#Got a bit more consistent with how I draw Harry

[spilledkaleidoscope]

caustic echo

#I forgot I drew this #disco elysium #disco doodle #Got a bit more consistent with how I draw Harry #comic #Kim Kitsuragi #harry du bois #harrier du bois #my art

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: The fact that the idea for this part was already causing me such INTENSE brainrot way before I even finished writing Part 2 (which is pretty funny cuz I actually had a TOTALLY different idea compared to how this part is now, but hey my stoopid brain does what it does) 👁👄👁 Anyhoe, I am SO stoked for this (it also turned out quite long)!! It's finally got ✨️smut✨️ which I know my fellow sluts have been waiting for, BUT it's not the actual sexy sex yet cuz I'm saving that for the last part. Don't worry, it'll definitely be worth it~ ;)

BTW there's a part in this where Steven recites French poetry by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and I used Google Translate for the English, so if the translation is off then I'm very sorry!

And I just wanna thank y'all sooo much again from the bottom of mah lil black heart, like SERIOUSLY! You lovelies are truly spoiling me with all your sweet comments, likes, and reblogs 😭❤️❤️❤️ And I swear that after the unexpectedly huge success of this fic, it made me fall RIDICULOUSLY HARDER for Oscar ISNACC and I have y'all to blame for dragging me even deeper into DILF Hell Heaven. Like, it's actually a problem when I suddenly feel like giggling and kicking my feet while I'm suffering at work just at the thought of him 😂

I also haven't been this confident and motivated in a while, and this is one of the VERY rare times I'm actually updating pretty quickly without the temptation of slacking off and abandoning it. I love writing and this fic is my baby, and it's just so fucking incredible that you guys are loving what I'm putting out, too, so once more: THANK YOU 🥰

Who knows, maaaybe more Moon Knight fics will come out in the future from me and fingers crossed that Moon Knight Season 2 will be confirmed 🤭

And the tag list has been updated! I also included some readers who I thought wanted to follow this whole series, so if you find yourself tagged despite not asking to be then that's why LMAO xD As always, the tag list is open so don't be shy to ask if you'd like to be added on it! ^_^

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland @the-ginger-draws @bitchyglitterfox @readingfan @spidey-3 @minigirl87 @wandasupremacy @simba-will-live-on @wavychelle @thepowerthismanhasoverme @blackholegladiator @kittytiddywinks @literalfkinsimp

Part 3: Like a virgin, touched for the very first time

After the flurry of honesty and an insane whirlwind of emotions, you and Steven finally winded down. It was a bit awkward following that, but he asked (well, sputtered) if you'd like to stay. He immediately apologized, knowing that he was overstepping boundaries and he completely understands if you rejected such a mental idea.

But it was late, and there was absolutely no way he was going to let you go home alone especially with the state you're in. And also...

Well, call him a selfish knob, but he just wanted--needed--to be with you.

But you agreed to stay--enthusiastically so. You both were flustered, though sharing a laugh together had all the tension fade away.

Because, truly, you were right where you were supposed to be.

♡•••🌙•••♡

Steven prepared dinner for the two of you, consisting of five-minute vegan mac and cheese courtesy of his microwave then indulging yourselves with the box of chocolates he brought at the failed date for dessert. It wasn't "grand" by any means, but it was the best you ate in a long time.

All thanks to the cute host... Actually, your gorgeous boyfriend.

Just the thought had you grinning like a doofus, the butterflies in your belly now transforming into fucking birds.

Did that make sense? Hell no, but being with Steven absolutely did.

"Love..." Steven's strong arms encircled around your waist from behind, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Make yourself comfortable, yeah? Don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch."

You gasped, affronted, quickly whipping around to face him. "Excuse you, sir, but I have every reason to be worried!" You huffed dramatically. "You are definitely not sleeping on the couch, Steven. And if you still insist that you are, then I'll just join you!"

Steven chuckled, his cheeks glowing pink. He rested his chin atop your head, pulling you closer to him. "The couch is too small for the two of us... So for a good night's sleep, I suppose I have no choice but to share the bed with you, yeah?"

"You say that as if you'd rather not." You pouted playfully, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. You can faintly hear the erratic thrum of his heartbeat, matching your own.

"I'm just pulling your leg, sweetheart." He teased, kissing your head.

How the fuck did he ever get so lucky? He thought he was going crazy, that this was all just a dream--but it wasn't. Dreams were never this good. You were right here, right now, in his arms. Wholly accepting him for who he is. Loving him.

And he fucking loved you, too.

"Where's the bathroom, baby?"

Baby. The name made his heart stop for a full second. Heat once again crept up to his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears, his voice not coming out as all he could do was just point towards the bathroom as he stared down at you in a completely lovestruck sort of wonder.

You giggled, blushing as well before leaning up on your tiptoes and pecking his nose. "You go relax, Steven. I'll join you soon."

He watched you saunter off, still glued in place and a hand atop his frenzied heart.

He had no idea how in the world he was supposed to relax, especially now that the situation fully hit him like a freight train. But thankfully, he found his legs moving for him and his body taking the liberty of changing into his cozy pyjamas before climbing onto bed.

He put on his ankle restraint and settled down, covering the blanket over him like some posh Victorian duchess as he laid completely stiff. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, lifting his head and squinting every so often at the closed bathroom and your obscure shadow dancing amidst the light peeking through the tiny crack of the door underneath.

And it was so...quiet. Neither Marc nor Jake has uttered a single peep, which was highly unusual. Either one or both of them always had something to say, regardless of whatever Steven was doing and he was the same whenever they were fronting.

But as of the moment, he couldn't even handle speaking with Marc. Not after what he did. Marc and Jake were his family and there was no doubt that he and Marc will eventually make up, but no one was ever allowed to hurt you--especially now that you two were officially together.

Jake, on the other hand... Well, he was known to butt into Steven's business. But Jake always gave him a good push, and he would never actually force Steven to do something if Jake didn't believe he could do it. Truly, Steven owed Jake for technically setting you and him up.

But besides Marc, Steven was more surprised that Jake wasn't yapping away especially when you were involved. It didn't go unnoticed for Steven the way Jake has...changed. Only when you were around, at least. And despite Jake being the stealthiest of them all, Steven could always feel him silently observing you at work deep within the recesses of his mind.

But Steven never said anything. He just understood--accepted--Jake, and he was sure that Jake knew. But Steven didn't mind it; in fact, it made him feel less alone.

After all, how could anyone ever resist you?

He then sighed deeply, shaking his head. Clearly it was no use just laying in his bed like a corpse, so he sat up and threw the blanket off before grabbing a random book from his bedside table and donned his glasses. But his brain was too muddled, heart still not ceasing its turbulent thump as he couldn't even register the words popping out of the worn pages he has read a thousand times.

"So you wear glasses, too, huh?"

He flinched slightly at your voice, seeing you standing at the foot of his bed. You chuckled softly before your eyes landed on his ankle restraint, raising a brow.

"S-Sorry, it's..." He scrambled for something--anything. "I...I know it's a huge red flag, but I have a...sleeping disorder. I promise it ain't for something, um...sexual."

"No need to make excuses, Steven. I don't think it's a red flag."

'And I wouldn't mind if you used it on ME.' You bit back the risqué words that nearly tumbled out your foolish, needy mouth.

Steven only smiled shyly, putting the book away before he gasped when he suddenly felt something plop down on his lap.

Something soft, warm, and lovely.

"Is...is this okay..?" Now it was your turn to be shy, meeting his gaze tentatively.

"More than okay." He breathed, staring up at you with an awed grin. "Gods, Y/N, you're beautiful."

"Thanks, this is my 'I wonder how I didn't pass out from running the most I never thought I could' look." You laughed. But Steven didn't, guilt clouding his features.

He placed his hands on your hips, brows knitting together and jaw squaring. "I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn't have to do that, didn't have to meet me. I would've hated it, but I would've totally understood if you never wanted to see me again. And yet...I was happy when you did come."

"I'm happy, too, Steven." You assured him, one hand on his shoulder while the other combed through his fluffy curls. "And honestly, I would do it again. If you were in, hell, Egypt--I'd still find a way to you, no matter what."

His expression softened, a smile replacing his frown as he leaned forward and laid his head on your chest. "Please do one favour for me, though?" You kept quiet, patiently awaiting his words. "If you ever meet Marc, punch the prick."

"Baby, I can only slap him! No way I'd ever damage your godsent face." You laughed again, little snorts wracking your body that Steven found so damn endearing. Then he looked up, his chin resting in between the pillowy softness of your breasts.

"Love... Call me that again."

"Baby." You obeyed with zero hesitation, and Steven groaned. A deep, rumbly sound that sent tingles all throughout your body. You lightly tugged on his hair, making his head tip back and gaze locking with his pretty brown eyes that have gotten darker, pupils dilated.

"Baby..." Your voice came out as a pathetic whine, your hand on his shoulder holding on for dear life. "Wanna kiss you."

Like a predator pouncing on its prey, Steven swooped up to catch your lips--only for the both of your glasses to bump into each other.

An awkward beat passed between the two of you before you both exploded into riotous laughter. The two of you fell side by side on the bed, giggling so much that tears sprang to your eyes and your stomachs hurt.

Once you two finally calmed down, you exchanged bright smiles and Steven rolled on top of you. His elbows dug into the bed on either side of you, making sure not to bear down his weight on you. He then took off both of your glasses, setting them aside on the bedside table.

"Shall we try again, love?" But Steven didn't wait for your response, crashing his lips with yours.

It was chaste. Feather light. So much better than what you ever imagined it to be like. Steven's lips were unexpectedly soft, but there was a certain firmness in the way he kissed you. Your eyes fluttered shut, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss.

Steven cradled the side of your face gently, lovingly, as if he was handling glass. Then, experimentally, you nipped on his bottom lip. He gasped sharply, and you slid your tongue inside his mouth.

It was obvious how inexperienced you were, but Steven certainly didn't mind. In fact, it only turned him on even more that you wanted to spend your precious first time with him.

And he was definitely never letting you go.

You moved your tongue uncertainly, small panic brewing inside of you if you were doing it right. All those shows and movies made kissing look so easy; but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts as Steven's tongue tangled with yours, taking the lead as he coaxed you into a lazy, sensual dance.

And that drew a long, beautiful moan out of you. Steven craved more, more, more--wanting to push you to the very limit, a lustful, greedy beast suddenly possessing his body.

But oh, he knew, deep down, that beast has always been there; waiting for the right moment to be released.

Waiting for you.

He then slowly pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your tongues. Your entire body was flushed, lips puffy and eyes hazy with anguished yearning as you stared up at him. Your hands reached out, clinging on tightly to his black sweatshirt. Despite being on the bed, you felt as if you were free falling into a bottomless pit.

And you wanted to fall--with Steven.

"Steven..." You murmured, one leg wrapping around his waist. "Are you gonna make love to me?"

"No." His reply was instant, levelling his gaze with yours. "I will, but not tonight, darling. I don't have any condoms."

"I...I don't mind..."

A low purr reverberated from his throat. Fuck, were you even aware of what you were saying? Of the sweet, tempting danger it entailed?

He might as well just tie you up, keep you in his apartment forever. With him. ONLY him.

He shook his head, quickly stamping down such dark, possessive thoughts.

"Love." He emphasized through clenched teeth, and you saw the way his inner conflict flickered in his eyes. "Not tonight, Y/N. But that doesn't mean I can't still please you, yeah?"

He pulled your leg off of his waist then pressed his lips to your ankle, electricity coursing directly to where you desired it most.

He never broke eye contact, his lips slowly trailing down the smooth expanse of your leg before pausing at your crotch. He chuckled deeply, ignoring it as he moved to your stomach.

You mewled desperately, wiggling slightly. "Baby." You pleaded, nearly breathless. "Please... Don't fuckin' tease me."

"M'sorry, pretty girl. Just let me worship you, yeah? You deserve it." He hummed, completely unbothered. "I deserve it."

He pushed up your tank top, your breasts spilling erotically and...fuck, was that a belly button piercing?

"First year of college. It was a completely lucid decision." You giggled at his stunned expression. "Hurt like a bitch, but I've always wanted one."

"Looks like I'm not the only one with secrets, then." He chuckled, kissing your belly with utmost tenderness and your breath getting caught in your throat. His lips languidly traced upwards, reaching your breasts and burying his face in between them and inhaling deeply.

Now he understood why Jake wouldn't shut the hell up about the way you smelled after asking you out.

His left hand groped one of your breasts, breath stuttering at the wonderful plushness. Then he raised his head, eyes locking intently with yours once more as his tongue flicked your pert nipple. You whimpered for more, more, more--back arching as you eagerly offered yourself to him.

And he just as eagerly accepted your gracious offer, mouth latching on to your nipple. You moaned as he sucked and squeezed, his teeth grazing slightly against the sensitive bud, only magnifying the maddening sensations you had no control over yet had the privilege to be a willing victim to.

He pulled away with a resounding 'pop' before giving your other breast equal devoted attention, his right hand making its descent lower, lower, lower--slipping inside your shorts and his chest blazing at the dampness that greeted him.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, erection straining painfully against his pyjama pants. He glanced down, his much larger hand cupping your entire pussy. "Wanna fucking taste you, angel. Can I? Please, love, I wanna taste your pretty pussy."

"Y-You don't even have to ask..." You squeaked, completely scarlet from head to toe. "Just take me, baby."

Steven grinned wolfishly, a gleam in his eyes that you've never seen before making your heart skip a beat. Without wasting another moment, he practically ripped your shorts off. He groaned as he saw the wet splotch in the middle of your panties, yanking them down your legs before bringing it up to his nose as a shiver ran down his spine at your intoxicating scent.

Your arousal was flowing down to your thighs, eyes glazed over as if in a trance as you watched Steven sniff your panties like a beast in heat. Then he shimmied out of his pants, your eyes widening as his cock stood proudly; thick and veiny, the tip an angry red and leaking with pre-cum. His fist, still clutching on to your panties, wrapped around his cock as he leaned down to meet your pussy.

Instinctively, you snapped your legs shut, hands flying to your face.

"I-I'm sorry!" You sobbed, briskly shaking your head. "I'm sorry, so sorry! I...I can't, Steven..."

You expected him to be furious, and honestly you'd understand if he was. What you didn't expect, however, was him gently removing your hands and tenderly kissing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, love." He assured, his hands massaging soothing circles on yours. "What's the matter? You don't want to continue?"

"I-I do, it's just..." You sniffled, blinking away tears and meeting his concerned gaze. "I'm...I'm embarrassed, Steven. It's just... Y-You know it's my first time, and you're doing amazing, it's just...I'm scared I'm not. I...have no idea what the fuck to do, and I'm not even pretty."

"That's not true." His voice was firm, jaw ticking resolutely. His brows furrowed, expression the most serious you've ever seen it. "You're bloody gorgeous, Y/N. I'm the git who doesn't know what the hell you see in me. And don't fret about being inexperienced, love. I'm so happy that you wanna be with me, and if you'd allow me, I wanna spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You stayed silent, then your lips curved up into a dazzling smile that had Steven utterly weak in the knees. What the hell were you so anxious about, anyway? This was Steven Grant, the man of your wildest dreams. The man you loved.

"I love you, Steven."

Steven froze, tears prickling his eyes. Something between a sob and a chuckle escaped him, positively beaming down at you.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

He then parted your legs, hands quivering slightly. "I love you..." He crouched down, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. "...so fucking much." His tongue darted out, licking the beautiful stretch marks that lined the supple skin of your thighs.

His tongue slowly wandered up, up, up, and you were scarcely breathing once his face was in front of your cunt. His hot breath fanned against your clit; dark, nearly black eyes fixed on yours.

"Quand je vivais tendre et craintive amante..." He recited in French, smiling up at you. "...avec ses feux je peignais ses douleurs."

When I was a tender and fearful lover, with her fires I painted her pains.

You had noticed earlier the French poetry books stacked on Steven's desk, but goddammit you didn't expect he would quote one while he was right in front of your pussy.

You were sure this absolutely sexy menace of a man was trying to murder you.

His thumb then brushed against your clit, making you gasp. He grinned widely, pushing down on your nub as you whimpered and squirmed helplessly.

"Baby..." You begged, tears pouring down your pretty pink cheeks, and there must be something severely wrong with Steven to find it so enticing. "Pretty please... Fuck me with your mouth."

And how could he ever say no to that? He was merely a loyal, desperate slave for his goddess' wishes. For her love.

And so, like a parched man in the desert, he buried his face in your sopping pussy. You yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sudden--but very much not unwelcomed--intrusion into your deepest, most intimate part.

Steven's groan of appreciation vibrated within your gummy walls, inching ever so deeper, feeling his nose hit a bundle of nerves. Then his tongue licked a long, slow stripe along your mound and up to your clit. You cried out, a broken, pornographic song that echoed throughout Steven's entire flat.

"Gods..." His voice was low, trembling; one hand yet again wrapping around his aching cock, the flimsy fabric of your panties hugging the tip. "You've no idea how much I dreamt of this, Y/N. Waited for this." His other hand settled on your pussy, deft fingers running along your drenched folds. "Such a good girl, tastes so fucking good."

He puckered his lips, kissing your pussy. And the sounds that accompanied were downright filthy, Steven moaning shamelessly, loud squelches and the heady smell of your sex filling the air.

Slowly, carefully, he thrusted a finger inside of you. You keened, your thighs squishing Steven's head and your hands gripping onto his hair. He then added another finger, scissoring his digits and you knew right then and there that you were losing what's barely left of your fucking mind.

You grinded against him, and he bobbed his head zealously in perfect tandem with you. His tongue lapped up and down, up and down, before suddenly driving it inside your hole.

He was rubbing his cock vigorously, watching you, burning this marvelous moment for all eternity into his memories. And as soon as a third finger slipped in, you were fucking gone.

You screamed, finally reaching that peak and falling over it, seeing stars. You gushed around his mouth, and Steven noisily slurped it all up, not daring to leave behind a single drop.

He soon followed, grunting animalistically as his cum sprayed all over your panties. He collapsed against your pussy, in between the heavenly plushness of your thighs, panting raggedly.

Neither of you knew how long you both stayed like that, coming down from your high, until you sliced through the serene silence.

"Wow... Just...wow."

Steven chuckled breathlessly, looking up at you with your wetness glistening on his lips and chin. "Wow, indeed." He then leaned forward, and you gasped as his lips suckled on the skin right next to your clit, claiming you with a dark purple mark.

"You'll be the fucking death of me, Steven Grant." You groaned playfully, pulling on his hair.

He grinned, crawling over your body before moulding your lips together in a passionate liplock. His tongue entwined with yours and you could taste yourself, your brain short circuiting.

He slowly drew away, gently knocking his forehead against yours as his grin grew impossibly bigger.

"I'll make love to you at the Field of Reeds, then."

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Smut #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Marc Spector #Steven Grant Smut #Jake Lockley Smut #Marc Spector Smut #Steven Grant x Reader #Jake Lockley x Reader #Marc Spector x Reader #Steven Grant x Reader Smut #Jake Lockley x Reader Smut #Marc Spector x Reader Smut #Reader x Steven Grant #Reader x Jake Lockley #Reader x Marc Spector #Reader x Steven Grant Smut #Reader x Jake Lockley Smut #Reader x Marc Spector Smut #Oscar Isaac

[harrieatthemet]

Vulnerable

in which Harry’s sensitive and you’re completely undressed. 

He’d prefer if you stayed. 

It’s his ideal perception of comfort; the warmth oozing from the usually unoccupied side of his bed, a faded essence of vanilla perfume tied in with a bit of rose oil shampoo, the amenity of another body lethargically intertwined with his. 

Bouncing back and forth between one place to another, one city to the next; it’s inconsistent. And for a while, inconsistency worked. He had nestled himself comfortably into the odd routine of inconsistency. That’s what the bulk of his foundation in larger areas of life was built off of, and you were no exception. 

“Casual,” and he used the word exactly months ago, “let’s keep it casual.”

He knows what happens when he puts his hand to the flame; he gets burned. He’s learned that lesson the hard way once. And again after that, and once or twice more after that. Casual meant there wasn’t any real need for consistency. Keeping a relationship with you as casual as possible seemed like the best fit; one that made sense. 

At least, back then it did. All that coming and going, late night text messages, sporadic sleepovers after over indulging on wine and really shitty romantic comedies, it became consistent. 2 minute phone calls every now and then turned into one, sometimes two hours at least once a day. He’s caught himself checking his phone so that he doesn’t miss a text. He’s not used to consistent. This, however, is the type of consistency he’s becoming quite fond of. 

“5 more minutes,” he’s barely gotten his eyes open but his hands are awake, pulling you a little closer to him, “s’all we need, yeah? Just 5.. maybe 10.” 

There’s a content flutter purring in his chest when you hum in response, your body readjusting as he slinks an arm over your waist. He’s not ready to draw the blinds yet. There’s a straggling strip of outside light that's fighting it’s way through the gap in the drapes. It’s got to be well into the afternoon by now, but he doesn’t wanna check his phone to confirm. Instead he just pulls you closer; he’d rather stay here, like this, instead. 

“Mm,” the scruff from his chin brushes up against the back of your neck when you hum, “I wish I could.” 

“Don’t wish,” he giggles, “just do.”

He frowns when he feels you peel your body away, a small gust of cool air hitting his bare stomach when you tussle the sheets off and sit up. And he watches forlornly from his spot; admiring the way he his shirt hangs on you. 

“I can’t,” you’re whine is playful as you snatch your pants up from the floor, “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Mhm,” you assure, “a date thing.” 

It’s like a punch to the gut. The words coming out of your mouth put a bad taste in his. He doesn’t even wanna talk about it beyond this point. Ignorance really is bliss, but the curiosity will eat away at him if he doesn’t try to dig a little deeper. 

“Been seein’ him long?” He’s glad your back is to him because you can’t see the worry in his face. 

“Oh yeah,” that’s one more punch to the gut; he was hoping you’d say no, “we’re getting married on our date tonight.” 

“What??”

“Harry,” your laugh is muffled as you tug your shirt over your head, “m’fucking with you.” 

His shoulders drop a bit before he sits up in the bed. Watching you get dressed has always been one of those things he enjoyed; teasing you about outfit choices, making remarks about how he should take it all off again. 90% of the time he actually does end up taking everything off again. But this time just fucking sucks. You’re not getting dressed to go back to your place; you’re getting dressed to go back to someone else’s place. At least, that’s where his mind is taking him. 

You’ve still got him all over you; a little bit surely still lingering inside of you. This no-named competitor might get to touch you like he did just minutes ago. He wonders if he knows all your best spots, whisper in your ear, hold you while you sleep. Is he gonna kiss you the way you like, run fingers down your spine until you hum in content. Can this guy please you like he can? Does he know that the the little indent above your right knee is from when you fell off your bike as a kid? Does he know you sleep with two pillows and not one? You can’t sleep with one pillow; Harry always keeps an extra one freshly fluffed for you when you spend the night. Which, evidently enough, has become more frequent than not. 

“So deep in thought, eh?” You tease, “What’s going on up there?” 

He smirks briefly when you extend your pointer finger towards his head, swirling it around as though you’re mimicking his jumbled thoughts. He’s got no right to pry. After all, the groundwork of the terms regarding the dynamic between the two of you were his idea. God is he regretting that now. The idea of another man knowing you at all makes his stomach hurt, let alone knowing you the way he does. 

“Oh m’not,” he shrugs, idle hands twirling the loose sheet on his bed, “s’nothing.” 

“Going once.. going twice.. give me something, Har.” 

With your hands on your hips; expression playful, eyebrow cocked and breath baited in anticipation, he’s realizing that now might be better than ever to speak up. The answer to every unasked question is no, after all. 

His mind is racing with the worst of thoughts. He doesn’t want you to leave at all. Especially if you leave now to meet with the embrace of any other man except him. It’s not a possessive thing. Part of what makes him so feral and drawn to you is how open and genuine you are with the everyone you know. 

“This guy,” he trails, “I mean- like is this a date?”

“You writing a book or something?” You chuckle. 

“No.” 

He knows that was a joke. It wasn’t his intention to answer so seriously and he wishes so badly he could take that knee jerk reaction back. The look on your face falls and so does his heart; right into his fucking stomach. The energy of the once playful banter is ripped right out from beneath the both of you and now it’s just uncomfortable. 

“Yeah..” Your tone wanders as you look for your socks, “3rd one, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

There’s about an infinite amount of ways he could match that question. One of them being just high pitched screaming from frustration. Not even with any words, just endless agonizing groaning on a loop. Christ, the thought of it all just makes him want to melt into the mattress and become nothing. In theory he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and suffered in silence while he waited for the next time you texted or called. But he’s dug himself so deep playing 50 questions with you that there’s no point in retreating. He’s doubling down now; all or nothing. 

“Know him well?” He spits out. 

“Well enough.. still getting to know him a bit.” 

“S’good,” he feels it coming, the word vomit and he just can’t stop it from pooling on his tongue, “knows you like I know you?” 

If he was religious he’d start praying to God, any one of them, that you answer with a firm no. How could anyone know you like Harry knows you? He’s convinced that it isn’t possible. This morning, when he was wrapped up with you in a fresh set of linens sheets, he’d be so sure that nobody else had intimate access to you like he does; sexually and emotionally. Right now though, he’s starting to do something he seldom does; second guess himself. Maybe he was naive to be so sure before. 

“Not gonna put all my cards on the table just yet,” oh how badly he feels like dying when you talk all confused like that at him, “but yeah. I mean, I guess.” 

You think of how silly that question is. Why would he ask that? Everyone you know gets the same version of you; honest, open, and real easy going. You’re an open book and your relationships are all reflective of that. You are who you are, proudly and comfortably. So yes, of course he does. 

And all he’s thinking is how desperately he wants to rewind to 15 minutes ago when he wasn't the only naked person in the room. He just wants you to get back in bed; stay with him a little bit until he feels like the only one again. Turmoil and anger coincide with one another as it bubbles in his stomach, metastasizing before it becomes so unavoidable that he can feel it in the pit of his throat.

“Hm,” the sarcasm and bitterness in his tone is so goddamn thick, “lucky him than, yeah? Have fun, m’s real happy fo’ you.”

“Ok...” and he can tell by your voice that you’re offended, “I’d say thank you but that felt more like an insult.” 

Your jeans still aren’t buttoned and now that you’ve slid your shirt back on, he notices that your arms are folded over your chest as well. He doesn’t like the look on your face. It’s like you’re accusing him of something. And he really doesn’t like that the shirt you slept in, his shirt, is in a ball at the foot of his bed. 

“Can take it however y’want,” he answers flatly, “not sure how that’s my problem.” 

“Well what is your fucking problem?” 

You’ve never taken that tone with him before. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this cross before in general. He knows for sure you’ve never been this cross with him. It’s frustrating that you’re lagging in an attempt to catch up to the very obvious point he’s trying to make. The only easier route to take would be to flat out tell you how he’s completely hooked on you. He doesn’t want to do that though, not right now. 

What’s his problem? Are you genuinely that dense? Oblivious? His problem is you and how, against all odds, have become a crucial influence on whether or not he’s having a good day. His problem is if he doesn’t hear from you after a while, he gets grumpy. He hates waking up and rolling over to the left side of his bed made up and untouched. That’s where he wants you to be sleeping. All the time. 

His problem is you’re leaving to be with someone that isn't him.

“He knows you like I do?” he reiterates, “Fat fuckin chance.” 

“Harry you of all people know that I’m-”

“Shy?” he’s talking over you now because he’s completely lost all motor control between his mouth and his brain, “I know y’shy. Know that y’do tha’ little thing with y’lip, when you’re reading or real focused on something. Y’hum in the shower and, I never said this but it’s bloody fucking annoying sometimes ‘cos it’s off key. S’off key ‘n I almost like it.” 

You blinked; face flat and arms fallen to the side. All you could do was blink. And he wants to stop. God, he wants to stop talking so bad but this is your fault. You got him started so he has to keep going. 

“I know y’favorite pair of socks- those hideous fuzzy green ones with th’hole in ‘em.” 

He’s standing upright, now. How he got here, two feet planted on the ground with less distance between the two of you than two minutes ago; he’s not sure. There’s no specific expression on your face for him to pinpoint, so he considers edging himself a little closer towards where you’re standing. Until he’s right in front you, about to wave his white flag when he manages to break your blank stare and lock eyes

“Knows how y’like to be touched?” he’s brought his voice down a few octaves now, his index finger grazing over the undone button of your jeans, “knows.. how to get y’off? Like I do?” 

His eyelids are low, pupils blown as he peers down at you. A finger of his tucks away a stray piece of your hair before it embarks on a mindless journey; grazing your jaw before before he places it strategically under your chin. Then he lifts it. He’s giving you no choice but to look at him when he asks you. 

“Do y’wanna know him,” he sighs, “th’same way y’know me?”

#harry x y/n #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry drabble #harry fic #harry fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry writing #harry x reader #harry x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry smut #harry angst #harry fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

[khami-the-raccoon]

May I request an animagus m reader? Just HCs with a few Hogwarts students, you choose, and the reader can temporarily turn into a "flying" jelly fish, (i.e. can do everything a normal one can except float in air?) Maybe just reader being friends with them? Thank you!

Hi! Thank you so much for your request, it’s a great idea :) I’m sorry if I took too much to write it, and if it’s not the best and I wrote for only four characters, but I hope you like it, have a great day!

Hogwarts students x Animagus! Male! Reader

Headcanons

Summary: some Headcanons of Harry, Hermione, Draco and Luna with an animagus! Male! Reader, who can turn into a jellyfish.

Word Count: 623

Characters: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood

Hogwarts Masterlist

General Masterlist

Harry Potter

Harry would initially befriend Y/N because of the rumors he heard about him being an animagus since Sirius and his dad were like that too, and he was curious about Y/N being one as well.

Hanging out with Y/N, he would feel in some way connected to his dad, he could now ask some questions about how the transformations worked and what Y/N had to do to become an animagus, and would sometimes feel as if he was back when his dad was a teenager and could see him be an animagus together with his friends.

Harry would be very emphatic towards Y/N if he ever felt like an outsider because of his special abilities, Harry sometimes still felt like an outsider too since he was recently introduced to the magical world, and would understand how bad it felt.

In the Triwizard tournament, Harry would beg Y/N to find a way to breathe underwater for Harry in the second task.

Harry would ask Y/N to sting Draco and his friends if they ever called Hermione a mundblood or Ron poor, although it would depend if Y/N was or wasn’t friends with Draco.

Hermione Granger

Hermione would at first ask Y/N if he was legally an animagus or if he had done it the other way.

She wouldn’t have a problem if it was legal, but if it wasn’t, she would give Y/N a good scolding to.

After she had calmed down a bit, she would ask a few questions about how the transformations worked and how he could breathe when he wasn’t in the water, although she would already know the answer to most of the questions.

She would like to hang out with Y/N a lot, it would usually consist of her studying by the lake and Y/N going for a swim, but sometimes it was just Y/N resting on her books while she did her homework.

She would be against Y/N stinging people who bothered him, except for when Draco called her a mundblood.

Draco Malfoy

He would find Y/N very weird at first and wouldn’t like him at all, he would even be mean to him about him being an animagus and his animal form when he turned into one.

After a while, he would start to find it interesting and not repulsive.

He would start to hang out with Y/N more and stop being mean about his jellyfish form, at least most of the time.

It would depend on how well Y/N and Draco got along, but Draco would like to grab Y/N when he was transformed and throw him into the lake. (Although he would stop if Y/N really didn’t like it)

Y/N, in exchange, would sting him.

Draco would also request Y/N to sting the people he doesn’t like especially teachers who gave him a bad grade.

Luna Lovegood

She would be the kindest and most appreciating person with Y/N.

She would very politely request Y/N to transform into his animagus form and go talk to or take care of the water creatures because she can’t do it.

She would love to caress Y/N’s jellyfish bell (the soft, harmless part), even if Y/N was scared to accidentally hurt her. “Luna, I could hurt you” he would warn once he was transformed into a human again “You won’t” she would answer.

She would love to draw Y/N’s jellyfish form.

Y/N and her would spend a lot of time together by the lake or in the forest, talking about magical creatures and things they couldn’t talk about with anyone else.

#male reader #fanfic #writing #x male reader #trans male reader #gn reader #harry potter x male reader #harry potter #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #luna lovegood #draco x male reader #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hermione x reader #xmale reader

[anamelessfool]

My Fave Tarot and (Part 2!) Oracle Decks

@discountdemonwarehouse asked me about my favorite tarot decks. I use oracle and tarot decks, sometimes together, sometimes interchangably. This post is long, so this will just be about my fave tarot decks. Feel free to ask me anything about tarot and other occult things!

Difference between a tarot deck and an oracle deck?

Tarot has a fixed organization and consistent readings of each card. Oracle decks are the work of artists/mystics and don't have the same meanings from deck to deck. They are more for a broad interpretation. When I use oracle decks, it's more about a meditation on a theme instead of an answer to a very specific question. But everyone is different on how and why they use what decks they use.

Sorry, I can't list just 3...or 5....I use them when the mood strikes me. Some are more incisive with their wisdom, others are more general and chill.

Fave Tarot Decks

Fyodor Pavlov Tarot Deck My "daily driver" I guess. Beautifully illustrated by a trans Neo-Raphellite artist. They have a super cool IG and Tattooing practice. I got this on Kickstarter but it's now widely available.

Mystic Medleys Tarot by Gary Hall/Liminal 11. If I'm not using the Fyodor, I'm using this one. Beautiful and funny (and insightful!) illustrations. And it's the best LWB (Little White Book of Tarot Meanings) I've ever seen.

Morgan Greer Tarot I learned tarot on this one. Groovy Vintage Tarot Deck with clear, easy to understand illustrations. The colors are so warm and the volumetric drawing style just itches my brain.

Thoth Tarot by Aleister Crowley and Lady Frieda Harris. Crowley taught Harris magickal theory, and this deck is a result of that (Harris has a LOT of input in this, do not ignore her contributions to this masterwork). I love this deck so much, it is very intense but very insightful. It has some of the most profound and beautiful occult imagery I've ever seen. It takes WORK to understand it. The book Understanding Aleister Crowley's Thoth Tarot By Lon Milo Duquette is mandatory reading for it. It is an amazing biography of Crowley and Harris as well as a great introduction to Golden Dawn and Thelema philosophical concepts.

Fave Tarot Decks Honorable Mentions

The Weird Cat Tarot by Gabby Karsh (Buy it ONLY from their etsy! There's knockoffs out there, unfortunately) Karsh is a super sweet artist and I've gotten some comissioned work from them in the past. A fun, funky little deck. I would not recommend it for learning tarot, since the illustrations riff on traditional motifs and are a bit sparse for someone new.

Luminous Void Tarot by Laura Zuspan Absolutely stunning, primal artwork on this one. And the nod to the orginal playing card/ tarrochi pill shape is fun. Honorable mention because like the previous one the illustrations are sparse for a newbie....and also the texture, size, and thickness of the cards make them an absolute bitch to shuffle.

#tarot #tarotblr #divination #my other hobbies

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

Happy Halloween y’all 🧡🖤🎃👻

Here’s some Partners in Crime to wrap up spooky season!

Vampire Weekend

There’s a lot of downtime to being an Auror. Way more than Ron would have expected before he started hanging around the department two months ago to research his next novel.

Harry, it seems, is always busy as the Head Auror, but if the team isn’t actively working a case, they’re most often sitting around the DMLE just waiting for the next one. Dean and Seamus fill the time with gobstones, exploding snap, and whatever else catches their amusement in any given moment. “If we don’t have work to do, that means no one’s dead,” Seamus had said with a shrug when Ron brought it up.

The lead detective in the unit, though, never seems content to just relax. Ron has watched Hermione help other Aurors with their own paperwork, clean the office top to bottom more than once…watched her practice defensive spells that one day that he had followed her down to the Ministry gym because he’d been sure that was just an excuse to skive off and go do something fun. It wasn’t.

Hermione Granger is an unstoppable force of nature, and Merlin help anyone who chooses to get in her way.

Ron needs a lot of help, these days.

He’s learned at least as much about her in the downtime as he has from watching her solve homicides, but one thing has been consistent: Hermione works too hard. And she hasn’t exactly taken kindly to his suggestions that she take a break every once in a while, as well-meaning as his advice is. He’s pretty sure she thinks his goal is to distract her or pump her full of questions for his book, but he really does just want her to slow down a bit. How she’s not completely burnt-out at the end of every day is one of the mysteries about her that he hasn’t yet solved.

Hopefully, he can convince her to cut loose for just one night and come to his Halloween party this coming weekend, but he hasn’t worked up the gumption to ask her yet. He’s worried she’ll bite his head off, but hoping that she’ll enthusiastically agree and show up in a skimpy costume. Realistically, though, he’s expecting a polite decline that falls somewhere in between the two extremes.

“You can go home, you know.” Hermione’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at her. She has one eyebrow raised in amusement and a smirk playing on the edge of her lips, making him wonder just how zoned out he was in his thoughts. “You look nearly bored to death. You don’t have to sit around the DMLE while we’re not working a case.”

“Not bored, just thinking,” Ron defends himself. “Besides, if I go home, how will I know when we do have a case?”

“I’ll owl you.”

As much as she doesn’t like him being here, he doesn’t really trust that to be true, but before he can argue, something else draws his attention. The Muggle phone that sits on Hermione’s desk, which may as well be a paperweight for how often he’s seen her use it to make a phone call—exactly never, so far—rings so loudly that it buzzes his eardrums.

“See, if I go home I miss things.”

Hermione rolls her eyes as she reaches for the handset. “You’ve never seen a Muggle phone ring before?”

“Not here. What the hell do Muggles call Aurors for?”

He’s beyond intrigued, but his only answer is a widening of Hermione’s smirk as she picks up the phone. “This is Detective Granger…Oh, hi Darren…I know you are not just calling me to ask how the weather is. I’m only across town.” She shakes her head and shoots a conspiratorial smile at Ron, as if he should be equally amused by Darren’s antics. “No, we’re free at the moment. What have you got?”

Hermione listens while her mouth twists into a deeper and deeper frown over whatever this Darren bloke has to say. Ron is sure he’s making the same face, only his consternation is over wondering who the hell this Darren bloke is. He’s never seen Hermione with anyone, and she’s never mentioned a boyfriend, but he’s also never heard her use that voice before—friendly, teasing, the opposite of the business-like tone he’s used to.

“Are you sure?” she asks finally. “I mean, that’s impossible unless—you’re kidding…Okay, we’ll be right there. What’s the address?” Hermione scribbles his response into the little notebook she carries everywhere while Ron cranes his neck to see what she’s writing. “Great. See you in a few minutes.”

She hangs up the phone and calls to Dean and Seamus as she reaches for her coat. “Who’s Darren? Where are we going?” Ron fires off as he prepares to follow her. “What’s impossible?” And seriously, who the hell is Darren?

“You might want to grab a fresh quill,” Hermione says with a grin. “I think you’re going to like this one.”

***

Read the rest on ao3

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #castle au #partners in crime #murder mystery

[finelinegynandromorph]

hallelujah, how’d you do it: gospel and religious harmonic convergence in lil nas x’s dead right now

hi! i know i usually write about harry styles here but i’m going through my periodic montero spiral and wanted to share a few vocal symbology thoughts because i am a slut for harmonies. so! if that sounds interesting, i’ll be using the usual fast and loose approach to musical terminology, you have been forewarned. 

as some personal background, a lot of my earlier singing experience was in a gospel context. to clarify, this was distinct from the US gospel choir tradition because mine was in the African Traditional Church (ATC) structure, where tenants of christianity are combined with traditional elements of animism, folklore, and mythology. there’s definite overlap and influence of US gospel traditions and ATC’s on each other, but just want to fully clarify that my experience has only been in one of those contexts. i’ll be using my ATC experience to speak to some gospel themes i personally see in dead right now, but since the traditions are similar and intertwined but *not* identical, if you have more experience with US gospel traditions and have corrections or clarifications or things to add please do share your thoughts i’d love to hear them!

me and the church have more of a. distant. relationship now, further complicated by growing up in a religious context that was mixed christian/hindu/buddhist/muslim and also being gay and trans. but! with that being said, i hold so many very special memories from gospel traditions. memories like singing with my granny and older aunties in the community while the pastor gave a rhythmic spoken word sermon at midnight on new year’s eve—that’s the kind of formative musical and social experiences that i still hold very close to my chest. anyway all this to say i’m coming at this with a little bit of distance but also a lot of complicated nuanced warmth. 

x

so! here we go, more under the cut!

we begin with a slightly distorted/faded organ-like musical prompting, as if we’re slightly underwater (a production theme in this album, with rain noises, splashes, etc. interspersed throughout which gives me ~thoughts~ on symbols of water and the movement of water in diasporic traditions but yes more on that another time). the sound here reminds me of an organ intro that helps cue in the choir for a church hymn. this sonic convergence feels very intentional given the very consistent nods to gospel tradition through the rest of the song.

when we move into the body of music at large, we’ve got the striking trumpets and the introduction of a choir! there’s consonance in two main keys here, providing a soft, atmospheric harmonization that feels very instrumental. then we have an electronic beep cueing in montero rapping the first verse. 

the two forms of prompting we have here, first the organ for the choir and next the beep for montero, just absolutely remind me of cueing techniques for choral arrangements. these sonic choices seem significant to me in a song that deals so directly with themes of community and origin. the beep also sounds reminiscent of a dial tone/phone sound, which leads smoothly into the image montero creates in the first verse, of folks contacting him on the phone.

in the first verse we’ve got instrumental synth in the background at the same key as the choir from before, contributing to the atmospheric feeling. then, the chorus!

we move here to an inclusion of a more typical hip-hop backing beat together with the trumpets from before—this beat expands in the second verse, and we have montero dipping into his characteristic weaving together of musical conventions from different genres, whether that’s country, rock, pop, jazz, etc. (there’s also something to this here about how mainstream musical media genres, as siloed as they appear, mostly stem from oral storytelling traditions that weren’t nearly as divided but we’ll leave that here for now)

i’d like to draw your attention to a beautiful moment we get in the second verse, where montero begins to use rhythmic pauses in a way that gives me so! much joy.

daddy, i am that one, uh - uh / i ain’t never need em, huh

the uh-uh section here is a musical break—a breath, a jump, a nonverbal filling in to complete a literary metric unit, and a common feature in gospel traditions! i’ve heard this referred to as “the rhythms of pausing” before and it’s a mainstay of rap and preaching traditions alike. many churches will have people who act as “gospel readers”, injecting religious sermons with a vibrancy that has a very musical quality. it’s a form of enunciating a sermon and sonically prompting your audience to keep paying attention, because more is coming, “let us pray” together. 

here we have the beautiful rhythms of a gospel reading used to Deliver an incising commentary on fame, support, beliefs in an individual person, and the way a community can both care for and neglect one of its members. just. very much thoughts.

hallelujah / how’d you do it?

!! so we’ve got this line delivered by a gospel choir and now we’re explicitly invoking that musical and religious tradition with the use of the word “hallelujah”!! it’s another example of prompting within this vocal tradition and we’ve got a rhythmic break/bounce between the prompt “hallelujah” and the continued question “how’d you do it?” there is something so poignant about this particular questioning being delivered in this format. there’s this feeling of a whole community imploring montero to let them in on the secret of his success, speaking in the language of a deep-seated tradition. it’s a call that montero is trying to navigate how to respond to.

okay, so let’s breakdown this choir. we’ve got montero on the melody, in his usual semi-baritone, and then we’ve got the *main* parts of the choir (there’s layering here, but just sticking to the most apparent components) performing a fairly typical gospel arrangement:

- soprano harmony

- bass doubled harmony one octave lower than the soprano harmony

we’ve got many singers in each part to add body to the sound, and the vocalists are harnessing a very warm, rich timbre. 

we also have an improvisational tone!! in soprano and a much fainter bass!

so, an improvisational tone is someone harmonizing in a non-rigid way, usually involving lots of vocal runs. it can sound round, curvy, or sort of shaky (but never weak in tone). there’s a lot here but in essence vocal improvisation speaks to a wider history of gospel improvisation, the broader impact of jazz, and the “blues sensibility” of particular prominence during the harlem renaissance. in the traditions i was part of, these kinds of improvisations map onto a larger use of nonverbal rhythmic expressions, like ululations. they also connect to spoken word and oral storytelling traditions.

all this to say that this is a very very striking and clear component of gospel tradition that we’ve got at play here! *and* the main soprano tone is slightly distorted as a production feature, similar to the organ from the intro to the song. i find the repeated slight distortion of characteristic religious musical traditions a fascinating choice and i personally think it speaks to the themes montero seems to be exploring here, of trying to grapple with a fraught and changing relationship to the place and people you’re from (what does “from” mean? what is the relationship between belonging and entitlement?) 

in the third verse we’ve got even more inclusion of gospel elements along with montero’s rapping. there’s an element of call-and-response in a softer voice, with some slight distortion, there’s choral harmonies in the background, and there’s also a higher improvisational tone vocalizing over the track. 

finally, in the last chorus we have a more forceful example of call-and-reponse, a signature gospel/blues tradition, this time in the form of a dynamic between montero and his father, who is a vocalist on this track. montero is delivering the melody for the chorus in the same introspective baritone he’s used for the chorus all throughout, while his father responds with cries of “treat you like you’re dead!” / “oh now you can’t!” in a higher key. these are expressive, emotive vocalizations, you can feel the bodily jump as he shouts. the choice to have his father provide this response to montero’s call, complete with the heavy themes of contact and communication with one’s community that ring throughout this song, the elements of a phone call beeping, a siren (an electronic signal, to who? to communicate what? a warning? a haunting reminder of the violent communication happening about this community by external viewers?), distorting, improvising like a gospel singer in a whine at the end of the song, all seem incredibly important. 

this is a song that is explicitly aware that it is a communication of intimate non-contact, of an individual who is trying to navigate a charged narrative of origin. in an album that deals heavily with themes of family, community, and organized religion, i find the move to heavily incorporate elements of gospel tradition here incredibly powerful.

that’s about all i wanted to share. if you’d be keen to chat more about origin, homegoing, and vocal symbology in tales of dominica from the same album do lmk!

#sending it out into the ether as usual so it doesn't just bounce around in my brain #vocal symbology #lil nas x #montero tag bby #montero #dead right now #gospel traditions

[lorcaswhisky]

for the other ask meme, if you're still up for it, i've wondered a lot about your method for writing Lost Cause. How did you arrange and plan your chapters?

safe travels!

Oooh, this is a fun question!

The planning of Lost Cause was ... both completely haphazard and very careful. The original plot was 'Gabriel Lorca and Harry Mudd team up for a not-buddy-roadtrip-comedy and accidentally solve the mystery of what happened to the Discovery'. It was going to be silly, with maybe some accidental feelings along the way. Then I realised that Mudd could never operate without an ulterior motive, which meant there had to be another layer. Then I realised that the mystery of what happened to the Discovery was ... not interesting to anyone who had already seen seasons 1 and 2. It had to be about the solving of the mystery, not the mystery itself. Ooh, maybe the mystery could be wrapped in another mystery!

Things got out of hand pretty quickly, and before I knew it the thing I'd thought would be 5k and a silly bit of fun had become 50k, a whole lot of lore and more feelings than I could shake a stick at.

(In my original plan, it wasn't [REDACTED] who was behind it all. Amanda was always involved - I was certain about that - but originally L'Rell was the orchestrator. Which was fun, but politically made little sense - why would she risk an already delicate power balance for this? Realising that it had to be [REDACTED], that it could ONLY be [REDACTED], was a lightbulb moment. A lot of things slipped into place, and a lot of things became even more complicated...)

Anyway. To your actual question. The plot structure of Lost Cause is not particularly complex. It all moves in a fairly linear fashion. Find information, go here. Find more information, go there. Put things together, go there... So my plot/chapter outline was pretty basic - just a few bullet points covering the main events of each chapter, or any emotional beats I wanted to make sure I hit, along with the case notes that start each chapter to set the tone, or any flashbacks that would flesh things out.

What was trickier was making sure I was completely certain of what information Gabriel had access to, and what conclusions he could (more or less logically) draw at any given point. Although he pretty consistently makes progress, he understandably gets things wrong by making completely reasonable assumptions based on the available data. I had to figure out what those completely reasonable assumptions could be.

So to start, I drew up an omniscient, colour-coded timeline of the events of season one, peppered with the in-fic timeline (things like when Gabriel got flung into the mirrorverse and when he got back, his debriefing sessions and the messages he sends to Chris, the news reports about [REDACTED]'s work).

That became my base timeline. The next step was to highlight the information that would have been redacted by Starfleet, anything pertaining to Discovery in any way. Which was ... most of it.

The little that was left over gave me the timeline of events from Gabriel's perspective, and all the gaps he'd need to fill in order to piece together what happened to his friends. Next to all of that, I ran a column to note where he would find that information - stuff that Mudd lets slip, stuff from the data, stuff that [REDACTED] would have to fill him in on.

And then it was just a case of winding Gabriel up (quite literally, in some cases) and letting him go...

(Fanfic Director's Cut: come into my ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. 

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have me select a section I’ve been dying to talk about!)

#writing meme #fanfic

[phantomato]

Tom was the burn of a papercut between one’s fingers, and the visceral gratification of sucking on the split skin that followed.

Heartbeat

Ch. 4, Harry and Tom and Orion, E [AO3]

Changelog

As we get further into this, I can't decide whether I'm more surprised by how much I keep from the original or by how much I write new. I'm not sure what that means.

The opening scene with Orion and the dream sequence are from the original, with bits slightly changed for consistency and to reflect the changing order of other plot events. The reunion with Tom at the shop is new; the bit about Harry's life is a thorough mix. But of course, new vs. old is hardly the entire story anymore, as even the "old" content has been so radically moved around, the order changed as I repurpose set pieces towards different ends. I think the sex with Orion hits diffrent, now that Harry's having it after he's had sex with Tom. Anyway.

I think about this story in terms of the moments where Tom and Orion are in the same place. Our longest point of separation was the build-up towards the threesome in the last chapter, as Harry maneuvers around them both and unwittingly incites them to come together. This is a break--they need one, following such a climax (lol), and the story needs time for Harry to feel like he's got his bearings about him, that he has influence and control over this. Like dropping a rubber ball, though, each bounce (gap between meetings) gets a little smaller. The space separating Tom and Orion is collapsing, thanks to Harry's meddling.

And that, truly, is the heart of the change in this portion of the story. In the first go, I thought I was better off drawing out their meeting, giving Harry more time with one or the other rather than putting all three on screen, and that was wrong. Harry's the vector, and the instigator for this particular conflict, but he's ultimately serving as a lens into a single point along a larger continuum.

#harry potter #tom riddle #voldemort #orion black #tomarry

[viria]

Hey Vika. I am twelve years old and have just got a new digital art tablet. I love your art work and cannot live without Percy Jackson or Harry potter. I hey Vika. I am twelve years old and cannot live without Percy Jackson or Harry potter. the characters you do I imagine them just as you portray. My digital art is the worst and I am only a beginner. I was just wondering how you started things off and improved your work. I don't know how to do any of this and would like a little guidance. Thanks

Hello! First of all, I need to say that I am going to say everything from the perspective of an adult, so in my eyes 12 years old is a very lucky age to start getting into art! I started when I was around 15-16, and I often wish I started earlier than that. So, whenever you get discouraged, please remember that there are very few people who can start drawing and turns out they are naturally gifted to it^^ The majority of artists you see on the internet and you look up to, and love their work, they started just as you, so please have it as a little reminder to yourself.  I started because I stumbled upon burdge’s work and I absolutely fallen in love with it and wanted to draw too. And I think her art tutorials were also the very first I have seen and tried to apply to my art, so advice number 1! Google art tutorials (may as well add for beginners), just so you can get some idea on how the majority of artists “build” their characters. Guide lines, circles, simplified shapes, it’s all something that can greatly help you at the start. I have the link for tutorials on the right of my page that has a lot of tutorials I reblogged over the years, so perhaps you can find something that you find helpful there. Or, just google things at a time, like Head tutorial, Body tutorial, proportion, etc! But start fairly simple, because it can get absolutely overwhelming at first, to have this many things all piled up for you. It’s okay to take things slow, and you will gather more and more knowledge as you go.  Same with digital art^^ YouTube can be your best friend with this, because so many artists post speed paints, or detailed tutorials and explanations on how they, for example colour. So you can try looking at a few (for your program of choice) to get a general idea on how different people approach art. Like layers, brushes, step by steps, layer options and such. 

What else... As a word of advice, probably try to not emulate only 1 artist at the beginning of a journey called “art style”. Speaking from experience, it may be hard to branch off from it once you find you’d like to be something more your own. So you can find like 4-5 (or more, but it will come later regardless) artists whose art style you like, and try to copy bits and pieces from each style - say you love the way 1st artist draws eyes - you can try to copy that, most likely it will not turn out exact, but it’s a good thing, because it ends up being like something you love, but with your own flare to it. Artist number 2 draws most beautiful noses - and you try to emulate that! (combined with eyes you learnt from artist 1). Artist number 3 has great shading, and you try to get yours similar to it. And etc, and etc, and etc, this is a process that keeps going on for as long as you draw, that’s why styles are a very flexible thing and change and change and change more overtime. You live in the age of the beauty of YouTube, and Pinterest, and so many other resources and tutorials, I'm sure you’ll do great as time goes on! Don’t be afraid to use references, and you can look at art exercises different artists suggest (like first tracing the guidelines on the reference to understand how the shape works, then drawing from the reference, and then trying to repeat that same pose without looking at reference). Or combine references! Say, you draw clothing from one reference, and pose from the other, and you looked up how the hair looks and flows from the third, while background would be 4th. It doesn’t have to be as overwhelming at the beginning, but that’s just so you can get the idea^^ References are absolutely great and helpful. So please keep at it, you have your while life ahead of you to improve and learn, and keep learning. I have been drawing for probably 11 years or so, and I certainly can say I got better, but there are still things I cannot really draw, but it’s coming to me, albeit slowly^^ Art is a thing that can take a long time to get good at, but don’t let it stop you from enjoying the process, because that’s the main thing (even though occasionally you might find yourself disliking it and getting discouraged by it), it comes and goes.  If I look through my art of last 3 years I can always say which drawing felt like Art crisis, and which I felt great, and the pattern is that after art block, and art crisis, there always comes an improvement^^ I’m sure yours will come soon as well, the main thing is to keep at it and be fairly consistent. That’s quite obvious, but the more you draw, the better you get^^ And good luck! I’m sure it all works out for you<33 

[suesylvesterf]

What was going to an all girls school like, if you don't mind me asking? :)

OK anon im so sorry this is so long and so convuluted I actually got so carried away jdbKJBGKSDBGH. i'm not even sure i properly answered your question i just got overwhelmed with Love for my same-sex schooling DHGKJSDFBHG anyway, if there's anything more you want to know lmk and I will try to be concise next time 💀

Essentially, my own experience at a single-sex secondary school was fantastic—however, I know my experience isn’t universal, especially since my school was a little bit different to most, I think.

That being said, I still think that sending your daughters to female-only secondary schools is something every parent should strive to do if they can. No other learning environment will ever be as good for girls as a same-sex school.

In terms of school staff, mine was about 95% female, and 5% male. The few male teachers we had were genuinely competent men and decent teachers, they were also watched like hawks. Our principal was female, all leadership positions in the school (such as House Leaders, Year Level Co-Ordinators, Department Heads, even the chaplain) were held by women. Our school psychologists, our nurses, our library technicians, our café ladies, our career advisors, our tutors—all were women. Our school houses (think like Harry Potter houses) were named after important women in our country’s history.

I went to a co-ed primary school. And whilst at twelve you might not have the words to describe it, graduating from a co-ed space, into an all-female space is really a giant weight off of your shoulders. You don’t realise how suffocating co-education is until you’re no longer having to bear it. It feels so much more natural, so much more free! You are welcomed as you are. You can be loud and unashamed of it. We joked frequently with each other and our teachers, laughed loudly and cared not whether our laughs were ‘ugly’. I found that teachers were far more supportive than they were in my co-ed school. For example, in a co-ed school I had been told frequently to ‘pipe down’ or to ‘reel it in’ from teachers, and more vexingly to ‘shut up’ from boys due to my boisterous personality. In high school? My teachers encouraged me to audition for the play because I had ‘great projection’. In every school programme (more on those later) that I was involved in, I was the one asked to give speeches about them at assembly. I was asked to be the lead of our house chants during our sports festivals. I was asked to join the debate team because of my passionate nature, which in primary school, had me known as ‘difficult’.

Likewise, I had a friend who was by nature quiet, and loved to draw. In primary school she’d doodled on the back of a work booklet, and when her teacher returned it, she’d taken off two points and had written a comment saying something about teachers in high school not accepting work that was drawn on.

Do you know what happened when she got to high school? Our English teacher had seen the eye she’d drawn on the back of our Romeo and Juliet test and had written, ‘beautiful!’ above it. The next test, she drew a two-headed cat with witches’ hats on both heads (I remember the left head was called Turpentine and the right head was called Esmeralda). Our teacher wrote, ‘wonderful!’ above it, with a smiley face.

The next day she got an email from our art teacher that had a PDF flyer of information on both in-school and local art competitions.

Anyway, she had questions and that teacher answered every single one of them. She also personally helped her select the works she wanted to submit. She ended up having two pieces shown in the school gallery, along forty pieces made by other girls. About five years later for our final year, on that art teacher’s recommendation (and tutelage!) she took all of the visual art subjects on offer. When she graduated, her final piece was shown at a public exhibition in our state’s capital city, that honoured the best pieces done by select graduating students in the state.

So yeah. Our teachers were pretty amazing. Of course, there was the odd teacher or two you would butt heads with but that’s just a universal school experience. Our humanities classes, like history, for example, often had a unit that would focus on the female experience of a certain time period. For example, when learning about WW2, we did projects on female resistance fighters et cetera.

We had health classes that were actually focused on female health. We learnt about female anatomy (even the clitoris! Though we were all about thirteen/fourteen at this time so we found it incredibly awkward to talk about), as well as symptoms of PCOS during our menstrual unit. We learnt about contraceptive methods and devices (however, as a Catholic school they did have to tell us that whilst these methods are available, the church-sanctioned method is of course, abstinence).

Whilst the majority of the girls shaved their legs and wore makeup, as someone who did neither of those things I rarely felt judgement about it (albeit, I think there was a little for my lack of makeup, but this only lasted the first two years). A good portion of our staff also did not wear makeup, I don’t recall this ever being commented on. And, by the time we’d reached about our third year, a good portion of my year level and the ones above did not wear makeup on a daily basis. Leg hair was not looked down upon by any of us I don’t think by this year either. In fact, if you were particularly hairy often your hairless friends asked to rub your legs!

We were never short of female role-models, our staff made sure of that. We had multiple days per year when guest speakers would come and talk to us, mostly these were women who were experts in their fields—whether that be neuroscience or computer science, linguistics and literature or mathematics, politics, et cetera. The only times we really had male guest speakers was when police officers (one male one female) came to give us an assembly about sexual peer-pressure and laws around sharing nudes that was basically, “these are common (male) manipulation tactics used to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, don’t fall for them”.

We were encouraged to take STEM subjects, and those of us that had taken interest in computer programming were sent to coding programmes in the city during school hours! That’s how keen our teachers were to get more women into the field! This was the same with the girls interested in politics, who got to go to Model UN events, as well as mock parliaments in the country’s capitol.

We had a lot of programmes generally. A few overseas ones for girls who were in LOTE (languages other than English) classes. A few interstate ones, too. And of course, local programmes and excursions. Most of them (aside from the LOTE ones which focused on immersion) were volunteer programmes aimed at helping women and girls. The rest were about furthering our own skills or learning new ones. Majority of these were year-level based, but a few depended on the clubs/groups/classes you were in. For example, I was part of the Writer’s Club, and we took an excursion to the state Writer’s Festival and listened to female writers as well as feminist panels. We also had self-defence programmes every year.

In terms of peers I generally found everyone to be quite amiable by the time we’d reached our third/fourth year. There’s a common myth about all girls schools being filled with ‘catty’ girls who are constantly bitching about one another, but I really did not find that to ring true. There were a few fights and arguments in the earlier years, I was part of quite a lot lol but that’s honestly… just something that happens at school, at any school. Largely, we were good to each other. If someone was crying there was always someone who’d ask her what was wrong. If you missed the notes on the slide, there was always a girl willing to share her notes with you.

I think going to an all-girl’s school, and not having that much interaction with the opposite sex generally for that six-year period truly does something, I think, to your psyche. We are socialised to look down on our fellow woman, socialised to look down upon ourselves. But actually being constantly surrounded by women, and almost ONLY women, really helps to undo that. Even now I could not describe the fierce love I have for all those women and girls I came in contact with during my time there—even the ones I bickered with. Each and every single woman I met there enriched my life in some way or another. I think that is the effect of consistently spending time in any female-only space: developing a true appreciation for women. It is the only reasonable conclusion to come to.

I have been out of high school for two years, and in university for one. Among the many men I have met since, none of them have even been able to hold a candle to the any women and girls I know.

Anyway. TLDR: it slapped, send your daughters to same-sex schools!!

#this is so long sorry #long post #radfem safe #separatism #radfem

[harryhandstan]

prompt: harry wakes up early on starbucks cup release days and surprises you by buying all the ones he thinks you’ll like. he’s usually able to escape the paps but this time they catch him and he ends up having to explain it in his next interview and gets all shy and can’t stop blushing.

a/n: hello all!! first I want to apologize for my 4 month long writing absence. life just has not been kind to me lately and unfortunately zapped a lot of my creativity energy, but I’m happy to have something done now! hopefully I can continue and keep a more consistent schedule for the remainder of this year!

immense thank you’s are owed to my kind friends @tobesolonely and @meetmymouth for the encouragement to find my creative spark for writing again and for being amazing betas! and to @taintedwonder for the lovely idea! @theharriediaries​ was so sweet to beta for me as well!!

word count: 2.1k

writing tag | masterlist | tiktok inspo 

Harry was usually smarter than this. He had a schedule, a plan, a way to get in and out pretty quickly without being seen. 

But today, he’d lingered too long at the mugs, curious if you’d want one of those as well. Your go-to was iced coffee, even year round in the winter you would prefer something cold over anything warm. He was thinking though, of the nights you were stressed and wanted a cup of soothing tea before bed, or those slower mornings where you don’t have to rush and a mug of coffee fits nicely in your hand while he admires you from across the kitchen table.

By the time he’s decided that yes, you do need this mug with the pastel rainbow print to add to your collection, along with a few of the other cups he thinks you’ll adore and a fresh bag of your favorite flavor of coffee, there’s already a small crowd of people forming in the lobby of the coffee shop and he hopes that he can get through them without being recognized as usual; prays that it’s only the regulars filing in for an early morning fix of caffeine before they rush off to start their day.

The barista thankfully is quick, skillfully giving him his total before rushing off to make the drinks he ordered for the two of you as well. He sees the way her eyes keep darting to him though, knows after years of experience that she knows who he is and is trying to work up the courage to say something to him or ask for a photo. He almost considers offering, she’s been so nice not to draw any attention to him, maybe something discreet could be pulled off. 

In the end he chooses not to, not wanting to assume that’s why she keeps looking over at him. It could be that he still has the hood of his sweatshirt tucked over his beanie or the fact that he’s now walking out of the shop with a small handful of the brown shopping bags with the familiar green logo imprinted on the front.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it back to his car without anyone stopping him. He’s so distracted by securing the bags in the backseat he fails to hear the small clicks of the camera not too far away.

There’s a small comfort in the quietness of your shared apartment when he returns. While he loves coming home to the sound of you dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, his favorite is getting to wake you up himself. There’s a sweet softness in the way the side of your face rests against your pillow, mouth parted slightly and a gentle snore vibrating through your chest. It never fails to make him smile. He cherished the way you inhale faintly, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times, adjusting to the new day you’re waking up to. If he was there, already awake, your eyes always found him before anything else.

This morning is no different, except for the confusion on your face when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed instead of snuggled next to you. 

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”  You’re propped up enough now to accept the coffee he’s holding out for you. You take a few small sips, sighing and letting your head fall back against the headboard as you savor the taste.

“M’that easy to read, huh?” He chuckles, his hand on your thigh now, warming your skin even through the blanket, “Well..would you like your surprise here or will you be joining me in the kitchen while I make you breakfast?”

“Oh I get a surprise and breakfast today? What’s the occasion? Little early for my birthday, H.” 

“Don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, do I?”

“I guess not.” 

You shrug, trying not to let the guilt bubble up enough to where it flashes across your face. One of his loudest love languages had always been gift giving, a quality about him you thought was wonderful, but still had a hard time accepting. You had to be careful about mentioning things you may want around Harry, he would use any excuse to treat you.

He’s rambling off his reasoning already as he leads you into the kitchen and settles you in one of the tall chairs next to the counter. He always ends his explanation with “I know you told me not to, but…” followed up by what you’re sure to him sounds like a very logical justification for why you need/deserve whatever he was gifting you. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of your regular kitchen set up this morning though, so you do what you normally do when he announces a surprise for you; let him take the lead, not wanting to take away from his excitement. 

“So..surprise or breakfast first?” He stands on the other side of the counter now, his hoodie and beanie discarded, wearing a t-shirt you were sure you bought for yourself but he seems to have laid claim to.

“Breakfast, please. If you don’t mind.” 

“‘Course not. Any requests, baby?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, just as it does each time he uses that particular term of affection for you. He’s already opened the refrigerator, scanning over options for what he could make for the two of you. You recover long enough to tell him no, that whatever he wants to make would be fine, sitting back and enjoying the view as he cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

You don’t even notice that you’re staring until he turns and catches your eye, “What? Did I get a shell in the eggs or something?”

You giggle as he even picks up the clear bowl of eggs that he’s already scrambled and seasoned, even going so far as to swirl his finger through the liquid to double check before you can stop him.

“No, it’s just..I can’t get over the fact that you’re making breakfast for me while wearing my t-shirt.”

“S’it yours?” He glances down at it, “Thought it was mine, sorry..”

There’s a smirk on his face as he turns back to the stove, and you know just by seeing that he knows you don’t mind; you love seeing him in your clothes as much as he adores seeing you in his.  

It’s not long before he’s presenting you with a plate, sitting next to you with his own plate in front of him. When you don’t immediately dig in, he leans over to inspect the food, worried that maybe he’d overdone the eggs or your toast was slightly more brown than you liked. 

So when you say, “You’ve forgotten something very important, haven’t you?” he panics, thinking maybe he should’ve taken the time to include fruit to balance the meal. You take pity on him, not making him wait too long before you lean in and he instantly softens, realizing what you’re asking for. 

He meets you the rest of the way, lips soft against yours, the taste of the coffee you’ve both had lingering for a moment before he pulls away, “Very important. How could I ever have forgotten?”

When you’ve both finished eating, he downs the last of his coffee and stacks your now empty plates to take to the sink, pecking your forehead with another quick kiss, “Alright, close your eyes. Count to 20.”

You begin to count off in your head, and you hear his voice, a bit further away, “Out loud, angel.”

There’s a rustling of bags getting closer as you count, and you can even hear a few clinks as they come closer. You can feel him moving around you, positioning things perfectly for when you open your eyes. 

He’s still behind you when you finish counting, hands squeezing your shoulders to urge you to open your eyes. When you do, you immediately recognize the bags and know exactly what he’s done.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. This is too much, Harry. I let you spoil me with little things here and there, but I cannot accept this.”

Sitting in front of you are..you stop to count them now; 1, 2, 3, 4..6 bags from Starbucks. You know from experience that each one of them contains 2 cups or mugs. You’re sure at least one of them also includes your favorite roast of coffee. He had done this before around Christmas time, when you’d mentioned how adorable a few of the ones from the holiday collection had been, not thinking that he would go back later without you and buy all the ones you’d touched or admired.  

He ignores your refusal, “You can take back any you don’t like. Go on,” He peeks inside one of the bags closest to him and then pushes it closer to you, “Start with this one.”

“Harry, really..”

“Don’t think, just open. If you really won’t accept any of them then I’ll take ‘em back and buy you something from somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You try your best to look serious, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, “Thank you, H.”

You finally go through most of the bags, offering oohs and ahhs and even a few squeals of joy at certain ones. 

“I think I got all the ones you’d pick for yourself. Saw you eyeing one or two the other day and the others I just guessed.”

He had done very well in choosing for you, even going so far as to get the two of you a matching pair of the kind that changed colors with the temperature. 

“For our smoothies.” He explains when you give him a particularly soft look at the idea of matching with him. 

“Also got us a matching set of these,” He skips to the last bag, too eager to wait for you to open it yourself, revealing the mug he’d taken the extra time to select, “For our Sunday morning tea. Or if you change your mind and ever want a hot coffee.”

All you can do is repeat the same expression of gratitude as before you had opened them, “Thank you again, H. I love them all, really. No more though, alright? We’re running out of cabinet space. Did you go to our regular spot or a different one so you wouldn’t be recognized?” 

“Different one. Can’t believe I wasn’t spotted though. Must’ve been too early for the paps to be out and about.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as interesting as you think you are, babe. Harry Styles coming out of a Starbucks is old news now.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, “Oh is it now?”

“Mhmm. You’re just plain boring now, H.” You shrug, peeling at the price tag on the bottom of one of the cups, avoiding his gaze; knowing if you look at him you’ll break into a fit of laughter. 

He’s impossibly calm, just like he is before any interview he does. 

You sit across the room from where he’s currently getting his hair done. The stylist was nervous, understandably so, her hands unsure at first. It only takes a few moments of being near Harry; working his quiet, delicate magic of putting anyone he’s near at ease. By the time his hair is finished he’s pulled a few laughs from her and she leaves the room with a big beaming smile and a wave to the both of you.

Now that you’re alone again, he beckons you closer and tugs you down to sit in his lap, despite your protests of the possibility of wrinkling his incredibly expensive suit. 

“Don’t care,” He leans up to press a kiss to your neck, keeping his face tucked there in your warmth, “Just want you close for a moment.”

Normally you would run your fingers through his hair, but you don’t dare do that now, hand drifting to the side of his face instead, “Not nervous are you, H?”

He lets you gently push him back enough to see his face again, “Never. Just happy to have you here with me, that’s all.”   

It’s not until he’s in front of the audience, presented with the evidence of just a few days before, displayed on a screen for all to see. He had been caught, despite his confidence of getting away. He falters for only a beat, head down in hopes to hide the blush spreading high along his cheeks. He finds you in the crowd, sending a bright smile your way before he shrugs, turning his attention back to the host.

“What can I say? My sunshine likes her coffee.” 

//

tag list: @harrysblackcoat​, @summertime-pills​ 

thank you for reading!! as always likes, rbs, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

#harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #my writing

[tippedbykreider]

talk some sense to me | j. oleksiak

Word count: 26.2k Warnings: mutual pining, arguing, sex Author’s note: Childhood best friends to lovers so frustrating you’ll want to slap them both. This fic is mostly unchanged apart from a few additional bits here and there (maybe added another 1k total). Fic title is from ‘I Found’ by Amber Run Summary: True friends are hard to find and harder to keep but when a friendship like the one Jamie and Leo share withstands the test of time, it’s clear that there’s something else there. Can two people who know each other better than anyone else be honest with themselves and face down what has always been there between them?

A moment.

That’s all it takes.

One moment that sits like a void and one moment that can change everything, whichever way it goes. This was such a moment, so big that it felt like entire galaxies could fit inside of it and still leave room for more. He waits for her to speak for what feels like forever while she stands on a knife edge, knowing that whatever words come out of her mouth will rearrange both of their lives in ways that they understood would make it impossible to return to how things were not even ten minutes ago.

Yes, it’s a moment that’s terrifying in every conceivable way.

But it’s theirs.

*

Leonora Harris had lived in Toronto, Ontario for her entire life and couldn’t ever imagine herself being anywhere else. This was something that had her parents scratching their heads on more than one occasion. You see, Bill and Diana had always believed that their daughter would spread her wings and blaze her own path in the world and while they were correct in that assumption, they’d assumed that she’d be doing it somewhere a bit more exotic. There were a lot of things that kept Leonora in the city, one of those things was a huge sense of belonging and a feeling of home that she wasn’t sure she would find anywhere else, another was landing the job of her dreams at the Royal Ontario Museum after finishing university. But perhaps the biggest reason and the reason that she would never allow herself to admit, was because Toronto was the place her best friend also called home, even if it was only for three months out of the year.

True friends are hard to come by and even harder to keep, that’s why people never had an abundance of ‘old friends’, so when a friendship like the one Leonora shared with Jamie Oleksiak comes along, it’s worth sticking around for. Jamie had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. The memory of their first interaction was now so old that the minor details had started to get a little fuzzy around the edges, but one thing that had remained the same and would always remain the same was the indescribable warmth that memory brought that would flicker in her stomach like the first sparks of a bonfire, before it crawled through her skin until it felt like she was glowing all over.

They’d been four years old, she’d remembered, and embarking on their first day of kindergarten. Jamie had been wearing dungarees that much she was sure of and his hair was a chaotically endearing mop of blonde curls but she couldn’t quite remember if the sweatshirt he’d been wearing was red or blue, not that it mattered, of course. She remembered seeing a quiet flicker in his eyes that she later understood to have been fear and had offered him the biggest smile she could muster.

That simple gesture, that smile, is what had made Jamie find his courage and give her a toothy grin back after he’d placed his raincoat on the peg. It was also what had him waiting for her to do the same instead of running along into the playroom to find a quiet corner for himself. If anyone asked Jamie what he remembered the most vividly from that day he would always tell them the same thing:

‘Her eyes. Her eyes and that smile.’

He also remembered how the butterflies fluttered in his stomach as Leonora approached him, all bright green eyes and thick wavy brown hair that had been put into bunches, presumably by her mother. Even years later, Jamie still wasn’t quite sure how he even found his voice but he was sure, even at the tender age of four years old, that the girl in front of him was going to be his friend. No, his best friend and so with a shy smile and a quiet voice he said, “My name’s Jamieson but you can call me Jamie.”

“I’m Leonora,” she replied with a confidence that far exceeded her age.

Jamie’s brow had furrowed at that and he’d taken to chewing on his bottom lip.

“Leo- Leono-,” he gave a frustrated little sigh as he tried to roll his tongue around her name and failed. “Can I call you Leo?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “You can call me Leo.”

They’d spent the rest of that morning at the drawing table and neither Leo nor Jamie would be able to tell you exactly what they’d talked about all those years ago, but Leo distinctly remembers sitting next to Jamie while they ate lunch and after he’d learned that strawberries were Leo’s favourite fruit, Jamie had proceeded to give her exactly half of his, counting them out one by one until they both had an equal pile in front of them. He would do that every single time he had strawberries and Leo would do the same for him. They would even do this on the days where they both had strawberries, so their piles would consist of half of Jamie’s and half of Leo’s because ‘friends should always share’.

 That mantra was one that they would carry all through their childhood, from elementary school right until the end of high school and even beyond that. It wasn’t just strawberries that he shared with her either, it was near enough everything. What was Jamie’s was Leo’s and what was Leo’s was Jamie’s, that’s just how things were and it extended beyond the material. They shared happiness and disappointments, highs and lows but perhaps the most special thing that they shared was the joy of being able to watch each other find their identities. Jamie had known about Leo’s confidence from the day he met her and it was something that had only grown and blossomed as time went on. He had always admired how sure of herself she was, even as a small child and as she entered her teenage years, Jamie began to understand just how unapologetically authentic she was. It always knocked him back a bit, how outspoken she could be and how she was never afraid to say what she really meant. Even now, more than two decades later, it still had the ability to knock the air out of his lungs.

Jamie had always been laid back and a little bit shy, awkward even. It was something that he’d carried around with him throughout his life, particularly growing up. He sometimes found it hard to open up around people he didn’t know (although anyone would tell you that once he felt truly comfortable it could be difficult to shut him up) and he was often content to go with the flow. On paper, it could have seemed like Leo and Jamie would drive each other up the wall, with Leo’s feistiness contradicting Jamie’s relaxed nature. Yes, they were opposites in every way, but much like fire and water the two of them found ways to create balance and harmony.

Jamie had always felt like he could truly be himself around Leo and that came from not just a place of familiarity, but also of acceptance. She accepted him as he was despite his shyness and despite the fact that he wasn’t as good with words as she was, but more than that, she built him up and encouraged him in everything he did and that is what made it so easy for Jamie to be open with her, not just about his anxieties and the general worries that your formative years bring, but about everything else too. This was something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Richard and Alison, Jamie’s parents, who couldn’t help but be overjoyed by the spark of confidence their son had whenever he was around the girl with the free and easy laugh and the keen eyes. They welcomed her into their family much in the same way Bill and Diana had welcomed Jamie into theirs and the gruesome twosome (as their families would affectionately call them) were together more often than they were not. It didn’t matter whether they were sitting quietly studying or yelling as they engaged in an overly-competitive game of Crash Team Racing in which Leo would seize and relish the opportunity to gang up on Jamie with his sisters, the bond between them both was clear as day to anyone who knew them and only seemed to strengthen as the years rolled by.

 Their after school routine had remained the same throughout the years and usually consisted of going to one of their houses and sitting in relative silence while they completed their homework, helping each other whenever the need arose. As they got older they would retreat upstairs and spend the time before the other would leave to go home for dinner listening to music and swapping mixtape CDs they’d burned for each other. It was one of those CDs from Jamie that had introduced her to TOOL at the age of sixteen and they had quickly become one of her favourite bands, even still to this day and she always felt a warm kind of fondness spread through her body and resonate in her chest whenever she listened to them, the memory of her first exposure to them still clear in her mind as if it had only been yesterday. She had been laid on her bedroom floor with her legs resting up on the bed and Jamie’s rolled up hoodie under her head as a makeshift pillow, a conscious decision on her part despite being offered one of the pillows off her bed. Truthfully, the fluffy down pillow Jamie had suggested would have been a far comfier option but his hoodie was still warm from where it had been on his body not a half-hour earlier and smelled just like his deodorant and shower-gel and, well, like Jamie and that in itself evoked a kind of softness and comfort within Leo that the pillows on her bed couldn’t begin to replicate, although she’d never admit that out loud to him, of course.

“Okay, so I don’t know if you’ve heard of these before but seriously Leo, they’re fire.”

Jamie was leaning halfway over her from his position on the bed as he placed the cd into her stereo. She squinted at him slightly, unsure of exactly when he’d had this particular growth spurt that made him suddenly look comically large on her double bed.

“What genre?” Leo asked as she watched him settle back against her pillows, his feet hanging off the end of her bed by a hair.

“Prog rock,” he replied, giving Leo a questioning look and a laugh as she audibly groaned. “What?”

“Duh? Remember when your dad made us listen to Rush?”

“This is better, I promise,” Jamie grinned as he pressed play on the small remote in his hand.

“Better be.”

Leo closed her eyes and listened as the first muted notes filtered through the speakers of her stereo followed by a beautifully haunting male voice.

‘So familiar and overwhelmingly warm This one, this form I hold now

Embracing you, this reality here This one, this form I hold now, so Wide eyed and hopeful

Wide eyed and hopefully wild’

To this day Leo can still remember the feeling of something stirring within her chest, an awakening almost, as she connected with the lyrics and the intricate melodies and changing time signatures, somehow made stronger by the fact that Jamie was sharing this with her, which meant that whatever the music was making her feel, Jamie must have felt it too. She let herself get completely lost in the melodies and found herself contemplating the meanings behind the words and allowed them to settle in her bones. She opened her eyes as the track finished to find Jamie watching her with an expectant smile on his face, blue eyes shining with something unspoken that she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Leo said softly. “Yeah, really good, actually. What did you say this band was called?”

“Tool and when I was reading up on them I found out they’ve been around for years, like since we were born. I found a few of their albums at the second-hand store, you can borrow them if you want.”

Leo looked at Jamie for a breath, a gentle smile playing on her lips and a thoughtful gleam in her eye, before deciding to move from her position on the floor to squeeze onto her bed with him as the next song on the cd began to play. Jamie shifted slightly to accommodate her and wrapped his arms tightly around her back to pull her into him. It wasn’t the first time that they’d laid like that together, nor would it be the last, but there was a flicker of a feeling in Jamie’s chest as he allowed his senses to really come into focus. It was the soft, almost hypnotic beat of the music in the room, it was the smell of pineapple and coconut from Leo’s shampoo that had become her signature scent but above that it was the way in which his breathing followed the same ebb and flow of hers without him even being conscious of it. It was a sense of unity that he wouldn’t truly understand until he was much older but more than all of that it was being lost in this moment with her.

 Life continued much as it had before but the start of their final year in high school brought about a series of changes for the duo. Jamie was excelling at hockey and there was a real sense of well-placed optimism that his abilities on the ice would take him far. While he didn’t have a definitive plan (keen to keep the majority of his focus on his studies) he knew that there were going to be some tough decisions ahead. Leo was all too aware of the very real possibility that her best friend could be moving away but she tried not to dwell on it too much to keep the tightness in her chest at bay, focusing instead on attaining the grades she needed to attend the University of Toronto to study History. Their final school year also brought a change in the form of a girlfriend for Jamie and while Leo made every effort to befriend Sarah and give her the benefit of the doubt, she knew that Sarah had a real problem with her and her friendship with Jamie. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the girl- oh who was she kidding? Of course she didn’t trust her and while Leo tried not to get into the dangerous habit of comparing herself to Sarah and despite her best efforts and intentions, she couldn’t understand just exactly what Jamie saw in the girl.

She’d spoken to her mother at length about it, not least because she couldn’t help but feel a little pushed out and bent out of shape at her sudden demotion to ‘favourite girl number four’ (she would never dream of putting herself ahead of Penny and Hayley in those rankings), but was only met with her mother’s keen eyes that were far too similar to her own for her liking and an annoying sing-song sentiment of ‘sounds to me like someone is a little jealous’, She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t. She just thought that Sarah was bad news and that was all there was to it but, ever the faithful and supportive friend, Leo would put on a smile and be on her best behaviour whenever Sarah was around and she would never say anything derogatory to Jamie about her whenever she wasn’t. She would pretend like it didn’t hurt like a kick to the stomach when Jamie would change his plans with her plans to go hang out with his girlfriend and worked hard to keep the look of pained disappointment on her face at bay when he would unexpectedly bring Sarah along to the plans with Leo that he did keep.

Despite her feelings of definitely-not-jealousy, and much to her dismay, Leo’s gut feelings of mistrust turned out to be well placed when a sullen looking Jamie had turned up at her house a few days before their leaver’s prom. Leo hadn’t planned to go, of course, given that her first choice school dance buddy would be attending with his girlfriend. That all changed though with Jamie’s revelation that he wouldn’t be going with Sarah.

“I don’t follow,” Leo said from behind her glass of water.

“She um…” Jamie rubbed the back of his neck with his large palm, face flushed slightly in embarrassment. “She dumped me, actually.”

Was spitting out her water everywhere the most appropriate response Leo could’ve had? No and it was something that Jamie would mercilessly tease her about in the future at any given opportunity, but it was all she had in a moment where she was filled with genuine shock and disbelief.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Jamie mumbled, his eyes cast downwards to his hands that were in his lap and playing with the hem of his overshirt. “She told me we were done. I found out from Dougie that she was going with Finn Tremblay instead.”

“That jock quarterback? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Leo’s initial shock had quickly dissipated into anger, something that Jamie had gathered from the way her voice had gone up a few octaves and she’d taken to gripping her glass of water so tightly that her knuckles had begun to pale.

“Your glass, Leo.”

She set it down on her nightstand with more force than was necessary and muttered something to herself that Jamie couldn’t quite make out except for a few choice words that included ‘that fucking asshole’ and ‘I knew it’. Her tornadic rage soon quietened to a gentle breeze though as she attuned herself to the sadness radiating from Jamie and she brought herself to look at him with sympathetic eyes.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jame. Really.”

Jamie responded with a small shrug, a desperate attempt at nonchalance albeit feigned that he knew that Leo wouldn’t buy; she knew him far too well for that but it was all he could muster in the moment.

“She didn’t deserve you.”

There was a weight behind those words that surprised both of them and there was a lot more meaning to them too but Jamie didn’t have it in him to push right now and Leo wasn’t about to explore that meaning herself either because truth be told, she’d startled herself with both her choice of words and her delivery. Instead she reached across the space between them where they sat cross-legged opposite each other on her bed and took one of Jamie’s big hands to rub gentle circles across the back of it.

“It’ll be okay,” she spoke gently, her voice a shade above a whisper.

“I know,” Jamie murmured and he meant it too because he knew that Leo was right. It would be okay. It would always be okay as long as he had her in his life.

The pair resolved to make the most of a shitty situation (although Leo was sure to let Sarah know exactly what she thought of her) and, after some last minute dress shopping, Leo had found herself looking uncharacteristically glam to attend prom with Jamie. They’d insisted that it was no big deal but you’d never guess it from the way both parents couldn’t contain their excitement as they took pictures of the duo in front of Bill and Diana’s fireplace. Diana and Alison shared a knowing glance on more than one occasion and were practically bursting with glee as Jamie slipped the corsage he’d bought for Leo onto her wrist. One of the things that struck Jamie the most about that night was the ease in which it was to slow-dance with Leo. He’d anticipated it to be awkward and a little bit uncomfortable, y’know, given that Leo was just a friend and while he couldn’t deny the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, he also couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head lower to nose at her hair either.

 One of the things that Leo was consistently described as being by all who knew her was a ‘whirlwind’. Whenever she’d have a spark of an idea she’d add kindling and stoke it, fanning the flames until it was a roaring fire and even the calming waters of Jamie couldn’t quell it. There was no stopping her once she’d set her mind on something and while Jamie appreciated that drive and determination, it had landed them both in hot water on more than one occasion. The first time was just before Leo’s seventeenth birthday when she’d asked him to accompany her to get her nose pierced. He’d discovered as they were sat in the waiting room, much to his horror, that she hadn’t actually told her parents about her plans to get a piercing and although she was of the legal age of consent, he’d still uttered the words ‘this is a really bad idea’; but even he couldn’t deny that the small little stud, which would later be swapped out for a dainty silver hoop, completed her face and served as an extension of her personality. Her parents on the other hand hadn’t quite seen it that way and Jamie remembers to this day, with great clarity, the exact lecture they’d given her the second they noticed the new addition to their daughter’s face and while they’d not blamed Jamie for not stopping their daughter’s impulsive behaviour he couldn’t help but feel like an enabler. The telling-off from Bill and Diana did little to deter Leo and before long she’d expanded her piercing collection with multiple ear piercings and, much to her mother’s dislike, a navel piercing. Jamie hadn’t learned his lesson either though because during the summer after they’d both turned eighteen, he once again found himself being dragged along to a tattoo parlour by Leo to fulfil his best-friend duty of chief hand holder while she got her very first ink.

That summer would prove to be the last one before everything changed. From the moment the pair entered their last year of high school, the reality of their futures beyond school loomed over them. It was easy to ignore for the most part, school served as a good distraction and kept Jamie and Leo busy enough that they didn’t have much time to venture too far down that rabbit hole but these kinds of things have a habit of rolling around, regardless of our best efforts to ignore them, as sure as death and taxes. Leo’s future at the University of Toronto was set in stone with the return of her provincial exam results and while she should have been delighted at the fact she’d be enrolling at her first choice university and studying her chosen degree, the uncertainty of where Jamie would be and what that would mean for their friendship weighed heavily on her mind and with each passing day of summer that inched them towards September, Leo felt as if she had feet like concrete and a head like lead. Jamie sensed this, of course, knowing her better than anyone, even herself and that’s what made the decision to move across the border, so that he could pursue a career in hockey, the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his eighteen years of life, only surpassed by the conversation neither Jamie nor Leo ever wanted to have.

That evening would stay with Jamie forever like a scar from a wound, vivid and raw at first before fading into something so faint that it’s barely noticeable, except it was still there. It would always be there. The look on Leo’s face was like a knife through his chest and the tears that clung to her cheeks like fresh dew on a rose petal felt like someone was twisting it further into the cut.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’? When? Where?”

“Massachusetts, I’m going to Northeastern University. They have a really good collegiate hockey programme there and-“

Jamie was cut off by Leo shaking her head vehemently as her tears began to flow more freely, her voice strangled in her throat.

“No. You-you can’t. Please, Jame. You could play hockey anywhere, you don’t need to go to another country.”

He swallowed thickly as he watched her, the lump in his throat growing by the second while he willed himself not to cry at the pleading look in her tear-filled eyes. It was ironic really, that the person begging him to stay was the same person who had given him the confidence to take that leap of faith and spread his wings in the first place. If you’d have told Jamie even three years ago that he’d be moving away from everything he’d ever known to a foreign country at age eighteen and take steps towards chasing his dream of playing professional hockey he’d have laughed in your face, but being around Leo and hearing her tell him every single day that he was ‘awesome’ and ‘could be anything he wanted to be in the whole world’ made him slowly start to believe it himself.

“I wish it was that simple, Leo. I do.”

Jamie’s voice was so quiet and raw that he barely recognised it as being his own but it was and Leo heard him. She heard what he was saying and everything that he wasn’t and her eyes closed as her lips were drawn together in a tight line while she held on tightly to the thread that was keeping whatever composure she had left together. She knew deep down that this is what Jamie needed to do, that he couldn’t stay in Toronto and for what? For her? That was a kind of selfishness that Leo wasn’t comfortable with, no matter how tempting it was and no matter how much she wished that she could spend every day for the rest of her life being able to hang out with her best friend, he was destined for greatness. She was sure of it. So she nodded as fresh tears streaked down her face, her voice muted and broken, “I know, Jame. I know that. It’s just… I’m really gonna miss you.”

Jamie reached for her as the first sobs she’d been holding back surged forward, pulling her into his lap from his position at the head of her bed and settling her against his chest. His own tears fell silently into her hair while he held her steadfast, willing the broken pieces of her heart back together with each ‘I’m sorry’ that he murmured against the crown of her head. Jamie had never once allowed himself to imagine a life where he wouldn’t see Leo every day but as he stared down the reality, his new reality, he was thankful for every bit of strength and courage the girl wrapped within his arms had ever given him, and while he knew that it would be hard and while he knew that the sting of missing her would sit heavily in his chest every single day, he knew that it would be worth it all to make her proud.

 While the Earth continues on its pilgrimage around the Sun, life goes on. Life must go on and though it hadn’t been the easiest adjustment for Leo and Jamie to make, they’d made it all the same. They managed to talk most days, often Skyping each other as they went about their evening routines and while it wasn’t anywhere close to the real thing, it would serve as a good enough substitute until summer rolled around again and Jamie would be back home in Toronto. It was both a blessing and a curse, how quickly the months collapsed into each other and it felt like no sooner had Leo started her first semester, she was taking her end of first year exams and looking forward to having a couple of months off before September crept back around and she’d suddenly become a second year. The anticipation of seeing Jamie again was only fuelled further by their shared excitement at their plans for their time together. Both of them had celebrated turning nineteen since the last time they’d seen each other in person and while Leo had enjoyed her first legal drink over Skype with Jamie, it wasn’t quite the same knowing that he wasn’t able to have one with her because of the difference in drinking laws but they’d resolved to use their new found legal drinking status to buy each other a drink once he was back home.

His first night back in the city was spent in Leo’s room where they’d laid side-by-side on her bed, fingers intertwined and talked until they were hoarse. It knocked Jamie back a bit, as he listened to her recount her first year at college, how the girl beside him was both different and still the same all at the same time. University had done her good, he thought, and she seemed a little more worldly and wise, or she did in his eyes anyway. But the fire still burned in her belly, brighter than before in some ways and Jamie was struck by the realisation that his best friend, the girl he’d known all his life, was blossoming into a woman. Some things never change though because she’d almost bowled him over as she practically launched herself at him and into his arms when she opened the front door to find him stood on her parents’ porch, somehow even taller than he was when he’d left nine months ago. He’d reluctantly made the short journey home a little after 1am and Leo had slept more soundly that night that she could ever remember.

It was a Saturday night in early-August when the two of them had decided to head into the city to fulfil their promise of buying each other a drink. Leo had suggested The Lab as she’d been there a few times already throughout her first year and had always had a good time. In all their years of friendship Jamie could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Leo with more makeup on that her usual mascara and Burt’s Bees lip balm so to say he was a little floored as he watched her come out of her house from his spot in the back seat of a taxi was an understatement. Her long chocolate hair was in beachy waves and the upper half of it was secured into two little space buns on the top of her head. His eyes flitted over the celestial print mini dress that hung loosely on her body and down to her signature black doc martens and felt his chest begin to flutter in a most unusual way. She didn’t give him too long to question those feelings though because she was opening the cab door and sliding into the seat next to him before he could really decipher what that was all about.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” he replied, looking at her a little dumbfounded as he took in the smoked eyeliner she wore and the subtle wash of colour on her lips. “You look…”

“Please say ‘nice’,” she whined. “I had a total crisis about ten minutes before you arrived. You should see the state of my room. Clothes everywhere.”

Jamie chuckled at that and his eyes had softened in a way that was both familiar to Leo and different all at the same time. There was the usual friendliness there, sure, but there was something that she just couldn’t quite place hidden within those ocean eyes of his. The easy smirk he was wearing was one she’d seen before though and so she wasn’t surprised to hear that his response was one of playful teasing.

“I was gonna say that you look great, but yeah, let’s go with ‘nice’”.

Leo instinctively rolled her eyes and swatted gently at his bicep with an exaggerated sigh.

“Ass.”

“It’s not like you to wear makeup,” Jamie remarked.

“Yeah, well, figured I’d make an effort seeing as though this is technically a belated birthday celebration.”

“I’m honoured that you thought I was worth the effort.” Even in the darkness of the back of the cab, Leo could still see the shit eating grin that had graced Jamie’s features.

“Who said I made the effort for you?” she replied without missing as much as a beat. “I might be wanting to look pretty for the handsome men of Toronto.”

“What handsome men?”

Jamie cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, not only at what he’d said but also at his delivery which had been rushed and a shade accusatory. It’d taken him a little by surprise if he was to be completely honest and he didn’t quite understand why the suggestion had made him feel a momentary pang of annoyance and disappointment all at once. Much like a bolt of lightning though, it had gone no sooner had it come. Leo simply scoffed, not prepared to unpack whatever the hell that was and replied with a gentle roll of her eyes.

“It was a joke, Jame. No one in this city is dumb enough to go out with me.”

The words were there on the tip of Jamie’s tongue, all he had to do was say them but the fact they were there at all had made Jamie’s heart take off galloping and so he swallowed those words down and forced his eyes away from his best friend, because that’s all this was between them, and out of the cab window to look at the passing lights outside.

Jamie had been successful at stuffing the weird tightening in his chest he’d felt from the second he’d laid eyes on Leo down into his stomach and the beer he was drinking was doing a good enough job at drowning it. Leo on the other hand was having a much tougher time of things. Instead of the Long Island Iced Tea hushing her racing mind it seemed to give it more impetus. Why did Jamie have such a knee-jerk reaction to what was quite clearly a joke? Why was she suddenly really impressed at the fact he could sing The Bad Touch word for word when it was something he’d been able to do for years? Why did the plaid over-shirt she’d seen him wear hundreds of times look so good on him all of a sudden? And when did he get so broad? She had questions, lots of them and even her questions had questions, the biggest one being ‘why am I being weird about this all of a sudden?’ It was Jamie. It was just Jamie, her best friend of fifteen years.

She hadn’t planned on having a second Long Island Iced Tea and she definitely hadn’t planned on two turning into three but perhaps the third time was the charm because the whirring in her head had stopped and all she could focus on was the lopsided grin on Jamie’s face as he looked at her from his position on the barstool to her right.

“You’re drunk,” she grinned from behind her glass, in no position herself to make such a statement.

“’m not,” Jamie replied in the way that only a drunk person trying to convince both themselves and everyone else that they weren’t.

“Liar.”

“Says you.”

Leo laughed at that, a little wild and a lot silly and it split Jamie’s face into a huge grin while he brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair back out of her face. Leo’s laughter softened into a gentle smile, her eyes fixed on Jamie’s. He’d always loved her eyes, he thought, ever since they were small and they were every hue of the forest, rimmed coolly with moss. Their lightness often reminded him of summertime, when the sun-rays warmed each extended leaf and even now, in the darkness of the dimly lit bar, he could see them sparkling like emeralds and while he wasn’t sure if it was the beers that had him feeling a little bolder than usual, he couldn’t stop himself from asking her the question that had been sitting high in his throat since the cab ride there.

“Why’d you say that before? About no one in this city bein’ dumb enough to date you?”

She shrugged apathetically while her fingers busied themselves with the hem of her dress.

“S’true,” she replied. “’m not easy to be around. I know that. You know that, you’ve been puttin’ up with my ass for fifteen years.”

“Leo.”

“What?”

Jamie reached his hand down and squeezed her leg gently, enough pressure just to get her eyes on his.

“I was honestly surprised that you weren’t datin’ anyone. You’re… God, you’re so fuckin’ awesome. Any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.”

Leo tore her eyes away from his just long enough to get the heat quickly rising in her cheeks under control. Jamie waited for her, his eyes soft and gentle when she finally met his gaze again.

“Any girl would be lucky to have you,” Leo mumbled.

“Tell that to Sarah,” Jamie chuckled quietly in response.

“Sarah was stupid,” Leo said with a vehemence that made Jamie’s stomach flutter and had him leaning in to bring his face closer to hers without a second thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He was so close now that Leo felt his reply on the exhale of his breath against her lips. She looked down at Jamie’s mouth and swallowed hard, her eyes closing as he inched his mouth closer and closer until-

“Jamie!”

The warmth of anticipation quickly receded and Leo opened her eyes to see Jamie pulling back from her and looking wildly over his shoulder for the source of the voice. Leo had assumed he’d found it when she felt him slide off the stool beside her, instantly missing his presence, and cross the short distance to the man who’d called his name who turned out to be a guy they’d both known from high school. She knew that she should’ve followed Jamie’s lead and catch up with an old acquaintance and she knew that if her mother knew what she was doing she’d think her to be rude, but Leo’s mind wasn’t in any position to be giving the instructions required to move her legs because while she sat there mindlessly playing with the beer mat that had found itself between her fingers, her brain was already analysing what just happened in about a million different ways while still managing to ignore the complete obvious when it came to acknowledging what it all meant.

 The third Long Island Iced Tea was a bad idea, that much was clear to Leo as she awoke the next morning. She was thankful that her past drunken-self had at least had the foresight to bring a pint of water and a Tylenol up to bed with her. She groaned as she hauled herself up the pillows until she was propped up against them, sitting with her head resting against the headboard and cursing the tiny crack in her curtains that was catapulting the morning sunlight right into her eyes. She reached for her water and took a sip to swallow the tablet before taking long, deep gulps until the glass was drained. Leo wasn’t exactly sure why she’d found herself almost kissing Jamie although if you were to ask her a decade later she’d tell you that she knew exactly why, but rather she was simply refusing to acknowledge the glaringly obvious. She chewed on her bottom lip much the same way her mind was chewing over his words to her last night: ‘any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.’ What did that mean exactly? And why would he say something like that?

She was pulled from her brooding by the obnoxious vibration of her phone against the nightstand. Leo knew who the message was from before she’d even unlocked her phone and while a very large part of her wanted to just forget last night ever happened and carry on as normal, she was also curious to hear Jamie’s thoughts on it all.

Jamie: Hey, just wanted to check in with you. Hope the head isn’t too bad this morning 🙈 x

Leo: Drunk me was a very good friend to future hungover me and made sure I had some water and Tylenol lol I bet you don’t even have one, which is very rude by the way. If I’m suffering then you have to suffer too x

Leo paused for a moment as her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, racking her brain for the words needed to gently broach the subject of last night. She’d hoped that Jamie would save her the trouble but she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

Jamie: I had a slight headache this morning but I imagine it’s nothing compared to yours. You were really going for it with those Iced Teas 😂 x

Leo: Three was a mistake, yes x

Leo: Actually, while we’re on the subject I kinda wanted to talk to you about last night x

Jamie: You mean we weren’t already talking about it? X

Leo: I meant the part where it seemed like you were going to kiss me, specifically x

Jamie: Ah. Yeah. That x

Leo pulled her hand through her hair and sighed in frustration, almost regretting even bringing it up. She was almost certain that Jamie had meant nothing by it, they’d both had a lot to drink, right? Surely this was just one of those things between two good friends caused by too much to drink and they’d be laughing about it in a few months’ time. That was Leo’s take on it, anyway, and she was sticking to it.

Leo: I mean, we were both drunk, right? X

Jamie: Yeah, I guess x

Leo: And I think it was just a combination of the alcohol and still having those feelings of missing you while you were away and I was just so excited that you were home that I got swept up in it all x

Jamie: Right. Yeah, that makes sense x

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought, knowing that really this should have been a conversation they’d had face to face but better to address it now than wait and give them both chance to analyse it to death.

Leo: So we’ll just chalk it up as one of those weird alcohol moments? X

Jamie: Yeah, sounds good to me x

While it didn’t do much to settle her nerves, Jamie’s response was good enough for her and she felt confident enough that the matter could be put to bed and that it wasn’t necessary to give it any more thought. She sent Jamie a final message to tell him that she was going to get up to take a shower and that she’d talk to him later on after she’d got home from visiting her grandparents. Jamie had too decided that a shower was the best course of action, partly to wash the smell of bar and cigarette smoke from his body but also as an attempt to clear his head. He wasn’t entirely sure why last night of all nights he felt like he couldn’t take his eyes off Leo. Sure, she was wearing makeup which wasn’t something that she would usually do but it wasn’t as if that act itself was out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary though was the way his hands felt on her waist as they danced together, the way he remembered his heart had sounded as it whooshed in his ears when his lips were no more than a hair away from hers. That almost contact had set a fire in his belly and now that it had been lit he wasn’t exactly sure if it could actually be extinguished. Maybe Leo was right though. Perhaps it was one of those moments that should be chalked up as them both having too much alcohol and too much time apart; Jamie’s only hope was that if he could ignore that fire for long enough and not stoke the flames by giving it all too much thought, it would burn out on its own.

 August quietly slipped by and all too soon Jamie and Leo were once again saying farewell. Instead of heading back to Massachusetts, Jamie was going to be making a new home in Saginaw, Michigan having decided to sign with the Spirit in order to further develop himself. Leo continued to catch up with Jamie much in the same way they had the year before while she threw herself into her studies, the four hour drive often being just that little bit too far to make their conflicting schedules feasibly work. Her passion for her degree was clear to Jamie and he looked forward to hearing all about her classes and assignments, even going so far as asking her to send them to him so he could read about all that she’d been learning so far. Jamie had always known that Leo was incredibly bright, she’d always been articulate and she always knew exactly how to express herself which was something that Jamie both admired and was envious of. While he still had a long way to go, he never let himself forget just how much he’d learned from her in that respect and it was just one of the many reasons that he was grateful for her friendship. The ease in which she expressed her ideas and opinions in her academic writing was so impressive to Jamie and it really gave him a new appreciation for her mind and her talent. These were all things he already knew, of course, but seeing her flying and flourishing at university filled him with an immense amount of pride for her.

Naturally, much like most things in their lives, that feeling of pride was felt by Leo whenever Jamie told her about his games and life playing in the OHL and she was beyond excited for him when she’d watched him get selected by Dallas in the 2011 draft. She followed games whenever she could and talked to Jamie after he’d finished playing whenever their schedules would allow. She was so unbelievably happy to see Jamie making positive steps towards his professional playing career and when his path led him back to St. Catharines, Ontario to play for the Niagara IceDogs, Leo could have burst with the joy of having her favourite person back home, even though he was busy more often than not. Despite his schedule, Jamie always made himself available to talk to her whenever school had her stressed, especially given that her third year was proving to be quite the challenge and the closer proximity to home meant that they could hang out a lot more whenever their schedules allowed. But more importantly, as had been the common theme throughout their lives so far, they pulled each other through the ups and downs of the year and spent that summer joined at the hip, enjoying their last bit of time together before Jamie would make the move down to Texas just before the start of Leo’s final year at university.

If Leo had thought that her third year was difficult then she was in for a rude awakening when it came to her final one. The pace was relentless, especially when it came to balancing all of her different classes and assignments and while Jamie didn’t have a clue what she was talking about half the time, he was happy that she was at least enjoying the process and supported her in any capacity he could across all the miles and time zones. Leo couldn’t watch as many of Jamie’s games as she would have liked, given her own gruelling schedule, but she sent him words of encouragement every single day and despite her not being able to be physically with him, Jamie felt her presence all around him just the same and counted down the days until he’d be able to spend the summer with her once more. He’d talk with her whenever he could and there were more times that she’d fallen asleep still on the line with him than Jamie could count, each time making the ache in his chest more prominent than the last. Trips to Toronto during the season were infrequent and much too short but seeing her, even for those few hours after a game, where it felt like there had been no time or distance between them both at all, gave him the quiet peace he needed until he could be with her again, laid on her bed at her parents’ house with the windows open, the gentle breeze and her soft humming against his chest as they listened to music together with their fingers laced tight.

Jamie still remembers to this day the exact moment that Leo opened her degree results. He’d thankfully been home and arrived at her parents’ house not long after 9am to have breakfast with them while they waited for the results to go live on the school online portal. Diana had made pancakes, he recalled, with bacon and maple syrup and Bill had been out in the car to pick up a Tim Horton’s for everyone and (hopefully) celebratory Timbits for Leo. Jamie wished that he could’ve bottled the look on Leo’s face when she found out that she’d be graduating from the University of Toronto with a Bachelor of Arts in History with a minor in Religious Studies and because of her exceptionally high grades, she could therefore progress onto the Master’s program to study History further. He remembered whispering in her ear how proud he was of her as he held onto her tightly and it only grew with the realisation that he’d get to share that moment with her on her graduation day.

 On June 18th, 2014 Leonora Harris awoke to her father carrying in a tray laden with coffee, fresh orange, toast and jam along with a card bearing handwriting she recognised as belonging to Alison Oleksiak. Her was mother close behind with the biggest bouquet of flowers Leo had ever seen bundled within her arms.

“Happy graduation day, sweetheart,” Bill said softly as he placed the tray into Leo’s lap after waiting for her to sit herself up and dropped a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“These came for you about five minutes ago,” Diana added, setting the bouquet down on the nightstand.

Leo took the opportunity to peer at the flowers wrapped in brown paper and cellophane and tied up with string. Her floral knowledge was admittedly limited but she recognised the large lion-head dahlia blooms nestled amongst sunflowers and yellow roses and peppered with smaller sprays of baby’s breath. She reached for the small card poking out from amongst the flowers and opened the envelope to reveal a small piece of paper. After admiring the beautiful penmanship of whomever had written the message she allowed herself to read it and felt a lovely warmth spread from the centre of her chest all the way down to her toes.

Leo,

Congrats again on your new membership to the Silly Hat Club! Enjoy every second and don’t trip over. I’m really proud of you and I always knew you could do it.

Love, J xxx

Leo smiled as she put the small piece of paper back into the envelope before turning her attention to the card on her breakfast tray which had contained a ‘Happy Graduation’ card from the Oleksiaks and a gift certificate for her favourite book store which was where she bought the majority of her second hand CDs from.

“Exicted?” her mother asked from her new position sat by Leo’s feet at the end of the bed, her hand laid gently on her shins over the comforter.

Leo nodded and echoed her mother’s smile in reply.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” Diana continued, voice cracking slightly as she sniffled with pure happiness. “So, so proud.”

“Thank you, mama. Not sure I coulda done it without you both though.”

“We just gave you the tools, Nora Noo,” Bill spoke softly. “The hard work was all yours.”

Leo grinned at her father and it was a smile she would wear for the remainder of the day. She felt every bit the part in her navy blue wrap dress underneath her cap and gown and Jamie had to fight hard to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched his favourite person in the whole world cross the stage to collect her diploma. He didn’t miss the sly glance and smirk Penny was wearing to his left and all he could manage was a mumbled ‘shut up’ which told the youngest Oleksiak all she needed to know and would have her looking rather smug for the rest of the day. The group returned to the Harris house after the ceremony had finished and Alison and Diana were satisfied they had all the photos they needed. Leo wasn’t even sure how her mother had found the time to prepare food but within twenty minutes of them arriving back at the house, the kitchen island was filled with various nibbles and a charcuterie board. The champagne was popped and Bill led the group in raising a glass to Leo, Jamie with his arm tight around her waist all the while.

Long after the food had been cleared away and their families had begun to migrate towards the living room, Jamie took the opportunity to gently grab Leo’s hand and lead her through the kitchen out to the back porch, refilling their champagne flutes on the way and purposefully ignoring the shit-eating grins Hayley and Penny were throwing their way. He settled on the swing loveseat, his large arm draped along the back and nodded for Leo to sit down beside him. She settled back against the cushions, her body pressed lightly into his side and took a sip of champagne as the pair slipped into an easy silence while twilight slowly began to descend all around them. They stayed that way for a few minutes, content to watch as the sky melted into a watercolour of magenta, red and violet. Jamie broke the stillness first with a voice so quiet that Leo could’ve been forgiven for not hearing him at all. She could feel him prepare to speak before the words had even left his mouth though, the small breath he took settling all through her own body and preparing her for whatever he was about to say.

“I’m so proud of you, y’know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Leo whispered in reply, not wanting to burst the calm bubble that they’d cultivated around them.

Jamie reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet drawstring bag, handing it to Leo and nodding for her to open it.

“What’s this?”

“Your graduation present,” Jamie smiled softly.

“But you already sent me flowers,” Leo protested.

“Those were your graduation flowers. This is your graduation present.”

“Jame.”

“Just open the damn bag,” he laughed quietly, blue eyes keen as he watched her run the cord between her fingers.

Leo’s fingers pulled at the cord around the top of the pouch to open it up and reached inside to pull out a thin woven leather bracelet. The silver of the clasp glinted faintly in the afterglow of the day and dangling from the tan cord were two silver charms: a graduation cap and a lion head. Leo swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep her tears at bay, not quite trusting herself to speak for fear that once she started crying, she would not be able to stop.

“Do you like it?” Jamie asked nervously after Leo’s silence had gone on a little too long for comfort.

“I love it, Jamie,” she sniffled. “It’s perfect.”

She handed the bracelet to him and offered her wrist in a wordless request for him to put it on her. He took it from her gladly and after a few seconds of fiddling and a nervous laugh from Jamie as his large fingers struggled with the dainty clasp, the bracelet was around her wrist and Leo was smiling softly as she admired it. Jamie’s arm had found its way back to its previous position along the back of the swing, his fingers tracing patterns along Leo’s upper arm idly which was something he’d done countless times before and yet none had ever felt as intimate as it did in that moment. His heart had taken to hammering in his chest as he watched her and the way the dusk and the faint glow of the string lights on the porch gave her an almost ethereal quality which made the fire in his stomach that he’d tried so hard to forget about spring to life and begin to burn ferociously. It was almost too much, that overwhelming need to kiss her despite not quite understanding where these feelings were coming from and why they were springing up now of all times, but he remembered the night at the bar where they’d come to within a breath of it and he remembered the morning after, their conversation and the fact that they were just friends and that Leo wasn’t really his. So he did the only thing he could think to do in that moment, he took a deep, settling breath before casting his eyes back out towards the sky.

“Are you okay?”

Her question was quiet and soft and it crawled all through Jamie’s skin to settle within his chest.

“Yeah,” he replied just as quietly. “Just… Thinking about when we were kids and how much everything has changed.”

“We’re still the same though, you and I.”

“You are, but you’ve always been awesome and smart and just… amazing but I’m not the same,” Jamie shook his head. “I’m so different to what I used to be, in the best kind of way and I know that that’s down to you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Leo murmured.

“Except you did,” he countered but with the softness still present in his tone. “You taught me what it meant to be brave and made me believe that I could do anything and because of you I’m playing in the AHL, I played for the Dallas Stars and even if I never get called up to play for them again, I did it. I played in the NHL and I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“Jamie.”

Leo’s voice was caught somewhere in her throat, tangled up in the lump that stubbornly sat there and all she could do was reach for his other hand and hold it tightly in his lap.

“It’s true and you wanna know what else is true?” He paused while he waited for Leo to reply which he got as a small nod before continuing, sure and steady in his delivery. “That you’re gonna kick ass on this master’s degree. You’re the smartest person I know, Leo and you’re gonna be fucking amazing.”

Leo rested her head onto Jamie’s shoulder, mostly out of a need to be close to him but partly because her eyes were full to the brim with tears and she didn’t want him to see her cry on what was such a happy day, which was probably a good thing because a few stray tears had slipped out and onto Jamie’s cheeks as well.

“You’re such a sap,” she half-teased, her voice muffled by his button up shirt but she squeezed his hand all the same.

Jamie closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss into her hair, the gentle teasing enough to pull him back into reality, the one where they were just friends and where their relationship was easy and didn’t need to be complicated by romantic feelings, the reality where come September he’d be leaving town again and they would go back to phone calls and FaceTiming across the time zones whenever they could. They were just friends. They were just friends. They were just friends.

Jamie swallowed thickly and forced a lightness into his tone and a smile onto his face before he gave her a reply. “Yeah, I know. But don’t go tellin’ anyone or we’re gonna have to throw hands.”

“You’re too scared to fight me, Oleksiak.”

Jamie breathed a laugh into her hair at that, her response so quick and quippy and so Leo that it was enough to elicit a real and genuine chuckle despite the knot that sat heavy in his stomach. His fingers flexing around the shoulder his arm was draped over as he spoke, “Yeah, you’re right. I am.”

It would be something that Jamie wouldn’t find out until much later on, but from the moment he put that bracelet around Leo’s wrist, she made damn sure that she never ever took it off, even as the months rolled into years and even when it felt like there was so much distance between them, both literally and figuratively, that bracelet was a reminder to Leo that her favourite person was always with her, no matter what.

Jamie meanwhile would keep trying to smother the fire that Leo had set in his stomach the night they’d almost kissed but despite his best efforts, the flames would keep creeping higher and higher with every single thought he had of her and he was beginning to understand that they would not stop until they reached his chest and engulfed his heart completely.

 The next couple of years would pass for both Jamie and Leo in a bit of a blur. Leo threw herself into her master’s education completely, determined to give herself the best possible chance of landing a good job after she’d graduated. It was as intense as she’d expected it to be and while she had initially struggled to pick a topic for her thesis, after numerous 3am phone calls with Jamie and a heart-to-heart with her parents, she finally settled on focusing her paper on the role of the church on life in the Middle Ages, which to quote Jamie, sounded ‘impressive as fuck’. The research material was interesting enough and Leo found that there was enough there for her to really get into the meat of it all. Jamie on the other hand was trying his hardest to establish himself as an NHL defenseman and would find himself flitting between the Texan and Dallas Stars. He’d have been lying if he said that it didn’t weigh heavily on him sometimes and while he tried his hardest to keep his conversations with Leo light so as not to worry her during an important part of her studying, her incredible ability to sense when he wasn’t quite feeling himself was so good that it was almost eerie. He would apologise every single time for venting and she would tell him that’s what friends were for and offer him words of encouragement and advice that spurred him on and pushed him to keep working hard and to keep chasing his dream of making it in the National Hockey League.

Leo graduated for a second time in the summer of 2016 with a Masters in History, achieving a remarkable A+ as her final grade which secured her dream job working at the Royal Ontario Museum. Jamie once again sat at her parents’ side, chest swelling with pride, as he watched her cross that stage to collect her diploma. He’d also helped her move into and decorate her first apartment, an airy two bedroomed place not far from her new place of employment and Jamie’s own downtown loft that he was renting, right before he had to fly out to Rio to watch Penny represent team Canada at the Olympics. Leo called Jamie after every single one of Penny’s races, making sure to get a promise from him that he would tell the youngest Oleksiak just how proud Leo was of her and of course, reminding Jamie that he was henceforth known as ‘Penny’s brother’ and that he would no longer be allowed to pick on her now that she was Canada’s sweetheart, which had earned her a great deal of grumbling from Jamie.

Jamie was thankful that he would at least get to spend a couple of weeks at home before he was due to fly back down to Texas. It was a late-August evening when Leo found herself sprawled out on Jamie’s couch. He’d only been back from Brazil for a couple of days but had said that there was a couple of things that he needed to do before he had to leave to report for training camp. He was playing on his Playstation and while at first Leo been content to just scroll through Instagram, she’d soon grown tired of that and was now eyeing him from her position at the opposite end of the sofa. If he noticed her restless sighs he certainly didn’t give anything away and his focus remained fixed on the television. She narrowed her eyes at him after a particularly obnoxious exhale of her breath garnered zero reaction or response and began to scoot slowly towards him, a mischievous glint in her eye that could only be born out of boredom.

Leo settled next to Jamie on her knees, a slow grin forming as she looked at him. He was still looking at the TV, completely engrossed in whatever game it was that he was playing and if he had noticed her then he kept maintaining an air of indifference as his thumbs pushed at the buttons on his controller. She’d started by giving his bicep a gentle prod, looking at him expectantly while she waited for his eyes to find hers. Nothing. She prodded again, a little harder this time and while she noticed the corner of his lips quirk he still didn’t turn his gaze onto her. Leo furrowed her brows as a small pout graced her features which earned a faint chuckle from Jamie. He knew what she was trying to do, of course, knowing her better than anyone, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, at least not yet.

Leo began to gently prod the side of his head, her pout devolving into an impish little grin as she noticed Jamie roll his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Oh my god, can you not?” he grumbled but with a playful edge to his tone.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me attention.”

“Real mature. Not the kind of behaviour I’d expect from a master’s graduate at all,” he smirked as he side eyed her.

“Those are your standards, Jamie, and quite frankly, I don’t subscribe to them.”

She reached down to pinch at his ribs through the thin material of his tank top, the yelp she received more pained than she was anticipating.

“Oh my god! I did not pinch you that hard!”

“You got me right on my tattoo!” Jamie protested.

“What tattoo? Since when have you had a tattoo there?”

Jamie lifted the hem of his tank to reveal an intricately patterned tribal lion head, the skin still red and raw.

“When did you get that done?” Leo asked, looking closely at it.

“Yesterday so it’s still pretty fuckin’ tender.”

“Awwww,” Leo smirked, making Jamie’s eyes flicker with a hint of nervousness at the devilish look in her eye and the mischief in her tone. “You love me so much you got a lion.”

Jamie groaned and rolled his eyes as Leo’s face split into a fiendish grin.

“I did not get a lion for you. You don’t have the monopoly on lions, y’know. They can represent lots of things, like bravery or courage. Not everything is about you, Leo.”

“Suuuure,” she teased.

“Whatever,” Jamie grumbled as he pulled his shirt back down and used the controller to turn off the Playstation before setting it down on the coffee table. “Happy?” he groused but still surveyed Leo with that familiar warmth he had in his eyes that was reserved exclusively for her.

“Yup,” she replied, obnoxiously putting her feet into his lap and wiggling them until he brought his hand down to rest upon her shin, the gentle weight of it and the warmth of his touch against her bare legs sparking a sad smile on her features while she studied his features like she was committing them once again to memory, the realisation that he would be gone again next week washing over her like someone had just blown a dam.

“What?” he asked with a gentle chuckle while his eyes searched her face.

“Nothing, just… I’m gonna miss you when you go back to the States.”

“You’re gonna miss harassing me, more like.”

“No!” she rebutted, before immediately giving him a small grin. “I mean, yeah, but not just that. I’m gonna miss you. I always miss you.”

Jamie’s expression softened as her voice trailed off and his thumb began to take on a mind of its own as it started drawing small circles against her skin.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper to which she nodded in reply, unable to speak for the quickly forming lump in her throat. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Leo shifted and moved towards Jamie, slotting easily against his side like she belonged there while still being cognizant of the still fresh tattoo. As Jamie pulled her closer he tried not to lose it as her arm draped lazily across his abdomen and her face pressed against his chest. Her fingers had occupied themselves with the hem of his shirt and he swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as they’d slipped underneath the fabric and were dancing lightly over the skin above the waistband of his shorts. Leo didn’t notice the wide-eyed expression on his face though, her eyes were closed and she was too focused on the strong beat of his heart to stop herself from spiralling over the thought of him going back to Texas and not seeing him again for another nine months. She hated this part, the part where he would go back to his other life, the other life that she was only a part of via a telephone screen and while she knew that his life was really none of her business, it was getting harder and harder to remind herself that he wasn’t really hers and to let go of all the anxieties and insecurities him leaving would bring.

 If he’d heard it once, he’d heard it a thousand times: ‘you need to get yourself a girl, Rig.’ While Jamie knew that this particular sentiment from his teammates came from a good place, it wasn’t as easy as just picking up any girl in a bar and falling into bed with her and while he knew that it wasn’t a betrayal and that he certainly shouldn’t view it as such, the lion on his ribs made it feel like one regardless because whatever bullshit he’d fed Leo about it representing courage and bravery, they were traits that he’d learned from her and it was his way of having her with him always. It wasn’t like he wasn’t at least trying, but he knew fine well the reasons why he could never get past a first date with anyone, because whether he was consciously doing it or not, none of them could compare with the girl back home in Toronto with the jade green eyes. Jamie was beginning to understand that it was senseless to try and ignore what was right in front of him but he was so crippled by the fear that it’d been too long, that too much had been left to build up, that, as Segs had put it, he’d find himself ‘eternally friend-zoned.’ Jamie knew that he’d been through too much with Leo, that she’d become such an intrinsic part of his life, that he was sure his heart would shatter if he lost her and the last thing he wanted to do was push her away with a confession of love that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure she’d reciprocate.

‘The way I see it there’s three possible scenarios here,’ Tyler had said. ‘You tell her how you feel and she tells you she feels the same way. Boom. Happily ever after. You tell her how you feel and she tells you she loves you but just as a friend and you have to go on knowing that or you confess your love, she freaks the fuck out and you ruin twenty-plus years of friendship’ and because success wasn’t a complete guarantee, Jamie figured the best course of action would be to suck it up because if he had to choose between having Leo only as a friend and not having her at all, then he would be her friend and love her quietly for the rest of his days.

Their lives had continued much in the same way as before. They would talk whenever they were able to, which was less than they both would’ve liked due to the time difference and their conflicting schedules, but they made it work as best as they could and when Jamie returned home in the summer things were the same as they’d always been, the only difference being the fire that had started off as a flicker in his stomach had taken to consuming his whole body and the urge to pull her body against his and kiss her like he so badly wanted to was almost unbearable. The only thing that kept holding Jamie back was the same thing that he wanted most in the whole world. He found himself coming back to Tyler’s words over and over again, chewing over them like a starving dog with a bone and resigning himself to a lifetime of purgatory because the thought of losing Leo completely cut deeper than the thought of never having her in the way that he longed for the most.

Leo, meanwhile, was struggling more than she would have ever admitted to Jamie. The schedule of her job and how it wouldn’t quite mesh with Jamie’s, despite her best efforts, was beginning to weigh heavy and she surprised herself, if she gave it a second thought, with how much her mood would tank if she didn’t get to speak to Jamie. She knew she shouldn’t have let it bother her because not only did that make it sound like she was incredibly dependant on him (which wasn’t the case at all) it also made her sound a little bit possessive and she wasn’t okay with that, not least because Jamie’s wasn’t hers in the first place and because it was a trait and a behaviour that didn’t sit right with her. Jamie was his own person, after all, with his own life and his own wants and desires and she had no right to lay claim on him just because of some childish though process such as ‘he was mine first’. The loneliness was crippling though and the first time Jamie had told her that he wouldn’t be able to Skype because he was going on a date, Leo had to swallow down the ball of emotion in her throat that she hadn’t expected. She tried to tell herself that this was a good thing for Jamie, that he deserved this and that it was going to happen eventually because Jamie was all the good things in the world and it was only a matter of time before he found himself a nice girl, but she couldn’t help but feel like she couldn’t breathe every time she thought of Jamie with someone else. It wasn’t fair though, on either of them, because they were just friends, that’s all and if Jamie was dating then maybe she should too.

 It was just before Christmas in 2017 when Jamie found himself packing up his life in Dallas and moving the 1200-plus miles east to Pittsburgh. Trades were never easy but he kept reminding himself that it was part of the job and at least he would be closer to Toronto, his family and Leo. He’d not long sat down in his new apartment, an opened bottle of beer on the coffee table and a pizza on the way. He knew it wasn’t exactly a nutritionist’s dream but after spending the best part of his day unpacking his life into a space that was still too clinical to really feel like home (and he knew needed Leo’s touch), he wanted something easy and cooking a healthy, balanced meal wasn’t it. It was getting on for 10:30 at night and while there was a huge part of him that wanted to be selfish and call Leo, especially now that they were on the same time zone, he also knew that she needed to be at the museum early tomorrow and would already be asleep, so he took to scrolling through Instagram instead. It wasn’t something he did very often and he wasn’t one to post anything on there himself, but Leo used it quite frequently and in a moment where he found himself missing her, it would be a decent enough substitute until he could call her the next day.

He wasn’t sure why he was so taken aback by her latest post, maybe it was because she hadn’t ever mentioned anything to Jamie, but the sight of Leo wrapped in the arms of a man who had his lips pressed into her hair had jarred him and now that the initial shock had worn off, he felt his free palm begin to hurt from where his fist had become so tightly balled that his nails were digging into the flesh there. Jamie noticed that she’d tagged the mystery guy in the post and so, despite his better judgment, he clicked on the handle and followed it to the profile. He was called Ben, Jamie learned, and he was annoyingly good looking but the thing that had Jamie’s heart hammering as the anger began to pool in his stomach was the fact that Ben had more than one photo of Leo on his profile and there was a recurring theme with each of the captions on these photos that had Jamie’s jaw clenching: ‘my girl’. Jamie locked his phone screen and sat gripping the device in his hand for a few moments while his teeth pressed tighter and tighter together. He sniffled slightly before squashing that emotion right back down and slamming his phone down onto the coffee table. He’d taken to pacing around the open plan living area and tearing his hands through his hair while he tried to get control of the breathing that was getting a little wild and a little ragged.

They’re just friends. He knew that. They’d ever been anything more and he’d never told her that he wanted them to be anything more, not explicitly anyway, but Jamie’s heart felt like it had been stuffed into a vice and now someone, Ben, was turning the handle and crushing it into a broken and bloody mess. Jamie cursed loudly into the room and resisted the urge to put a fist shaped hole into the drywall. He had no one else to blame but himself, of course, and he knew deep down that he shouldn’t have expected a girl like Leo to stay single and wait indefinitely for him because she was sharp, beautifully wild with a mind that was her own and a smile that had lit up Jamie’s whole world since they were four years old, any man would be mad not to fall for her. But he’d been right there in front of her for over twenty years, he’d been the one to wipe her tears away, he’d been the one to help her fix shelves up in her new apartment, he’d been the one she called at three in the morning when she couldn’t sleep. He had been all of those things and he had been loving her for all that time and yet she didn’t see him. Maybe Tyler was right, maybe he was so deep in the friend-zone that there was no way out of it because right now Jamie was up to his neck in it and it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

What he didn’t understand though and perhaps the thing that had irked him the most about this was the fact that Leo had never mentioned that she was seeing anybody. Not once. Jamie knew that she’d been going on dates and while that thought had made his chest ache a little, he also knew that she wasn’t his and that she was only doing the same thing he was but now that he thought about it, she hadn’t mentioned going on a date for a good couple of months and now that he’d seen that photo, he understood why. So why hadn’t she told him that she was seeing this guy? Especially if it had been going on for a couple of months now. He grabbed his beer and drained it before dragging his weary body to bed and drifting into an uneasy sleep.

Jamie awoke to a text from Leo but he didn’t bother to read it. He was still too keyed up from the night before and he needed to get his focus on hockey while he got himself ready to head to practice. He’d be playing in his first game as a Penguin on home ice that night and he wanted to make sure that he gave it his all and made a good first impression. His time in Dallas had been plagued with inconsistency, healthy scratches and yo-yoing between the minors and the big league and he didn’t want to put himself back into a situation where he didn’t know if a mistake on the ice was going to have him sitting in a press-box for two or three games. His first practice went as well as Jamie could’ve hoped it would and he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded him when he was made to feel welcome and like he’d always been a part of that group. Leo had always talked about the magic of new beginnings but it was never something that Jamie had ever experienced for himself but as he sat in his new stall before his first game as a Pittsburgh Penguin, Jamie couldn’t help but feel the spark of electricity that he was sure was what Leo had meant.

He was sprawled out on his couch watching TV when Leo had called him. There was a part of him that wanted to let the call go to voicemail but he knew that wasn’t fair because for all he was mad that she hadn’t told him about her new boyfriend, he also knew that it was her prerogative and it was, quite frankly, none of his business and he needed to get over whatever this was, no matter how hard it might be.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” Leo said excitedly. “Oh my god! I watched your first game, you were amazing! Do you love it? Is everyone nice? What’s your apartment like?”

Jamie couldn’t help the soft chuckle that floated past his lips at her animated tone and barrage of questions.

“Yes, yes and yes.”

“What’s it like? Pittsburgh?”

“I’ve only been here a day, Leo. I literally went from my apartment to practice, back to my apartment and then to the rink for the game.”

Although Jamie couldn’t see her, Leo furrowed her brows at the hint of an edge in his tone and while she could’ve easily played it off as him just being tired, given that he’d uprooted his life and moved halfway across a country to then play a game of hockey, she knew him better than that and so, never one to beat around the bush, she figured she’d just get to the point.

“Is everything okay, Jame? You seem… I don’t know, you seem off.”

“I’m fine, Leo,” Jamie replied with a sigh. “Just tired.”

“Please,” Leo said with such a softness that it made Jamie’s throat tighten. “Please don’t lie to me, Jamie. We’ve known each other too long for that.”

Jamie exhaled slowly at that, a settling breath to give him time to gather his thoughts and composure.

“I just,” he began, voice controlled and measured but quiet. “Don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that you had a boyfriend.”

“I don-“

“Don’t lie to me, Leo,” Jamie said, tone a little harsher and throwing her own words back at her. “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

Leo bit her lip and exhaled shakily. Even through the phone she could picture the hurt and disappointment on Jamie’s face and while she knew that she should have told him, she also didn’t really have a good enough reason for not doing so and somehow that was worse.

“I didn’t,” she started, still unsure what to say even as the words were coming out of her mouth because there were still the reasons as to why she didn’t say anything that she still didn’t really understand herself. “I didn’t know if it was anything serious and I guess I just wanted to be sure.”

“You waited a whole two months.”

“I- wait, how did you know we’d been dating for two months?” Leo challenged.

“Irrelevant,” Jamie shot back.

“It’s absolutely not irrelevant. You didn’t even know I was seeing anyone before that post I made yesterday let alone that it’d been two months. What? Are you stalking him now?”

“It’s not stalking if his profile is public,” Jamie defended earning him nothing but a scoff from Leo. “Besides, not like I was gonna find out from you any time soon, maybe once the wedding invitation came through the mail.”

“Oh don’t be so fucking ridiculous, Jamie,” Leo scorned. “You know it’s not like that.”

“So what is it like? I’m dying to know.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! I was going to tell you but I figured I’d let you get settled in Pittsburgh and get your first game under your belt and I haven’t told you before now because I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t more than just a couple of dates. It really doesn’t have to be a big deal, Jamie.”

“If it wasn’t such a big deal you wouldn’t have been so bothered about waiting for me to ‘get settled.’” He emphasised her words as he quoted them back to her but his tone was little more than a frustrated growl. He knew this was a stupid thing for them to be fighting about and he knew that she didn’t owe him a thing but it was easier to channel the hurt it brought him than confront the overwhelming jealousy that was crushing him.

Leo was done with this argument though and she didn’t like the way her whole body felt like it was aching at the sound of Jamie’s voice through the phone so she did the only thing she felt like she could do in the moment.

“I’m sorry, Jame. I-I really didn’t think it was-.” She trailed off quietly, for once in her life at a loss for words. “I think I’m just gonna go, you must be exhausted.”

“Don’t,” Jamie pleaded, voice small and quiet and full of regret at snapping at the person he cared about most in the world. “Please, don’t go. I-.” He exhaled slowly as he rubbed his free and across his face. “I’m sorry too. You’re right, it’s your business and you were gonna tell me when you were ready to. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Please don’t think I was hiding it from you,” Leo said, although in a few years’ time, when she looked back on all of this, she would realise that that was a lie.

“I know. I know you weren’t.”

There was a silence that fell between them, bigger than all the miles between them and filled to the brim with things unsaid but it only lasted a few beats before Jamie’s big exhale swept it away with his breath before he spoke quietly.

“He good to you?”

“Yeah, Jame. He’s a really great guy, I think you’d really like him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Leo murmured. “When you’re back in the summer we should get drinks or something.”

“Sounds good, Leo,” Jamie said under his breath. “I should probably head to bed, I’m beat and it’s gettin’ late for you too.”

“Okay,” she replied sadly. “We’ll talk tomorrow though, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

Jamie and Leo did in fact talk the next day and the day after that, but despite the apology they’d both made and despite the fact that they had put their little spat to bed, there was far too much sitting there between them unsaid. It was like litter on the ground at a place of outstanding natural beauty, you could still admire the beauty of the trees or the mountains or the winding river, but the piles of rubbish collecting on the floor were glaring and impossible to ignore and you’d find yourself wanting to go over and pick it all up. Nobody wants to look at trash though, not when there’s still rivers and trees and mountains and so Leo and Jamie found themselves ignoring everything that now sat between them and instead kept looking at the beautiful things in their lives. They were busy enough to keep distracted, Leo more so now that she had Ben in her life and before long winter and spring were a whisper of a memory and summer announced her presence in the city with sunnier days and warmer temperatures.

 It was the first time in his life that Jamie wasn’t filled with the usual excitement at going back home, that’s not to say that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing his family, his friends and Leo, but there was something that just didn’t quite feel the same and while he knew exactly what that was, there was no point dragging it back up and flogging it some more. Leo was still with Ben and that was all there was to it. He’d seen Leo a few times since he’d come back home but she was often tied up with work, no longer benefitting from the long summers off she had when she was at college, and the free time she would’ve had before was no longer exclusively Jamie’s. He tried hard not to let himself be hurt with the change in dynamic and instead took the opportunity to spend quality time with his siblings. The idea of getting a drink with Leo and Ben wasn’t one that filled Jamie with any amount of joy, but a promise was a promise and Leo was still the most important person in his life, even if he was no longer hers and he wouldn’t ever go back on his word.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect but he also wanted to give himself an easy out if he felt like he needed it so he decided that he was just going to have the one beer so that he could drive himself there and home again. Whether it was subconscious or not, it took Jamie longer than usual to get ready and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was the balmy Toronto heat that had him feeling sweatier than he would’ve liked but he eventually slipped on a pair of converse to complete his shorts and t-shirt ensemble and was in the elevator down to the garage, the keys to his truck gripped tightly in his hand.

Leo was already at the cocktail bar when he arrived, perched on a barstool at a little round table. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she always managed to make look effortless and Jamie had to make a conscious effort to swallow as his eyes took in her sun-kissed skin and the strappy sundress she was wearing. He should have expected her to look gorgeous, of course, because it was Leo and she always looked so effortlessly beautiful but it didn’t make knowing that she was here with someone else and not him hurt any less. He couldn’t blame her though, not really, because for all there was so much between them now that it should’ve been obvious, he still hadn’t outright said it or even talked to her about it and that was on him and him alone. He approached the table where she was sitting alone and looked around the bar for the man he’d only ever seen photos of.

“Hey,” she called out with the smile that always made Jamie’s heart leap up into his throat. “You made it.”

“Said I would,” Jamie replied, hugging her on the barstool and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “You look, you look good.”

“Thanks,” grinned Leo. “So do you, very festive. Ben’s just headed to the bar, do you want anything?”

“I’ve got mine, thanks though,” Jamie half-gritted as he made his way to the bar.

He could do this, he could. It was just one drink. He could manage that, right? Because that’s what friends did, they went out for drinks together and so Jamie resolved to put on his best smile as he walked back to the table, where Ben had now situated himself next to Leo, with his beer in hand. Ben was shorter than he was, Jamie noted, and he was definitely on the slighter side but still incredibly handsome with dark brown eyes that seemed to be in a state of perpetual kindness, short and neatly maintained stubble and hair that was darker than Leo’s which he’d secured in a bun at the back of his head. He was nothing like Jamie which should have made him feel better, knowing that if this was Leo’s type then it was no wonder she didn’t see him in that way, but it didn’t, it just made everything feel that little bit worse. He gave them both a tight lipped smile, all he could manage in the moment, as he sidled onto a barstool directly opposite Leo and took an obligatory sip of his beer before offering Ben his hand.

“Jamie”

Ben shook Jamie’s outstretched hand and Jamie was sure to give him a firm and not threatening at all handshake.

“Nice to meet you man,” Ben said with an accent Jamie recognised immediately as either Australian or New Zealander and he tried not to wince at the force with which the giant man was shaking his hand with. “I’m Ben.”

“Good to meet you, Ben. Nice to see you’re taking good care of my girl.”

Jamie knew that his remark would earn him a pointed glare and he was dead right because without even looking at her he could feel Leo’s eyes were boring into the side of his head.

“Yeah,” Ben laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”

“She really is. She tell you we’ve been friends for over twenty years?”

“Yeah, I did,” Leo cut in, giving Jamie a warning look. “Ben knows all about you.”

“That’s good,” Jamie mused as he took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, Leo and I? We go way back.”

Jamie put his beer down and stretched his shoulders back, somehow managing to make himself look even broader than usual and watched Ben closely, his blue eyes piercing. Leo rolled her eyes to herself and took a large gulp of her mai tai, if Jamie was going to act like a macho teenage boy then she was going to need to be at least three drinks in for this.

“You were four, right?” Ben asked nobody in particular.

“Yup,” Jamie replied, popping the ‘p’ as he looked at Leo. “Shared my strawberries with her and everything.”

Leo gave Jamie as inconspicuous of a kick as she could manage under the table and shot him a murderous look. She didn’t quite know at what point her best friend had been possessed by the ghost of Bro-mas past or why he was acting in such an insane and ridiculous way but the man opposite her wasn’t the Jamie she knew and to be quite honest, she wasn’t sure that she liked him. Jamie paid her no mind though, his focus remained fixed on the man to Leo’s left as a cocky smirk played on his lips.

“So, Ben,” he folded his arms tight across his chest, his biceps straining against the white fabric of his t-shirt. “What do you do?”

Ben sat up straighter on his stool, whether that was to try and subconsciously match Jamie’s macho-man aura or whether it was to try and instil some confidence in himself Leo couldn’t quite tell but she kept her eyes keen on Jamie and tried to engage whatever best-friend telepathy she could to tell him to knock it off.

“I’m a veterinarian.”

Jamie gave a tight lipped smile, not because there was anything wrong with being a veterinarian, quite the opposite actually. He gave a tight lipped smile because it meant that the man sat beside the girl he loved more than anything else in this world was smart and compassionate and successful and good for her. Those three words had him feeling more inadequate than he could ever truly express and he knew in that moment that there was no point even trying anymore because Ben could give her more than he ever could, intellectually and emotionally, although it still did nothing to abate the raging jealously that was running rampant through his body.

“Leo told me you’re a pro-athlete?”

Jamie was pulled by his thoughts by Ben’s question, an interested and expectant look on his features and Jamie felt the need to take a couple of gulps of his drink before he could answer.

“Yeah, play hockey in the NHL for the Dallas Stars.”

“Not the Maple Leafs then?”

Even though Jamie knew that Ben’s question was innocent enough, he couldn’t help the scoff or the mildly withering look he sent across the table despite the fact that he could feel Leo practically fizzing with annoyance.

“No, bud. It doesn’t work like that.”

Jamie started to look around the bar, clearly done with the conversation and Leo had to fight to keep her tone even and calm.

“Ben doesn’t really know much about the draft and stuff, he’s not from here, grew up in Sydney.”

“I figured,” Jamie said, clearly disinterested. “Still, pretty bold move to live in a city like Toronto and not know about hockey.”

“He knows about hockey,” Leo shot back. “He doesn’t need to know about the draft and how it all works to know about hockey.”

“Who’s your favourite player in the league, bud?” Jamie asked Ben, ignoring Leo completely and with an air of cockiness that had her blood boiling.

“I uh, I don’t really follow it all that much,” Ben replied as he shifted uncomfortably on his barstool which put a smug little smile on Jamie’s face that he didn’t even try to hide.

“You should,” Jamie said as he brought his beer back up to his lips and took a small sip, setting it down on the table with more force than was necessary. “Ask Leo here, she knows what’s up.”

His eyes met Leo’s and instead of the temperate green waters he would usually find there he was met by a roaring flame and if looks could kill, Jamie knew he’d be dead three times over. Still, he swallowed down his pride and as much of his jealousy as he could while he changed the subject and asked Ben about Sydney and what growing up in Australia was like because while he hated every bit of this and while he wanted to walk right out of this bar and go home to mope, he knew how important this was to Leo and how much it would mean to her if Jamie got along with him. Jamie nodded along as Ben talked about his childhood and Sydney and gave a strained smile when he felt like social cues dictated it, all while sneaking glances at the watch on his wrist to see if enough time had passed for him to leave without it seeming rude. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ben, because no matter how much he wanted to hate the guy, even Jamie couldn’t deny that Ben seemed like a good man, with good priorities and a good upbringing, it was just that he wasn’t mature enough to set his jealousy aside so that he could be a good friend to Leo. But as he saw the smile on her face at the sight of her best friend and her boyfriend somewhat getting along, he resolved to at least keep trying, if only for her.

He’d learned that Ben had taken an interest in baseball since moving to Canada and while he couldn’t understand how he’d found baseball before hockey, he still made small talk about the Blue Jays and how their season was going so far. One thing that Jamie both appreciated and found incredibly painful all at the same time was the way that Ben talked about Leo like she was the sun, the moon and the stars and even though he tried to be strong and try not to let the fact that she was here with someone else and was happy bother him, because he loved Leo and he only ever wanted good things for her and it was what she deserved, after nursing his beer for a shade over two hours, Jamie decided that he couldn’t do it anymore and stepped down off his stool, ceremoniously taking his truck keys from out of his pocket.

“Well, it’s been lovely catching up but I gotta head out, Penny has a swimming thing in the morning and I said I’d go watch.”

“Wait, you never told me Penny had a thing. You know I would’ve come along,” Leo said with her brows furrowed.

“Yeah, well I figured you’d be busy.”

“You would have known if I was busy or not if you’d bothered to ask me in the first place,” she shot back, giving Jamie a pointed look that told him she didn’t buy any of his bullshit.

Jamie shook his head, a wordless indication that he wasn’t prepared to get into it with her right now and simply said, “I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, Leo, yeah? And it was really great to meet you Ben.”

He didn’t even give either of them chance to respond because no sooner were the words out of his mouth, he’d turned on his heel and was striding towards the door.

It wasn’t too long before Leo was letting herself, and only herself, into her apartment. She hadn’t planned to spend the night here, as Ben’s place was a lot closer to the bar they’d been to, but after the little stunt Jamie pulled she felt like she needed to be alone in her own space despite Ben’s best efforts to come home with her. She poured herself a large glass of wine and went to settle herself on the balcony to enjoy the last few moments of the quickly fading light and try to calm down. As she looked out across the small park opposite her apartment and swirled the wine around her glass she thought about what had happened with Jamie and tried to pinpoint at what point it had gone wrong. She wondered if maybe Ben had said something to get Jamie’s back up but as she replayed their interaction over and over again, she kept drawing blanks and that bothered her greatly. You see, Jamie’s whole demeanour was so unbelievably out of character for him and he’d been on the offensive from the get go and Leo couldn’t for the life of her understand why he would agree to meet Ben if he had such a problem. The more she allowed herself to stew over it, the angrier she got and, perhaps against her better judgement, she found herself reaching for her phone and scrolling through her contacts until she reached Jamie’s number.

She wasn’t sure what she would achieve by pressing the call button but if there was something going on with him she was determined to get it out of him one way or another. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if he would even pick up the phone, but sure enough after fifteen seconds or so, Jamie’s voice came through the speaker, rough and raw.

“Leo, I don’t wanna-“

“What’s going on with you?” she interrupted. “You agree to come out with us and then spend the first fifteen minutes being rude, stand-offish and doing some sort of weird macho routine like you’d been possessed by Johnny Bravo and then once you were finished doing that you were disinterested and cold for the rest of the time. Oh and don’t think I didn’t see through your little ‘Penny has a thing’ bit. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jamie.”

“Penny does have a-“

“Don’t lie to me, Jamie,” she spat bitterly. “Don’t.”

“God, you want me to explain and then don’t let me finish! Jesus, Leo!”

“And I don’t want you to insult me by feeding me some bullshit line and using your sister as an excuse to leave early but you tried to anyway! If you didn’t want to hang out with me you should’ve just said.”

The hurt that dripped from Leo’s voice was like a kick in the stomach to Jamie. His heart was screaming at him to tell her everything, to tell her than he loved hanging out with her, tell her that she wasn’t the problem, that she never was, to tell her that he loved her, that he was being stupid and childish and that he couldn’t bear the thought of her with another man, not when she had his whole heart. But his head was gagging his heart, silencing it until it was nothing more than a muffled cry, muted and abstract behind thick walls and yet, despite its conquest of impassioned subjugation, his head didn’t actually have anything to say and so he sat there, floundering in silence while Leo grew more impatient at the other end of the phone.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” and while she spoke quietly, there was a very distinct edge to her tone. “I thought that you’d want me to find someone, someone who could look out for me while you were gone and make me laugh like you do and it’s not like you’ve been sat at home alone every night, Jamie. I know you’ve been on dates and stuff and that’s good, I want you to go on dates and find someone and be happy because you’re, because you’re my friend and I want you to have someone and not feel like you’re alone. God, I was so lonely when you left, Jame and I don’t blame you for that. I’ve never blamed you because you were too good to stay. You had too much potential and you had to find your wings and you did and I am so, so proud of you. So fucking proud. I spend my life telling anyone who’ll fucking listen to me how proud I am of you. I cry myself hollow every single time you leave, it never gets any easier and from the second you leave I’m already counting down the days until you’re back, because you’re my favourite person, Jamie. You’ve always been my favourite person.”

Jamie sniffled quietly as he heard Leo’s soft cries filter through the speaker, dragging his hand through his hair in frustration because he knew she felt it too, all she had to do was say it out loud and it was so close that all she had to do was reach out to it.

“And I want you to be happy too,” Leo continued. “I want you to be so happy. Maybe we’ve been a part of each other for so long that we don’t know how to just be us on our own. Maybe we need to discover who we actually are because for our whole lives it’s been Jamie and Leo and maybe you need to learn how to just be Jamie and maybe I need to learn how to just be Leo.”

Jamie wiped at his eyes as the first of his tears began to fall and his heart shattered into a million little pieces. This is what it was like to blow it, to lose someone you loved. This is what it was like to have your whole world come crashing down because it felt like everything he ever known was shrinking into darkness and that he couldn’t breathe.

“Leo,” he pleaded but with no real words to follow up with. “Please.”

“I think,” Leo choked out as her sobs came harder as the words she never wanted to say sat high in her throat because while she was mad at him for how he’d acted earlier, he was still her Jamie and she still loved him more than anything. But sometimes people who love each other need some time apart to think and to grow and that is what had her saying, “I think we need to give each other some space.”

“No, Leo. Please. Please, babe. Don’t say that. I know I was an asshole tonight and-.”

“We need this Jamie, we do. I need this, because this, this fighting and hostility and all of this weirdness, it’s not us. It’s never been us. Please.”

Jamie sat on his couch stunned, the weight of her words echoing around him after she’d spoke them through the phone. This was everything he’d ever feared and now that it was really happening he didn’t even know how to begin to deal with that. You can hypothesise and spend your time thinking up all of these scenarios and everything you would say, how’d you deal with them, but nothing, nothing, can ever prepare you for the real thing and Jamie understood that now because it felt like his head was spinning and he couldn’t quite organise his thoughts.

“Jamie?”

Her quiet voice pulled him out from the depths of his own head and he gave a strangled ‘yeah’ in response.

“I just think we need some time,” she whispered, the tears threatening once more.

Jamie honestly didn’t know what else to say to her and the ‘okay’ he gave was so quiet and so abstract that he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that he’d actually said it, he must have done though because the line went dead and Jamie was left sitting in the pieces of his shattered heart.

 Jamie couldn’t remember how long he’d cried for, he wasn’t even sure how many days he’d stayed locked inside his apartment before he felt strong enough to put on a brave face and eventually go outside. He knew that he only had himself to blame though, that he should’ve told her years ago that it was her and that she was it for him and now, because of his own stupidity, his own jealousy, he’d only succeeded in pushing her away and he wasn’t sure how he could fix this or if he could even fit it at all. It was a strange feeling, being in the same city as someone and yet feeling like they were a million miles away, it was even harder having to dodge questions from his family about how Leo was doing and what they’d been up to and even though he was certain that his mother could see straight through his lies, he was thankful that she could at least sense that this was something he didn’t want her to prod him about. For the first time in his professional playing career, Jamie made the decision to leave Toronto early and head back to Pittsburgh before the start of training camp, citing a desire to get a head start and get back in shape ready for the season ahead and while his parents found it all to be rather odd, Jamie did his best to assure them that everything was fine and that he’d see them the next time the Penguins played the Leafs in Toronto at Christmastime.

Leo wasn’t doing much better, despite whatever front she’d put up to try and convince herself and everybody else. She’d cried until she was nothing but a shell, figuring that the best thing to do was just to get it all out of her system so that she could look to put it all behind her and move on but stumbling every single time whenever she remembered that he’d called her ‘babe’, because that was new and she didn’t fully understand what exactly that had meant and why it made her heart leap into her throat every time she thought of the word rolling around on his tongue. To make matters worse, the day after she pushed Jamie away for some self-imposed space, Ben had stopped by her apartment, naturally concerned after she’d ignored all of his calls – not that it was anything personal, she’d been ignoring everyone.

He’d told her that he thought Jamie was in love with her and he also told her that he thought she loved Jamie too, like it was that simple and while Leo tried her best to assure him that her and Jamie were just friends, he wasn’t about to be convinced. Make no mistake, it wasn’t as if Ben was accusatory in anyway, in fact Leo would’ve preferred it if he was, because he was looking at her with far too much understanding and kindness than she was sure she deserved. She found it admirable really, how he was able to be so mature about it all and it just proved to her how childishly she had handled everything and just how blind to everything she’d been. The words Ben had left her with were ones that she’d meditate on for weeks, months even. He’d said, ‘I think you need to talk to Jamie, really talk to him. You both need to sit down and look at every single thing between you both because it’s all there, the love, the spark between you two. I’d never even met the guy before but I could just feel it between you guys as soon as you looked at each other. I saw the way he looked at you when he walked into that bar, he looked at you like you’d hung all the stars in the sky. That’s love, Leo and I know that deep down you feel that way too. If after you’ve done that you can still look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you don’t love him and that there’s nothing there then I’ll be here waiting and we can give this a shot, but I think you need to really think about what you want.’

It seemed like such a simple thing on paper, working out what she really wanted, but the reality of it all was that Leo wasn’t exactly sure what that looked like. One thing was clear though, without Jamie in her life she was miserable, but this had been her idea and she knew that it’d been one that had broken his heart and to slink back to him so soon, with her tail between her legs after knowing she’d hurt him by pushing him away, was too much for her silly little pride to handle. She told herself that she would call him, that she would reach out and apologise, but with every day that slipped by it felt like the space between them grew tenfold and something as simple as a phone call felt like it was as hard as climbing Everest.

Jamie had hoped that getting back to Dallas would take his mind off Leo, the sprawling void between them and his feelings for her, and he’d tried, he’d really honestly tried, even going so far as signing up to dating apps to try and drown her out that way, but it was useless. Leo was everywhere and nowhere all at once and Jamie felt like he was floating in outer space, surrounded by dust and emptiness when all he wanted was to feel like he was home; but as each day passed without any contact from her, the more lost Jamie felt and he was terrified that he’d never be found and that he’d be floating around in the nothingness forevermore.

 The months fell away much like the russet leaves of fall and Christmas was suddenly only a whisper away. Jamie had made preparations to stay in Toronto following the Penguins’ matinee game against the Leafs on December 23rd and would fly back into Pennsylvania the day after Christmas ready for his first game after the holiday on December 27th. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d been able to enjoy Christmas at home with his family since turning pro and even though his return to Toronto would bring him closer to Leo and while there was still a lot of uncertainty between them both given that they hadn’t actually spoken since August, he was looking forward to being able to unwind for a few days before the second push of the season began. He hadn’t told Leo that his plans would bring him back to the city but she’d figured as much when she’d discovered that the last game the Leafs would play before Christmas would be against Pittsburgh and she knew he would be staying once she realised Pittsburgh’s next game wasn’t for another few days.

She knew that she should reach out while he was home, not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because she hadn’t actually told her parents that she’d not spoken a word to him in the last four months and it would look incredibly weird if she didn’t see him at least once while he was back in town. There were a number of reasons why she’d not said anything about the spat that she’d had with Jamie, the main one being because it would open a whole can of worms that she absolutely did not want opening, it would open her up to questions from her parents and they were questions that she didn’t want to face and didn’t really have answers for. The reason she didn’t have answers to those questions was because while she’d finally accepted that Jamie wasn’t just a friend, she also knew that she’d blown any real chance with him because of the way she’d acted so it was far easier to maintain that air of indifference and pretend like there was nothing there so that she didn’t have to deal with the reality that she’d ruined everything with her own stupidity.

She’d toyed with the idea of sending him a quick text message to check in, but after everything they’d been through it seemed a little bit impersonal, although it didn’t have her picking up the phone either. She’d wondered if Jamie would even want to see her while he was home for those few days over the holidays, after all, for all she’d been the one to impose their time apart, he hadn’t exactly reached out to her. What did she expect though? She knew deep down Jamie was always going to respect her wishes, even if they broke his heart, but it was easier to ignore that and instead fester in her own misery.

The decision on whether or not to see Jamie was made for her though, with her mother telling her that the Oleksiaks thought it would be nice for them all to get together before Christmas and that arrangements had been made for them to all attend the game followed by dinner at The Butcher Chef. Leo couldn’t help but be a little bit surprised at this, considering how awful she’d been to Jamie and she was shocked that his family would want to spend more than a second with her, which could only lead her to believe that Jamie had deployed the same tactic of silence with his parents as she had done with her own. It should have been funny, how similar they were, but it was that similarity that had dropped them into this mess in the first place. If only one of them had been mature enough to look at all that there was between them and take that leap of faith, perhaps she’d be overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Jamie instead of that sickening anxious feeling that knotted her stomach. It was ironic, she thought, how Jamie had always thought of her as being brave because right now, as she looked back on her behaviour and how she’d handled it all, she’d been anything but.

Leo was more than a little relieved to discover that they’d be meeting the Oleksiaks inside of Scotiabank Area because it meant that Jamie wouldn’t be with them and she could at least catch up with Richard, Alison, Hayley and Penny without any massive amounts of awkwardness. She could play off her recent and sudden distance on work being crazy and hopefully, just hopefully, by the end of the game she’d be feeling relaxed enough that seeing Jamie wouldn’t be the big deal she’d made it out to be in her head. As she took her seat in the stands she found herself sandwiched between her mother and Penny, the youngest Oleksiak. Leo had always loved Jamie’s sisters, especially Penny, seeing a lot of herself in the younger girl and they’d always been partners in crime when it came to winding Jamie up. They’d talked about Penny’s swimming and how she’d been and the thundering in Leo’s chest had begun to settle somewhat until Penny had mentioned how down Jamie had seemed the last time they’d talked and that she hoped Leo could give him one of her world-famous pep talks to snap him out of his funk. If Penny had felt Leo stiffen beside her at that, she mercifully didn’t say anything and continued to watch the game. Leo couldn’t focus though, not when the guilt had suddenly jumped up from where she’d shoved it deep down into her stomach and now felt like it had lodged itself within her windpipe. She had taken to focusing on the game clock, counting along with the numbers until she could push through the tightening in her chest and set her features into something that was a bit more neutral instead of the tight-lipped grimace she was wearing. Leo was thankful that the game on the ice was end-to-end because no one had seemed to notice the turmoil she found herself in and no questions were asked.

Leo declined the invitation from Alison and Richard to go down with them to wait for Jamie to come out of the locker room, simply stating that she would keep her parents company and wait with them upstairs and was relieved when they didn’t press the issue or make insistences. It was around forty minutes later when she saw the tall figure of Jamie’s dad appear in the foyer, Alison and the girls close behind with Jamie bringing up the rear. It was like one of those cliché romance movie moments, where two people find each other’s eyes across a crowded room and it feels like the whole world stops spinning, except most of the people had filtered out of the stadium by now and the space between them felt so vast that it would take lightyears to cross.

He was cautious, Leo noticed, but his eyes were just as soft as they’d always been as they took her in. She looked good, Jamie thought, but there was a sadness in her smile and the spark he’d always associated with her was barely there. He wanted so desperately to pull her tight against his chest and tell her that he was sorry over and over again until he was sure that she believed him, but this wasn’t the time nor the place so he settled for an awkward wave and a ‘hey’ that sounded too nervous and too hesitant to be greeting an old friend with, instantly regretting it when he saw the tight-lipped smile and too formal ‘hello’ that she gave in reply. Their parents exchanged a serious of glances that ranged from confusion to concern but much to Leo and Jamie’s reprieve, Alison simply clapped her hands together and remarked how lovely it was that everyone was back together again. Leo made sure to stick close to her parents during the short walk to the restaurant because while she wasn’t certain that Jamie would try to address the weirdness between them and while she also knew that it was a conversation that they absolutely needed to have, she wasn’t sure that a five minute walk within earshot of their families was the best time.

An awkward exchange at the door to the restaurant, where the two of them spent a good twenty seconds inviting each other to go in ahead, earned the pair strange looks from their parents and Penny had uttered ‘weirdos’ as she side-eyed them while they were all escorted to their table. The fact that they’d purposefully chosen seats as far away from each other as possible raised their fathers’ eyebrows while Alison and Diana shared a worried glance. Penny was giving her brother a pointed look from behind her menu before flicking her gaze across to Leo, who was studying the wine list as if it were written in hieroglyphics, and back to Jamie, who could only respond with a pleading look and a shake of his head. When the order was taken Jamie couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the prawn, avocado and chilli bruschetta Leo had picked for her appetizer. For as long as he’d known her they’d been united in their mutual hatred of the green pitted fruit and despite the fact that it was entirely plausible that her taste-buds had changed in the four months since they’d last spoken and despite it being something so incredibly small, and so incredibly innocuous, he couldn’t help but feel further away from her than ever before. The feeling only grew as he listened to her talk to his mother about what she’d been up to in her spare time, not even knowing that she’d taken up watercolour painting and had been to a belly-dancing taster class that she’d thoroughly enjoyed and was considering signing up to. It might have only been four months apart, but it might as well have been an entire lifetime that had passed and the ache in his chest made it impossible to focus on anything else other than the overwhelming sadness he felt at the recognition that everything had changed between them and that things would never be the same again.

The pair soldiered on through dinner, seeming to talk to everyone else but each other and while there was the occasional shared glance, it never lasted for any longer than a couple of seconds before one of them looked away and carried on like it had never even happened. It was all getting a bit much for Jamie, with the way that it felt like he was losing her with each second that passed and the way it felt like she was at the other side of the world and not at the other side of a table. He wanted to scream into that void, scream that this was all stupid, that he was sorry and that he missed her so much that he felt like he was going to die, but he didn’t. Instead he’d told Bill all about Pittsburgh and the season so far and made small talk about what kind of vehicle he should buy next. Leo found herself getting agitated at how forced it all felt, how uncomfortable she was and all she wanted was for dessert to be over so they could split the bill and say their goodbyes so that she could lock herself in her apartment and drown her despair in a bottle of wine. It killed her that the man she’d known from being a little boy, a man who knew her better than anyone else in the world, felt like a complete stranger, but above that, it killed her that this had been all of her own making. There was so much she should have done differently and even more that she should have said, but instead her own stupidity and stubbornness had pushed away the one thing in her life she wanted the most and she’d convinced herself that Jamie had only agreed to this and sorted tickets for the game tonight because he knew it would make his mother happy. That thought forced Leo to swallow down the emotion that sat high in her throat because it was just another reminder of every BBQ and every party the two families had ever shared together and how it all felt that little bit different now. Not only had she ruined things between her and Jamie, but she’d also managed to ruin things for everyone else too.

Not a moment too soon for Leo, the two families were paying the check and found themselves outside in the chilly evening air. Leo let herself be passed down the line of Oleksiaks for a goodbye hug, chastising herself each time for how stiff was but still not able to let herself relax despite the awareness, until she was confronted with Jamie’s large frame. She couldn’t not hug him with how it felt like all eyes were on them both and so she allowed herself to be pulled awkwardly into his body while her own was filled with tension that she was sure everyone could see but couldn’t help all the same.

“Goodnight,” Jamie mumbled. “Have a good Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Leo replied, voice robotic and distant as she pulled away a little too quickly. “You too.”

An awkward silence descended upon the group that had Jamie shifting uncomfortably and Leo drawing her coat tighter around her for reasons unrelated to the cold Toronto air. Leo could tell her mother was desperate to say something and she was praying to anyone who was listening that this would be one of those things that Diana would let slide without pressing further. Someone somewhere must have heard her silent pleas though because her mother said her goodbyes once more and wished Jamie a safe trip back to Pittsburgh before the trio headed back towards the car. Nobody spoke for a few beats as they settled into their seats and put on their belts but Leo knew that the barrage of incoming questions was imminent judging by the look in her father’s eye as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

“It’s nothing,” Leo mumbled as she adjusted her coat.

“Honey, that was about as far from nothing as you could get,” her mother replied as she turned in her seat to look at Leo. “I coulda cut the atmosphere between you two back there with a knife.”

“Honestly, mom, it’s nothing and I’d really rather not discuss it right-“

“Not an option,” her father cut in, a stern edge to his tone. “I’m pulling rank and I’m playing the ‘dad’ card here. What happened back there was painful to watch and it made dinner incredibly awkward so I’ll ask you again, what happened between you two?”

Leo exhaled into the darkness of the car as the city lights passed by outside, unsure where to even begin. She decided to lead with the obvious and hoped that the rest would follow.

“We fought,” she said matter-of-factly. “We had a stupid argument and we haven’t spoken since August.”

“Oh, Leonora,” her mother sighed. “What could the two of you have possibly fought over that stopped you from talking for four months?”

“Remember when I was dating Ben?”

Diana hummed in acknowledgment.

“Well, that night that Ben and I went out for drinks, the night before we broke up, we met up with Jamie and he was… he was kind of an asshole to Ben.”

Bill chuckled softly at that, a million miles away from the harshness of his tone not a few moments ago and shook his head which earned him a glare from Leo into the rearview mirror.

“Oh come on,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re a bright girl, Leo. You must have realised that he was acting out of jealousy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad. Why the hell would Jamie be jealous of Ben?”

“For someone who is so incredibly smart you really are oblivious,” her mother replied with an exasperated sigh. “That boy is head over heels for you. Has been for years.”

“What? Don’t be insane!” Leo scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Jamie and I are-“

“Just friends,” Bill interrupted. “Sure ya are.”

“We are.”

Leo crossed her arms over her chest, not caring that it made her look like she’d regressed back into her teenage years, especially with the frustrated pout that had formed on her lips. Her father sighed in mild frustration, too full of food to have much patience for his daughter’s stubbornness.

“You’re just too stubborn to see anythin’ else. Talk some sense into her, Di, would ya?”

Diana surveyed Leo with a soft expression, perceptive enough to know that her daughter was struggling with some inner tumult but was too bull-headed to verbalise it and too proud to ask for help.

“Nora Noo,” she said softly to get Leo’s eyes on hers. “You must know by now that Jamie loves you,” Leo went to speak but Diana anticipated her protests and cut her off gently. “And not just as a friend. He loves you and I’d hazard a guess that you love him too.”

“He doesn’t love me, mom. We didn’t speak for four months.”

“And was that his idea?”

Leo looked away and her silence told her mother all she needed to know.

“I didn’t think so. Sounds to me like he was just giving you the space you asked for.”

“Why would you assume it was me who asked for space? I never said that,” Leo protested.

“You didn’t have to,” Diana countered, her eyes keen on Leo. “I know you well enough to know that you were clearly struggling with all these feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, you were mad at him and the easiest thing for you to do was push him away and because Jamie loves you so much, he respected your wishes, even though he’s quite clearly been struggling too.”

Leo didn’t have an answer to that because she knew that any words that came out of her mouth would’ve been a lie. Her mother had hit the nail on the head and she knew it too because while her eyes were still soft on Leo, there was the hint of a smirk on her lips and she knew she had her daughter stumped. She decided not to push the issue anymore though and shifted in her seat to face forwards again, leaving Leo sat in the back of the car, brows knitted together and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She didn’t speak another word until they pulled up outside of her apartment building and even then all she could manage was a subdued goodbye followed up with ‘see you both tomorrow.’

If Leo could’ve been a fly on the wall in the Oleksiaks’ car, she’d have laughed at the fact that Jamie was being subjected to a similar, if not identical, lecture from his parents as the one she’d received. They’d get a good kick out of the absurdity of it all later on when the dust had settled, but Jamie didn’t know that yet and his face was currently drawn in pensive thought while he mulled over his mother’s words that had scarily echoed Diana’s to Leo in their sentiments. He knew she was right, about all of it and the more he thought about it, the more he began to understand that this might be the only chance he had to make things right before Leo slipped away from him for good. It was that realization and that overwhelming fear of losing the one thing in his life he was sure of that had him asking his father to turn the car around and to take him to Leo’s apartment.

 The warm glow of the Christmas lights in Leo’s apartment would have ordinarily brought a smile to her face but she was too weary to fall for their charms tonight and it was the kind of weariness that she was sure couldn’t be fixed with sleep. Seeing Jamie tonight had made everything exponentially harder and only served as a painful and bitter reminder of just how bad she’d let things get between them. She should’ve reached out, she should’ve stared down everything that was right in front of her but she was too afraid to see and she should have said everything that she knew to be true in her heart and that Jamie deserved to hear. She wiped the makeup off her face angrily as she tried to supress a sniffle, a too-big Huskies sweatshirt that had belonged to Jamie hanging off her frame that served as a symbol of her wilful suffering. She knew that it wasn’t the best idea to try and numb the pain with a bottle of wine, but she didn’t know what else to do in the moment and so she collected the bottle of medicinal Riesling from the fridge, grabbed herself the biggest wine glass she owned and took them into her living room.

She was just about to bring the glass up to her lips when a loud and urgent knock at her door made her jump right out of her skin. She debated ignoring it but it became so insistent and unrelenting that she was worried the noise would disturb her neighbours and so she begrudgingly set her glass down before dragging her body from the couch and to the door. On the other side of it was a frantic looking Jamie, chest heaving from presumably taking the stairs and a slightly wild look in the usually calm ocean of his eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his otherwise resolute delivery.

“You know you can,” Leo breathed as she moved out of the way to let him in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it as she watched him carefully.

The silence stretched between them, Leo waiting nervously for Jamie to speak while he took a few settling breaths. He knew that he had to get this right because he felt like one wrong word would lose him everything. It was the same reason why Leo maintained a tentative reticence.

A moment.

That was all it would take.

One moment that sat like a void and one moment that could change everything, whichever way it went. This was such a moment, so big that it felt like entire galaxies could fit inside of it and still leave room for more. He waited for her to speak for what felt like forever while she stood on a knife edge, knowing that whatever words come out of her mouth next would rearrange both of their lives in ways that they understood would make it impossible to return to how things were not even ten minutes ago, not that either of them wanted to go back to that.

Yes, it was moment that was terrifying in every conceivable way.

But it was theirs.

“What happened to us?” Jamie wondered aloud, breaking the deafening silence. “How the hell did we get to this?”

“You were the one who was an ass, Jamie, not me,” Leo shot back, perhaps angrier than was necessary given the fact that Jamie’s question wasn’t delivered accusingly. “I know I should’ve told you about Ben and I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings by not saying anything sooner but that toxic masculinity bullshit at the bar? Really?”

“You don’t fucking see it, do you?” Jamie laughed humourlessly, Leo’s tone causing a flicker of anger within his chest. “Even now, when I’m here right in front of you, you’re still too stubborn to see it or maybe you do see it but you just don’t have the balls to tell me that you don’t feel the same way.”

“Don’t you dare make assumptions about how I feel,” Leo snapped, the tears springing to her eyes in an instant. “Don’t you dare. You have no idea what these past four months-“

“Of course I do!” Jamie spat. “I’ve been living it every single day since you told me you needed space! I wake up and it hurts, I go to bed and it still fucking hurts. I felt like I was dying every single day. You wanted this and it fucking broke my heart, Leo, it broke my heart but I did it anyway because you asked me to and I would do anything for you, anything in the whole world and yet you couldn’t even be honest with yourself and see what was right in front of you.”

Leo’s heart splintered and cracked at the agony etched into Jamie’s features, agony that she knew she’d caused and she couldn’t stop the tears from breaking the dam she was precariously keeping them behind and surging forward as Jamie’s own silent tears slipped out onto his cheeks.

“All I wanted was for you to love me like I love you, Leo. That was it.”

Jamie’s broken voice pulled the sob from her lungs but even though it felt like she couldn’t breathe and even though she knew she’d made such a mess of things, she still managed to catch those three words and hang onto them like they were a life line that would keep her from drifting away into outer space. They were also the words that had her legs carrying her towards him, closing the distance and pushing everything that separated them to the side until she was pressed tightly against his chest with her arms tight around him.

“I do, Jamie,” she cried. “I do love you. I love you more than anything else in this world and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I pushed you away, that I ignored everything for so long. You’re my person, Jame, you always have been, ever since we were kids, long before I even understood what love was. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Jame.”

Jamie held her tightly within his arms, frightened that she might float away if he didn’t keep her steadfast against him and buried his face into her hair, his own quiet tears falling into the umber strands as he shushed her gently to quieten her cries.

“I’m sorry too, babe. I should have told you, I should have said something, I just didn’t know what to say and I was so scared that I’d lose you and then when I found out you were dating, I just, I hated the idea of you with anyone else and I know that was wrong and I know that I should’ve just told you how I was feeling but the thought of you not feeling the same way, God, it killed me.”

Leo lifted her head, the wet jungle of her eyes shining like the Amazon meeting the lagoon of his as her hand reached up to caress his strong jaw and Jamie nuzzled into the touch before he pressed a soft kiss to her palm, everything else melting away until it was just the feeling of her skin and the gentle press of her body against his.

“There’s no one else like you Jamieson Oleksiak,” she murmured softly as her thumb swept gently across his cheek. “No one.”

“I love you, Leo,” Jamie whispered, his eyes shining with tears before he slowly dipped his head down to bring his lips to hers and captured them in a tender kiss, their first kiss.

She melted into him instantly, her hands moving to the back of his neck while his found the backs of her thighs to lift her up and wrap her legs around his waist. He kissed her like he was suffocating and she was his oxygen, kissed her for every time he should’ve told her that he loved her and kissed her for every day that he should have already been kissing her and for everything Jamie was giving her, Leo gave it back tenfold. Their mouths moved together in a complete unity which betrayed the fact that they hadn’t already been doing this for years, each knowing what the other needed with each pass of their tongues and every pause for breath.

Leo’s fingers tangled themselves into Jamie’s short curls and the gentle tug she gave them earned her a deep groan and a flex of his palms against her thighs. It was instinctive, really, to carry her into her bedroom and though Leo should’ve felt anxious about sharing that final part of herself with Jamie, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to do. He removed her clothes carefully, almost dutifully, exalting her skin with his mouth like her body was a temple and every kiss was a holy offering. He learned her body like lyrics from his favourite song and remembered every sigh and every flex of her fingers against his skin whenever he did something that she liked until he was confident that he would be able recite it word for word if she asked him to. He’d never felt more at home than he did between her thighs with her arms wrapped around the broad expanse of his back and with every breath and every moan shared between them both, he knew with complete certainty that she was it for him and while he didn’t know the exact details of what their life together would look like, he also knew that it didn’t really matter as long as he had her.

They moved together between the sheets as sure and as steady as the falling snow outside, in their own world where nothing and no one could touch them and all that mattered was what they were giving to each other in that moment. Leo carved her name into Jamie’s skin as her nails raked across his shoulders, a wordless encouragement for more of him. She was cradled within his arms, safe and warm and home while his lips brushed along her jaw, whispers of love murmured into her skin with every breath he took. He quickened his pace as he sensed the wave begin to grow inside of her, swallowing her moans with a kiss when the wave finally broke against the shore and she tumbled over the edge. He stayed with her as she rode the crest of her orgasm, working her through it while he chased his own high.

“Fuck, Leo. I’m so close, babe,” he gritted, hips driving into hers.

“Let go, Jame…”

He kissed her roughly as his hips faltered, spilling inside of her with a low groan and shallow thrusts until he was spent. Leo’s lips brushed along his jaw, pressing kisses along the sharp angle of his face and against the shell of his ear.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, Jamie smiling against her neck before pulling out and rolling onto his back, nestling her into his side until she settled with her head against his chest and her arm draped over his stomach. He dropped his lips to press a kiss against her forehead, gentle and chaste and full of all the love her had for her while Leo’s fingers traced along his ribs, leaving a ripple of goose bumps in their wake.

They laid in silence for a while, limbs tangled in the sheets while the snow fell silently outside. It was a peace that reflected the one they both felt within their souls and Leo wasn’t sure she ever wanted to leave the solace and serenity of their cocoon, the steady thump of Jamie’s heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest had her in a trance-like state and it was Jamie’s soft chuckle that pulled her back to the present.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly into her hair.

“Yeah.” She shifted and propped herself up on her elbow so that she was looking at Jamie, smiling at the peaceful expression she found resting on his features. “Just happy.”

He reached out to cup the back of her head and pulled her in to place three gentle pecks to her lips, smiling against her mouth before he pulled away to look into her eyes and tuck the loose strands of her hair back.

“Good,” he grinned. “Because this would be really fuckin’ awkward if you weren’t.”

Leo laughed at that, free and easy and Jamie felt like he could fly with the way her head was thrown back and her eyes had crinkled with her bright smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, it really would.”

She looked at him for a breath, the smile still playing on her lips before she moved her eyes to the tattoo at his ribs and traced the lines of it lightly with her fingertips. She knew that this was good and right and everything she’d ever wanted for so long and she knew that it would take a while before she could truly forgive herself for everything she’d put Jamie through, but the rhythmic stroking of Jamie’s fingers against her lower back kept her grounded in this moment with him before her mind could take off running while she focused on the black lines of ink on his skin.

“I um wasn’t completely honest with you about that tattoo,” Jamie mumbled.

“What about?”

“When you asked if I’d got it for you.”

Leo shook her head gently. “I was only teasing, Jame.”

“Yeah, I know,” he acknowledged. “But it really always was for you, at least in some part.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Remember that I told you that it represented bravery and courage?” He asked, Leo nodding in response. “Well those were things that I learned from you. You taught me what it meant to be brave, what it meant to live fearlessly and to be brave and chase my dreams. That lion is you Leo and you’ve been with me. You’ve been with me this whole time.”

Leo didn’t quite know what to say to that because while she’d always quietly and selfishly imagined that it was for her, having it confirmed by Jamie was an entirely different ball game and it was a little overwhelming but in the best possible way. She instead curled herself back into his side and rested her head against his strong chest, her arm draping heavily around him. Jamie wrapped her tight in his arms, nuzzling his nose into her hair and pressing soft kisses to the crown of her head while he breathed her in, all pineapple and coconut and Leo.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked quietly.

“You know you can.”

“What was with the avocado tonight?”

Jamie was slightly taken aback by the gentle laugh Leo let out against his chest but didn’t move from where his nose was nestled amongst the wild waves on top of her head.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Leo admitted, her lips quirking into a small smile against Jamie’s skin. “Guess I just wanted to try it to see if I still hated it.”

“And I’m guessing by the fact you left half of it on your plate-“

“Still disgusting,” Leo interjected with a laugh which Jamie matched in earnest before pressing another kiss into her hair while she went quiet again once more.

She closed her eyes and let the steady thud of Jamie’s heartbeat quiet her mind that had taken itself off to the races and was trying to work out how this would all work and where that would leave them when Jamie had to go back to Pittsburgh in a couple of days. Jamie sensed her though, so in tune with her and her body and her mind to pick up on the subtle little cues that told him she was going down the rabbit hole, so he called her back to him with a gentle whisper of her name.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I just,” she sighed quietly. “I just don’t know how this looks for us, Jame. I just got you and now it feels like I’m gonna lose you all over again. It’s different this time, you leaving and I know it’s gonna-.” She trailed off, sniffling slightly as the pain of Jamie leaving town washed over her and filled her eyes with fresh tears.

“Hey, hey”, Jamie soothed, tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to get her eyes on his. “It’s okay, babe. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? Pittsburgh isn’t far away and you can come and stay whenever you want. We’ll get through the rest of this season and then when I’m home in the summer we can work out all the details, yeah?”

Leo saw the intensity and the certainty in Jamie’s eyes and she saw the truth in them, their truth and Leo knew that whatever happened, Jamie would make sure that they were okay, so she nodded her head slowly and buried her face against the crook of his neck.

“We’re gonna be fine, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “Let’s not worry about that right now, yeah? Let’s just focus on this moment.”

He pressed a sequence of kisses to the top of her head and settled her comfortably against him, drawing little circles with his fingertips at her hips until he felt her body go heavy as she slipped into sleep.

Jamie laid there, his eyes drifting to the window where the snow was still falling heavily outside and smiled to himself despite the fact that he knew Leo was right. He didn’t know how this would look for them either and he didn’t know what the future had in store for him, he didn’t even know if he was going to be in Pittsburgh next year and God only knows where he would end up. But none of that really mattered, not really, because when he looked at Leo fast asleep in his arms, the woman who was his whole world and always had been, he knew that wherever he went, wherever his path would lead him, he would always have a home in her heart and now that he knew that he had a home in hers too, everything else was just confetti.

Love isn’t always fireworks. It’s not always loud or in your face or even a moment where you lock eyes with a stranger across the room and fall head over heels at first sight. Sometimes love is quiet. Sometimes love grows slowly like an oak tree, starting out as a tiny acorn before springing tiny shoots and leaves and while it might not look like much at first, the roots grow deep and strong and nurture the sapling until it becomes something big and beautiful. It happens so slowly over time that it can be difficult to notice it happening at all, but it grows all the same, bigger and bigger until it’s mighty and proud and impossible to ignore. The tree is strong, unmoveable, enduring and weathers whatever storm comes its way because it’s had the time and the devotion to mature into something truly remarkable. That is the kind of love that many only ever get to dream of and Jamie and Leo would be thankful every second of every day that they were lucky enough to find that in each other because even though we live in a universe of infinite possibilities, there are some things in life that just make sense and when it’s good and it’s right, it will always find a way.

#jamie oleksiak #jamie oleksiak fic #nhl fic #nhl fiction #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey fiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #jamie and leo #TSSTM universe #leo and rig #my writing

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she���d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

[wistfulrat]

this week is different shades of muggle draco — a wily little shit, secretly tender, devastatingly hot, lives to piss harry off. then, curse-breaker draco coming toe-to-toe with powerful!harry. all feat. lots of angsty sex and harry consistently being the last one to realize his big gay crush is quite serious. one braincell behavior. we luv him for it.

Clear As Mud by scoradh - 9k, M

Set post-war and post-Harry's-conscience... “You need cool, calculating bastards to save the world” —Thief of Time

post-war draco’s slummin it as a muggle. he lives in a shithole with unsavory roommates. scoradh establishes all these dynamics in the opening cellar-poker gambling scene and the tone/mood is so precise i want to yell. harry obviously Hates draco’s life even tho they’re lowkey fuck buddies. harry is a walking double (triple? quadruple?) standard. harry doesn’t know how to want draco without feeling guilty, resentful, possessive, confused, fragile. Malfoy inspired an incredible amount of self-doubt in Harry by doing nothing more than looking like he had enough confidence for three people and enough scathing put-downs for another five. ahhh!!! the assumption that draco isn’t equally insecure behind that veneer of unbotheredness. and later, the slow realization that harry doesn’t actually have to be ashamed of his wants. he’s allowed to like draco and fuck off into the sunset. as is ur right hrry!!

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by @wellhalesbells​​ - 21k, T Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

auror partners harry and ron trouncing abt london for a case when they happen upon cafe-owner draco. draco who has lilac hair, edgy muggle best friends, and moonlights as a literal computer hacker. it’s a doozy. harry and ron assume the worst. and then they both kind of fall in love with this weird ass trio dynamic and everything that draco’s become since the war--protective, sly, smart as fuck, a little scary, and extremely capable. (calrissian18′s characterization is so elite goD). but it’s not as easy as being charmed by the novelty of it all. bc harry has unresolved beef with draco 2.0′s ability to just Move On and succeed bc ~fuckbois who were privileged shits~ shouldn't be allowed that, right? well, wrong. - “You’ve grown up,” Harry said. That’s what it was. Somehow Harry had never expected it to happen to Malfoy. He felt left behind, as he wasn’t quite sure it had happened to him yet. He’d hidden behind his job almost to be sure it hadn’t. Watching Malfoy though, it didn’t seem as scary as he’d once thought. Malfoy frowned, looking past Harry to the street below. “Unfortunate, isn’t it? It’s a shame, not seeing magic in the air anymore.” Harry didn’t think he meant that literally. “Instead there’s pollution and rubbish bins and manky strays.” Harry shook his head. “I was going to say the opposite. You’re better with your eyes all the way open.” - i'm obsessed with calrissian18′s titling of this fic for many reasons but mostly because it encapsulates harry and draco’s dilemma when they eventually have to confront the tension of their relationship. what’s a bildungsroman anyway? it’s the literary term for coming-of-age novels, for stories that chart the great shift from adolescence into adulthood. and in this fic’s context, it’s harry and draco saying we might be too old for an unexpected and thrilling change. we might be but, fuck, i hope not. 

heavyweight by warmfoothills  ( @forestgreenlesbian ) - 28k, E Draco had moved out of his childhood home five days after his father got sent to Azkaban. He’d packed up his rooms, piling up boxes until the walls were bare and his cupboards were empty and his arms were shaking because he’d done it all by hand instead of using magic. He’d barely used magic at all since his trial. Then he’d left everything there in the middle of his bedroom and apparated away with one case of clothes that his mother shrunk down enough to fit in his pocket.

in harry’s mind, it goes like this: draco gets to run away. harry doesn’t. so harry is incapable of leaving draco alone and he traces him down constantly. draco is pissed off that harry feels entitled to this invasion of his muggle-world attempt at becoming a different person. harry is pissed off that draco gets to somehow live detached from the mess that is post-war reconstruction. draco tells him to fuck off. “When have either of us ever been able to manage that, Malfoy?” --it’s a one-sided chase for a while, half-curiosity half-envy. harry is as eager as he is broody. draco doesn’t want to be desired against someone’s better judgment. warmfoothills is so great at capturing the contradictory nature of their friendship. it happens almost in spite of them, slow and stubborn. They eat salad with plastic forks sitting in Hyde Park and Draco feels something shift between them again. He wonders if they’ll ever stabilise. the entire fic is a catalogue of that shifting, of watching their angsty unarticulated yearning finally become a real, spoken thing. warmfoothills’ rooftop scene made me emo as hell. 

measures of our days and nights by @flimsi - 40k, E Draco returns to London to help the Ministry decipher a spell, but things aren’t quite as simple as they seem.

god i love a high-stakes plot with a chaotic emotional landscape and flimsy delivers! curse-breaking, magical theory, a life-threatening spell with the potential to kill a shit ton of people. hermione has to call on draco who’s been m.i.a for 5 yrs. and even though draco has become an altruistic, spell-unraveling, french-village dwelling swot, british wiz world still thinks draco is sus. enter in auror and lowkey unspeakable-liaison harry -- powerful and morally grey as shit. he and draco immediately get off on the wrong foot. their interactions are volatile and needy. they tentatively warm to each other but harry fucks up. draco is livid. and yet!! it’s in this wildly tense and desperate race against death that draws them together. Draco shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know how you do it.” It was answered by an equally empty laugh. “Neither do I,” Harry said. ah, what are 2 morose as fuck commiserating sad boys meant to do but fall in love!!

#drarry fic rec #weekly drarrys #harry said muggle draco isnt allowed to be hot and unbothered guess i gotta Annoy him into liking me #that ‘all men are just some guy’ tweet but it’s draco unimpressed by harrys antics #jokes on him he likes the attention #anyway i def had to google ‘bildungsroman’ she said what if English major but mediocre #lilac hair draco kinda snapped tbh #that thief of time quote Fucks im obsessed #........... #drarry

[daydreamsofh]

Terrible Love- Part One

A/N: Ahhhhh, hi! Hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part one. I am so excited to share this with you! This one is another friends to lovers, because I literally do not know how to write anything else! Kidding. No, really. :) 

And I have to give a very special thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for her constant encouragement and support. Ash, thank you for being such a light in my life and for always reassuring me. And another special thank you to @dallas-suit-harry for beta reading for me, Em, thank you for always being so wonderful and funny and I can’t wait to tackle you with hugs sometime soon <3 

Here we go! As always, reblogs and feedback are more than welcome, my ask box is always open :) 

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time. 

Inspired by this song: Terrible Love- Birdy 

Word Count: 5k 

** 

He’d be gone soon, and there was quite literally nothing that you could do about it. You started to do your normal routine when he was getting ready to leave. Step 1: ( and really it was the only step)  avoid him, avoid him, AVOID HIM. It made no sense, and it was incredibly childish on your part but it was a lot easier than having to face him, knowing his familiar and (annoyingly handsome) face would be gone from you far too soon. And for far too long. You started staying later at work to avoid having your weekly dinners with him, and you even went in on the weekends just to have an excuse as to why you couldn’t see him. Your favorite co workers had even caught on at this point, knowing not to even begin to ask why you suddenly looked so sad, and so defeated, literally all the time. It was gross and overly dramatic the lengths you were taking to avoid seeing him, and at the end of the day, it didn’t make you feel any better. At all. 

But your poorly thought out plan  of avoidance came to an abrupt halt the night before he was leaving. He had called and practically begged you to come over, saying he had a present for you and something about wanting to tell you goodbye. You couldn’t exactly tell what he said because you were too busy racking your brain to think of a way to get out of going. But when he called you by your full name, (which only happens when either of you are angry with each other, and or to get one’s attention right off the bat) you reluctantly decided to go. 

You had sullenly agreed to meet him at his place, it was easier to just agree to meet him than to keep trying to avoid him. He was inevitable, just like the waves of emotion you feel  when he leaves, heart breaking, and inevitable. When you had finally managed to drag your feet out of your car to his front door, he opened it before you even rang the bell. He swung the door open, and as soon as you saw his face, your stomach fell and you had to swallow the lump in your throat. His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth followed while his eyes focused on your makeup free, tired face. 

“Ah, so you do remember who I am!” he said it with a soft smile, realizing now that he got a chance to look at you that it must have taken a lot for you to come over. Clingy wasn’t the right way to describe you as a friend, let alone a best friend, but he was no stranger to the fact that him leaving for months at a time had an effect on you, as well as on him. He was quite sure you’d never be able to fully understand the effect you had on him, or on his life. How whenever he made a stupid joke, he’d look over to see if you thought it was funny too, or how he would sit in the exact spot as you whenever you left his house for the night, scooting down the seat far enough that your familiar smell surrounded him and he would let out the softest sigh. How sometimes he would even fall asleep in that position, just wanting to be reminded of you for as long as he could, even though you physically weren’t there. How it was a tradition for the two of you to exchange gifts before he left for tour, or more how it was a tradition that he would get you something in exchange for him getting to see you one last time, no matter how weepy and tired you were. 

You smiled as best you could for him, trying to hide the fact that you just wanted to cry seeing him standing there. You walked through his door without a word, and walked straight into his chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head several times. When he finally let you go, you turned and climbed on his kitchen counter to take a seat and he moved to stand in front of you. You could feel him staring a whole through you but your gaze was solely focused on the floor beneath you. 

He cleared his throat to break the silence before saying, “Thought we said you weren’t going to hide from me anymore for weeks at a time, before I leave for tour, hmm?” It wasn’t an angry question, he was stern but his tone was a gentle coo, and he was doing his slow blinking bit that makes your heart melt and beat faster all at the same time. When you finally looked up from the floor you shrugged your shoulders and started staring at the crown molding on his ceiling before making eye contact with him. 

“I’ve been busy with work H, really, really, realllllly busy,” you finished it with an innocent quirk of your eyes and a genuine smile to really try and sell the line. 

Harry ran his fingers through the top of his hair and nodded slowly, “Ah yeah right super busy with work, and avoiding your best friend pretending like he isn’t about to be gone for a few months,” his smirked at you when he saw your shoulders deflate and your eyes roll. 

You whimpered and dropped your head, “Don’t remind me please,” he caught your legs that were swinging back and forth under his countertop and spread his thumb over the top of your knee to get you to look at him. 

When it was clear he wasn’t going to speak first, you huffed before scooting back an inch on the counter. 

“I know you like to be gone and I know that you love touring,” you started, looking directly at him despite the tears forming. “I just hate that you have to physically leave to do it,” you squeaked out. A tear rolled down your cheek despite your best efforts and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His lips curled up into a small smile and then he was full on grinning at you. When he started chuckling you rolled your eyes and moved to kick him but he caught your calve, rubbing small circles into your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him and you couldn’t help but laugh even though you just wanted to kick him. 

“You know what, screw you, I’m glad you think this is so funny,” you huffed while rolling your eyes. 

Harry caught his breath and shook his head, “No no no, s’not funny love, I’m sorry. S’just so cute when yeh get like this right before I leave,” 

When you thought about it, you were always like this about him, regardless of his traveling schedule. You could always seemingly just cry from watching him from across the room, he had such a way of drawing people in, and you were powerless to that. It pained you to hear him call you cute, what were you his sister? The deepest part of your mind knew exactly how you felt about Harry, but you had yet to admit it to yourself, out loud anyway. Partly because you knew he would never feel the same way, and partly (mostly) because if you were to admit it to yourself how badly you wanted him, the admission would be too heavy to handle. Your chest ached at the thought of him leaving, but your chest ached more at the fact that you seemingly would never have the courage to tell him how you felt. He had had relationships over the years, and you had watched him fall in and out of love over and over again, always there to pick up the pieces. You however, had had few and far boyfriends and relationships in between. It was hard to commit to anything seriously when you were without knowing, (and partly actually knowing) that you were comparing them all to Harry. It wasn’t logical, and was a sort of self sabotage but how can you not compare everyone to him, when he’s just so….. Him? 

“How about while I’m gone, you house sit fo’ me? Don’t have to stay the whole time, but maybe just for the first few weeks? Y’know, it might ease the sting of me leaving for a little while?” 

When he smiled after his question you rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulders back as he tried to get closer to you. 

“You know actually now that I think about it I can’t wait for you to leave, so I can sell all of your stuff on ebay you wanker,” 

His mouth dropped and opened very over dramatically, and he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer to him. Face pressed against your neck you felt the smallest, shyest bit of pressure from his lips, and before you could process it he said, “Make sure you don’t sell those white loafers of mine love, know they’re your favorite,” 

That had you giggling and Harry smiling soft at you. When he lifted his face out of your neck your shared laughter had died down and you sat there just gazing at each other. His gaze flickered over your face and the butterflies you seemingly always felt when you were with him were swooping gently in your stomach and you felt warmer and warmer the longer he looked at you. 

When your lip quivered again despite your best efforts you didn’t hesitate when he pulled you into him again. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and he started humming softly in your ear. His hands were rubbing soft circles against your lower back and you felt yourself slowly melting into him. The rest of your night consisted of watching a movie on his couch and you sitting in his lap while he cuddled you from behind, your legs getting tangled eventually until you fell asleep halfway on top of him. When you woke up the next morning you watched as he gathered his last things to get ready to leave while you sipped coffee from your designated mug from his collection. 

You walked him out of his front door to the car waiting to take him to the airport and once you came to a stop in his driveway he leaned down to peck your cheek, you held his face to your cheek for a moment and you could feel him breathing you in. He moved his forehead to rest against yours and he murmured a soft, “Miss you already. Text you when I land, okay?” 

You could only nod your head as he kissed your forehead once more, completely overwhelmed with his face so close to yours. And just like that he was gone, and the air felt cold as soon as he stepped away and you shivered. The breath was knocked out of you as you made your way back into his house and you couldn’t help but drag your feet as you made your way back in. 

**

You had ultimately taken him up on his house sitting question, and even though you knew he was joking it actually did help the sting of him leaving. At least a little bit. It was comforting to be surrounded by his things and to be in his environment, but you still found yourself moping around his ridiculously larger than life house. It was hard for you to stay focused on anything for more than a few minutes before you were pilfering through his closets and drawers, smiling softly to yourself as you remembered items from his wardrobe that you had grown to love over the years. Running your hands along the stitches and seams of pieces that smelled of his cologne you found yourself getting teary eyed. You had cozied up in one of his shirts every night he had been gone and you were already planning to sneak some new additions home in your bag to add to your collection.

 You had tried to sleep on the couch in his living room, the large leather cushions felt like they were swallowing you whole, and you could smell his cologne etched into the fabric from all of his time he spent sitting there. Whether that was when he was scribbling down lyrics, or laughing into your hair as you watched a show together. You found yourself getting frustrated at yourself for crying about his couch? Seriously? Could you be more embarrassing, weepy, and grossly emotional? Pushing yourself up off of his couch you made your way down the hall to his bedroom. The entirety of your stay you had avoided going into his bedroom, it was ridiculous and made little sense even to you, but you had known that if you were in the space he spent the majority of his time in, you would never want to leave. You rested against the door frame and took a deep breath and crossing the threshold. Flicking on the lamp on his bedside table you smiled at the instant warmth you felt by just being in his room, in the space that he felt the most at home, it almost felt like he was right there with you. You pulled back the duvet and crawled into bed, his familiar scent overtaking your lungs all over again. You clutched the blankets in your hands for dear life, almost convinced that if you held onto them for long enough he would magically appear and be here with you. 

As much as you loved Harry, and you did, you truly did, you couldn’t help but think that it was a terrible sort of love. Thinking back to the song you and him would dramatically sing to one another to make each other laugh you realized how true the lyrics were for you, and how they had always perfectly described your relationship with him. 

It’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders, it’s a terrible love and I’m walking in… 

It’s quiet company, It’s quiet company, It’s quiet company….. 

From how badly you seemingly always wanted him, to how you couldn’t sleep without listening to a voice note he had sent you when he finally landed, or how you had to read one of the books on his bedside table to tire yourself out. The knowledge that his eyes had raked over the same lines of words and held the same spine of the book was enough to make your fingertips tingle and your chest ache. 

And I, can’t fall asleep, without a little help

It takes a while to settle down, my shivered bones, wait till the panic’s out….. 

At some point though, you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew daylight was breaking through his curtains and your eyes were stinging and swollen from the tears you had cried the night before. 

** 

You had been checking in with Harry every few days while he had been gone, most of the time it was a simple, “Miss you, thinking of you x” message from him, followed by a “Miss you, love you.” response from you. Your co-workers had noticed a small change in your mood, not exponentially, but a slight difference in your overall state. You weren’t bouncing off the walls excited but you also didn’t look like you were going to break down into tears every five seconds, either. One day your favorite co worker Lucy, who you had initially bonded with over your shared love of trashy bravo reality TV shows, had a “fail proof” way to cheer you up even more. 

“Alright, I know you’re too busy missing that bloke to even know what day it is, but I think I have something, or someone that can take your mind off of him, completely?” she all but squeaked out, obviously very excited and very proud of herself for coming up with such a revolutionary idea, if her eyebrows stamped on top of her forehead in question weren’t telling enough. 

You had rolled your eyes halfway through her talking and quirked an annoyed eyebrow up at her in question. 

“Oh yeah? Tell me Luce, what would this “fail proof” idea of yours be anyway?” 

“Well I am so glad you asked! Remember that guy I was telling you about a while back? The friend of a friend who actually seems like a super sweet, sugary stick of a guy! Connor? Ringing any bells?” 

You couldn’t help the scowl that settled across your face, the name just sounded so bland, ordinary, and not what you were looking for.... Like, remotely. When you really thought about it, what you were looking for was a loud, sometimes obnoxious knobhead of a man who tripped over his own feet and wears vaguely inappropriate graphic tees and someone who has an absurd love for pea’s and calls him Mum each chance he gets and someone who has kind eyes and who acts like he’s never met a stranger. Oh how nice that would be. 

Lucy took your silence and facial expression as not only a no, but a hell no. But when you looked at her crestfallen face, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad, you hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings or her attempts at being a matchmaker. Maybe she was right? Maybe this was a good idea? Maybe he was harmless and she genuinely thought the two of you might have something in common..? Plus, what’s one night? You could get someone to buy you dinner and at the end of the night you were still going home to Harry. Crap- Harry’s house- you mean. 

“You know what Luce, that would be fine! Sounds fun actually!” you were lying through your teeth but you smiled anyway to try and really sell it. 

“Eeeek! Yay! Oh you two are going to have the best time, I just know it! Let me call him for you, babe!” she reached over to give you a squeeze, and you hugged her back all the same despite the uneasiness you were already feeling. 

** 

The date had been…. Fine. Nice, even. That’s really all you could say to describe it, to describe him. He was nice and charming, and smiled at you every chance he got, but something just wasn’t right. There was nothing wrong with him necessarily, either, he just wasn’t what you were hoping for. He had paid for your dinner and asked you question after question about yourself trying to get to know you, he had opened the door to the restaurant for you and the car door when he drove you home. To be honest, he was a complete and utter gentleman the whole evening, but something about him just screamed vanilla to you. He had leaned in for a kiss on your cheek when you opened your door to leave, and in response you squeezed his hand and thanked him before muttering a “thank you, see you”. 

When you had made your way back inside of the house you pulled your phone from your bag to see a missed facetime call and three texts from Harry. You couldn’t help your squeal when you saw his name and you immediately swiped your thumb over the notification and checked yourself in the reflection of your phone. The longer your phone rang the more nervous you got, you hadn’t seen him despite a few pictures of him on stage and one he sent to you the first night of the leg of the tour. 

When his face appeared on the screen you felt your eyelashes hit your eyebrows from smiling so hard and the biggest grin took over your entire face. You clapped your free hand over your forehead and giggled when you saw his tired eyes find yours on the screen. 

“There she is! Hi love,” 

You let out a small laugh, “Hi H,” 

His dimples were showing and you saw his eyes searching the background of his kitchen you were sitting in. 

“Ah, so I see you haven’t gone and sold all of my belongings after all, huh love?” 

“Yeah yeah well for now anyways,” you rolled your eyes and were giggling softly and he was smiling softly, smittenly at you. 

When you got up from your place at the island to take off your coat Harry asked you, “Did you just get in? S’little late isn’t?” 

Your eyes flicked back on the screen immediately and you could have sworn you heard the slightest twinge of jealousy, maybe even annoyance in his tone. His brows were furrowed when you made eye contact with him and you raised yours at him in response. You finished taking off your coat and picked your phone up again, bringing it eye level to your face. 

“Uh yeah, I actually had a sort-of date tonight. I walked in just a little bit ago actually,” you told him easily. 

You saw his jaw clench and you shifted in your seat. Was he mad at you? He sounded pensive when he asked you the question and now his jaw was set in a fixed, hard line. You felt your cheeks fill up with heat and you couldn”t help but feel like you had done something wrong. Obviously you hadn’t, you were free to date and to see or not see whoever you wanted to, and so was Harry. You didn’t like the fact of him going out on dates, but that was besides the point.

You were studying his face and when he turned his head to the side to stretch his neck out and you couldn’t miss the red, splotchy marks on the side of his neck. Your eyes were stinging and you were glad you were sitting down for the duration of this dramatic turn of events phone call. Looks like someone had been having fun on the road with god knows who. Who the hell was he to question about your whereabouts when he was clearly preoccupied with other things? With other people? You suddenly felt sick to your stomach and you could feel your eyes start to brim with tears. You always imagined yourself being the one to  press marks and kisses and love bites into the warm skin of his neck. The thought that someone else was doing that in your absence night after night on tour made you want to sink to the floor and sob. 

He cleared his throat after the moment of silence and your barely wet eyes met his. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get it out you cleared your throat and thought quickly of an excuse to get off of the phone before he could see you break down. 

“You know H, I should probably go, I have an early meeting in the morning and I should get some sleep,” you sheepishly smiled at him before your gaze fell to the floor. 

You could feel his gaze on you, hard even through the screen. He coughed to fill the silence and you could hear him shifting in his seat. 

“Erm, yeah love sure. Get some rest. Talk to you soon?” he smiled weakly at you and you could only nod your head. 

Your voice wavered and you squeaked out, “Love you,” 

He repeated the words back to you and you looked at him one more time before hanging up. 

Your head fell and you couldn’t help the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. The notion that you were never going to be with him in that way, came smacking you in the face, once again. This is part of the reason you never wanted to truly deal with your feelings about him, they were too big and too deafening. They made your hands shake and your fingertips itch with the need to touch him. They made your chest heave and your throat burn when you saw him looking at you from across the room. They knocked the wind out of you every time he left and they were stronger every time he came back. They were loud and never ending and warm and made you feel like you were home, they were made out of everything that makes him, him. 

Rising up from your perch on his kitchen floor, you dragged yourself to bed. His bed. God, could you be any more pathetic and weepy? It was like you were trying to break a world record of how many tears you could cry over one Harry Styles. Why does even his name have to be so god damn charming? Could he not make it this easy to be so out of your mind, in love with him? It was like the universe was laughing at you and you just prayed that Harry didn’t have cameras hidden in his house somewhere and he was watching you throw yourself a massive, walleyed fit. 

Pulling his duvet that smelled so much of him and now of you, you pulled the covers over your eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

** 

You had ended up spending the entire leg of the tour staying at his house. It was never your intention to stay the whole time, but the longer you were there the less you wanted to go back to your house. His house was warm and comforting and as sad as you were about his new flame he seemed to have, you couldn’t leave. 

The two of you had talked a few times since that fateful facetime call, and he was set to come home the day after tomorrow. You had been dreading seeing him but the feeling in the pit of your stomach and the race of your heart at the mere vision of him walking through the door told you otherwise. 

**

Work had been slow for you the next day, not like you would be able to actually get anything done if you tried, too antsy at the thought of him coming later than evening.  When the day was done and over and there were no other possible reasons for you to stay in the office any longer, you started your way back to his house. 

When you punched in the code at his front door to find it was already unlocked, your stomach dropped to the sidewalk beneath you and you panicked. The little wanker was home two hours early. Crap crap crap crap CRAP! You took a deep breath before pushing the door open, the warmth from his house meeting your cheeks and coloring them as soon as you walked through the door. 

As soon as you shut the door you heard a gasp followed by your name and suddenly a six foot mop of curls were making their way down the stairs. He snuck up behind you and scared the absolute crap out of you and you let out a loud, shrill of a laugh when he spun you around. 

When he finally sat you down you got a look at him properly, your heart turned to mush and you felt your knees go weak at being this close in proximity to him again. 

“S’bout time you showed up doll, too busy with that new boyfriend of yours, eh?” he winked at you but you could tell there was a sort of twist at his stomach at his question. 

You hadn’t mentioned to him that you hadn’t seen Connor since that night, or the fact that you didn’t really want to see him, ever again. 

You let out an uncomfortable laugh and shook your head while running your fingers through the hair he messed up in his jostling of a greeting. 

“Yeah uh, definitely not, H,” you laughed. 

When he leaned his head back to laugh, you saw the marks again. They were bright red this time and it was impossible to miss them. You felt your knees start to go slack and you had the sudden urge to bolt. 

“Well,” you started, rubbing your suddenly very clammy hands together. “I guess I’ll go gather my stuff up and get out of your hair, I’m sure you’re exhausted.” you smiled while you passed by him and when he couldn’t see you you closed your eyes at the smell of his cologne washing over you. 

He was quick to turn around and follow after you, “Y’don’t have to go, could sit and talk fo’ a bit. Tell you all about the tour an’ all that,” he smiled his softest smile and you just wanted to fall into him. 

“Actually uh now that I think about it, I forgot I have plans, so I’ll just see you at the party on Saturday, H.” you nervously huffed out, feeling very hot and nervous under his gaze all of a sudden. 

“Oh,” he spoke up, “So you are coming to that?” he asked with the slightest tinge of pink to his cheeks. 

“Of course I am, I’ll see you then, H.” you smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. But before you could back up Harry gripped your hips softly and held you to him for a moment. 

“Really did miss you,” he all but whispered in your ear. His voice had a raspy, honey tone to it, and it made your eyes fall shut again. 

You pulled back from your place against his neck and gazed back at him. His eyes were soft and he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. He started to lean farther towards you and your eyes shot up from his mouth. 

“I really missed you too, H.” you softly said to him. “I’ll see you soon.” you rubbed your thumbs in soft circles over his forearms and finally side stepped him to leave. 

Bags in hand and your heart in your throat you made your way to your car to leave. When you looked back he was already looking at you. You smiled wordlessly and he winked back at you. 

** 

You had managed to keep yourself from crying until you were halfway down the street. 

When you got to your familiar street, you put the car in park and pulled your phone out to text a number you hadn’t saved yet. Swallowing harshly you wiped underneath your eyes to get rid of the tears that had started to form, again. 

Typing out you wrote, “Hey, had a wonderful time with you the other night, what are you up to Saturday?” 

#eeeeeeek i hope you like it!!!! #terrible love #going to hide now hehehe #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry fluff #oh the yearning #part two should be up sometime this next week!!!! #EEEEEEEK