugh so hard that her lungs tighten in her chest.

Harry kisses Amelie’s hairline, sharing quietly how proud he is and how much he adores her. Have the biggest crush on an artist with her own exhibition. Dating up, I am.

Amelie laughs at his compliments, simply tucking tighter into his embrace and having his scent overwhelm her, because as much as there has never been this much joy radiating in her chest, there is still the pit of anxiety sitting in the base of her stomach, clawing and waiting to make a return.

Harry leaned against the doorframe to the ensuite, his head resting against the wall and his arms folded in front of his chest, his eyes carefully admiring his girlfriend as she wipes away the makeup from the night and settles into her favourite sweatshirt to sleep in.

His lips pursed together, carefully thinking of how to word what he was going to say and avoid having her shut down. Harry knew Amelie better than anyone, and he knew that as soon as his name was brought up, her mind was going to shut away from him. Amelie thought she was protecting Harry, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Je peux te poser une question? Soyez complètement honnête avec moi.”

Can I ask you something? Be completely honest with me.

Amelie could tell Harry was serious by the strictly worded French and seriousness etched in his tone. “Oui.”

“Can you tell me what Jack said to you when you saw him, today? Know he said something that made you uncomfortable.”

“How did you know that I saw Jack?” Amelie wonders nervously, her muscles tensing as Harry steps further into the bathroom and makes his way behind her. His hands hold her shoulders, his thumbs gently kneading the tension at the base of her neck to ease her into him.

“Little bird,” he whispers, kissing the soft spot at the nape of her neck. “Cares a lot about you and knows that I care, too.”

“Harry.”

“Amelie,” Harry says, squeezing her shoulders lightly and coaxing her into turning around to face him. He can see her eyes pricking with tears as she stares at him, “you have to tell me, doll. Can’t help you if you never tell me.”

“Don’t need help,” Amelie insists, forcing a smile and sighing as Harry shakes his head at her attempt, her chest inflating to catch her breath, yet her lungs never seem to have enough oxygen to fulfil her, “it’s fine.”

“Quit brushing it off, please.”

“It’s not important,” she shrugs, shaking her head and manoeuvring away from his grasp. “He was being an asshole. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“It is important,” Harry corrects, turning the bathroom light off and following Amelie into the bedroom. Her hands roughly pull the duvet out from the pillows, her hands shaking against the sheets as she leans for support. “Things that affect you are important, especially to me.”

“This doesn’t need to affect you, though,” Amelie sterns, her jaw tightening as she sits against the mattress. Her head is beginning to spin, the anxiety flooding her to her brain and a migraine pounding at her temples. “You have enough on your plate with tour and the hiatus and Jeff and Columbia and all that.” Harry is staring at Amelie as if he has no idea why she is saying such a thing. Her lips pull to a straight line, frustration evident in her features. “Harry, the last thing you need is to have your name anywhere near his, especially not with how things escalate.”

“And why is that?” Harry can feel himself getting upset, getting angry. How could Amelie say that? How could Amelie make the decision to keep him away from the situation without asking what he wanted? Harry wanted to be with her, to be by her side. He didn’t want this. “That’s not my choice, though, Amelie. My choice is to be by your side and do whatever we need to get him to stay away from you.”

Amelie’s head lifts from her chest, meeting Harry’s gaze. “We?”

“We,” Harry affirms, breathing out a deep sigh and taking a seat beside her on the bed. “You and me.” His hand clasps hers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles, a stark contrast to the harshness of his voice. “That’s how you do things in a relationship. Together.”

“I–” Amelie stutters, her heart racing as his words begin to settle into her mind. Her anxiety is sitting in a lump in her throat, begging to her to choke out a sob and breakdown. All of Jack’s words about Harry are circling in her brain, an impending sadness lurking in the outskirts of every thought.

It’s back. The depression is back. Of fucking course, it’s back.

“That’s what we’re doing, you know.”

“Harry,” Amelie chokes out, stealing her hand away from his grasp and hurriedly standing on her feet. Her eyes well with tears, her fingers grappling for her key and her phone. “I can’t talk about this, right now.”

“Ames,” Harry sighs, reaching for her hand and clutching her wrist, making her eyes meet his. They stand there silently for a minute or two, taking in the way their chests were heaving and their voices were on the verge of yelling only moments ago. He was desperate for her to talk to him, to share. He didn’t know how much longer he could continue living in the dark, “don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Have to go to Phoebe,” she lies, forcing a smile and lightly kissing his cheek, pretending as though this encounter, their very first argument, hadn’t been about the person she despised most in the world. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Amelie.”

“Harry,” Amelie sterns, gulping thickly and nodding towards his hand still wrapped around her wrist. Harry lets go reluctantly, walking with her to the suite door and holding the handle, silently praying that her mind would change, and she wouldn’t leave him. Harry couldn’t bear the thought of Amelie metaphorically leaving, and there was a creeping thought that this could be the beginning of the end, “just don’t, okay.”

Harry slams the door angrily as Amelie makes her way towards the elevator, tears beginning to fall freely down her cheeks as she stands against the wall. Her chin is tucked on her chest as she walks to her hotel room, her younger sister opening the door as she struggles to properly work the key card with shaking hands. Amelie’s figure presses against the heavy door, her hands hidden in the sleeves of the sweatshirt that once belonged to Harry, her face covered by the cotton sleeves that are soaked in her tears.

“Cherry,” Phoebe whispers nervously, “are you okay?”

“Go back to bed, Phoebe,” Amelie mumbles, shaking her head and walking into the bathroom, pulling out the cleansing products and begin to harshly scrub at her skin. “I’m fine.”

“No,” Phoebe states flatly. Too many times Phoebe has let Amelie tell her that she’s ‘fine’, and too many times Phoebe has had to go weeks without speaking to her sister because she spirals and turns her phone off. “De toute évidence, tu ne vas pas bien.” Phoebe walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, locking herself and Amelie in the tiny room together. “Tu aurais passé la nuit dans la chambre d'Harry, si tu allais bien."

Obviously, you aren’t fine. You’d have spent the night in Harry’s room, if you were fine.

“Je ne veux pas en parler.” Amelie meets Phoebe’s stare through the mirror, her lips pursed in a harsh line as her younger sister takes a step forward.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Phoebe shakes her head, folding her arms in front of her chest and tutting her tongue in disbelief. Phoebe couldn’t believe all that she was hearing coming from Amelie’s mouth, all that her mind was making her think. “Ce n'est pas juste, tu sais. Harry essaie juste d'aider. Comme maman et papa le font. Tu ne laisses personne t'aider. Ce n'est pas juste, putain.”

It's not fair, you know. Harry's just trying to help. Like Mama and Papa do. You don't let anyone help you. It's not fucking fair.

“Ce n'est pas juste, putain?” Amelie scoffs, smacking her hands against the marble countertop and turning to face Phoebe. Amelie can feel the anger rising in her chest, bubbling into her voice and her words and the meaning behind every word that is falling without filter from her lips. “Ce qui n'est pas juste, c'est que Jack ne me laisse pas tranquille. Ce qui n'est pas juste, c'est que je dois constamment penser à toutes les choses qu'il m'a dites, parce que mon cerveau n'oublie jamais. Ce qui n'est pas juste, c'est que je peux sentir la dépression s'infiltrer en moi. Ce qui n'est pas juste, c'est que je vais entraîner Harry avec moi. C'est ça qui n'est pas juste, Phoebe.”

It’s not fucking fair? What's not fair is that Jack won't leave me alone. What's not fair is that I have to constantly think about all the things he's said to me, because my brain never forgets. What's not fair is that I can feel the depression seeping into me. What's not fair is that I'm going to drag Harry down with me. That's what's not fair, Phoebe.

“Harry ne pense pas que vous l'entraînez vers le bas. Il veut juste être là pour toi,” Phoebe retorts, her heart breaking for her older sister. Amelie’s cheeks are stained with tears, her eyes puffy and her cheeks blotchy. Phoebe’s hands cup Amelie’s cheeks, much like their mother does when they’re upset, and her sister’s eyes soften as she continues. “Je sais que vous ne voulez pas entendre ça, mais Harry t'aime. Même moi, je peux voir que. Donne-lui juste une chance, Cherry. Tu m'as promis que tu te laisserais aller au bonheur.”

Harry doesn't think you're dragging him down. He just wants to be there for you. I know you don't want to hear this, but Harry loves you. Even I can see that. Just give him a chance, Cherry. You promised me you'd let yourself be happy.

Amelie sniffles with Phoebe’s words. “Je ne pense pas que Harry veuille me voir ce soir. Je peux aller le voir demain matin.”

I don't think Harry wants to see me tonight. I can go to him in the morning.

Phoebe shakes her head, opening the bathroom door and shoving Amelie towards the door to the suite. “Harry m'a envoyé un texto avant ton retour. Il savait que tu dirais ça. Vérifie ton téléphone.”

Harry texted me before you got back. He knew you'd say that. Check your phone.

Amelie opens her phone, three missed calls and seven text messages from Harry alerting her screen. His messages were an array of apologies and asking her to come to him, the very last one making her heart ache in her chest.

Come over whenever you’re ready, baby. I have a really big hug waiting for you. Kisses, too. H x

Amelie kisses Phoebe’s cheek, telling her to call Harry’s room if she had any trouble or needed anything. Phoebe promised her that she would rather call their mother before she interrupted anything that would be happening in their hotel suite together. Amelie’s cheek flushed with embarrassment, a tiny part of her heart warm as Phoebe squeezes her in a hug and assures her that everything would be alright.

That’s all Amelie wants to believe.

Harry swings the door open before Amelie could properly knock. “Look who it is. M’favourite person.” Harry wraps her in a hug, embracing her tightly and bolting the door, his lips finding purchase on her cheeks and her hair as she tucks away into his chest.

Amelie’s apology is muffled into his chest, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry assures her, his hands gently rubbing her back, his fingertips ghosting along her spine the way that drifts her to sleep. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You do it because you care,” she acknowledges, her throat tightening with a gulp of air and her eyes blinking back tears. “I’m just not used to that.”

“Know that, baby,” he whispers, his hands gently coasting up her back and to her hair, gently combing through the curls that knotted at the nape of her neck. “Need you to know that I’m here for you, with everything. Don’t care what it is. I’m right behind you.”

“I,” Amelie stutters, pulling her face away from Harry’s chest and meeting his stare. His eyes were slightly red and puffy, and her heart broke with the thought of him crying, especially crying over her. “I think I need to talk to someone about what happened.”

“That’s a good idea,” Harry smiles, taking her hand and gently coaxing her towards the mattress. He settles on the edge, opening his thighs for her to settle between, his hands holding her hips. Harry can sense that tonight is a night that shouldn’t involve his hands below her waist unless she gave him the signal.

“And,” Amelie continues, her fingertips tucking the stray hairs behind his ears. “I’m going to try and share my feelings more with you. Can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.” Harry smiles at her in a way that she couldn’t describe. “But I’m going to try.”

“And I bet you’ll blow me away with how well you can share your feelings.” His lips plant a kiss on her cheek, smiling as her arms circle around his shoulders and she takes a step closer to him. “Only want you to be happy and comfortable talking to me, you know that, right?”

“Mhm,” she nods, tucking her lips together and sucking in a breath, the realisation that she must confess to him making her heart feel like it might implode in her chest. “I, I feel like I’m going to spiral, again. Hearing the things that he was saying, it just –”

“Ames,” Harry says sternly, his hand holding her cheek and forcing her to stare at him, to hear him, “look at me. All the things that come out of his mouth are false. He says the things that he knows will get under your skin. Don’t have to tell me what he said, but I promise you that they’re not real.”

Amelie sniffles, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the thought. All of his words are beginning to circle, again. “Il ne me laissera jamais tranquille, Harry.”

He’s never going to leave me alone, Harry.

Harry’s jaw tenses, his thumb wiping away a tear falling down her cheek. He wants nothing more than to find Jack and break his jaw for all that he’s done to Amelie, and even that wouldn’t be enough. “Je vais l'obliger à te laisser tranquille.”

I will make him leave you alone.

Amelie’s eyes cast to her feet, afraid to stare at Harry for what is slipping at the tip of her tongue. “J'ai peur de ne pas être assez bien pour toi.”

I’m scared I won’t be enough for you.

Harry’s eyes prick with tears. That was all that Amelie had to say to make it known what Jack was trying to make her believe. His hands cup her cheeks, her eyes becoming puffy as the tears slip onto his skin and her irises gloss over in a haze. “Amelie.”

“Devoir faire face à mes problèmes, c'est plus que ce pour quoi tu t'es engagé.”

Having to deal with my problems is more than you signed up for.

“Amélie, je te jure que je ne me soucie pas de tout cela. Je suis tellement dans le coup avec toi. Tu as besoin de moi, je suis là. Je me suis inscrit pour toi.” His words are carefully thought out and spoken with precision, his practice evident and the gesture making her heart swell in spite of her brain’s telling it not to. He loves her. He doesn’t have to say so for her to know. “Toi et moi. C'est tout ce dont j'ai besoin.”

Amelie, I swear I don't care about any of that. I'm so in this with you. You need me, I’m there. I signed up for you. You and me. That's all I need.

“Harry, you’re the first person that’s never compared me to anyone else, the first person that’s never expected me to be someone that I’m not,” she murmurs, her bottom lips pulled between her teeth to hide her wobbling lip, the tears threatening to spill over as her thumbs wipe the tears that had fallen without his permission. He was too good to her, too caring, sharing too much love for her to ever understand why. “Can’t tell you how much that means to me, even if I can’t really understand why.”

“Because I lo–,” Harry begins, pursing his lips together and pausing, the three words tickling his tongue and threatening to slip. His ideal way to say ‘I love you’ is not in the midst of talking Amelie out of a panic attack. His lips part in a sigh as Amelie forces a smile, gently nudging him back against the mattress and straddling his hips, her sweatshirt bunching at the tops of her thighs and exposing her skin to his waiting hands. “I adore you for who you are. All of you.”

“I adore you, too.” Amelie’s words are faux for what is itching at the back of her throat. There hasn’t been someone that made her want to say ‘I love you’ more than Harry does. Her hands cup his cheeks, her nose brushing against his and her lips slotting against his, a smile pinching the corners of her mouth as his fingertips tickle her sides. “Have a fat crush on you.”

“Do you?” he wonders, his eyes squinting as he stares adoringly at her, his lips threatening to pull into a smirk as her thumb traces the cut of his jaw. “Have a girlfriend, though. Might have to take that up with her.”

Amelie nods at Harry, encouraging his hands to travel along her body and settle on her thighs, her muscles relaxing under his touch. “Think I could take her?”

“No,” Harry says swiftly, playfully patting her bum and bringing her chest to lay flat against his. He wanted her impossibly closer, melting into his skin. “Amelie is a tough cookie, the strongest person I know.” Amelie snorts at the statement, her lips spreading into a wide smile and her cheeks flushing, her light eyes shining under the harsh lighting of the bedroom. “There’s that smile. I’ve been waiting all night to see it.” His hands slink up her torso and make home at her neck, brushing under her hair and gently massaging her jaw, noticing the way her face falls into his palm and finds comfort there. “An exhibition smile.”

“You said you had kisses waiting for me,” Amelie frowns, jutting her bottom lip into a pout, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. “I want them.”

“Take them,” Harry whispers, Amelie’s lips already meeting his. His lips are soft on hers, moulding together perfectly and slotting between each other as chaste pecks are given between the longing kisses that make his taste linger on her tongue. “All of them.”

Amelie and Harry stay in that position for a while, kissing and sharing gentle touches, her fingertips dragging through the curls that were messy and slowly drying from the sweat of performing. They would shower together eventually, settling into the routine of standing all too close and taking the personal space that certainly should belong to the other person.

Harry tries not to think about the comment that Amelie made about her depression, about not being enough for him. He doesn’t want to ruin the light atmosphere and the happiness that is seemingly bounding from the smile on her lips. He silently makes a wish, a prayer, that there won’t be any more trials against Amelie while he’s gone. He prays that whatever is waiting to happen next, will happen when he can be by her side. Harry needs that reassurance.

Although, he isn’t quite sure if he’s going to get it.

/ / /

Harry couldn’t take his mind off it. All through soundcheck and their meetings, the recording of the new songs for the album, Harry couldn’t take his mind away. Amelie’s first therapy consultation was today. Harry wasn’t there to bring her or pick her up like he would have wanted, like he knows she would have preferred, and there was a layer of guilt sitting at the forefront of his mind each time he thought about it.

Amelie had only left a few days earlier, leaving from the Indianapolis airport much too early for Harry’s liking. Her therapy appointment was scheduled for the second, and then she would be on the next flight to him to accompany him for the East Rutherford and Baltimore shows. Once that was complete, they would be taking the first flight out of the country where he would be meeting her grandfather for the very first time. Harry was ready to be with her and her family for two weeks in France, immersing himself in the culture and the language that he was beginning to speak more often than not around her and her family. Amelie’s mother was especially impressed by Harry’s ability to speak French on their conversations.

Harry wanted to be with Amelie, especially knowing that her mental health has been declining by the day since she slowly began revealing the horrible words that Jack spoke to her in July.

Amelie’s named brightened his phone screen at the time Harry expected, his hand waving to Niall to excuse himself to a quiet dressing room and answer the call. His thumb slid across the bottom of the screen, lifting the phone to his ear and taking a seat on the couch in the furthest part of the room, away from the door and prying ears. He couldn’t hear Amelie at first, but as soon as he could, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

Amelie’s sobs echoed through the speaker. “The, the lady,” she chokes, the engine of the car running soundly in the background, “told me that it was m’fault. I’m the reason that people treat me badly. Jack assaulted me because of something I did.” Harry knows that this is her breaking point. He has never heard her so distressed. “Am I really that horrible? That I’m the reason Jack did those things? That I’m the reason I have all these things wrong with me.”

“Ames,” Harry says, swallowing back tears and tilting his head against the back of the couch. Harry knows how to fix a lot of things, but this he isn’t sure how to solve. “Ames, baby, I need you to listen to me, right now. Okay, baby? I need you to hold the phone to your ear and talk to me and listen to me.”

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Amelie whimpers, her face hidden in her hands, her forehead leaning against her steering wheel. Her parents would be expecting her for dinner soon, to hear how therapy went. How was Amelie going to tell them that everything is her fault?

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry tells her, his voice strict and firm. “Have nothing to be sorry for.” His words are stern, a stark comparison to the shakiness in his throat and nausea that threatens his stomach. There is a bad feeling lingering inside of him, and he isn’t sure why. Harry feels awful. “None of those awful words came from you.”

“Can’t escape from people saying it’s m’fault,” she whispers, sucking in a breath and beginning to hyperventilate into her hands. “Can’t breathe, Harry, I can’t breathe.”

“Mon ange,” Harry says a bit louder, his voice carrying over the heavy breathing and the shaky tears falling down her cheeks, “Il faut que tu me parles.”

Amelie sucks in an unsteady breath, trying to find her voice amongst the tear stains and the bright red blotches on her skin. Anyone that looks in her direction could tell that she was crying. “Je ne peux pas faire ça. Je suis si fatiguée.”

You’re weak. You’re weak and pathetic. Everything is your fault. It’s all your fault. Soon, Harry will see that.

Harry’s chest tightens. He doesn’t like the sound of her words. He doesn’t like the way her voice is unsteady and seemingly from someone else altogether. He would fly home if he had to. Amelie was staying in his house until she left, watering the plants and using the warm shower and the air conditioning. Harry wasn’t going to go about his day knowing Amelie is upset, like this. He refused. “Don’t say that, angel. Don’t scare me.”

“Don’t know if I can come tonight, Harry.”

“Amelie,” Harry says warningly, his thumbs pressing the speaker and beginning to search at flights that would leave in the morning.

“Harry, I just,” Amelie trails, wiping her eyes and staring at her distressed reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know. I have so much to do. I shouldn’t have said I could come.”

“Don’t shut me out, Ames,” Harry sterns. “Don’t do that when I’m this far away.”

“Harry, I’m not,” Amelie lies, forcing a smile on her lips to emphasise her statement. Harry could hear the falsity in her tone. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Amelie.”

“Have to drive home,” Amelie justifies, sucking in a deep breath and turning the engine on, the music lightly playing in the background. “I’ll call you.”

Harry can hear the songs quietly, and he knows that the tears are already beginning to stain her skin, again. “Ames, I adore you.”

All Harry can hear is a choked sob before the line disconnects.

Harry nearly trips rushing backstage, yanking his sweat-covered shirt off his torso and slinging it into the dirty laundry bin situated in the dressing room following every show. He searches for his phone, nearly having profanities slip as the passcode refuses to enter. His notifications were turned off to prevent having an incessant vibration backstage, yet there were still multiple calls from his girlfriend’s best friend and younger sister on the screen. His stomach twisted with nerves.

“Harry,” Niall says solemnly, his lips pulled in a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern as he stares at an unknowing Harry.

“Can’t talk,” Harry hurries, dialling Jenny’s number and waiting for the ringing to end and her familiar voice to answer. “Need to call Ames back.”

“Mate,” Niall sighs, taking his phone and ending the call. His eyes are desperate to have Harry acknowledge him, and Harry knows something is wrong.

“Niall, what’s going on?”

“Amelie isn’t coming,” Niall gulps, taking out his phone and showing the text to Harry. Niall can see the tears well in Harry’s eyes and the concern on his face grow from mild to too much. “Got the text from her when we were on stage.”

Got caught up in something. Can’t come out today. I’m sorry.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Harry mumbles, handing Niall his phone and running his hands over his face. He grabs his phone, tossing the soiled shirt over his torso and making his way out of the dressing room before Niall could properly hear him. “Gon’a go call her, I’ll be back.”

Niall nods, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders and Louis and Liam hurry into the dressing room, quirking their heads and mouthing questions with confusion.

Harry rushes outside, hiding away behind a loading tour bus and pacing against the tarmac, his boots burning a hole in the sole. His heart is sitting uncomfortably in his throat, begging silently for Amelie to answer the phone.

“Ames,” Harry whispers, tears prickling at his eyes and a sob held in his throat, “baby, answer the phone.” Amelie’s voicemail answers the call, the sound of her voice making Harry nearly break down before the beep is left for him to speak. “Hi, mon ange. Need you to pick up the phone and call me back, okay? Need to make sure you’re alright.” Harry gulps, pausing before saying the words that he needs her to hear most. “Amelie, please, call me. I love you.”

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years

Photo

The amazing results of last night’s game, “3 Prompt Summary”!

Everyone threw in three prompts, and then let loose on the prompts and created fanfic summaries based on the prompts! There are a lot of VERY INTERESTING ideas in this bunch!

Here’s the first example round...

Prompts from LLightz - soulmates, Steve/Bucky, dog

Summary by @rebelmeg - A dog. His soulmark was a dog. Which was no problem, Bucky liked dogs. But... a dog?! A golden retriever with a smiley dog face and a blue collar. Go figure.

The rest are under the cut! There are a lot of them, and they are so cool! There’s an amazing mix of characters, prompts, angst, fluff, crack, and everything in between.

Prompts from @magicadraconia - Cloak of Levitation, Stark Expo, butterfly kisses

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - How Strange lost Levi was beyond him. But he assumed it had to do with the smitten Super Soldier and Engineer. Somehow Levi had it in his mind that those two needed some help. So, Strange knowing that they were to be at the next Stark Expo opened a portal. Finding his cloak planting butterfly kisses on Stark's cheek was something he didn't expect at all.

Prompts from @rebelmeg - coffeeshop AU, glitter, Sam Wilson

Summary by @themadhalewrites - When a pride parade ends up in Bucky’s Coffee Shop he ends up not only having to clean up the glitter but now his glitter soulmate mark that matches up with the parade leader Sam Wilson makes sense.

Prompts from LLightz - Enemies to Lovers, Highlander, Stucky

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Being alone for so long has hardened Bucky's heart. He had lost everything back then. His friend, his brother, his lover. All to another Highlander going by the name Captain America. What a travesty. Since then Bucky had tried to hunt him down. His sworn enemy with eyes so similar to his former love.

Prompts from @dreaminglypeach - Pepper, only one bed, kidfic

Summary by @rebelmeg - Bucky didn't understand it. The entire Stark Lakehouse, but there wasn't a single couch or guest bedroom open? At least, not unless Morgan Stark was willing to give up her bed, which, given the obstinate expression on the little girl's face (and WOW did she look like her dad), she was not about to share. Luckily, Pepper comes to the rescue. Albeit, in a kind of weird way...

Prompts from @rebelmeg - coffeeshop AU, glitter, Sam Wilson

Summary by @dreaminglypeach - Sam hates coffee. Like, really hates it. Won’t drink it, can barely even stand to smell it, even talking about it makes him feel vaguely queasy. Why, then, does he work in a coffee shop? That, my friends, is a long story, involving glitter, puppies, and the incredible stubbornness of a dumbass named Steve Rogers.

Prompts from @themadhalewrites - Lost, Hidden Love, Mystery Child.

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Oh the f*ck Tony managed to get lost in this freaking forest was a mystery. Just like the child with brown hair, and steel grey eyes following him, hiding in the trees now and then but always there. Tony could feel it on his skin. How should he know, that the child, was the man, Tony had loved so fiercely but has had to hide it for James was not of the same standing like him.

Prompts by @fightingforcreativity - Love at first sight, missing, one date

Summary by LLightz - They'd had just the one date... Nat and Clint had set them up... pretending it was a chance encounter at their local gym, but he would have noticed the gorgeous brunette with the soft wavy hair and sky blue eyes if he'd ever been there before... It had been love at first sight... but he hadn't shown for their second date, and the number he had been given for him kept going to an invalid number…

Prompts by

@rebelmeg - Sam Wilson

@themadhalewrites - hidden love

@dreaminglypeach - Pepper

Summary by @magicadraconia - Pepper had always had a thing for boys in an Air Force uniform (her crush on Rhodey had lasted for years), so it was natural that that would expand to include the newest Avenger as well. It was just such a pity that Sam Wilson was now a wanted fugitive and hiding out from the world somewhere. Oh, well, she was about due a vacation anyway. Perhaps she'd try Wakanda this time…

Prompts by @rebelmeg - coffeeshop AU, glitter, Sam Wilson

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Glitter. It had to be glitter. Now he had glitter in his hair, glitter in his clothes, probably also in his underwear and glitter in his coffee. He was so done. Sam wanted nothing more than to smack Bucky for this. And he would, if Bucky wasn't the cutest and hottest barista in town.

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach - Pepper, only one bed, kidfic

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Pepper was a godsend. No one and nothing would ever convince Tony of something else. Even though he was a bit miffed that he had missed out on the end that was fun. No Steve, James and Tony had to get deaged to their kid years. All included. And dang, considering the pics, the three of them had been clingy at hell, sharing everything after they had to share one bed, because Tony hadn't put in more than one guest bed in the lake house.

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity - love at first sight

LLightz - highlander

@Magicadraconia - butterfly kisses

Summary by @rebelmeg - It had been like something out of a period film, or a romance novel, the moment he appeared out of the mist. His shoulder-length hair was damp, and tiny droplets even clung to the stubbled on his face, the jawline so sharp it was like glass. And it was utterly unfair how amazing those legs looked in a kilt. But that? Had been nothing compared to the way it felt when he reached out, his palm calloused, leaving the softest of touches on a warm cheek. Like butterfly kisses... Love at first sight wasn't supposed to be a real thing. It wasn't. And maybe this wasn't it. It could have been something else that sent the heart racing, goosebumps rising up over every inch of skin, a swooping sensation in the stomach that spun like dizziness. Could have been something else. Right?

Prompts by @fightingforcreativity - love at first sight, missing, one date

Summary by @themadhalewrites - Stephen had only briefly caught sight of the man during the absolute carnage that was the Battle of New York, but just that glimpse was enough to make his heart race for a different reason than the adrenaline that had been pushing him until now. But he was never able to find the man; it was like he'd vanished into thin air. It isn't until he becomes the Sorcerer Supreme - with the ability to travel the multiverse - that he's able to find the man again. Now if only he could muster the courage to ask for a date…

Prompts by

@themadhalewrites - Mystery Child & Lost

@magicadraconia - Cloak of Levitation

@dreaminglypeach - Pepper

@rebelmeg - Glitter & Coffeshop

Summary by LLightz - He should never have taken it off in the coffee shop, but he'd been trying to shake off all the damn glitter that had caught on it from all the paraders outside, and then he'd been distracted by the long-legged strawberry blonde who'd brought him the iced mocha... and now the priceless cloak of levitation was missing! That mysterious kid had run past so it was possible he might have snatched it, but there were so many people around that he didn't know where to start looking... Strange was going to kill him !!!

Prompts by @rebelmeg - pet fic, bakery AU, crack

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Iron Mouse was supposed to be a joke, not a thing. Rhodey was snickering madly while Sam grinned mischievously. Tony hated his friends and coworkers. He was a god damn baker, not a pet caregiver. Well... until now apparently.

Prompts by @fightingforcreativity - Love letter, grieving, dancing

Summary by @themadhalewrites - He never expected that while we was grieving the death of a Tony, he would recieve a video love letter from Tony where he was drunk dancing to horrible music.

Prompts by @magicadraconia - Stars, "Oh, a wise guy, eh?", chicken soup

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - "And there you can follow the line of Taurus, then there is-"

"oh you're a wise fella, huh?"

"What-"

The brunet came closer and Tony saw that it was indeed the super soldier. "Mind if I sit and listen? Ma used to tell me about all the stars but I can't..."

Tony didn't need that sentence to be ended. He knew what Bucky was about to say, and he didn't want to hear the hurt so he interrupted with: "Only if you make that chicken soup for me and Morgan you did the other day."

Prompts by LLightz - Lake, Mythical creature, Parachute

Summary by @rebelmeg - Okay, so jumping out of a plane had been unplanned, but that's what parachutes were for. And now, Bucky was basically just having a nice, lazy float down, watching the world rise up to meet him with idle interest. At least... until he realized that he was drifting rather closer to the lake than he'd like. And, um... was there supposed to be something huge and MOVING in there?!

Prompts by @themadhalewrites - Lies, Baby bottles, "These aren't mine"

Summary by @dreaminglypeach - “I can explain, Pep!” Tony gushes, desperate to get the words out before she comes to her own conclusion about what’s going on here. “I know she said it’s mine, but it isn’t, I swear, there hasn’t been anyone but you for months, it’s a practical joke or something, I don’t know, just please, Pep, you have to believe me!”

Pepper, goddess that she is, just sighs, takes the baby from his arms, and proceeds to make it actually drink from the bottle Tony’s been trying to give it for twenty minutes now. “Okay,” she says. “We can figure this out.”

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity - Dancing

@themadhalewrites - "These aren't mine"

@dreaminglypeach - Alcohol

Summary by @magicadraconia - It had been a really good beach party, lots of booze, lots of pretty young women - and men - to dance with, but now Rhodey was trying to help him find his pants so he could go home. Ah, those looked like his! "Hey, wait a minute, these aren't mine!"

Prompts by @themadhalewrites - Lies, Baby bottles, "These aren't mine"

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Sometimes, in the depth of the night, Steve just needed something that would remind him of better days. Of days he had dreamed about being his everything. Those nights Steve took out a carton, filled with baby things, bottles, nappies all kind of stuffed animal things. Lies, beautiful lies in a beautiful box. Because Steve never had that. A baby. A family. How could he? He had been to sick to have a dame and when he wasn't anymore, he was in the war. "These aren't mine and yet..." And yet the blond wished for nothing more than to have buy those things for his own babe.

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity - Grieving & Love Letter

@dreaminglypeach - Alcohol, Dystopia, Nat

Summary by LLightz - She didn't think she could sink any lower than this... sitting on the blood and dirt stained floor at the foot of some stranger's bed, reading through their crinkled long-forgotten love letters with a quarter-full bottle of Vodka in one hand, a torn up kitten plushie tucked against her chest, and tears silently staining her face... she hadn't ever experienced any of this for herself and here she was, at the end of days, vicariously grieving through someone else's heart.

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach - Alcohol, dystopia, Nat

Summary by @rebelmeg - "Here's to us," Natasha reached over and clinked her chipped mug to Bucky's, very nearly clumsy in her movements. Which, considering who she was, meant she was probably so drunk she could be lit on fire and used as a torch, her blood alcohol content was so high.

"Lone survivors in a dead wilderness." Bucky intoned flatly, focusing very hard on not slurring. "Yay us."

"You think there's anyone else out there?" Nat nodded out, towards the ruined landscape outside the cave they'd taken shelter in.

With a shrug, Bucky finished off his drink and leaned back, bracing his weight on his elbows. "Who cares? This is all gonna be gone by tomorrow anyway. All that matters is that we get and stay drunk between now and then."

(And the commentary, because it’s too good)

Prompts by LLightz- Lake, Mythical creature, Parachute

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Springing out of the plane without the parachute, again, wasn't the greatest plan Steve had in a while. Everything arched, because he landing in the lake. How water could be so hard and hurt like a bitch was a mystery to him. How he hadn't drowned when he fell into it, because he froze, plagued by flashbacks, was another mystery. And who had that beautiful man been? the one how embraced him and... saved him?

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach - Alcohol, dystopia, Nat

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Nat was the last Avenger standing. Well, she didn't do much standing these days, nor fighting. But she was still there. Still inspiring a sense of fight in the youth. Being the last Avenger had hurt so much, she could understand now how Tony, who had lost everything over and over again, had lost himself in the bottle in the end. She did the same until she didn't. until Morgan and Peter and Harley and Shuri got to her. Helped her, inspired her to be the role model they needed to win. To finish the evil, the dictator who had ruled and burned them all for the past 10 years. She finally got up again, leading a war against Hydra, against Captain Hydra.

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity - grieving

@dreaminglypeach - alcohol

@themadhalewrites - lies

Summary by @rebelmeg - Was an ex-Hydra supersoldier assassin supposed to be cute? Especially when he was sitting on the floor, clutching a bottle of vodka like a teddy bear, and sobbing like a baby.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Sam muttered. "This has to be a joke."

Steve just shook his head as he facepalmed. "I reeeeeally wish it was."

"You LIED to me!" Bucky wailed, kicking out at Steve with a sniffle. "You LIAR. I hope your pants catch on fire IN YOUR SLEEP!"

"This is ridiculous." Sam swatted away Bucky's hand that was tugging at his pant leg. "Stop it. You are being stupid."

"HE'S A LYING LIAR WHO LIES!" Bucky bawled, taking another swig of vodka. "I DEMAND RESTITUTION."

(i have no idea what the lie was, but bucky is GRIEVING and it's VERY SERIOUS, SAM)

And more priceless commentary!

Prompts by @rebelmeg - pet fic, bakery AU, crack

Summary by @rebelmeg - Shuri cooed at the black panther cub in her arms, tickling it under the chin and beaming when it took a swipe at her hand. "I'm just SAYING, you'd probably get some really good business if you made treats for pets too. It's hard to find a good treat for cats." Bucky barely graced her with a glimpse of his resting murder face before turning away. "I am not making you gourmet cat treats for your illegal pet." "He's not illegal!" Shuri protested, cuddling the panther cub to her chest like he had insulted it.

"Does T'Challa know about it yet?"

The teenager blinked a couple times. "That's beside the point."

Prompts by

@rebelmeg - pet fic, bakery AU, crack

@magicadraconia - Stars, "Oh, a wise guy, eh?", chicken soup

@themadhalewrites - Lies, Baby bottles, "These aren't mine"

LLightz - Lake, Mythical creature, Parachute

@dreaminglypeach - Alcohol, dystopia, Nat.

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Bucky had loved the dog next door when they had been kids. He had tried to argue with his ma over and over and over how he would take good care of a pet if he ever got one. but money was tight and his sisters and Steve's health were more important than having a pet. So one of the things Bucky did when he remembered and was 'fine' was looking for a dog. He hadn't expected to find a cat, but he loved her dearly. Bucky was stable for a while, had a cat, had a job at a local bakery and some odd jobs here and there. At night he would look in the sky, trying to figure constellations seeing the stars differently then he faintly remembered.

At the same time on one of those stars far away, a star named Earth, Tony Stark held his baby boy, feeding him some stardust with a bottle. Whispering, "One day you know you're the world. One day you know, you are a wise guy. But wisdom comes with age and until then you are smart."

Natalia was with him, in the back looking onward, knowing things she shouldn't. She had tried to drown the foresight with alcohol, it never lasted. Flashes of their world, their planet destroyed, burned and scourged plagued her since she was a small child. "These aren't mine" she had said over and over when the doctors viewed her mind, when BARF showed Tony her innermost secrets.

Beside Tony everyone judged her though. Believing her to be cruel and wanting this. But she didn't. The boy in Tony's arms proof of that. On silent soles she made into the kitchen cooking the chicken soup her mother taught her.

A side glance to the parachute they had rediscovered. The parachute of their friend and lost lover. It had floated on a lake not far away. And.... If myths were to be believed it would lead to a world beyond. To a star far away. A star Tony was looking at. A star Bucky hopefully now lived on. amongst the mythical creatures, cats.

AND THAT’S A WRAP, FOLKS! Leave our contributors some love, they deserve it! And you never know... maybe some love will get an actual fic!

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