#in which he kills harry styles and then becomes harry styles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adore-laur · 6 months

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HOME IS A FEELING

— former high school sweethearts reunite for a conversation about what went wrong 🌃

——

"Don't turn around."

The vague statement thrown your way sends speculations trickling through your brain. Those three words usually never mean anything good. What is it? Or who is it? Whatever the mystery, it makes you anxious based on your friend's wary expression.

"Just tell me," you say timidly, becoming tense in the diner booth with a forkful of red velvet cake halfway to your mouth. "Tell me so I don't have the urge to actually turn around."

"Your ex," she mutters, never one to beat around the bush, much to your appreciation. "He just walked in. Don't kill me for saying this, but he looks really good."

You kick her foot under the table and sink further into the leather seat. "Why is he here? He's supposed to be in another country."

It's not an exaggeration or falsity. Harry is supposed to be in not only another country but also another continent entirely—the Netherlands, to be exact.

Your friend risks another glance at the front door. "Well, he's back, and it's like he never left. Look at them..." She shakes her head slowly. "Hyping him up like he's a goddamn hero."

You assume she means the people you went to high school with. A hometown get-together with a small crowd of classmates from nearby colleges is being held at everyone's favorite local retro-style diner to celebrate the last week of summer break. It was going swell until Mr. Marine Biologist, who probably makes studying abroad his whole personality, waltzed through the door.

You cradle your left cheek with your hand to create a shield for your face in case he happens to look over. "I'm almost done with my cake, and then we can leave."

"Good luck," she sings. "The only booth open is the one right behind us."

Of course. Sighing, you silently pray that Harry won't come near you. You doubt he'll try to talk to you anyway since it's been complete radio silence on both ends for over two years. You're really hoping the breakup doesn't get brought up.

A sudden and forceful compulsion tells you to catch a quick glimpse to see how he looks, what he wears nowadays, and how he acts when you're not around. It's hard to resist.

"He's coming this way," alerts your friend through a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

The universe must be listening, and you can't combat the urge anymore. Someone as beautiful as him begs to be looked at. You sure as hell didn't break up with him because he was unattractive.

Subtly peeking to your left, you see Harry in person for the first time in what seems like forever. It's only a short window of time where you can take in his presence as he walks closer to sit with a group of people in the booth behind you.

Black skinny jeans. Nothing has changed there.

Chelsea boots. Since when does he wear those?

A gray, tattered sweater, and a blue beanie. It's summer, for crying out loud.

Most surprising, however, is his hair, which now falls just a tad below his jaw. The same soft curls you would run your fingers through until he fell asleep.

You continue picking at your dessert, your mind running a mile a minute at the sight of him. The fact that he's behind you—thankfully facing the other way—but still inches away nonetheless is nerve-wracking. If you move your head back even the tiniest bit, it'll touch his own.

Did he notice you? Does he know his ex-girlfriend is in the same room and thinking about everything he could be thinking? Like how you never forgot about him as much as you tried to?

He's speaking, but you can't piece together what he's saying because you're too distracted by how his voice has deepened over the years. The rasp and British drawl are still there, and the warmth and comfort of it still make your heart race.

Your friend keeps stealing glances and looking at you with apprehensive eyes that cause prickles of anxiety on your skin. "What?" you whisper.

Before she can reply, you feel something nudge the back of your neck. You strain your peripheral vision and see Harry's elbow resting on the top of your booth.

"Oops, sorry," he says, twisting around in his seat.

You automatically turn and look at him. It's impossible not to since he's like a human magnet for the eyes. His face is so close to you now. Have his eyes gotten greener? Why does he have such beautiful lashes? Does he have more freckles on his nose since you saw him last?

Snap out of it!

"It's fine," you mumble, shaking your head and quickly turning around. Your heart feels like it's in your throat.

Finishing the rest of your dessert, you lean forward so he doesn't accidentally bump you again. Your friend raises her eyebrows at you and taps her foot against yours.

"So, your brother is coming to visit soon?" you ask, ignoring her questioning look and attempting to make any sort of conversation to distract from Harry.

"Yeah, tomorrow. My mom is going to weep happy tears."

"Aw. Remind me to visit her before the semester starts."

The leather seat suddenly squeaks behind you, and your breathing goes uneven for the third time tonight.

"You guys want anything to drink?" Harry asks his group of friends.

They all tell him their desired orders, and shortly after, you see him walk past your booth. He heads toward the counter with long strides and hands he doesn't know what to do with. His back is turned, so you use your chance to shamelessly observe him. He looks different but familiar all the same. He has the same body, although he looks buff. Same friendly personality, although you've missed out on it lately. Same gentle presence, although it wasn't that way the night you separated.

"Didn't you once tell me that he always ordered ginger ale at restaurants?"

You look at your friend, processing her question. "Yes. He never mixed it with anything, either. Just drank it straight up like a freak."

"Gross," she says with a wince. "I think he just ordered one."

Once again, the counter is your focal point; this time, you notice the glass of creamy yellow liquid on it. You internally gag at how Harry could still drink that. Harry then walks back to his booth, skillfully carrying two glasses in each of his hands like he worked as a waiter in his past life. You don't even try to hide the fact that you're staring.

Eventually, he catches your eye and abruptly stops in his tracks. You watch him blink a couple times before he continues to the table and sets down the drinks for everyone.

"I'll grab some napkins," he murmurs, leaving again.

You slide your empty plate toward the center of the table and watch him fumble while taking out napkins from the dispenser. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

When he walks by for the second time, he jerks his chin up to the ceiling. You furrow your eyebrows in response.

He nonchalantly repeats the gesture as he starts passing napkins around. You shake your head, nonverbally telling him that you have no clue what he's conveying.

His jaw clenches before he mouths, "Come with me."

"Absolutely not," you mouth back as you fiddle with the sugar packets.

Harry huffs and sits in his seat.

Everything used to be so easy with him.

——

Two Years Ago

It was graduation day, and you were inserting a silver hoop earring in the pierced hole of your earlobe when three thumps gently rattled your bedroom door.

"Knock knock."

In the reflection of your vanity mirror, you grinned giddily. "Come in! It's unlocked."

Harry opened the door with a pout on his lips. "You're supposed to say who's there."

"Wha—" you stammered confusedly, turning around in your chair. "I hate you."

He shuffled inside and immediately bellyflopped onto your bed. "Wow. I missed you too."

"Just kidding," you said, flashing him a winning smile. "You left your laptop charger here, by the way. I set it on the kitchen table."

"Thank you, baby," he mumbled into your pillow.

"Don't fall asleep."

"Mm, c'mere." He lazily patted the space next to him. "Let's cuddle before we have to sit far away from each other for the rest of the night."

"It'll only be for a couple of hours at most," you replied, putting in your other earring. "Don't be so dramatic."

After tidying your vanity area, you stood and slinked into bed with Harry. The lavender-colored sunset filtered through your sheer curtains and created a serene ambiance. Harry's body rolled over on top of yours, his weight providing the perfect amount of warmth and comfort. The scent of his almond oil shampoo reduced your nerves. You reached for your phone and set an alarm for fifteen minutes from now so he would have enough time to get ready, then pulled the blanket over both of your heads, not caring if the hair you spent precious time on became tousled. It would mostly be hidden under the immensely unflattering graduation cap anyway.

Harry's clean-shaven cheek rested on your chest, and he planted a chaste kiss on your collarbone. He had always been the affectionate type. Touch was his love language, and he never failed to fulfill it with you.

Every touch strengthened your love for him. Every touch left you longing for more. Every touch felt purposeful.

——

You swear he's doing it on purpose. You know he is.

Harry keeps leaning his head back until it faintly touches yours. Nuzzling it, if you will. That, or he'll clasp his hands behind his head and loosely twirl a strand of your hair.

This time, he pretends to yawn and stretch his arms before tickling behind your ear. He knows goddamn well it's the place where you're the most ticklish. You pretend to have an itch and bring your hands back to slap his burning touch away, but of course, he takes the opportunity to be a pest and capture your fingers.

You yank them away and clear your throat. "I need to go to the bathroom," you tell your friend before getting up and making a beeline straight to the back of the diner.

When you open the door, you sigh relievedly when you find all the stalls open, and no one is lingering. You pace toward the farthest wall and rub your hands down your face. Two years without Harry, and not a single call or text, only the occasional picture you'd see of him when you caved and scrolled through his social media during particularly lonely nights. Yet tonight, he acts like you're best buds who can tease each other and initiate playful touches like you didn't end on a terrible note that made both of your hearts shatter into smithereens. Maybe this is some bizarre dream you'll wake up from and laugh about later.

You blow out a sharp breath and wash your hands before splashing cold water onto your heated cheeks.

"Were my hands dirty or something?"

Your whole body flinches. Now, he's just plain annoying. How long has he been standing there?

"Why are you in here?" you ask monotonously.

Footsteps come closer. You keep your back turned.

He laughs softly and says, "How've you been?"

Such a master at avoiding questions. "That wasn't what I asked."

"That wasn't an answer," he replies smugly. You can practically hear the satisfied smile in his voice.

"I've been fantastic, Harry," you say, your words laced with petty sarcasm. "What about you?"

"You sound stressed." He's right next to you now. "Is it because of your job? I heard you're an assistant teacher at the middle school."

Your hands grip the edge of the marble sink. "Who told you that?"

"I knew you'd be here," he says, as if it were obvious. "I had to ask people what you've been up to since you clearly weren't going to tell me yourself."

He asked about you? No, that can't be right. Turning to face him, you let your guard down just a little. "I'm helping with the summer school program."

Harry smiles. If you analyze it enough, it almost looks like a proud one. "That's amazing. What grade do you want to teach in the future?"

A conversation with your ex-boyfriend about career aspirations is entirely too casual for your liking. Doesn't he have friends to catch up with? Some ginger ale to drink?

You shrug and truthfully say, "I haven't decided yet. It's a big decision."

He nods, crossing his arms. "You've got time."

Silence hangs except for the drip of the faucet.

"So... I assume you're still studying marine biology?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

He hums an affirmation. "I'm almost done with my bachelor's degree, and then I'll be on my way to becoming one with the ocean."

You almost let a laugh slip out. "Well, I'm sure it's beautiful in Europe. I can't imagine the view every day."

He nonchalantly plucks a stray strand of hair off your sleeve, making your blood rush. "It is, yeah. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but it's been nice to live somewhere so different from what I was used to."

"You don't have a roommate?"

"Nope, just me. I don't really like sharing my space."

Only if it was with you. He's told you that before. Not that it matters now.

"I know. Don't know why I even asked."

It's a bold statement but a tenuous breakthrough in the barrier of the inevitable and awkward breakup conversation you're dreading.

Harry inhales and takes a step closer. "Come up to the rooftop with me. I don't want our first conversation in two years to be in the women's restroom."

You give him an apologetic look and say, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to head home soon and get up early for work tomorrow."

He toys with the bottom of your shirt. "Please."

It's a soft whisper that echos in the empty space, a begging tone chipping away at the walls built around your heart, paired with pleading eyes so clear and tender. Harmless.

"Okay." You'll kick yourself later for giving in so easily. "Okay, fine. Let's go." You pull out your phone and send a quick text message to your friend about where you'll be. She'll understand the weight of the situation.

Harry walks out of the bathroom, with you following behind. He takes a sharp right toward the concealed metal stairs leading to the diner's roof. He leaves some room so the two of you can walk side by side, your clothes rustling against each other in the narrow space. The rusty door opens, and you step out onto the flat concrete.

Little squares of light shine from the city buildings far away. They cause a strange feeling to wash over you. It can only be described as a powerful wave of hometown nostalgia, even though you never left. You wonder if it's hitting Harry as well.

He stands by the edge and leans his forearms on the railing, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. Is it reminiscence? Yearning? Regret? All could be the reason for the melancholy shift in energy.

"What did we do wrong?"

——

Three Months After Graduation

The party turned sour out of the blue. Harry's friend hadn't just said what you think he said. It was loud, so you must have heard him wrong. Why didn't he tell you? Why did you have to find out from his drunk friend who's not even close to him?

Harry definitely saw your face drop because he instantly pulled you into an unoccupied bedroom upstairs. You'd been arguing for the past half hour, neither one of you inebriated funny enough, but still throwing words that were more like weapons at each other—launching arrows at the heart, shooting daggers at the eyes, and slashing swords in the Achilles heel.

Your weak spot was him, and you were his.

You stood your ground as you spoke your closing statement with frustrated tears. "I'm never going to see you if you're abroad, so what's the difference if I just leave now and never see you again?"

"Will that make you happy?" He was being stubborn; you were, too. "Because obviously, I don't make you happy enough for this to continue. For us to at least try."

He did make you happy, but anger blindly leads people to say what they don't mean, especially in cases of love.

"Obviously not." Lies, lies, lies. "It's useless when we know it'll end badly."

Harry released a bitter laugh. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Fine," you repeated.

You should have fought for him, but what would have been the use if you had known it would only hurt you in the long run?

He roughly swung the door open and then turned around one last time. "You can come pick up your stuff at my house this weekend. I won't be home."

The door slammed shut, and reality sunk in.

——

The open sign of the diner flickers below.

"We did a lot wrong," you declare defeatedly, standing beside him.

"True, but we were eighteen and didn't know anything about communication or how to balance adult shit."

The conversation is heading toward a place you don't want it to go. "I really don't want to talk about our breakup, Harry. It's in the past. We've moved on."

He shakes his head. "Why? There was no closure whatsoever. I think it'd be good to get some now that we're face-to-face."

In the distance, you watch birds flock on the wire of a telephone pole. "Why didn't you just ignore me tonight? We've been doing fine without each other."

He scoffs quietly and leans his body against the railing. "Really? I was homesick for months because of you. You felt like home to me, you know that. The feeling never disappeared no matter how much I pushed it down."

You throw your arms out. "Then why didn't you call or text me? I would've replied, Harry. I'm not that cruel."

"I thought you hated me," he says. "I wouldn't have blamed you. I just couldn't stand having you hate me, so I thought it'd be easier not to talk to you."

It's the classic tale of a high school mindset. You think you're doing the right thing until it slaps you across the face with the hand of cluelessness. You wonder what would've happened if Harry had reached out. Maybe you could've figured it out.

"I didn't hate you," you admit. How could anyone hate him? "I mean, I might've thought that I hated you, but if anything, I still loved you for way too many months after."

Harry looks like he wants to say something, but you continue. "Like you said, we were young and didn't know how to balance a relationship and our lives outside of it. Two years can really mature a person, and we both needed to do that without each other."

He nods while stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

The conversation stops at a dead end. There's nothing else to say since it's a mutual understanding of what went wrong.

The breeze picks up, and you shiver before asking, "How long are you here for?"

He clears his throat. "I'm staying with my mum, then I have a flight back to the Netherlands in a few days. I have to go back for an ecology camp."

"That's nice," you say. A couple of days. That knowledge causes an unwanted sinking feeling to take place in your stomach.

"Do you…" He raises his thumb to his mouth, nervously biting his fingernail. "Can we maybe talk more before I leave?"

It's an open opportunity, but what would it lead to? What would come of it? Would it be worth the pain?

"What's there to talk about? You're leaving soon, and then we'll never speak again."

You've taken logical truth more seriously over the years. You've learned that holding on to false hope is dangerous for the heart and mind.

"That won't happen," he replies with a pensive gaze. "We've grown and know how to communicate now. There's so much we've missed in each other's lives that we can talk about. I don't know where you live or the places you like to go anymore, who your friends are, or what new songs you like to listen to. It kills me."

A shaky breath escapes you. "It doesn't matter. We're not right for each other. Call me selfish, but I don't want a relationship where we barely see each other. I'm sure that's not what you want either."

"So, that's it?" he asks, staring at the sky. "Do you not want to give this another chance?"

You can't imagine a more complicated question to answer, but it seems you've known the answer for a while. Gently grabbing Harry's chin and tilting his face down, you say, "Right person, wrong time. It would never work with the distance, and you know that. Deep down, we both know, as much as it hurts to admit."

"What now? We're back to being strangers?"

"Harry, I don't think we'll ever be strangers. I know too much about you."

You're trying to lighten the mood, but Harry's sad eyes aren't helping at all. Instead, you focus on the stars twinkling brightly across the black sky and the single car driving by on the otherwise empty street. Every second that ticks by, he seems to move closer to you.

"If this is the last time I see you," Harry says apprehensively, "can I hold you for a little while? Give me that, and I won't ask you for anything else."

It'd be foolish to say no, wouldn't it? You need to feel him just as much. He's too significant of a person to let go of without a proper goodbye.

"You can hold me."

And so he does for the last time.

Harry closes the distance and embraces you like he always used to — his cheek resting on your head and his arms completely winded around you, squeezing the sides of your body. Breathing you in like he's scared of losing you. It's just you and him standing on a rooftop and holding on to any last bit you can get of each other.

You're tucked so far into his chest that the only thing you can hear is his heart pounding. He's warm and sentimental, and the nighttime chill makes you melt into him even more. He eases you — every laugh, every tear, every moment you share with him was brought about by the ease of being around him.

"You still feel the same." A pang ripples in your heart because of your own words, and a sob desperately tries to crawl up your throat.

Harry nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Yeah? You still smell the same."

You laugh, but it's choked with sadness. "What, like shitty teen store perfume?"

"No, you smell like home. Like when I used to go to your house for sleepovers, and you'd always light those vanilla candles."

Another pang, this time from his vulnerable confession. "I should go," you say, deterring the conversation from any more agony.

He doesn't argue. "Yeah, me too. I never really liked those people in there anyway."

You smile, stepping away from his arms. "I'll walk you to your car."

He nods, and the both of you retreat down the stairs, exiting the building through the back way to avoid any distractions. After reaching the front of the diner, you find his black Jeep sitting alone in a parking space. It's nice to know he still has it, considering it's a car with good memories, like Harry driving you to school every morning and picking up coffee. Or eating fast food outside the high school after a football game. Or nights of endless kissing and professions of love before he walked you to your doorstep.

Facing him under the moonlight tonight, it's time to officially move on.

"Bye. It was really nice to see you." A tear unexpectedly falls from your eye. Maybe it's due to the chilly temperature, but you know better.

Harry's face crumbles. Your composure shatters.

"Please don't cry," he pleads, biting his lip to stop it from wobbling. However, it's too late, and both of you give in to the misery and drama of it all.

"Now we're both crying."

He rubs his eyes and leans against his car door. "God, this fuckin' sucks."

"We'll be okay," you say weakly. "It's fine. We went two years without each other. You'll forget about me soon enough, and it'll be like this never happened."

You're only trying to convince yourself at this point.

"I never forgot about you. You were the first person I fell in love with. How do I move on from that?"

His choice of words isn't something you gloss over. Is he insinuating that he hasn't moved on yet? Should you tell him you haven't either?

Logical thinking, you mentally tell yourself. Don't say something that will make it harder to leave.

"I have to go home now." But isn't home standing right in front of you?

"Okay," Harry says. "I guess… good luck with everything. I hope teaching goes well for you."

You kick away a pebble on the pavement. "Thanks. I hope you become one with the ocean."

He laughs breathily, his dimples popping out for the first time tonight. He then inhales and gazes somewhere far away as his smile dies. When he looks back at you, he nods once before getting in his car.

"Wait."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

Don't make it harder.

Leave.

Don't hurt yourself.

Yet the way he looks at you is enough to ignore those logical thoughts. You lean forward and kiss his cold cheek, and it's like his entire body deflates under your hesitant touch. "Thank you for making me happy during the time we had together," you say against his tear-stained skin. "I never got to tell you that."

Harry sniffles and nods, then kisses your cheek a little longer and softer.

A lasting pang. A lingering sting. A sharp twinge.

Why?

Because the words he whispers to you cause silent tears to fall down your face when he finally closes the door and drives away.

You still mean so much to me.

——

Opening the door to your bedroom, the silence echoes louder than usual. The small space is where memories with Harry can still be found. There's the blanket he used to lie on, the desk he would sit on to help you study, and the dresser you used to keep his shirts in to wear when you missed him. The most tragic thing is an empty photo book on the top shelf of your closet that was meant to be filled with future road trips that never got planned. Next to it are unused polaroids for dates that stopped happening.

Piled at the bottom are a few that actually got used. A picture of Harry when the both of you went to a homecoming afterparty, and you didn't want to drink alcohol, so Harry drank orange Hi-C cartons with you to make you feel better. A picture of Harry on a floating water bouncer at the lake by your uncle's cabin when you went on summer vacation together after junior year. Your favorite picture of him is when he's turned around in the seat of the school auditorium, smiling widely. It was back in high school when nothing could separate you from him.

The pictures remind you of a time when you were in love—not only with him but with life. They feel like home to you.

That feeling of home seems impossible to catch now. It's like chasing a butterfly that keeps escaping from the loose grasp of your hands because you don't want to hurt it.

Are you the hands, or are you the butterfly?

——

The journal on top of Harry's suitcase mocks him. He shouldn't open it, but logical thinking has never been his strong suit.

The first page has pressed and dried lavender taped onto it from the first date he took you on. The next has your drawings in the margin from when you would steal his journal while he studied. Yet most of the pages are filled with lovesick entries about you.

- January 29th -

Last night, I told her I was falling in love with her. She said no one had ever told her that before, and I couldn't believe it. How could someone not instantly fall in love from the moment she walks into a room?

Then she told me that she loved me too. I swear I almost cried with happiness. She's the one for me. I see us being together for the long haul.

I hope she sees the same thing.

- June 6th -

We graduated! We're finally done with high school!

When they called my name, my eyes went to hers first. She looked so proud of me. I wonder if I could convince her to rent an apartment with me instead of staying in different dorms.

College will be strange, but we'll get through it together. I have no doubt we'll adapt and find time for each other.

I always have time for her.

- August 2nd -

I think I'm going to tell her about the college I chose. She's not going to take it well. It's abroad, but it's the best school for marine biology.

She wants to stay close to home, but I want to get out and travel. There's nothing hard about talking through some of our differences, right? Long-distance relationships can work if you put in the effort. We can do it.

If this ends up biting me in the ass, you'll never hear from me again.

Harry stopped writing in his journal after the breakup. It's almost funny, he supposes. He jinxed it in the last entry. He thought of the worst-case scenario, and it came to fruition right before him only days later.

Blissful ignorance is what he'll call it. Two high school sweethearts who didn't know what would hit them. Foolishly in love and blinded by reality. But the thing is, it's not easy to just move on from it. Especially when he brought those damn vanilla candles from his dorm room to his mum's house so he could sleep better at night.

So he can be reminded of home.

It was never a place when he was with you. Home became a feeling that bloomed without warning. It took him by surprise when he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. His home was entirely, ultimately, and unconditionally you.

Harry closes his journal and brings it with him as he heads out the door to search for a drop of that feeling in the places you used to go.

The places he will write about until his hand aches as much as his heart.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles #adore-laur #home is a feeling

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avatar-anna · 10 months

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Girl Gone Live

this is literally so stupid and so corny, but i don't care i'm here for a good time, not a long time, you know? enjoy!

"Okay, is this working? How do I know this is working?"

You squinted at the screen, feeling older than you actually were as you waited for some sign that the live stream you set up was working. Thankfully, comments started rolling through and the viewer count went up, and then it started to skyrocket, which made you a little nervous.

"I...think it's working! Cool. Well, um, obviously I'm Y/n L/n, and I'm a celebrity makeup artist. I recently did Olivia Rodrigo's makeup for her music video 'Vampire,' and I thought I would kind of walk you through how I achieved that look, I guess."

Before going live, you'd considered making a little script but decided against it. Hearing yourself bumble through the introduction now, though, you kind of wished you had.

No one seemed to be put off by your awkwardness, though. As comments streamed past, you saw some about the music video and Olivia and what it was like to work with her, but there were also a lot about Harry. You weren't necessarily surprised by Harry's fans flooding the comment section because you sometimes appeared in the background of posts from other people on Love on Tour and you'd become known as the tour's makeup artist. Sometimes you posted the looks you did for performances and little videos of you doing makeup before the show. The attention was a little jarring if you thought about it too long, but you decided it could be worse. After all, you were Harry Styles' long-term girlfriend.

But that wasn't what this livestream was about.

Your eyes scanned the comments as they moved a mile a minute, hoping to snag on a question. "Oh! Someone asked how I met Olivia. Um, as some of you may know, I'm currently working as the makeup artist for Love on Tour, and Olivia came to one of the shows, and we just talked for a really long time about makeup, and she asked me to do her makeup for the video a few weeks later."

It was a fun side gig while you were on tour with Harry and his band. You loved touring for the most part, but this was something different and exciting, so you flew back home during a break in the tour to work with Olivia on "Vampire." Harry tagged along, happy to watch you work instead of the other way around for once. He had a grin on his face the whole time as he watched you do your thing, playing assistant, grabbing whatever you needed when you asked, and holding a palette for you while you did Olivia's makeup. Overall, it was a fun shoot for both of you.

You were back on tour now, and since you had a little time to kill, you decided to go live for the first time to talk about makeup. If it went well, you could maybe make it a regular thing, so you hoped people actually watched and were interested.

*.*

Brynn watched her phone intently, pen in hand as she waited for Y/n to name-drop the next product she was using so she could write it down and see if she could afford it later. Not only was Brynn a huge fan of Olivia Rodrigo, but she had been a Harry Styles fan since she was in grade school, and when she got the notification that Y/n was going live, she was one of the first people to join.

"Luxury or drugstore makeup? Good question," Y/n said as she moisturized her face. "Honestly both. I love trying new things and seeing what works for me. When I was starting out, I mostly had MAC in my makeup kit, but now I've branched out a little more and added things here and there. But that's my professional kit, which has all the things I know with certainty will work perfectly for whatever look I'm trying to achieve. My personal one is where I do more experimentation with brands and products and trends. I guess that doesn't really answer the question, so both. I definitely use both.

"And what's cool is that Olivia loves makeup too, so she kind of knew her way around and what products worked best for her," Y/n continued.

She's so cool, Brynn thought as Y/n moved onto explaining how she did Olivia's base makeup. She didn't feel like Y/n was trying to push any particular product on her audience, nor did she hide which products she used. Her explanations were clear and easy to follow, and she even gave alternative products when she used one that was on the pricier side.

"Olivia loves herself a glowy base, and we really played that up because of the song. So to give her that Cullen-esque sparkle, I added some liquid highlighter into her foundation."

Brynn watched intently, wanting to see just how Y/n did it. Then, feeling compelled, she typed a comment. She didn't think Y/n would notice it, or be able to see it at all amongst the thousands of others, but she couldn't help but try to be noticed.

As Y/n blended her foundation in, Y/n smiled. "Someone asked how long it takes to do Harry's makeup on tour. Um...It kind of depends. Sometimes it's hard to actually get him in the chair because he gets so pumped up before he goes onstage. But once he settles enough for me to do it, it goes pretty quick. If he lets me, I get to put a little bit of glowy balm on his cheeks, but that's as creative as I get."

Y/n's smile changed, though Brynn couldn't really say how. It was almost like she was exasperated as she talked about Harry, and Brynn became just a tiny bit jealous that this person on the other side of her screen for knowing him well enough to be exasperated by him. What she wouldn't give to chase Harry Styles around so she could do his makeup. It left Brynn wondering how people even got into these situations.

Y/n finished up her base makeup while she answered more questions about the makeup products she used for the music video and a few about Love on Tour. She talked about her favorite songs and the places she'd been and the people she hung out with before and after shows.

"Oh boy, okay. I'm not a huge fan of bold lip colors on myself, but this is what I used on Olivia," Y/n said as she lined her lips. She'd just finished adding a light, almost haphazard, dusting of shimmer to her eyes, and despite the pixelated live stream feed, Brynn could still see it catch the light. "We wanted this to be the focal point of the whole look because, you know, vampires."

Y/n stopped talking briefly as she applied the lipstick she used for the music video, then shifted from side to side with her hands beneath her chin to show off the finished look. "Not my usual style, but—"

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

For a moment, Brynn thought she was dreaming. Mouth dropped open in shock, she watched as Harry Styles appeared onscreen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His hair was messy, as if he'd just been sleeping or a storm had just run through it. The video quality wasn't great because it was a live stream, but Brynn couldn't help but think he looked so cute and warm with his sleepy eyes, especially as he stretched his arms above his head, though her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when the waistband of his sweatpants dropped a centimeter. Not even caring that they'd fallen a bit, Harry shuffled forward and sat down next to Y/n and kissed her shoulder. He didn't seem to notice Y/n's phone propped up in front of her, or the look of disbelief and slight horror on her face. Not when she tried to speak to him, and not when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

And through it all Brynn watched, feeling like she'd entered an alternate dimension.

"You look cute. I like the sparkle," Harry said, tapping his knuckle against Y/n's nose. She still looked like she was in shock, but when he leaned in—leaned in to kiss her, Brynn realized—Y/n seemed to shake off some of her stupor.

"We—We're not alone," she said, gently resting her fingers over Harry's mouth to stop him.

Brynn didn't want to tear her eyes away from Harry and Y/n, but she darted her gaze down to the comment section, which confirmed everything. This was no dream, this was really happening, and everyone who was watching was losing their minds.

"What do you mean, lovie?" Harry asked, brows furrowing, clearly confused by Y/n's odd behavior. He finally looked at the camera, his brows shooting up when he realized that Y/n was live streaming all of this. "Oh."

"Yeah 'oh.'"

"I thought you were on the phone—"

"I wasn't!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know! You didn't tell me. And since when—"

"Harry put a shirt on!"

Brynn watched their bickering in a daze, waiting for the inevitable end of the live stream. To her surprise, though, Harry grinned a little before taking Y/n—and the whole Internet, to be honest—by surprise and kissing her.

"Are you insane?"

Harry merely shrugged. He leaned in again, but Y/n pushed his face back with the palm of her hand. They began to bicker again, but this time, Y/n scrambled for her phone in the process.

"You drive me crazy."

"Now, I know that's not true."

"Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God—"

And just like that, the live stream ended with a wink. Brynn stared down at her phone almost as if she was waiting for Harry and Y/n to reappear on her screen. They didn't, and she was left sitting alone in her bedroom, wondering what the hell had just happened.

#harry styles #harry styles x makeup artist! yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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unseededtoast · 7 months

Text

We'll Be Alright | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you discover that the line between love and hate is quite fine. Your actions are done out of love, but they only make you hate yourself more and more. Inspired by "Fine Line" by Harry Styles

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

WC: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst, pining, mention of Ed Gein, mention of blood, use of guns, that sorta thing

a/n: Back at it again with another Spencer Reid oneshot. I hope you all like it, I think this is one of my favorites so far.

"I could live with you hating me, but I couldn't live in a world without you."

With a smile on your face you listen to Spencer ramble on about how he put the pieces together to find the unsub while you two ride to the scene together. He speaks with such passion and you don't think you'll ever get tired of listening to him, his mind is a brilliant thing and you make sure to remind him every chance you get. You can tell that sometimes when he gets fired up about something he starts becoming insecure, fearing that the others will make some snide comment or dismiss his thoughts. But not you, you listen intently every time, hanging onto every word.

Spencer has played a very vital role in developing you into the analyst you are today. Where the others were satisfied with letting you learn on your own, and showing you pointers here and there, Spencer took the time to explain nuanced ideas to you. He showed genuine interest and care, and you gave him your undivided attention. This dynamic created a tight bond with the two of you, allowing you to work together seamlessly and at times, it's like you read each other's thoughts.

"I knew you could do it." You tell him as you pull onto the scene. He utters a thanks as the two of you get out of the car and join the rest of the team.

The unsub is nearby and the team is just waiting for him to show up; Garcia had been able to track his phone and his movement aligned with the area you and Spencer had narrowed down as the next area of interest. Hotch, Morgan, and Emily give you both a nod of acknowledgement and the five of you begin scouting out the area to look for any signs of the unsub, he should be here by now.

This particular unsub sent a chill down your spine, and not much gets to you anymore. His modus operandi was always to kill his victims, skin them, and use their flesh for various purposes. It's like he was trying to be Gein's prodigy, except he never dug up a grave, he preferred to kill them all himself. The team had found his workshop early in the investigation, but the unsub was nowhere to be found, until now. Seeing household objects made of flesh isn't going to soon leave your memory, you're sure of it.

"There he is!" Morgan yells and points to a man crossing the street with a paper bag in his hand. Everyone takes off in a sprint towards him and you pull your firearm from the holster strapped to your thigh. The unsub takes off, trying to evade you all.

Emily and Hotch split up from the rest of the team to try and cut him off up ahead, leaving you, Spencer, and Morgan trailing him. The little man is fast, you'll give him that much. Eventually, he ducks down an alleyway, unaware it's a dead end, and turns back to look at you all with wide, stunned eyes. You see the panic in his eyes and as Morgan shouts instructions at him, you see him reach inside of his jacket.

The unsub pulls a gun of his own and aims it right at Spencer. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. Spencer puts his hands up in surrender while you and Morgan keep your sights trained on him.

"Put the guns down or I'll shoot him, I swear I'll do it, just like the others!" The unsub declares while switching the safety off of his gun. Your hands begin to shake with adrenaline, but you don't put your gun down. Faintly, you can hear Morgan informing Hotch and Emily of the situation via radio but it's like you have tunnel vision on the man in front of you.

"Do it now!" He screams erratically and you see his finger dance on the trigger, just about to pull it.

An internal battle wages itself inside your mind, trying to quickly assess the pros and cons of listening to the man. Just as you go to lower your gun, you see the man grin sickeningly at Spencer with an evil glint shining in his eye; you've seen that look before. Without thinking, you turn and knock Spencer out of the way just as you hear the shot go off. Spencer slams into the brick wall beside him, chest heaving with panicked breaths. Behind you, you can hear Morgan yelling something but his voice sounds miles away.

All you feel is a blinding, white-hot pain.

Blinking rapidly, you look down and see that your shirt is quickly becoming stained a deep scarlet red. Your heart is pumping at an alarming pace, you can feel your pulse in your neck. The red stain keeps growing but your mind can't comprehend what's going on. Large hands obscure the stain from your view, and you finally look up to see Spencer's hazel eyes, wide and afraid.

He gently brings your body to the ground, leaning you against the brick wall you had shoved him into. His hands apply pressure to the wound, sending a shockwave of pain through your entire body. It feels like you can't catch your breath, you fight for oxygen every few seconds and even that makes your body feel like you've just been set ablaze. The edges of your vision start going black, and you can't really see anything clearly anymore. Your mind is a jumble of incoherent thoughts that just sounds like static.

"Hey, hey look at me. Come on now. Stay with me. Please." You feel a tap on your cheek and your blurry vision can make out Spencer's form, his fingers coated in red. A wave of nausea and pain racks through your system, and you try to reach out for Spencer, but your arms are just too heavy, and words take too much effort. It's easier to just close your eyes.

-----

A constant beeping sound stirs you awake. You don't even remember falling asleep. Trying to open your eyes feels like an impossible task, like they've been bonded shut with super glue. Your throat feels like a desert, and you start to panic, not remembering where you are. Mental images of the unsub's flesh creations flash through your mind and you start panicking, thinking that somehow he got you.

The panic is enough to make your eyes open, and you're greeted with bright lights. Flinching, you squint your eyes and look around. This isn't the unsub's workshop, no, this looks like a hospital. Your eyes travel down your body, seeing lines embedded in your arms, a plastic piece clamped over your finger, and a large white bandage wrapped around your stomach. As if on cue, your stomach starts to burn like hot coals had just been placed there. An image of Spencer's hand covered in bright red flashes behind your eyelids.

A nurse walks through the doors and smiles when she catches your eye. She comes to your bedside and sets down an IV bag full of clear liquid.

"Glad to see you're finally awake. How do you feel?" She asks and you go to answer her, but your throat is too dry, so you just end up coughing. The nurse crosses your room and returns moments later with a plastic cup half full of water. Greedily, you take it from her and drink the water, a lone stream wandering down your chin. Once the cup is empty, you decide to finally answer her.

"Not great." You admit, trying to reposition but unable to do so because of the pain. The nurse nods as she hangs the new IV bag from the metal rack beside your bed.

"I imagine so. I'll give you something to dull the pain." She tells you, resting a gentle hand on your upper arm. Your eyes are glued to her hand and you nod, anticipating the relief of pain medication.

"What exactly happened?" You ask, only able to remember tiny bits and pieces. The image of Spencer's hand refuses to leave your mind but you just can't remember what happened before, or after, that moment. The nurse looks down to the bandage covering your torso.

"An ambulance brought you in last night. You got shot through the abdomen and had to be rushed into surgery. There was sustained damage to your liver and other intestines, but nothing life-threatening. You gave your coworkers quite the scare though, they didn't want to leave but we had to send them home." Her voice is soothing despite the words leaving her mouth, like she was used to delivering this sort of news. Which she probably is. You stare down at the bandage on your stomach, trying to remember anything else, but being unsuccessful.

"So when can I leave?" You ask, knowing that there's an incident report or two waiting for you on your desk. Truthfully, you'd rather do anything but those reports right now, seeing as how you can't even remember a major event, but you know the job doesn't allow for much downtime.

"Probably tomorrow or the next day depending on how well you're doing." She reassures you, and you can live with that. If the team wants the paperwork done that badly, they can bring it to you. Otherwise, you're perfectly content to stay here for a little while. The nurse exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

From what you can remember, Spencer was definitely there when you got shot. His hands were covered in your blood, that part you can vividly remember. Your heart sinks as you are able to recall the look in his eyes, how scared he was. You hope he doesn't blame himself for what happened, you know it isn't his fault even if you can't quite remember how it all went down. If the roles were reversed you can't even imagine the wreck you would be; the thought alone makes you sick.

-----

The next day your doctor clears you for discharge, and you call Hotch to come pick you up. You have no family to call to get you or take care of you, Hotch and the team are the closest thing you have. You had almost called Spencer, but decided against it because you're not sure if you're ready to see him just yet. Hotch's car pulls up to the curb and he hops out to help you in the car but you wave him off.

"I got shot I'm not immobile." You try to tease as you grimace, pulling yourself into the passenger seat. Hotch closes the door once you're in and quickly returns to the driver's seat. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He starts the route back to your home without a word, but you can tell something is bothering him.

"What's up?" You break the silence, the curiosity of what he's thinking becoming too much. Hotch glances at you from the corner of his eye before training his eyes back on the road.

"You're off of field duty for the next few months. Technically, you should be on a leave of absence for a while but I know you won't abide by it. But, you have to promise me you won't overwork yourself. You got shot, you need to take care of yourself." His words come out slow and even, which contradicts his body language. There's something else going on, but you know him well enough to know he's not going to tell you.

"No field work, got it." You agree, knowing it's the best deal you're going to get. When another agent was shot on the job about a year ago, they made her stay out of the office for four months. You'd go crazy under those restrictions.

The two of you ride in silence until he pulls up outside of your quaint home. The lights are all off and the mail has gone unchecked. Dark clouds in the sky start emitting light sprinkles, likely to turn into a storm. With a sigh, you look to Hotch, whose eyes are already on you and you smile weakly at him, trying to mask the pain shooting up your spine.

"Thank you, Hotch." You say and open the door despite your body's protests.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." He tells you with a father-like authority. You nod your head, knowing he means it.

"I will." You confirm and close the door. Hotch drives off and you check your overflowing mailbox before heading up the short stone walkway to your home. You're thankful for the stair railings as you have to pull yourself up each step to reach your front door. From what should be a simple, few-second task, it feels like you've run a marathon. The keys fumble around in your hands but you're able to unlock the door after a few attempts.

Your home is unusually dark and cold inside. The mail finds itself scattered across the dining room table and you go around turning on a lamp or two to bring some life back into the space. Clutching the back of your couch, you catch your breath and look down at your torso. With careful hands, you lift your shirt and look at the bandage. Thankfully it doesn't look like the stitches have broken, it's just a lot of pain. The doctor had given you two prescriptions to fill, but you probably won't go pick them up, you can't imagine how painful it would be to drive a car right now; moving your arms and legs, straining your abdomen. It's just not worth it in your mind. And you're surely not going to inconvenience anyone to pick it up for you, they probably couldn't anyways seeing as how one of them is a narcotic.

Instead of doing anything else, you go around and lay down on your couch, propping your head on a throw pillow and pulling the blanket draped over the back overtop of you. Thunder sounds off overhead, and you know the rain will put you to sleep if the pain doesn't do it first.

The plush material of the blanket soothes you somewhat, it definitely feels better than the hospital blankets. Thick raindrops start pelting the window situated on the wall perpendicular to the couch, giving you the perfect view through your sheer curtains. Your eyes droop as you watch the droplets race each other to the bottom but you don't want to sleep, it's pretty much all you've done the past two days.

While your eyes concentrate on the raindrops pelting the window your mind races with all the thoughts you've slept away in the hospital. Since first waking up, you've been able to recall most of what happened, the doctors told you it was a normal thing to experience, but it freaked you out as you just kept remembering what happened. You can hear Spencer's voice begging you to stay awake and you remember shoving him out of the way so he wouldn't be shot.

While the pain of being shot is like nothing you've experienced before, you know you'd do it all over again to save Spencer. And that terrifies you. It's for that reason you haven't contacted him yet, but you see the messages he's left on your phone, asking if you're okay and if he can do anything for you. If it had been him that got shot, and he didn't pull through, you know you'd crumble, you'd absolutely lose yourself. And that shakes you to your core. You knew you and Spencer were close, but you never realized just how deep your love for him runs.

Being shot made you understand that in this line of work it's not smart to form these personal ties, for reasons such as this. If the roles were reversed and he did die, you know you wouldn't be able to continue doing your job. It's been made abundantly obvious to you during your time on the BAU that these deep connections could pose a threat to your safety, and that's never been more clear to you than it is right now. It's precisely the reason you don't answer Spencer at all. You feel guilty, but you know it's better like this in the long run. You can't stomach the thought of him taking a bullet for you, so you have to distance yourself, for his safety.

-----

Five days later you decide to return to the office. You're feeling slightly better, the pain is still strikingly difficult to deal with, but you can't stand another day being cooped up in your house. Plus, you know there's at least one incident report waiting for you.

You leave early to give yourself enough time to get there, and you find out that you were right about driving, it definitely does not feel good. You reach the office later than you usually do, but you don't really care. The team isn't even expecting you for another two days, so there's no punctuality expectation. After you get out of your car and make your way across the parking lot you find that a pit of dread has taken residence in your stomach, right next to the aching pain; and you're nervous to walk through the doors that have become so familiar. But the elevator ride is too short for your comfort and you find yourself staring at those very doors before you're truly prepared.

With one hand lightly resting on your abdomen, you force yourself into the office, where everyone is busy with their daily duties. Maybe you can just slip in here without anyone noticing you. Your steps are drastically slower than normal, and you make it halfway to your desk before you hear someone calling out your name.

"What are you doing here? Thought you weren't supposed to be back until Monday." Morgan asks, tossing a file on top of his keyboard. You clear your throat and try your best to smile.

"Just couldn't stay away I guess." You say and finish the journey to your desk, feeling your legs start going weak. Within the days you've spent at home, you couldn't bring yourself to exert much energy getting food, you mainly just spent time wrapped up in a blanket on your couch. Your body is weaker than it ever has been, from both malnutrition and the gunshot, but nobody needs to know that, then they'd start to hover. You'd much rather just suffer in silence and take care of yourself. Morgan follows you over to your desk and you're hypervigilant to keep up a good appearance.

"We've been worried about you. Nobody's heard from you since Hotch picked you up." He says and you glance over to Hotch's office, seeing the door closed.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've just been trying to rest and heal up." It's not a total lie, just not the entire truth either. You meet Morgan's eyes as if to seal the deal, and thankfully he doesn't push you further on the matter, he just puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Well it's good to have you back." He says before departing back to his own desk.

You open the cover of the file that's sitting on your desk, seeing blank pages waiting for you to fill them out. Grabbing your favorite pen, you start jotting down your notes of the incident report up until you get to the part where you were shot. The pen hovers over the page for minutes, and you can't seem to find the right words. The opening of Hotch's door distracts you and you see him and Spencer walk out. Spencer's eyes lock with yours immediately and he wastes no time abandoning his conversation with Hotch to come over to you. You knew this time would come, you were just hoping to avoid it for a while longer.

"How are you? Are you okay? You weren't supposed to be back until Monday." A flurry of questions gets thrown at you while Spencer looks you over as if he's expecting to see another bleeding wound on you.

"I'm fine, thanks." You keep your answer short, too short for his liking and you know it. Guilt sits heavily in your heart, but you remind yourself that this is for his benefit and wellbeing. You can deal with a broken heart, you can't deal with Spencer dying and that's why this is necessary. His eyebrows scrunch together, confused about why you're acting so strangely.

"I tried to text you." He says, lowering his voice, eyes tender and full of worry. If only you could reach out to him, to feel his soft skin under your fingertips and tell him about the hell you've been going through. Instead, you lick your lips and nod shortly,

"I saw. I just, I wanted some time alone." You lie straight to his face and watch as he buys it so easily. Disappointment paints itself all over his face, but he nods anyways and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Right. Sorry, well, um, you know where I'll be." He says in a hushed voice before turning and walking to his own desk. Your eyes clamp themselves shut and your fists clench, leaving crescent-shaped indents in your palms as you take a deep breath and fight away the tears that threaten to spill.

Once you've regained control of yourself, you pick your pen back up and focus on nothing else but getting this report done. You force yourself to write robotically, stating only the concise facts of what happened and not a detail more. You're sure the other agents' reports will make up for yours, you just need to get this done and filed so you can leave. The air in the office space is suffocating.

After what feels like a short eternity, you've finally completed the report and you shut the front cover of the file and push yourself out of your chair, gritting your teeth the entire time.

"Need help?" You hear Morgan's voice behind you, and you're quick to shake your head.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." You say as you stand as straight as you can, grabbing the file off your desk with one hand, the other rests over your wound, which feel unusually warm. Fearing the worst, you make your way to Hotch's office, biting your cheek the entire way there.

When you enter his office he looks at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes. He waits for you to make the first move and you put the folder on his desk, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. He opens the folder and reads over your work before tossing it on top of a pile of other folders.

"What's going on with you?" He asks and stands to shut his door. Hotch closes the blinds on the office windows as well, so that the other agents can't see into the room and you're thankful. Your bottom lip quivers as a sharp hot pain radiates from your wound and you feel your throat constrict. Grasping the back of a chair situated in front of his desk you lean your weight on it to try and alleviate the pain, but it isn't working.

"Let me see." Hotch stands from his desk and stands beside you. Once you feel you can stand on your own you lift the edge of your shirt up, exposing the bandage wrapped around you. From your vantage point you can see the warm red skin peeking out from the bandage.

"That's not good, that looks like it's becoming infected." Hotch's voice is thick with worry and he delicately peels back the bandage to examine the wound and you bite down on your hand to keep from crying out. The air coming into contact with it feels like he just pushed a fire poker right through the stitches.

"We're leaving right now, that's definitely infected." Hotch secures the bandage back and you shake your head.

"I'll be fine, it's just part of the healing process." You try to downplay the situation. In reality, you know that it's not good for your wound to be that red or warm, but if the two of you leave right now the others are going to know something's up. And that will inevitably lead to them hovering over you.

"No, it's not. You're going to come with me or I'll call the squad." Hotch threatens and you see no trace of a lie in his eyes or in his tone. Relenting, you agree to go with him. He leads you out of the office and you keep your head down, compelling yourself to not look at Spencer, who's undoubtedly tracking your every move.

Once you reach the parking lot Hotch begins questioning you. He helps you into his car and you let him, not having the energy to fight him.

"Have you not been taking the medicine prescribed to you? I know they gave you an antibiotic." He scolds, knowing the answer. If you had been taking them, you wouldn't be showing up to the office with an angry gunshot wound.

"Hurt too much to drive and get them." You keep your answer short and he huffs in annoyance, but starts driving somewhere to get you the medical attention you need. Deep down you're thankful Hotch cares this much, he's the closest thing to real family you have.

Last Thanksgiving the team found out that you have no family to spend the holidays with. You had never meant to tell them, but holiday plans came up in conversation and yours were painfully dull and lonely compared to theirs. But Hotch invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. At first, you had declined, not wanting to intrude on his family time away from work, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. Now you're glad that he persisted and you went. His wife, Haley, took you under her wing and everything just fell into place; you're practically their surrogate daughter at this point.

After Hotch makes sure that you get looked at by a doctor, and that you actually have your intended prescriptions, he drops you off at your home and makes you promise that you'll send him a video of you taking your medicine on schedule. Knowing that if you don't, he will most definitely drive over here and count the pills, you agree. And as a punishment for not taking the medicine in the first place, he makes you agree to stay out of the office for another week.

-----

The week passes too quickly for your liking. Each day Spencer had texted you, asking if you're okay, that he's worried about you, and that he misses you. It broke your heart to not reply to him, every fiber of your being yearned to text him back, to let him know that you're okay. The temptation to abandon your decision of distancing yourself from him grew stronger each day. It became so tempting that you forced yourself to let your phone battery die and then you buried it underneath the clothes in your dresser so that it would stay out of sight.

But now, as you stare up at the office building from the parking lot, you know that you won't be able to avoid him today and you know that you're going to have to not give into temptation. Every time you want to slip, you're going to have to remind yourself that this is for his safety. You remember that you can deal with the heartbreak, the possibility of him hating you, but you'll never be able to go on if he dies. So you have to do everything in your power to make sure he will never have a reason to make a decision to take a bullet for you, like you did him.

Eventually, you walk into the office, admittedly in a lot less pain than last time. Who knew that taking your prescribed antibiotics would make your life easier? As soon as your foot crosses the threshold of the door, you feel like everyone's eyes are upon you. Instead of looking around to confirm your suspicions, you make a straight route right to your desk. But, of course that doesn't stop people from coming over.

"Back again. You look better this time." Morgan smiles and slides to sit on the edge of your desk. You smile back at him, feeling refreshed and healthier than last time.

"Feel better too. Any new cases?" You ask, hoping to establish some normalcy back into your routine. Typically, you and Spencer carpool to work together and his missing presence from your morning routine didn't go unmissed. Morgan licks his lips and nods,

"Yeah we just got back from one out in Colorado. I think there's another briefing at ten." He tells you, taking a sip of his coffee. You know you won't be let into the field yet, but you at least want to sit in on the briefing. More than likely you'll be paired with Garcia, and you're fine with that.

Morgan slides off your desk and as he moves you see Spencer staring straight at you. His eyes look bloodshot, there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't had a decent night of sleep for a month and his hair is a mess. His lips fall open as you two make eye contact, but you're quick to look away before you go over to comfort him. The inside of your cheeks burn from how hard you're biting them.

Once ten rolls around the team files into the conference room, and you're careful to stand in the back instead of taking your usual seat. Prentiss gives you an odd look but she doesn't say anything. It's glaringly obvious to everyone that something is off, but you assure them you should stand to help your blood circulation. As Hotch starts going over the next case you feel a familiar pair of eyes lingering on your face, but you stare right at Hotch.

Soon enough, the rest of the team is off to work a local case, and you stay in the office to help Garcia. She pulls up a chair for you to sit on, and the two of you get to work without saying a word. It's weird for there to be a silence so thick between the two of you, you two always work so well together and you love Penelope. As she waits for something to load, she taps a pen on her desk and takes a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" You ask, not being able to take it any longer. The tapping pen stills and she looks over to you with an uncertain look on her face.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing, I'm perfect as a peach." She tries to lie, but you can read her too well. Your eyebrows raise, and you push her further.

"Come on, Pen. I know you better than that. Tell me." You implore and she bites her lower lip, conflicted with herself as if she should say anything or not. But eventually your staring gets to her and she breaks.

"Fine. Fine, but you didn't hear this from me. Spencer thinks that you blame him for getting shot and that's why you've been dodging him." You've never heard such ridiculous words come out of Penelope's mouth, and you've heard her say a lot over the years. Taken aback, your mouth falls open and you blink, trying to come up with something to say.

"No. Of course it's not his fault. I pushed him out of the way, he didn't pull me into the bullet's path." You say, wanting to set the record straight. Your heart aches at the thought of Spencer beating himself up, thinking that you blame him for your own actions. You know you won't tell him this directly, but you're certain Garcia will relay the message. And that will have to be good enough.

"What's going on with you two then?" Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. You know you can't tell her what you're really doing because you know she'll fight you on it and try to dissuade you. So you choose to dodge the question altogether.

"There. The victim's information loaded." You point at her screen and she scowls at you, but turns in her chair and resumes her job anyways. While she does her research you busy yourself with putting pins on a map, trying to figure out where the unsub is going to strike next.

Later, the team returns to the office before going home for the day. You're at your desk, shutting down your computer and making sure your file drawer is locked, and when you grab the jacket off the back of your chair, you see Spencer talking to Morgan at his desk. He catches you out of the corner of his eye, and you brush past the two of them before either one of them can say something to you. Your heart shatters a little with each step, but you remind yourself why you're doing this. If you didn't, you're convinced you would have turned back and never let Spencer go.

-----

Three days later, the case is solved. The unsub basically handed the team a map right to himself and chose not to lawyer up when Hotch questioned him. It's almost like he wanted to be caught. You don't dwell on the thought too much, you're just glad another murderer is off the street. While everyone else cheers about the victory as they fill out their reports, you keep to yourself at your desk. Unlike the last report you filled out, you make sure this one is extensively detailed.

"What does everyone say? Celebration drinks tonight?" You hear Morgan's voice, eager and happy. The man loves to celebrate sometimes. The rest of the team agrees, and you finish your sentence, hoping they keep you out of it. If you stay quiet enough, you're sure they'll forget you're even here.

"Oh did someone say drinks?" Penelope walks into the bullpen to give Hotch something. Morgan fills her in on the details and of course she agrees.

"I'm assuming you're coming too, right?" You hear her voice but choose not to look up, hoping that she's talking to someone else. Unfortunately, she was not talking to someone else, and taps on your shoulder to make you look up. You see Spencer standing in the background with everyone else, but you keep your eyes trained on Penelope like he doesn't even exist.

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking of calling it an early night." You admit, knowing full well that you had planned to sit on your couch all weekend binging some trashy reality show to distract yourself from your reality. Penelope frowns,

"Come on, you've never turned us down before. It'll be good for you." She says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that she's not going to take no for an answer.

"Fine, I'll be there." You relent, with a tight smile on your face. She cheers and goes back to talking with Morgan, and you swivel around in your chair to finish the report. While you scribble words, you're already forming your escape plan for the night.

You'll stay for about an hour, after everyone has already had a few and then you'll excuse yourself. If you have to, you'll use your gunshot wound as an excuse; and yeah it's a cheap cop out, but if that's what it takes you'll do it. And then once you're out the doors you're free. It's a simple, yet effective, plan.

Hours later the team huddles around a table in a crowded bar. Usually you're all over celebratory drinks, you use it as an excuse to remind your coworkers of just how brilliant they are. But tonight, while the rest of them are chatting away happily, you sit on the edge, nursing your drink and looking out of the bar's front window. Spencer is seated across the table from you and you keep accidentally meeting his eyes, which makes the alcohol in your system warm your skin even more.

Spencer sure does make it hard for you to ignore him. After all, his puppy-dog eyes practically plead with you, silently begging for you to say something to him. You can see how hard he's being on himself, still probably convinced that you blame him for your wound. Even if Garcia told him otherwise, you know he will have a hard time buying it considering your actions completely contradict what you had said. While the others might not notice how miserable he is, you can tell. He hasn't gone on a random knowledge tangent since you've been back and he's been reusing the same coffee cup without washing it for the past few days.

You hate how hard Spencer makes it to actually dislike him, you hate how he's such a kindhearted person because it makes all of this ten times more difficult. If he had at least one dislikable trait then this would be easier, then you might have a chance of convincing yourself that you can't stand him, that you never liked him to begin with. Though you're not sure you could ever convince yourself of that, truly. As you take your last drink, you come to one reasonable conclusion: You hate that you love him.

Suddenly feeling like the room is closing in on you, you stand from your seat and make your way to the bartender to close your tab out for the night. Maybe you can just sneak out of here and nobody will notice. The bartender hands your card back to you, and you start heading towards the door. But of course a team of FBI agents noticed that you had left, and are now heading towards the door. Morgan is the first one to confront you.

"Going home already? It's not even nine yet!" He teases and you give him your best smile.

"Just starting to hurt a little." You ghost your fingers over your healing wound for extra measure, knowing they won't chastise you about that. It seems you've taken the low road after all.

"Want someone to take you home?" Penelope asks, and you're quick to decline, knowing exactly what kind of plan she has in store.

"No, thanks. That's alright, I don't live far. Have a good night everyone." You smile at Morgan, Penelope, and Prentiss before you leave. As you walk to your car you notice that everytime you turn away and leave Spencer, your heart fragments more and more. But you remember what's at stake, and you pick yourself up, the best you can, and keep moving forward. You know that the pain and turmoil you're feeling now will amount to nothing if something ever happens to Spencer.

-----

Months later your gunshot wound is practically completely healed. There's a scar that's going to be left behind, but you don't mind it. You're one week out from being cleared to go back into the field, and you're undergoing your evaluation now. You thought that you'd be happy and eager to get back out there, but instead you find yourself hesitant and nervous about it. Working with Garcia had made you feel safe and secure. So now, as you sit in Hotch's office, you try to find the words you're looking for. He's staring at you expectantly.

"I just. Hotch I don't know if I can go back out there." Your voice is shaky, and you're afraid this admission will get you dismissed from the team. He leans forward, elbows resting on his desk.

"You're saying you don't want to return to the field?" He tries to clarify. You take in a deep breath,

"I want to return to the field, I just don't know if I want to do it right now. I mean, I still get nightmares about being shot and it feels so real. What I'm trying to say is that I don't know how well I'd react in stressful situations right now." You tell him, hoping that this makes more sense. In a way, you're figuring out what exactly it is you want. His eyes narrow, trying to get a read on you. Hotch writes some words on the paper in front of him and sighs.

"I can give you another month. And I want you to start seeing a therapist." He says and you scoff immediately. Hotch holds his hand up to stop your protests before they even start.

"Listen. I don't know what's going on inside your mind since this all happened. But you haven't been yourself. And you haven't spoken to Spencer once. You two used to be the best of friends. It's none of my business to know, but you need to tell someone about it. Being shot like that is not something that someone gets over easily and without ramifications." He explains, and deep down you know he's right. You just don't want to confide to anyone about your issues.

"Sure." You agree, knowing that he's going to force you to see a therapist one way or another. If you tell him no now, you're sure someone will show up in the office next week to conduct some sort of "random psych evaluation". Hotch dismisses you from his office, and you make your way to the break room for some much needed caffeine.

The coffee in the pot is hot, like it's been freshly brewed. You pick a mug at random and fill it, then you sprinkle in a modest amount of sugar before tasting it. It's warm and comforting, like a hug from the inside. You close your eyes to help yourself destress from what happened in Hotch's office, but when you open them you see Spencer standing in the doorway. His hair is still wildly curly, there are still circles under his eyes from sleep deprivation. Even his clothes are wrinkled now, it looks like he doesn't take the time to iron them out anymore.

You two stare at each other with so much left unsaid, and you make a move to leave the room before you fold under the pressure. Your shoulder brushes his on the way out, and you hear him speak.

"Please. I'm sorry." You hear him plead with you and your steps falter, wanting so badly to just stop and turn around. To hold him close to you and apologize, to tell him you miss him so bad it makes your chest hurt and how life is dull without him. But instead, you take a scalding sip of coffee and keep moving forward like you never heard him. Each day that passes you find yourself hating how deeply you love him more and more, it's almost a constant burn in your veins.

You spend the rest of the day tucked away in Penelope's office, nose buried in a screen, doing the most menial research as if the fate of the world depends on it. Penelope doesn't say anything. She just sighs and helps you with the research.

-----

A few more weeks pass, and fall is now in full swing. There's a crisp chill to the air, the leaves are all turning colors and falling to the ground. And with fall comes your birthday. You have no real plans to celebrate, Hotch had given you your gift in the parking lot before work this morning, knowing that you don't like a lot attention being drawn to you, but it is nice to get a simple "happy birthday" from your friends.

The team packs up for the day, and your heart sinks with disappointment. It seems that nobody but Hotch had remembered your birthday. You convince yourself that this is a stupid reason to get sad, that they all have busy lives to keep up with. Plus, it's not like it's a milestone birthday anyways. Grabbing your jacket, you leave the office for the day with a heavy sadness taking residence in your chest.

When you arrive home, you turn some lamps on and toss your jacket over the back of the couch. You put Hotch's gift on the table, and go to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. You don't bother pouring it into a glass, straight from the bottle will suffice just fine. Taking the bottle with you, you go to your room and change out of your work clothes. As you rummage through the drawers, you find your phone still sitting in the bottom of one of them.

You had never found the courage to charge it back up, afraid to see what words had been left for you. But tonight, you figure it's about time you confront your own feelings. You plug the phone in and set it on your nightstand, taking another swig of the wine and waiting for it to charge.

After what feels like hours, the phone finally turns back on. And within minutes, the notifications start pouring in. Text after text after text rolls in and the missed calls start to pile up. With another drink, you take your phone in your hand and read over the messages. There are exactly fifty seven messages from Spencer and thirty missed calls.

Your eyes scan the texts he sent you, his words sinking into the fibers of your very being, and you're saddled with an intense sorrow. Tears fall from your cheeks onto the phone's screen and you stop reading, not being able to take it anymore. All of his texts were him apologizing to you, begging you to please talk to him. You listen to the voicemails he left, hearing his voice crack and listening to him sniffle as he pleads for you to please just say something, anything. You can almost visualize him in your mind, wiping his tears as he tells you how sorry he is and how he misses you more than anything. He's begging and apologizing as if he's the one who has done anything wrong here. You hate yourself more than anything for letting him suffer like this.

You leave your phone on your nightstand and grab the wine, returning to your kitchen table, where Hotch's gift sits perfectly wrapped. Taking it in your hands, you unwrap it and look inside the box, heart stilling as you see what's inside. With trembling fingers, you grab the frame and hold it in front of your face. Hotch had given you a framed photo of the team, a picture in which Spencer is holding you tightly against his side, and you're looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The frame slips through your fingers and clatters onto the table.

You support yourself on the back of a chair, and you finally let yourself feel everything you had suppressed over the last few months. Sobs shake your body and the tears fall onto the photo. Your hands clutch the back of the chair until your knuckles turn white, afraid that if you let go you'll collapse to the ground.

A knock at the door catches you off guard and you try to level out your breathing, using the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You aren't expecting anyone, and you almost consider just leaving it be, but your curiosity gets the best of you. Knowing that you probably look deranged and pathetic, you open the door anyways.

Spencer stands in the doorway, a small box in his hands along with a bouquet of your favorite fresh-cut flowers.

Your mouth falls open, and you think your heart might actually jump out of your chest. He looks you over, an obvious concern coming over his face. You should shut the door on him, tell him to go away, but your resolve has crumbled, like dust in the wind.

"Can I come in?" He whispers, and you nod, letting him inside your home, where he's been so many times but now it feels like the first time all over again. Your house is in a state of disarray, and if you hadn't just been sobbing over a photo of him, you might care more. You wipe more tears from your eyes and you clear your throat, not exactly sure what to say or do. But thankfully, he speaks up again.

"Happy birthday." His voice is soft, and he gives you a small smile, but the sadness is evident in his eyes.

"You didn't have to get me anything." You say, looking at the beautiful flowers and carefully wrapped box, topped with a ribbon of your favorite color. He takes a step towards you, and hands you the flowers first. As you take them, your fingers brush his and it feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs.

"I know, but I wanted to." He says, meeting your eyes. You catch the scent of the flowers, appreciating their freshness and the life they bring to your otherwise sad home. Making your way into your kitchen, you find a vase to put the flowers in and then you set them on the table. Spencer's eye catches the photo, and you know he can see the wetness that still adorns the frame. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together.

"Thank you, Spencer." You say after you position the flowers just right. Willingly, you catch his eye and you know you can never go back to ignoring him after this. He glances from you, to the photo, then back to you before he hands you the box. Lifting the top off, you see a beautiful gold chain inside that has a beautiful gemstone pendant hanging from it.

"I picked the stone because it reminded me of your eyes." He sheepishly admits, and you look up at him through your lashes with the purest and deepest love flowing through you. But through that love, the guilt eats you alive.

"Spencer, this is too much. I've been horrible to you lately, I don't deserve this. And I definitely don't deserve your kindness." You say, looking into his gorgeous, kind eyes. The tension is noticeable between you, and you wish it would melt away and that you two could go back to how things used to be.

"I've missed you so much." Is all he says, voice cracking and you see tears gather in his eyes. Unable to help yourself, you set the necklace on the table and close the gap between the two of you, resting your hand on his cheek. Your bottom lip trembles,

"I'm so sorry Spencer. I'm so sorry." You say, tears once again flowing down your face. He sniffles as a tear runs down his cheek onto your thumb.

"Why?" Is all he asks but you know exactly what he means. You decide to come clean to him, there's no use of lying now.

"When I got shot, I realized that if you had been the one who got hit, and you didn't make it, that I wouldn't be able to live. The thought of living in a world without you is too much. So I had to make sure that I didn't give you a reason to make the same choice I did. I could live with you hating me, but I couldn't live in a world without you. I wanted you to hate me so that you wouldn't risk your life for me." Your thumb gently brushes his cheekbone, trembling with your words. He closes his eyes as tears keep falling down his cheeks. One of his hands comes up and grabs yours that's on his face, and he grips it tight.

"When I realized you had taken the bullet for me, I knew that nothing would be the same between us. I thought I was going to lose you. Your blood was on my hands, and it's the only thing I have nightmares about anymore. And this made me realize that I can never stop loving you, no matter what happens." He admits, causing you to cry harder. The remorse you feel for putting him through so much torment feels like it's eating you from the inside. You should have been there for him.

"I'm so sorry." Is all you can say, it's all you can express to him right now. He needs to know that you didn't mean any of it. Spencer pulls you in for a hug and holds you tight against him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head, the other is secure around your waist. Your tears stain his sweater, and the two of you let out everything.

When you finally pull back from the hug you grab his face with gentle hands, making him look at you.

"Spencer, I love you so much. I need you to know that I did what I did because I love you too much to lose you." You admit to him and he smiles. A genuine smile that you haven't seen in months. Through the tears and emotions, you two smile widely at one another.

Spencer closes the gap between the two of you, and tilts your chin up. Your lips connect with his ever so softly, and you pull him closer to you, your hands trailing down his torso, collecting fistfuls of his sweater. One of his hands rests on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone and the other keeps you close to him.

Everything that has gone unsaid is spoken loud and clear as you kiss one another. When your lungs start burning, begging for air, you break away and lean your forehead on his chest. He brushes your hair with his fingers and you feel him press a tender kiss to the top of your head. You stay entangled with each other in a comfortable silence before you look up at him,

"We'll be alright." You tell him, knowing that the two of you will be able to mend each other in time. And things may never be like they were, and that's okay.

"We'll be alright." He confirms, kissing your forehead.

Eventually, you two move to the couch and you ask him to clasp the necklace around your neck. In the soft, warm glow of the lamps you look into his eyes and can see all of the love he holds for you. You take one of his hands in yours and he positions himself so that you can lay back against him. He's warm, and being held by him feels like home.

Laying in his arms, you decide you don't want to return to the field. After all, if you're not in the field he won't ever be faced with the decision to take a bullet for you or not. As long as he's in your life, and you're in his, things will be okay. Before you drift off to sleep, you lean up and press a kiss to his temple.

You have everything you need right here in your arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #hurt/comfort #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fluff #harry styles #Spotify

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justmystyles · 9 months

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hiiii! are you able to do something inspired by the interaction between harry and mitch for mitch’s birthday?? but with the reader as a band member! maybe it’s also the readers birthday and harry brings out a cake for her and she gets really shy!

Birthday Girl

check out my other works!

pairing: Harry Styles x band member plus size reader

word count: 512

summary: thanks to harry, you begrudgingly become the center of attention.

a/n: such a cute ask, thank you so much for sending it, my friend! 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked@rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

“It’s a very special night here at Love on Tour,” Harry announces. Your face drops instantly, knowing what’s coming next. “You all know our wonderful keyboard player Y/N, right?” The crowd erupts into cheers, and you can already feel the blush rise up your neck. “Well, what you may not know is that today is her birthday!”

The shouts and whistles seem to amplify as you shoot Harry a dirty look. He grins at you, crooking his finger calling you to join him. You shake your head and mouth the words ‘no way’ to him. He simply chuckles in response.

You look around to your bandmates for backup, but they are all encouraging you to take your place by Harry’s side for the celebration. Even Mitch gives you a shrug, suggesting your compliance. Harry steps up to your podium and offers you his hand. You take a deep breath, linking your hand with his and following him to center stage.

“Just go with it, I promise it will be over soon.” He whispers to you as a cake is carried out onstage.

He wraps one arm around you, holding the microphone to his mouth with the other. “I think we should all sing for her, don’t you?” He counts it off and thousands of people start singing happy birthday to you.

This is, quite possibly, your worst nightmare. You were the girl who refused to get a drink at your twenty-first birthday dinner, because you were afraid that when they carded you and saw it was your birthday, they would send the staff to sing to you. You hate being the center of attention, that’s why you’re in a band, you don’t lead a band.

Harry knew this, and yet here you are. He wasn’t doing it in a malicious way, he loves you and wants to celebrate you. He knows you like to hide, and the two of you have done a good job keeping your relationship under the radar, but he will still take any chance to show you off in whatever capacity he can. Your birthday was the perfect opportunity for that.

As the song came to an end, the cake was held out in front of you for you to blow out the candles. You did so, and immediately covered your face with your hands. Harry laughed, he loved how shy you were, he thought it was adorable.

“Do you have anything to say, birthday girl?” He asked before moving the microphone in front of you.

You curl your fingers into your palms, fists resting at the bottom of your chin. “Thanks,” you mumble into the microphone, your fingers immediately coming back up to hide your face.

Harry smiles and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, making sure the microphone is low enough to not pick up his voice. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“I’m going to kill you. You know that, right?” You speak against his chest, which you immediately feel rumble with laughter.

“Worth it.” He replies, kissing the top of your head.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 6 months

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Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

#read #favorite fics #ficrec #larry fic rec #hlcreators #1dficvillage

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kekaki-cupcakes · 3 months

Note

Request for Nico di Angelo!

Hello! If it's okay, may I request Nico with a (GN or male) reader whos got like, super serious mommy issues? Like, they'll be in a bad mood during the last day of summer solely because of the fact that they have to see their mom once they get home. And it's not even bc they're a misbehaving kid, it's just because their mom absolutely sucks. Maybe where their mom has a bunch of pointless rules, too. Like, nothing to do with cats, praying every morning, going to church every Sunday and church school every Monday, etc. And readers just done with life during the year. They'll purposely go on quests the last week if they get the chance just so they don't have to go home, too. Lmao, just realized this is sorta venting in a way, so sorry. It's alr if you cant do my req. Take care and have a nice day/night!

this is a short one but I really like it, so... and by the way, if anyone ever wants to just vent in my inbox please feel free too, there's no judgement on this blog and you're so strong <3 <3 <3

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own---Nico x reader with a shitty mum [fluff, dw] »»————-　★　————-««

-Nico would be that person who’d offer to kill anyone you hated

-But he would be completely serious

-Like, no fucking around. He knows how much you despise your mum. But it’s so very hard to hate parents because they're still your parents. Godly parents are a whole different story, but the mortal ones are hard to loathe without feeling shit about it inside, so it becomes this sort of silent resentment.

-Nico knows that. Sort of… well, from knowing you, really. And he may have planned out your mortal mother's death in a very excruciating way, with a few backup plans just in case.

-You shut that down when he mentioned it subtly, so he went back to rubbing your back and bringing your favorite snacks from the stash Cecil had secretly [everyone knew] imported from the mortal shops, then hissing at people like a rabid cat when they asked where you were.

-He’s very good at scaring campers off.

-You’d be eating shitty junk food and sweet red strawberries in your cabin and listening to Harry Styles’ song Matilda [Hazel had bought you his record for your birthday last year] pretending your head wasn’t spinning with thoughts about how much you wanted to run away from home, and then the shadow’s by your bed would thicken and your boyfriend would just launch himself onto you.

-You’d gotten pretty used to it, obviously, and now you were pretty much immune to jumpscares.

-It was a handy skill to have considering how many horror movies you and Nico would watch together. He liked to critique how realistic the deaths actually were, and you liked to watch his nerdy face and tease him for jumping when Ghostface crept out from behind a doorway.

-But sometimes, mainly the days before you had to return to your mother and the house filled with crosses and rules and arguments and not enough pet cats for your liking, not even movie marathons and picnics in the strawberry fields could help your mood.

-So, Nico would resort to his back up backup plan [not the murder one, the happy boyfriend one], which was cuddle piles.

-It had taken him quite a while to get used to touch, but between Jason’s ‘how to ask out that random dude you're obsessed with’ classes [you were the random dude] and the fact you liked to hold his hands, he would say that he was quite the expert on hugs now. So he’d wear the biggest jumper he could find, probably one of Hazel’s flowery ones, and drag you into bed.

-Thankfully his bed was no longer a coffin [they had been turned into bookshelves] and was big enough for you both to squish in. So he’d stroke your hair and nod understandingly when you scoffed about how stupid it was to send a literal child of a Greek God to a church.

-It wasn’t even a nice church, apparently. It smelt like socks.

-He had a very good speech for these complaints, which you both knew the words to by now.

One day, very soon, you’re gonna get a job, or a smart person class at college, and you’ll never have to go to Sunday school again. We’re gonna get our own house too. With lots of tea and toast. And rescue cats. And we can name them after your favorite famous people and book characters and we’ll have a huge squishy couch too we can watch horror movies on.

There’ll be lots of posters on the walls and no one will tease you about being a little kid and you can wear whatever clothes you want. Maybe not orange ones though. I think we’re all sick of oranges.

And all of our friends can visit whenever they want to, and we’ll have all of their snacks as well. And toothbrushes.

And we can have Christmas there, without all of the bad stuff. We can decorate the tree really badly. You don’t have to invite your mum. At all. And if she shows up, her coffin will be shaped like a fish. They’re a real thing, you know, fish-shaped coffins.

You’ll never have to see her again. We’ll have our own place. I promise.

You can throw a party full of everyone you know, and not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love. You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up.

I promise.

»»————-　★　————-««

#nico di angelo #nico pjo #nico #nico di angelo x reader #nico x reader #nicodiangelo #pjo hoo #percyjackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

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m4rs-ex3 · 8 months

Text

people always make silly little lists of characters' crimes which i love but i'm gonna do smth a lillllll different

tdp character trauma log 🫶✨

callum

lost his father at a Baby age (the perfect age actually; young enough to be very emotional and impressionable but old enough to have to process it)

was thrown into a drastically different + high-key terrifying environment at Baby Age

lost his mother--his comfort person, his only connection to his og life (besides amaya), and also just an amazing individual--leaving him alone in said environment

was constantly belittled for being bad at the thing he never asked to be

lost his stepfather aka his only parent left and experienced an array of regret over what he didn't do while harrow was alive

almost watched his little brother down/freeze to death

was betrayed by his childhood friend

endured a severe dark magic sickness + traumatizing fever dream

almost choked to death

watched his whole world jump off of the highest point in the world

almost died plummeting off of the highest point in the world

was abandoned by Love of His Life for several depressed years

was literally fucking possessed

was taxed with the decision between becoming a vessel for the most dangerous individual in the world to destroy everything and hurt everyone he loves OR essentially ending his life (a conclusion he himself had to come to)

was under the impression that Love of His Life was dead (and he never got to tell her what he wanted to)

almost died pt 3

almost died pt 4-5

bound and brutally beaten + electrocuted (?)

watched the most important person in the world to him mercilessly tortured within an inch of her life

almost lost her AGAIN and had to destroy his entire moral compass in order to save her

tortured

almost died 6: choked pt 2

rayla

where do i begin

well first off grew up in the silvergrove and hey moonshadow elves i love ya but oh dear god -promotes "strength" and stoicism over discussing your feelings and admitting to your weaknesses -so bound (literally) by duty and oaths that faltering results in either being good as dead or dead as dead -ETC

equipped with a debilitating phobia of water--a fear most would see as bizarre and silly and exceptionally irrational--in a culture that as previously mentioned shuns fear to all hell

was left by her parents and (despite them having a perfectly good reason) never really healed

almost drowned which was not helped by the phobia

almost ravaged by an ancient vampire

an ASSASSIN who has to KILL PEOPLE but is a WHOLESOME SWEETHEART

haunted by her "constant" mistakes; her strengths get wholly overshadowed by her weaknesses

told by the father figure she revered that she is a stupid baby useless idiot (roughly)

was flatly told by Father Figure he expected to kill her (to which she's just like "fr prolly" good god girl you are fucked)

had to not only sit and listen to, but conform to horrid stereotypes she's been haunted by since she was a kid

nearly slowly lost a hand (and just straight up accepted like ik this isn't the point but i feel the need to address when she does some insanely broken shit)

saw a person wither to dust before her eyes i feel like we forget about this

almost died like pt 4 ish i literally cannot keep track what counts and whats too minor a near death experience and why do i have to ask these questions

watched the love of her life (shut up harry styles) suffocate in his sleep in her arms

almost died pt 5-8 ?

i once again don't even know where to begin this time with her ghosting. linking this post again but tldr she didn't do anything wrong, she believed she did, her society not only confirmed these suspicions but god they pinned her with so much more, and she was told that actually no and what the fuck is she supposed to do with that u just told her everything she knows is wrong and that she actually has worth and she is not keen on that mindset

almost died 9? i include this one bc soulfangs are terrifying

cooly came to the conclusion that she deserved to die for her parents mistakes (and fully intended on doing so)

almost died jumping off the highest point in the world

suffered from persistent nightmares

almost drowned (the phobia once again did not help)

was nearly killed by the dead former co-workers she feels responsible for killing

forced herself to leave behind Love of Her Life and if you don't think that was the hardest fucking thing in the world for her

spent two, miserable years alone, getting beaten down again and again (mentally and physically,) plagued by her vendetta, haunted by all she lost, never knowing comfort, never knowing love, and probably so much worse that we don't even know woohoo!

thought that, after years of painful wondering, the parents she desperately wanted back were killed right in front of her

almost died pt who even fucking knows

almost died

was absolutely fucking brutally tortured (within an inch of her life) 😚✌🌸✨✨

almost died horrendously (she rlly couldnt catch a break that day)

had to choose between pushing her trauma to the absolute limit or hating herself for not protecting her friends

almost died

motherless

couldn't make friends (for a reason no one would believe)

that's why yo [daddy] dead. dead as hell. what shoes [he] got on what shoes [he] got on in [his] casket

almost drowned/froze

had the pressure of surviving as an orphan ANDD being a fucking king forced upon him at the same time

felt responsible for thousands of lives

was imprisoned

was almost motherfucking impaled by scary adult

all that? yea he was like 10

therefore

grew up weird like his brother and rayla

probably almost died a lot of times

imprisoned again & was threatened and bared witness to his brother + his closest friend tortured (+ almost murdered)

almost murdered by someone he once trusted

prolly a lot more idk i was gonna include soren n claudia but i am so fucking exhausted THESE KIDS ARE SO FUCKED OML 😭😭

#uhh like for part 2 #dear god #callum #callum tdp #tdp callum #rayla #rayla tdp #tdp rayla #ezran #ezran tdp #tdp ezran #tdp #the dragon prince

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hsgucci94 · 1 year

Text

Hurting

Summary: The one where Y/N gets hurt for being the girl of a mafia leader and Harry makes them pay with their lives.

Content warnings: mention of violence. A part from that, i’d say this one’s pretty clean

Part 1 of His weakness, a mafia!harry short story.

A/N: by no means I’m trying to romanticise this lifestyle, it’s pure fiction x

masterlist

By the time Y/N rang Harry’s doorbell, the pain had only increased. Her hand was pressed against her hip, fingers deep in her skin trying to alleviate the stabbing pain that came from it as her face turned into a grimace. One that she hid as soon as her boyfriend opened the front door.

“Thought you’d never come,” Harry greeted her, chuckling, as he moved away from the door to let her into his house. She smiled, walking pass him and towards the couch, ready to let her body fall onto it and rest.

“Yeah, parking in this neighbourhood is always a challenge, you know that. So I’ve spent some good twenty minutes driving around,” she replied, half lying. That one part was true, though: she always found a parking spot a few blocks away from his, but never any nearer by, so she ended up having to go to his house by feet.

That day in particular, however, she managed to park almost immediately, so she should have knocked on his door much sooner, which they made sure she did not. Just when she got out of her car, five hooded guys appeared out of nowhere. She didn’t recognise them, not only because the streets were dark, but also because she had actually never seen them before. She just knew they were there as a threaten; by hurting her they would make sure their message would get to Harry Styles, who not only was her lover, but also the head of the mafia. So that was what those strangers did; they threw her to the sidewalk and kicked her body until she couldn’t move anymore. She tried to defend herself, but they outnumbered her.

Y/N didn’t know how or when, but she had suddenly become a collateral damage of her partner’s businesses.

Harry smiled in her direction and stretched his hand to grab her before she could reach the sofa. Her tattooed arm wrapped around her abdomen, pulling her in for a hug. With her back to him, Y/N instinctively closed her eyes the moment she felt his touch on her aching skin. Her teeth clenched from the pain, but she didn’t say a word.

“Did I do something, woman?,” he chuckled again, and turned her around so that their faces were one in front of the other, “Don’t I get a kiss today?,” he smirked, and grabbed her chin between his fingers, before pressing his lips on hers. His other hand found the hem of her sweater and sneaked under it, resting on her hip. The sole gesture made Y/N hold her breath, her stomach contracting from the pain, and Harry noticed.

He pulled away enough to properly see her face, his hands no longer touching her. “What’s wrong, baby?,” he frowned, and waited for her to answer. She took some time to scan his face, debating wether to tell him or not. She may have taken way too much because Harry grabbed the ends of the fabric and lifted it enough to see her abdomen before she could even realise what he was doing.

His eyes widened, his jaw clenching right after. He immediately knew what had happened. “I’ll fucking kill them,” he hissed, blood boiling in his veins.

Y/N gulped, moving Harry’s hands and pulling the sweater back down. His eyes then moved up to her, and his gaze softened.

“I’m fine, it’s just-,” she quickly replied, trying to play the matter down.

But Harry didn’t let her do so. “Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?” he asked her, “Come here. Lay on the couch.”

She did as told, while Harry went to the bathroom to pick his first-aid kit. When he came back, Y/N could see by the look on his face he was furious. His eyebrows were deeply frown, and his eyes a dark green. He kneeled in front of her, the kit open by his side and ready to be used.

“Harry…, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he spat, pulling at his hair in frustration. He then remembered Y/N was not to blame and that his anger shouldn’t be directed to her, and calmed down. “They shouldn’t know about you, Y/N,” he sighed. For the past months he had made sure to keep her a secret, not wanting anyone to touch a single inch of her. But he seemed to have failed such easy task because someone had definitely found about her and used her to hurt him, which they succeeded in. He bended over her cautiously, kissing her lips, “I’m sorry…, I’m sorry, baby, I’ve never wanted to put you in danger.”

“I’m fine…, I just need some rest,” she flashed him a soft smile and he nodded, wanting to believe her words.

“I need to take off your sweater first. I’m gonna treat your wounds and feel your abdomen to make sure everything’s fine, alright?” She nodded, and leaned in enough for Harry to pull the fabric out of her. When she rested her back again on the couch, she couldn’t help but clench her teeth in pain once more. “You’re okay now, sweet girl, I’m gonna take care of you,” he assured her, leaving a tender kiss to her shoulder.

She had scratches all over her hips and stomach, and on her elbows, as well. He passed a piece of gauze over her wounds and disinfected them, watching her tense from the stinging. Then, he cautiously palpated her ribs and abdomen, looking for signs of broken bones or possible haemorrhages.

“Harry,” she groaned uncomfortably.

“I know it hurts, baby. I’m being as careful as possible, I promise.”

“That one spot hurts so bad,” she whined a few seconds later, grabbing his wrist to stop him from touching it more, “I think there’s something broken there.” And it did look like she had a couple of ribs more damaged than expected, which made Harry frown hard, worried.

“I’m gonna dress that spot, okay? I’ll call my friend Sam to come check it out first thing in the morning,” he replied, regretting not being able to do more for her. Taking her to the hospital was not a viable option.

As soon as Harry had wrapped the bandage around her rib cage, he entwined his hand with hers, lifting it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“That was scary,” she mumbled, the images of what happened coming back to her. She had always felt safe both with or without him near her, but now she feared something bad could happen to her if he wasn’t there to stop it. Harry moved his eyes from her hand to her face, his countenance softening even more after hearing her words.

“It won’t happen again, you’ve got my word.” Because if there was someone he was willing to protect with his life, that was her, his precious girl.

“Indeed,” Sam concluded, looking at Y/N, “You have two fractured ribs, but nothing that can’t be fixed with rest and some painkillers. Do not lift weight or perform any other activity that could cause you pain or increase your discomfort. You’ll get back to normal within the next two months.”

Sam smiled and she did, too, happy with the prognosis.

"Anything else?" Sam asked, turning to look at Harry.

He shook his head, one of his hands tucked under his armpit, while his free one picked at his bottom lip. He had that same posture throughout Y/N’s entire checkout, a bit uneasy in case his friend would find something disturbing in her body. “No, that was all. Thanks, mate."

Sam nodded and squeezed his shoulder goodbye before heading towards the door. He already knew the way out of that house. Now that he was a recently graduated doctor, Harry counted on him whenever one of his guys were injured or needed a checkout.

The two youngsters knew each other since preschool, the fact that Sam was a doctor was just a bonus.

“See? It’s not a big deal,” Y/N turned to look at Harry, a triumphant smile between her lips. Just like him, she was relieved, too, to know that her pain was temporary. She then patted on the empty spot next to her, asking him with that simple gesture to lay with her on his king-size bed.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he admitted, letting out the sigh he hadn’t realised he had been holding in until then.

He walked to the bed, taking his shoes off. But before climbing in with her, he took his phone out of the front pocket of his sweatpants.

Nothing, no text messages. So he slid it back where it was; not without wrinkling his nose first in disappointment.

As soon as he laid on the bed, Y/N snuggled next to him, making a painful grimace while doing so, “Ah, shit. I need these painkillers to begin to take effect soon.”

Harry chuckled, passing an arm around her shoulders and caressing the side of her head. “Take it easy, baby. Sam said that for it to be good, the recovery must be slow.” She huffed and puffed, so he added: “Sam didn’t say this but I do: patience is key. So please, do not exasperate. It’ll all pass by quicker than you think.”

She clicked her tongue at his words, not so sure about them, “These will be the longest two months of my life.”

“Probably,” Harry admitted, and turned his body to the side enough to be facing her, their faces just inches apart, “But I’ll be here with you and I’ll take care of you, and you won’t have to worry about anything but your recovery, alright?”

She nodded, thanking him with her eyes.

“Good,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “Now get some sleep. You barely rested last night because of the pain, I know you’re exhausted.”

“I am,” she replied, fighting back a yawn.

She clinched harder to him, considering wether to ask the question or not. She was not very sure if the answer would satisfy her, but she let the words out anyway.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but even then he could tell the fear in her voice.

He clenched his jaw, hating to know the previous night’s event were the reason behind it. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m on house arrest with you until further notice,” he joked, trying to erase her worries.

She giggled and kissed his cheek loudly before drifting off to sleep.

Harry stood there, trying his best not to move much to not wake her nor her pain up.

He didn’t know how long he had been holding her against him when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Being as careful as possible, he grabbed it in his hand and clicked on the hidden notification.

When he read the message, he nodded to himself. He felt a weight lifting off his shoulders.

Now he could put his body and mind to rest, too, because no one would dare to hurt his girl and live to tell the tale.

Part 2

Please, like & share if you liked it? it’ll help so much 🥺✨thanks!! x

full masterlist

#harry styles #short story #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles prompts #harry styles stories #harrystyles #hsgucci94 #hsgucci94 imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #hsgucci94 prompts #hsgucci94 stories #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles au #mafia boss #mafia harry #mafia harry styles

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charliewrites99 · 2 years

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Stupid predictions for season 5 that are so unrealistic they might actually happen:

- The ass hat brings luck to Nadja

- jeff from season one comes back reincarnated as a racoon

- Harry Styles becomes part of Simon the Devious's crew (Harold the Baker. Idk i am terrible with names)

- sean is turned into a werewolf

- marwa comes back as a witch

- colin robinson drains the djinn which gives him the ability to grant wishes

- nandor's discovers he has a long lost brother, who is also a vampire but is living as an actor and it's just Kayvan Novak playing himself.

- guillermo becomes a vampire, but then two weeks later realizes he hates it, because now he can't even go see his mom because she will kill him. Now he wants to be human again

- guillermo and kayvan fall in love so nandor pays guillermo's family to kill kayvan.

- laszlo wants another child and nadja annoyed by his bitching posesses another doll and gives it to him to take care of

- the doll is revealed to be that one familiar everyone liked but i forget the name of. The one that electricuted himself

- the guide is accidentaly mistaken for an actual guide. She shows the tourists around long island and then plans to eat them, but falls in love instead.

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #laszlo cravensworth #nadja antipaxos #colin robinson #guillermo dela cruz #nandor the relentless #simon the devious

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louisupdates · 20 days

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[Translated from Portuguese]

LINK TO VIDEO INTERVIEW

Former member of the British boy band One Direction, Louis Tomlinson will perform, in May, three shows in Brazil. It will be the third time that the musician will perform in the country, an experience that, according to him, is always chaotic - and "in the best possible sense". This is what the singer said to g1, in an interview held at Allianz Parque, where he will play in São Paulo, on May 11.

The shows are from the "Faith in the Future" tour, in which Louis returns to his latest album, released in 2022. The setlist also involves songs from the album "Walls" and, of course, One Direction hits.

Fever among children and adolescents in the 2010s, the pop group was formed from the TV show "The X Factor" and lasted six years, breaking up in 2016. Since then, the musicians have followed a solo career. A fact that, in Louis' eyes, is inevitably competitive.

"Your only reference is to compare yourself with the other members," said the Englishman. "You start to think, 'If they're getting this, why am I not getting it?'"

On Spotify, the number of monthly listeners among artists differs a lot. The most popular star of the divorced boy band, Harry Styles has about 58.2 million. Next are Zayn Malik (27.3 million), Niall Horan (17.3 million), Liam Payne (5.7 million) and Louis (2.9 million).

But if success meters like this were once a burden for the musician, today they are no longer, according to him, who also made a point of reiterating that he has always been proud of his friends.

In the interview, the musician also commented on subjects such as the conspiracy theories that describe him as a partner of Styles, the changes of concept between his albums, a Brazilian remix of his "Kill My Mind" - from the funkeiro FP of Trem Bala -, and his interest in fashion

g1 - What is the main difference between the Louis Tomlinson of the X Factor, 2010 and the Louis Tomlinson of today?

Louis Tomlinson - There is a lot of naivete in the boy who appeared in the X Factor. I really didn't know what I was getting into. I didn't know how that would put me sitting here. I definitely had no idea what I was acquiring.

I think I feel much more fulfilled. More confident. It took me a while to have enough courage to say: 'I'm creative, I'm a singer, I'm a composer

Now, I'm just internalizing all these feelings. When you grow up in a place like Doncaster, where I grew up, it takes a while to believe in all these things. Because you only watched it from afar, on TV or on the radio. So, when you become one of these people, there is a whole process until you believe and understand everything.

g1 - And what is the greatest similarity?

Louis Tomlinson - Probably my appearance (laughs). Well, I hope my fans don't correct me here. I like to think that I've always had a very lovely relationship with them. I think that's the only constant thing.

g1 - Do you know any Brazilian singer or band?

Louis Tomlinson - We were talking today about Anitta. And hm... Fresh? Fre? Fresno? I'm learning. I hope [the confusion with the band's name] didn't sound disrespectful, it wasn't my intention.

Do you have any recommendations for me? I got some tips today. What do you have for me?

g1 - There is a Brazilian musician called FP do Trem Bala. He made a remix of 'Kill My Mind'...

Louis Tomlinson - That's cool! So far, you were the one who made the best recommendation. Definitely.

g1 - Can I show you?

Louis Tomlinson - Of course!

youtube

g1 - What's up? Did you like it? Is there anything you would like to say to the FP of the Bullet Train?

Louis Tomlinson - Yes, it's a vibe. Fun. Very fun. Thank you for making a remix of the song.

g1 - This is your third time in Brazil. What comes to your mind when you hear things like 'doing a show in Brazil', 'Brazilian tour', or simply 'Brazilian fans'?

Louis Tomlinson - Chaos. And in the best possible sense. I totally love it.

Live experiences are defined by the most chaotic moments. And coming here and always feeling this energy is as if from the first drum beat, the fans were already there. It's a really triumphant feeling.

g1 - In musical terms, how was the experience of creating 'Faith in the Future' compared to 'Walls'?

Louis Tomlinson - I felt much more fulfilled, confident. I had more understanding of what I wanted to do and how to do it.

[On the first album], there was the factor that I left One Direction. It was as if my head was a mess and there was so much to think about... It didn't have a clear direction. I had to go through the experimentation phase to, in fact, understand who I am as an artist. That took time.

Throughout my creation of 'Walls', this was happening, but I was in a clearer, more concise place going to 'Faith in the Future'. And I think that made [the second] album better.

g1 - Recently, you created 28 Clothing, a fashion brand. What is your relationship with this sector?

Louis Tomlinson - I've always had a very funny relationship with fashion. Without a doubt, I'm interested in clothes, I've always been. Since I was young. But there is a level of haute couture that goes far beyond my understanding.

You know, I like to dress well. The brand is something I've always wanted to do. It is also intertwined with one of my [greatest] passions, football.

Football and fashion have been connected since the game was a game. People's fashion in the stands and everything else...

I think it's a very interesting thing and, for sure, a culture in which I was already inserted when I was younger. So, the brand helps me tell my story.

g1 - You once mentioned that you felt a little uncomfortable and more competitive at the beginning of your solo career. You said you were a little upset because you kept comparing your level of success with that of the other members of One Direction. Do you still feel that way?

Louis Tomlinson - No, I don't feel like it. Really. But I think that anyone - and obviously, there won't be many people who can identify with it - but anyone who has gone through a similar situation...

Being in a band and leaving on your own will always make your only reference be to compare yourself with other members. That's literally all you have.

I think it's a matter of maturity, actually. It took me a long time to look at it for what it was. Because that's where petulance begins. You start to think: 'If they're getting this, why can't I do it?'. And that becomes a little toxic.

Unfortunately, this is the nature of the music industry. It is naturally competitive. We are all competing for spots.

But now I see it in a very different way. And as I said, this requires maturity. I also needed to succeed on my own to be able to get through this. To overcome this.

Now, this comes back as I feel a confidence in saying these things.

Oh, and just to reiterate, because it's important: while I felt competitive, or more competitive than I am today, it wasn't like I wasn't immensely proud of everything the boys were doing.

It was more about reflecting on my own situation. Just about thinking: 'Oh, I wish I had a little of that'.

Now, I feel in a very, very, different place. And it's a nicer thing to feel, because being very competitive isn’t always the nicest feeling.

g1 - I imagine you hear questions like this all the time, right? Does it bother you?

Louis Tomlinson - Yes, it's okay. As I mentioned before, I understand the obvious public interest in One Direction. That's obvious. And you know, I appreciate that these things are interesting. I suppose [that they are].

g1 - Louis, many fans believe in the conspiracy theory that you’re dating Harry Styles, even though you describe this story as ridiculous. Why is this conspiracy so famous?

Louis Tomlinson - What I realized a few years ago is that there is nothing I can say, there is nothing I can do to stop those who believe in this conspiracy. They are so connected with what they believe they will not see the truth for what it actually is. I'm sure many people look and find all these little conspiracies that happen in life interesting.

I would be lying if I said it doesn't annoy me a little, but it's the nature of the work.

There are times when it gets very personal. I have my son, Freddie. He's the most important person in my life. And occasionally, [these theories] end up addressing things that are kind of unfair.

That's what we have now. There's nothing I can do about it. Nothing I can say to stop people from inventing what they want to invent. So, so be it.

g1 - Finally, what is your favorite song at the moment and why?

Louis Tomlinson - My favorite album is Paolo Nutini's last. It's great, amazing. He's an amazing singer, maybe he's my favorite singer. It's indeed an inspiring album.

And favorite music... I can't remember the name, but it's from The Libertines, a band I've liked since I was young.

#g1 #fitfwt24: são paulo #louis tomlinson #Louis press #louis interviews #louis quotes #2.4.2024

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 5 months

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Hi ! Just out of curiosity, what do you think the reaction of sony/hshq to Louis' career is ? They managed to turn H into the popstar they wanted but do they consider they've won, are they happy with the way things are, do they still wish for Louis to stop pushing and fade away ? He was never supposed to have a number one, tour big venues, headline festivals. The blacklisting is still in place so i guess they didn't gave up yet, but is it anger, frustration, incomprehension ? What fuels them ?

Initially, I think Sony wanted to be sure that the 1D fanbase would convert into the Harry Styles fanbase until “Harry Styles,” the brand, became critically respectable.

They signed Zayn and Louis, underpromoted Zayn (and Zayn not performing live) and delayed Louis’ album for three years.

Remember when BBC Radio used to put Louis’ music on their playlists? Louis was on Today’s Top Hits, which is how Just Hold On and Back To You got such big numbers.

I think Harry is now big and established, and the 1D fandom has shown that they will back Harry no matter what. They bought the marketing, lock stock and barrel. Dynamic pricing, poor merch quality and design, album not shipped for months, vinyls arriving warped, Harry shit talking other 1D members, breaking up families with young children… none of that mattered a bit.

As a major label, Sony has tight control over the industry and especially in the English-speaking countries. That won’t change anytime soon. They have the cooperation of radio, venues, marketers, and all the ancillaries. Harry is likely to become a billionaire in his thirties because he got lucky.

As for Louis, the fact that his career is doing as well as it is, despite all the roadblocks in the way, is actually incredible. Sometimes you see little cracks in the face of the industry network, as for example when Greg James mocks Louis’ tour concerts on BBC Radio 1, or when music critics say he’ll never tour arenas, or when they contemptuously say, “Well, he’s no Harry Styles,” or when they overly criticize his songwriting and praise Harry’s. These people represent the oil in the machine protesting that the machine isn’t killing the competition as it should (we Louies all get those Harrie anons in our inboxes)— because for them, it is frustrating to see power and money fail to control every aspect of the business.

Sometimes, in the face of Louis’ success, you see Harries (and some Larries), or people in the industry act a lot more bitter and cruel toward Louis than usual. Then you know he was never expected to survive.

#sony music #louis tomlinson #bbc radio

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around1302 · 1 year

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II. OUT OF STYLE

SPARE PARTS: a series (2/20)

HOME, NORTH LONDON

(W) strong language, alcohol use

CHARLIE’S POV

“I really liked her, though.” Harry mumbles.

We collectively roll our eyes and I speak for the group when I say, “yeah, that’s the issue, idiot.”

Having to let our stylist go before the second show of tour wasn’t the plan – wasn’t anywhere close to the plan, actually. But, the usual fuck-up did exactly that, and now we’re all scrambling for a new stylist a day before we perform at Wembley.

“Why is it fair she has to go but he stays?” I continue, hearing our manager’s disgruntlement from across the long table before I see it. Harry’s face is mushed into his palm, emotion that should be guilt settling into boredom and it’s only provoking me further.

If I could jump across the metal and kill him, I would.

Last night, at Amelia’s birthday party no less, it came out that Harry had not only been sleeping with our stylist, but not letting her in on his sleeping with other people thing. Cut to a whole room of people watching them have a screaming match (kind of entertaining, I won’t lie) and her resignation being handed in that same night.

“What about Amelia?” Niall pips in.

Amelia is the best stylist I know. For the decades she’s been my best friend, she’s always been the best dressed person I know, and it’s why she’s now crumbling the ladder in a top firm in North London that rakes in millions every year. Of course I’d thought about her, but there’s no way she’d be willing to just drop her position for nine months to style five of her friends.

“Hang on–” Harry suddenly has something to say, but Paula taps her pen on the table and shuns him to silence.

“Where else are we going to find a good stylist over night?” Louis adds.

“So Niall can fuck our stylist but I can’t?” Harry rushes to say, but quickly sinks back into his seat at Paula’s death-glare.

“Does she have references?” Paula turns to Niall.

“She’s a trainee designer for Burberry.”

I see the business-cog in Paula spark to life.

“And she’s available?”

“Well… no–”

Paula sighs.

“But she can take leave!” Niall turns to me, desperation in his eyes, “you know her best, Charlie. She’ll want to do it, won’t she?”

“No,” I answer honestly, “but I’m excellent in convincing her to do stupid shit, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“This isn’t fair–”

“Fine,” Paula interrupts Harry again, “but if I– no, if the press see even one ounce of funny business on tour, you’ll both be fired. I can’t have any more bad press surrounding a band member and a stylist.”

Paula directs her attention at me as she stands, indicting us all to follow, “give her a call and let me know. In the meantime, rehearsals – go.”

Cluttered yes ma’am’s and scraping chairs echo the meeting room and we all leave, walking a few extra inches ahead of Harry. He’s pissed us all off this time, which is actually quite refreshing. Usually I’m having to convince everyone he’s being an asshole.

“Shut the fuck up,” Harry grumbles as we fall in line together.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it, and knowing you all I’m going to get for the next few hours is ball-ache.”

I snort, “you wish.”

He stops walking, so I stop too to watch his face morph into some kind of twist between confusion and amusement.

“I wish?”

“Yeah,” I feel my cheeks heat. I’m shit at comebacks and he knows it, “like you’d wish I was anywhere near your… oh, fuck off,” I stride off as his mocking laughter becomes background noise.

I love this band more than anything in the world, but the day we all go our separate ways will probably be the best day of my life.

Convincing Amelia to come on tour with us was surprisingly easy.

I left rehearsals and went to her apartment with her favourite Merlot and the promise of an evening spent drinking and watching shit TV – our favourite pastime, one we don’t get to frequent that much anymore.

It started with a soft launch into the topic.

“Harry fucked our stylist.”

She had scoffed, taken a sip of her red, and turned The Notebook down (to my disappointment; it’s my favourite).

“I was waiting for this.”

I piqued, watching her lips curve as she settled her elbow on her couch’s back. Did she somehow know? I suppose she is also a stylist, were the friends?

“Waiting for bitch-about-Harry hour,” she read the millions of questions on my face. At that, I scoffed, “oh, please. Don’t act like you’ve not been dying to say that this whole time.”

“Bitch-about-Harry hour is not a thing, and no, I wasn’t,” I lied, “he’s just very irri–”

“Irritable and easy to talk shit about. Yeah, yeah,” she set her wine down, seemingly bracing herself, “so this time he slept with your stylist?”

I frowned harder, “I don’t like this anymore. You’ve sucked the fun out of chatting shit.”

Amelia threw her head back in one of those big Amelia laughs, one that (despite my annoyance) has me joining her every time.

“Sorry,” she grips my thigh over the tens of blankets we threw over ourselves, “go on, seriously.”

“Yes, he slept with our stylist, and now we have to find a new one.”

Amelia cleared her throat, lowering her brow, “well did you ever think about moi?”

“What?” I spluttered, “you’d want to?”

“Fuck yeah. You know how good being Spare Parts’ stylist would look on my resume? Plus, I get nine months with you.”

“And Niall,” I mumbled behind my glass.

“And Niall,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “so who did you hire? Someone I’ll know?”

“Well,” I smiled sheepishly, “we were kind of hoping you’d do it. I thought it’d take much more convincing, though.”

“Really?” She squealed – actually squealed – nearly tipping the wine onto my white shirt. I held my glass far from us as I laughed and tried to avoid the crisp cotton.

“Yes, but there’s a whole bunch of shit with contracts, and it would be a lot of rush work as you’d have to start in literally two days. Oh, and you won’t actually be able to use your own designs for a week, Paula said something about filtering out our old stylist’s to make room for your–”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she engulfs me in a sitting bear hug, one that spills my wine all down my wrist and onto her (probably stupidly expensive) rug. But despite the wine, and despite the comment about Harry that didn’t leave me, I now have my best friend on tour with me – and a stylist that won’t sleep with Harry.

taglist: @lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily

msg me to be removed!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x oc #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles series #1d series #1d ot5 #1d smut #one direction series #one direction ot5 #spare parts series

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neondiamond · 10 months

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🌈 Recently Read Fics - June 2023 🌈

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 🩷

🌈 you can see my heart burning in the distance by @hershelsue (923, G)

Harry and Louis are an opposites attract couple. Harry wakes up at the crack of dawn to go to his law firm job, while Louis is just getting home from his DJ gigs. They make it work.

🌈 All This Time by @allwaswell16 (1k, T)

Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with flower shop owner Gemma Styles for years. It wasn't until she suggested he date her alpha brother that he ever thought of Harry that way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea...

🌈 Completely Oblivious by @itsnotreal (1k, G)

an interaction with a stranger helps these two finally figure their shit out.

🌈 the sweetness of your words knows no bounds in making my heart leap by @bottomhaztoplou (1k, M)

At the end of his heat, Harry writes a letter.

At the beginning of his rut, Louis writes one back.

🌈 we will get another day (to begin again) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (1k, T)

“There’s a ton of health benefits to it, look.”

Zayn gives Liam an unimpressed stare. He doesn’t even acknowledge the phone in his hand. “I don’t care if it makes me immortal, Leeyum, I’m not going to take a freaking ice bath at six in the morning.”

🌈 time can always heal you by @larriescompass (2k, G)

harry catches a fever, louis takes care of him.

🌈 Ask Him by @fxckingprincesspark (2k, T)

When Lewis Capaldi gets pressed for information on who he's dating, he admits it... he's been seeing Niall Horan. The only problem? He jokes so much that no one believes him.

🌈 routine surveillance by @disgruntledkittenface (2k, E)

Harry’s training period for the Bureau consists of routine surveillance. One night, it becomes a little less routine.

🌈 Harry, That Kills People by @londonfoginacup (2k, T)

If there’s one thing that Harry hates, it’s getting his clothes dirty.

If there’s one other thing that Harry hates, it’s murder.

Unfortunately, right here and right now, Harry’s clothes are dirty, and he’s murdered someone. So. It’s not a great day.

“Ugh,” says Harry. “Yeargh. Bleh.”

🌈 Write You A Song by @all-these-larrythings (6k, G)

Harry’s new flat is great but the acoustics are even better. They’re so good in fact that his daily shower concerts start to entertain an audience besides his shampoo bottle.

🌈 The Way to My Heart by @ladyaj-13 (6k, T)

Louis' having a bit of a dry spell, until he bumps into an attractive alpha in the supermarket and leaves with his number. It was a hard bump. Very... muscular.

The only problem is, said alpha asks Louis to cook for him - which is not exactly his skill set.

🌈 Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t) by @hellolovers13 (13k, E)

Falling in love with Louis is easy enough.

Separating Louis from the singer persona Harry has been a fan of for years, however, is not.

But she's not the only one making assumptions.

🌈 what’s left of my halo’s black by @loveislarryislove (22k, E)

A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for. But Harry has some secrets of his own, and they send Louis' world spinning off its axis all over again.

🌈 somewhere in between and not at all by @greeneyesfriedrice (24k, E)

Harry is new to NYC and discovers something about himself, and Louis is there for him. Always.

🌈 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 (30k, E)

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

🌈 Some Records Turnin’ by @ireallysawanangel (49k, E)

Harry is a soft alpha who owns a record store and Louis is a closeted singer omega masquerading as an alpha who randomly stumbles into Harry’s store.

🌈 another dream but always you by @nobodymoves (60k, M)

Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band. It's an unusual assignment from the beginning; Harry has a crush on Louis, and Louis's subconscious immediately decides Harry is the love of his life. When Dreamers cast Harry as their love interest, he can usually redirect them, but Louis is insistent on being Harry's boyfriend, and despite knowing they have no future, Harry wants to keep up the charade.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #monthly recs #hlcreators #trackinghome #tracksintheam #trackinghappily

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imogenleewriter · 1 year

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Hi! I'm reading your PA fic and it's amazing, I was wondering if you had some other famous/non famous AU that you love?

Hey, I'm so glad you like it!! I can definitely rec some - most are pretty well-known but hopefully, there is something you haven't read. I've recced some of these ones before when I did a favourites post. Ordered from longest to shortest. (All the below summaries are ones I have written, and I promise the fics are much better written than my summaries)

love is a word, you gave it a name (WC: 158k) - by CuckooTrooke (@larrydoinglaundry) Famous Louis/Non-Famous Harry. Strangers to lovers. Louis Tomlinson is an Oscar Winning actor who escaped to a resort in Eastern Europe looking for solitude and isolation. That's until he meets the resort's massage therapist and yoga instructor, and suddenly, he wasn't sure that isolation was actually what he kneaded*. *I cannot take credit for that one. It's all on LIAW Harry. (Also, please go to Miia's Twitter and ask her via anon what date she's planning on realising the sequel because not a single person has asked that yet. Bonus points if you ask her to coincide it's release because those anons kill me.)

Empty Skies (WC: 134k)- by green_feelings (@greenfeelings) Famous Louis/Non-Famous Harry. Louis Tomlinson is 1/3 of the biggest boyband in the World, and all he had to do to get in there was go against everything he believed in. Harry Styles dreams of being a Musician, and after three years of putting it off while he deals with his own anguish, he is determined to give it a shot. Not only are their futures intertwined, so are their pasts.

got the sunshine on my shoulders (WC 124k)- by hattalove (@hattalove) Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Exes-to-Lovers. Harry left his small hometown to become a recording artist. He is rich, famous, and when his boyfriend proposes, he knows he has everything he has ever wanted. Plus one thing he doesn't want - a husband who keeps returning unsigned divorce papers.

California Sold (WC:123k)- by isthatyoularry (@isthatyoularry). Famous Harry Styles/Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson. Friends to lovers. Fake Dating. Harry Styles is at risk of being outed. So, as we've come to expect, management is struck with an ingenious plan; Stunting! With! A! Female! Which makes sense because history shows it always works out so well. Anyway, shocker: it doesn't. Harry's best friend, Louis, has to intervene and get's papped with Harry. So, maybe it works out well, after all.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction (WC 113k)- by indiaalphawhiskey (@indiaalphawhiskey) Famous Louis/Less Famous* Harry Marcel Styles. Enemies to lovers. Marcel Styles' is a newly published fanfiction** writer (love that for him) who finds out Louis Tomlinson is joining him for his UK book The Louis Tomlinson. The one that Marcel had spent the same amount of time reading and re-reading his debut novel as he did staring at Louis' photo on the cover***. His fantasies about meeting and touring with his idol come crumbling down after their first encounter when Louis proves himself to be an arsehole. Marcel concedes that the entire tour is going to be a nightmare... until Louis proves that writing isn't the only thing he is a master at. *It's arguable that Harry is less-famous, just different kinds of fame. **Technically original online fiction - but he also wrote fanfiction, so it counts. *** I may have taken some creative liberties with that one.

Tired Tired Sea (WC:113k) - by MediaWhore (@mediawhorefics) Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Strangers to lovers. Harry needs some solitude... so much solitude that he finds one of the most remote seaside villages he can find. He wanted to go somewhere where no one would know his name, and he got that wish. Turns out that maybe he should have been wishing for the owner of the BNB and his dog, Clifford, instead.

My English Love Affair (WC: 19k) - by isthatyoularry (@isthatyoularry). (This is the stupidest summary ever and only like 3 people will get it, and I'm not going to explain it any further. I apologise). Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Out Of All the Gin Joints In All The World Louis and Harry met at the same one. The Only Reason they Ended Up Here was because they Wasted The Night Danceing Dance, and Stayin' Out All Night. After A Little Less Sixteen Candles, (and) A Little More "Touch Me", Louis became Harry's My English Love Affair. Louis thinks that he I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy Famous, and All I He got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me Him. It was definitely not his Favourite Record because Harry has No Shame and his My Songs Knows What You He Did In The Dark. Even though Harry isn't American Made he acts like Mrs All America and has mastered the Art Of Keeping Up Disappearances. Louis expects their romance to be Short, Fast and Loud but His My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon. It's not his fault that Harry is Irresistible and She Looks So Perfect. It's Easier to say " Kiss Me, Kiss Me" and "I Don't Care" than Everything He I Didn't Say. After spending a Golden two weeks Alone Together, Louis thought they were So Good Right Now, not know it was the Calm Before The Storm. Harry decided to Fly Away on a Permanent Vacation leading to The Mighty Fall without even saying 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs". Louis realised that Harry was The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes and became a Complete Mess. He wished he had Novacaine or Amnesia and questioned The Pros and Cons of Breathing. Harry had to accept that The Worlds Not Waiting and even though he was Miss Miss Missing You Harry, he chose to ignore Bad Omens. In the end there was Heartache On The Big Screen, and they both said "I Want You Back, so Take My Hand". XO

This is a Rainbow War (WC: 15k) - by Lululawrence (@lululawrence) Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Strangers to lovers. When Louis is hired as part of Harry Styles' road crew, Harry gives him what seems like a very simple project. Louis, never one to do things by half-measures, turns it into a war. He didn't realise he'd end up fighting for Harry's heart.

(okay, that one was cheesy, I apologise)

Feel Your Way (WC: 3k) - by kingsofeverything (@kingsofeverything). Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Strangers to lovers. Louis doesn't care much for or about celebrities, and for the longest time, Harry Styles was just a name he heard from time to time. That was until he stumbled across a photo of Harry that caused him to moan Harry's name every night. One night, he doesn't need to rely on his hand and Harry's photo to help him come because Harry's there to do it for him, bearing Louis' favourite assets.

(So this one snuck its way here because it's so good... but the Famous/Non-Famous trope isn't the main focus of it. Hiddies are)

#my fic recs #famous/not famous

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bippot · 1 year

Text

Summary: Living together means that Adrian's secret identity isn't really a secret to her. Yet he doesn't know that, so she loves to make thirsty comments about Vigilante whenever she can.

It's not as if Adrian feels something more than friendship for his roommate, right?

Tags: Roommates, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Denial of Feelings, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Teasing

Music Recommendation: Medicine by Harry Styles

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

Adrian Chase is Vigilante. We know that. He knows that. Yet, he has no idea that Y/N knows that. She found out a week after she moved in with him and that was a while ago. They'd been friends forever and money was tight so becoming roomies was a useful way forward.

One day, she was watching the news as a story about the two heroes Peacemaker and Vigilante fighting an octopus in a zoo did the rounds. It was heralded as a big animal abuse violation and PETA officially denounced the pair. All the murder and gunfights was fine. Killing a (n alien infected) sea creature was the final straw for the activists.

Then, tired and worn out, Adrian returned to their shared flat with suction bruises from the evil tentacles that he'd just fought. The advanced mollusk's tactic seemed to travel under the hemline of each bit of clothing possible in an effort to...? Turn Chris on? Peacemaker had definitely seen some hentai that was similar enough to this situation.

Due to the amount of times Adrian had to slap the slimy appendage away from the bottom of his mask, which had already been untucked from under his shirt by the octopus, Adrian assumed that it was trying to reveal his identity. It managed to stick its sucker across his neck before he even had a chance to shoot.

(It actually wanted a direct route inside the mouth so he could easily fuck with their organs and kill them internally.)

"Jesus, Ade," Y/N exclaimed when she saw the hickey looking mark on Adrian's neck as he sat beside her on their couch. She moved towards him, lightly reaching out to trace the purple circle. "What freak gave you this?"

Okay, he'd come up with a lie in the van on the way home. He'd even run it past Peacemaker to check if it was believable or not. Chris - who, at the moment of the inquiry, was patching himself up - wasn't even listening and mumbled a dismissive, "Yeah, sounds great."

So, Adrian answered, "One of the girls at work wanted to test their spa cup suction things before she used it on herself. That's why I look like I've been attacked by Cthulhu," and it didn't sound like a bad lie for once. He'd prepared it. He had practised it beforehand and wasn't forced to come up with one on the spot. Maybe he was a good liar (only if you give him a couple of hours to rehearse).

"The things you do for pussy," she teased. She didn't believe him in the slightest. The moment he got that mark was right in front of her eyes on the television, so there was no way. And why the hell would someone bring their newfangled clean spa equipment to Fennel Fields of all places?

Her eyes were glued to the screen after that. She was aware that the man sitting next to her was the masked one in the footage but it was still weird to think about. Her very good friend Adrian Chase was the super skilled serial murderer Vigilante.

Should she be scared? Probably. Was she? No. It was just Adrian after all. The nerdy guy that cried at Disney movies then claimed he never did. Yeah, he might be capable of it but he wouldn't kill her.

"Vigilante is kind of hot, don't you think?" she asked him casually, keeping her eyes trained on the tv screen and pretending she hadn't noticed how her words made his face turn pink.

He cleared his throat awkwardly to say, "I guess... I mean, I guess he's alright for someone you can't see the face of."

Getting comfortable, she swung her legs onto his lap and shifted against the arm of the couch, facing him side on so she could divert her attention from real Adrian and the news footage of him. He tensed at the sudden contact but soon got used to it and rested his forearm against her knee.

"There's something about mystery, you know, something about not knowing who he is that is sexy," she proclaimed, not even hiding her smug smile when began to fidget and tap his fingertips against her trousers. Oh, how she loved teasing him. It was very fun, but now she had a chance to be more efficient with it. That's why she added, "The things I'd let him do to me... you don't even want to hear about."

Because that's the thing - he did want to hear. He really did. Maybe he'd do them. He'd most likely do them. Yet, he let out an awkward, "Yeah, I don't want to hear," and rubbed the back of his neck as he lied once more. But she wasn't going to let him off easy with this lie.

"So you don't want to hear that I'm imagining him popping out of the screen and bending me over this couch? Do you?"

"I don't-"

"Do you think that if we did it here on the sofa, he would keep his mask on or off because I'd love to hear every noise he'd make without it being muffled...Oooh, but keeping the mask on would be hot too."

She leaned her head closer to Adrian as she said that, causing him to blush furiously at the insinuation. He swallowed hard as his fingers started drumming against her leg faster.

"Got a mask kink, Adrian?" she playfully inquired, letting his hand play with her thigh where they lingered longer than needed. She felt it moving upwards slowly, almost as if he didn't realise he was doing it. His hand stopped and rested on the curve of her hip, the tips of his fingers barely brushing across the waistline of her trousers. She didn't push him away though. She was enjoying the feeling of his touch.

When he realised what he'd done, his entire body stiffened with embarrassment. He pulled his hand away, his face burning crimson as he turned his head and muttered something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"I said, I've never thought about it before."

Another lie. He was on a fibbing streak tonight and Y/N had seen completely through them all. She laughed, knowing damn well he was lying. Her laugh caused him to glance in her direction and meet her eyes for a split second before he averted his gaze quickly to stare down at his hands resting on his thighs.

What a cute liar he is, she thought.

"Well, have a think about it and get back to me," she purred, her voice dripping with honey as she got up and ruffled his hair. "Night, Ade."

"Yeah, uh, night, Y/N." he responded as she left the room. Then, he slumped against the back of the sofa, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. Throughout the entire interaction he kept repeating "Don't say you're Vigilante. Don't. Don't fuck your friend Y/N either. Just don't," in his head and it was a mantra that he held onto for the next couple of months.

Not long after her discovery, Y/N kept adding a few more steps in her routine in an effort to make his life less hectic. She could see how tired he was. Working the normal day and the violent night shifts were taking their toll on him. Every day she could see him getting more and more exhausted. Then one day, he crashed. Y/N had been getting ready for work when a grumpy Adrian stomped out of his room. She could hear his steps before he even reached her as she stood by the kitchen counter.

"What's up with you?"

He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and he looked like a zombie. A zombie who still had their duvet wrapped around his shoulders. "Can you pass me the coffee?" Adrian asked as he stumbled over the threshold into the kitchen and fell into a chair.

"Nope. You're going back to bed," she ordered, making sure to emphasise the fact she wasn't messing around. "You look dead. You're not going into work today."

Adrian looked aghast. He'd worked himself into the ground for a long time so why couldn't he continue? Why? Did she want him to get fired? He's a fucking superhero and he shouldn't feel so damn weak and exhausted! Superheroes don't rest. They're not pussies like that. They fight evil and kick ass while everyone else gets to relax and get some beauty sleep.

"No buts. Text your boss right now."

"I can work. Give me the coffee and I'll be fine." He tried grabbing the mug off her hand but she dodged his attempt. "Y/N, please, I'll be fine. Please just..." His shoulders drooped as his voice trailed off.

Honestly, he was even too tired to argue anymore. The lack of sleep was clearly getting to him and she had to offer, "Come on, big guy. Want to lounge about on the couch and have me wait on you on my day off?"

"That sounds nice," he replied softly, waddling to the sofa and collapsing face first on the cushions like a sack of potatoes, his limbs flailing around randomly in search of a comfy position.

Y/N knelt on the floor beside him and gently brushed her hand down his bicep to notify she was there. He grunted and lifted his head to look at her. The poor thing was half asleep already but he gave her a smile and whined, "Can you get my phone for me please? My legs don't work anymore."

With that, she went back into the bedroom to fetch it and handed it to him so he could confirm his sick day. She intended to give him some space to sleep but as soon as she tried to move away he grasped her wrist and whispered, "Stay, please," in a small voice.

It was so pathetic it made her heart melt. So pitiful that her mind instantly went blank. Her body was already moving towards the couch and he was using her legs as his pillow before she knew it.

"Comfy?" she teased as his cheek pressed against her thigh. He nodded against her shorts, so she ran her fingers through his messy bedhead and hummed thoughtfully, content with watching television and playing with his hair until he eventually fell asleep.

During his slumber, he mumbled inaudibly a lot, mostly nonsense syllables but he sounded like he was doing an impression of a Minion. Y/N smiled fondly at his peaceful features, glad he looked somewhat calm. It was quite rare to see her friend slow down and take some time for himself rather than rushing around till the point of mental and physical exhaustion.

He was holding onto her leg as if it were a teddy bear as he nuzzled his face into her thigh. But his dreams quickly changed from a soft and sweet slumber to something different. She could tell. She could tell because his hips were slowly moving against the couch cushion as if he were trying to relieve some of his pent up tension. His hand was moving under her shorts, touching her inner thigh as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She shook her head at his antics and laughed quietly as she pushed his hand gently away from her. He didn't respond. He only whimpered softly, but she knew it wasn't from pain. He was trying to seduce her with his dreamy moans and movements. It was temptingly adorable, but she weighed her options: did she wake him and cause a smidge of awkwardness or let it be and keep it a secret from him?

As soon as she decided to wake him, he stopped and seemingly woke himself up from his dream as a wide grin spread across his face. Then, since he was still in the haze of his sexy dream, he sloppily kissed her thigh and jolted upright when he realised what he'd done. "Sorry," he apologised, his cheeks flushing red. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me..."

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

"Oh, that's okay," she said reassuringly, looking up into his green eyes that seemed a little more hazel in the morning light. "Feeling better?"

Weirdly, it wasn't awkward. It should've been. But it wasn't.

Answering by yawning, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly and rubbed his eye. The moment she opened her arms, offering herself as a pillow again, he took it without question. This time he cuddled into the crook of her neck, his head resting on her shoulder as his arms loosely wrapped around her waist.

"Never would've guessed you were so touchy when you're sleepy, Chase."

"I'm sorry. Don't get hugs often, have to compensate somehow." He squeezed her waist a little tighter and murmured, "'Like your hugs."

Comfortingly, she kissed the top of his head, running her hands soothingly up and down his back as she rested her chin on the crown of his head. This might've been the most relaxed he felt in a good while; his breathing evened out and slowed as his muscles unwound from the tense state they had been held in for the past who knows how long. She could feel his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath her palm and she hoped the sensation was comforting to him; it certainly was to her. He was practically clinging to her for dear life and she was enjoying every second of it.

"You know, you're cute when you're being all needy," she said playfully. He looked up at her, squinting as he blinked a few times to try and clear the blurriness from his eyes. It didn't work since he had left his glasses in his bedroom.

Frankly, she hadn't seen this side of him before and he looked so vulnerable and soft, almost innocent. She found herself wishing that they could stay in this comfortable place forever.

"Am not," he mumbled, burrowing further into her neck, trying to hide the blush creeping into his cheeks. "Cute? I am not cute! I'm badass!"

"You can be both."

With that, she stroked the stubble on his cheek with her index finger causing him to close his eyes and purr happily like a cat. His head lifted from her shoulder and she could swear she saw his lips twitch upwards. If she was a betting woman, she'd say that he was suppressing a smile.

"Go back to sleep, tiger."

For some strange reason that he didn't fully understand, he always wanted to do as she said. There was this overwhelming need to oblige her. It wasn't even deep within him. He wore it on his blood stained sleeve. It was an odd urge, but it had always been like that and it was starting to drive him mad, especially considering that he hated the feeling.

No matter how much he begged to differ, it remained the same; he craved to make her happy. If she instructed him to put the barrel of a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger, he might just do it. She would never ask that of him. He would give up being Vigilante if that's what she wanted. He would be grumpy for the rest of his life, but he would do it.

The fact that he felt like this scared the living shit out of him.

So, he closed his eyes and listened to her heartbeat, her soft breaths and gentle strokes of her fingers down his back, and let himself drift away once more. He needed this right now and he was grateful that she allowed him this comfort and a fleeting sense of, well, finally feeling loved. And maybe he wouldn't admit it aloud to anyone, but he secretly hoped his feelings wouldn't go away any time soon.

During his time asleep, Y/N decided to flip the channel to have a brief look at what was on the local news and, as usual, they had a little segment at the end trying to appeal to all the Vigilante's of the area. In big letters, it read, "To anyone who has information about the crazed madman Vigilante, please phone here."

Looking down at the 'crazed madman' in her arms, she snorted at the headline and started scrolling through the channels to see what else was on. There was no way she'd ever tell on him though, so she kept quiet, hoping he wouldn't notice that she'd turned off the TV and was focusing entirely on him.

His peaceful expression was priceless. As he slept soundly on her shoulder, the mumbling started again in his dream. It was still incoherent, but there was clearly something going on inside his head. Then the soft whines started again, this time right next to her ear and she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips.

"Y/N..."

"Yeah, big guy?"

Despite saying something coherent, he was fully out of it, drooling and rubbing his cheek on the fabric of her shirt, his hands clutching at handfuls of her skirt, and his breathing becoming shallow. Again, just as he did before, his hips started to move. Clearly he'd jumped straight back into the dream he was having before, instead, this time he wasn't moving against the couch, he was moving against her.

The first time he did it, she brushed it off as an accidental grinding action. Then it happened again. Then a third time. Okay, now it was clear what was happening to her. She should wake him up. She did just that as he grinded against her once more, lightly shaking his shoulder with a small sigh as she watched his eyes flutter open.

"Hngh…" he grumbled sleepily, blinking at her in confusion. "…What? Ah!"

Both of their gazes travelled down his body until they reached the bulge in his shorts. They looked back up to meet each other's gaze and he suddenly sat bolt upright, blushing scarlet as he covered his groin with a pillow hurriedly.

"Ah, shit, sorry," he muttered. "I didn't...I mean...I-" He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly and sighed deeply. His body was tense and rigid, obviously embarrassed to have made such a mess out of things. "It has a life of its own."

Quickly, she averted her eyes, turning her face to hide her amused smile. She couldn't hold back her laughter any longer, and it started to bubble out in full force. A grin crossed his lips momentarily before he joined in, laughing loudly, his embarrassment dismissed almost immediately. Her laugh was too infectious to ignore and he couldn't stop himself from joining in.

"Want me to occupy myself with lunch while you 'calm' yourself down?" she asked teasingly. He nodded, still laughing, and grabbed the remote control off the coffee table so he could turn on the T.V. and change the channel as he waited for her to leave.

After that, Adrian was sure that he felt something more than lust towards his roomie. He really wished it didn't bother him. Really, he did. It was the first time someone had touched him and held him like that; in a tender, loving manner that he couldn't stop himself from craving for more.

That thought alone sent chills down his spine. It terrified him. He had never cared for another person's affections like this before, but he knew that it wasn't good. It was dangerous. No one should have that much power over him, that much power over his emotions. He didn't want it, didn't deserve it. He was nothing but trouble and he should be ashamed for thinking such thoughts about her.

However every time she made a thirsty comment about Vigilante, he thought, 'Why not? I could and would do that.' His self control was slowly being picked away bit by bit by her.

It all reached its boiling point one night when he came back home at an ungodly hour still dressed in his suit, desperately needing to come down from the adrenaline he'd accumulated on patrol. It had been a slow night, but every time he turned the corner his brain would say, 'Now this is going to have a mugger down it' or 'There's a man with a huge sword around here to battle, I know it'. There wasn't. It seemed that the streets were deserted aside from him.

"Hey, Ade," Y/N greeted as he tried to sneak in as quietly as possible. He hadn't even taken off his mask yet and he was already sweating bullets.

"Who's Ade? I'm Vigilante."

From where she was standing in the kitchen, Y/N simply stared blankly at him for a moment before breaking out into a fit of giggles. He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.

"How long?"

"Months and months now."

He let out a loud groan, placing his hand on the wall behind him to support himself and taking a deep breath.

"And you haven't told anybody?"

"Not a soul."

In despair, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he exhaled sharply before dropping his hand and looking at her with tired, defeated eyes. Instead of saying anything else, she continued to stir her ramen noodles and hummed the song she had been singing before he arrived.

No, he couldn't be bothered to deal with this right now and stomped into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He threw off his costume and climbed beneath the covers of his bed, pulling the pillow over his head and burying his face underneath it. He could hear her humming and the soft tap tap tap of her feet as she walked back and forth in the living room.

Why hadn't she told him she knew? Why? What was she waiting for? Did she really enjoy tormenting him? How many times had she said something graphic about Vigilante while she knew it was him? The answer was too many to count.

"Want me to split my noodles with you, Vigilante?" She asked through his door and he could swear he heard a smile in her voice, as if she wanted to annoy him more than anything. When she didn't get an answer, she chuckled and returned to eat alone.

The next morning came and Adrian was careful to ignore her completely. However, as much as he hated to admit it, the guilt was eating him alive. He was glad she had finally figured it out. It made him feel somewhat better and he could relax slightly, knowing that there was still hope for them. But still, he felt guilty nonetheless and he couldn't seem to shake her thoughts off his mind, no matter how hard he focused on literally anything and everything.

At work that day, all her flirty comments swam around his head and distracted him greatly. If she knew he was Vigilante and she wanted Vigilante that means.....she wants him. Unless she'd only been doing it to rile him up because she found it funny to tease him like that.

"Ade, what the hell are you - "

Y/N never would've expected that she'd be pushed against the wall as soon as she got home from work, pinned between the cool brick and Adrian's chest as his lips pressed fervently against hers. She gasped in surprise but didn't resist his kisses as his fingers dug deeply into her hair, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth until he pulled back briefly to breathe heavily.

"Tell me to stop if you don't want this."

Kneeling down, his hands gripped her thighs and tugged her closer to him, kissing her skin through her tights with such ferocity that her knees buckled slightly. Y/N whimpered, gripping onto his shoulders for support.

"I -"

Because of the sound she made, he retreated a bit to check on her reaction. Y/N smiled at him, biting her lip gently and nodding in approval. Adrian grinned in response and reached into his back pocket to find his knife. She froze for a second when he did so, not quite understanding until he swiftly cut through her tights and underwear, making them fall apart around her ankles as his gaze met with hers.

"Careful with that knife, you don't have your glasses on."

With their eyes locked, he let his nose nudge against her clit. She moaned softly as the contact, arching her hips into his touch as if pleading for him to continue. And he did. He gave her everything, he devoured her completely as he yanked her knee over his shoulder and began licking along her clit, leaving a trail of wetness all the way to her opening.

"What has gotten into you today?" Y/N breathed, clutching tightly onto his work shirt as her fingers tightened into fists around the fabric, knuckles turning white, and the sounds that were coming out of her throat became increasingly louder and louder.

Adrian smirked at the sight of her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils before pushing a finger inside her roughly. She cried out in shock as his fingertips rubbed harshly against her entrance, causing her to squirm and writhe beneath him and he laughed huskily before continuing to lick her clit.

"Gonna do this every time work makes me want to blow my fucking brains out," he murmured in between licks as he added his ring finger to the rhythm of his thrusts, pressing them deeper and deeper inside her. "Just think of your sweet pussy, Y/N, getting what she wants every day."

His words were enough to bring out the purest form of pleasure, causing Y/N to moan loudly as she arched her hips upward, grasping at his arms as she fought to contain herself. He kept pushing his fingers in and out ruthlessly, watching Y/N's face contort and twist as she let out a cry of pleasure.

"You want that, huh?"

"Yes!" she cried out, feeling the pressure build within her again as her body started to quiver violently.

A couple more seconds and then her orgasm overtook her, sending her crashing, her nails digging into his biceps painfully as she clenched down upon his fingers and came, releasing all across his knuckles.

"What was it that you said the other day?"

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

Smugly, he stood and licked his fingers clean, smiling down at her in satisfaction as she remained in place, attempting to get her breath back. "I think it was something along the lines of 'I want Vigilante to rail me until the only coherent thing I can say is daddy'."

"Well, that does sound fun."

"Oh, believe me, baby. It will be."

Before she'd even realised he'd done it, she was lifted off the ground and was firmly placed on the kitchen counter with Adrian fumbling with his belt buckle in front of her. His trousers were soon around his ankles and he kicked them away before reaching for the hem of his shirt and lifting it above his head. Once free, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled them towards him, positioning himself between her legs.

Yet, he didn't push into her. No. He said nothing as he unbuttoned her shirt, button by agonising button, revealing more and more of the skin beneath it before tossing it to the floor in a heap. He paused, staring intently at her breasts which hung perfectly in front of his face for a few moments, then hurriedly uncliped the clasps of her bra with one smooth motion.

"Can't believe you've been hiding these from me," he mused as he kissed her neck and his hands grasped at her boobs greedily. She shuddered in delight as they rolled around between his fingers, rubbing against his palms as he pulled away from her. She whined as he trailed kisses from the base of her neck to her jawline and down her collarbone. "So beautiful..."

Her breath hitched in her throat at his words and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he went lower, kissing all over her chest. "Vigilante," She whispered as he sucked a bruise into the sensitive flesh between her breasts, letting out a soft whimper and arching her back and leaning into his touch.

"Hmmm?" Adrian hummed against her, continuing to trace the outline of her collarbones with his lips as his hands moved up and down her sides. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Fuck," she groaned. "Please, just fuck me already. Daddy, please."

His smile grew wickedly as his hips snapped forwards and he slammed into her, grunting in satisfaction when she gripped onto his hair. He thrust into her roughly a few more times, letting out low growls that caused goosebumps to rise along her arms and neck. Then suddenly, she felt him stop and lift his head off of her breasts, looking up at her as she gazed downwards at him with hazy eyes.

Surprisingly gently, his hand flew to her cheek and thumbed at her swollen lips, causing her to part them and take his thumb into her mouth without hesitation. He watched her intently, as if taking in every last detail, trying desperately to memorise everything about her.

She was his, he told himself repeatedly, his and only his.

"Say I am yours. Let me hear you say it", he whispered, removing his hand to place another kiss onto her lips. "Say it. Please say it."

"You are mine," she mumbled against his mouth and he felt the same euphoric feeling of victory wash through him at those three simple words. The look in her eyes was enough to prove it.

"Good girl," he purred, stroking at her cheek once again before continuing to thrust into her slowly and deliberately.

As their joined bodies rose and fell together, they continued to make out passionately, exchanging breathless, desperate kisses and Adrian began to move faster and harder, almost as if he were trying to prove something to himself.

"You take daddy's cock so well, my baby."

Y/N could feel the familiar rush in her core that signalled that her body was ready to come. She tried to stifle her whimper, but he immediately sensed it and broke their kiss to pull away from her and stare deeply into her eyes as he gripped her jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

"Let daddy hear it," he demanded, tilting his head as he searched for any sign of resistance within her expression and he felt her tremble against him at his rough tone and forceful grip. His voice was the deepest she'd ever heard before as he added, "Don't deprive me of this."

Just like that, she gave in and closed her eyes, letting out a loud whine of ecstasy. He chuckled as she gripped tightly on his shoulder, nails cutting into his skin and leaving faint trails as she thrashed around him, moaning incoherent words of praise.

"Holy fuck, you tightened," he muttered lowly to himself, allowing himself to take a breather so he didn't come too early. He withdrew from her body entirely and tugged her to her feet, only to turn her around and bend her over the counter.

Though she was still slightly in the post orgasm daze, Y/N felt his hands drift up the back of her thighs until they landed on her ass. Then, without warning, he let his hand roughly slap against the skin of her ass, hard enough that it left an imprint of pain and pleasure on her skin and she let out a moan.

"Like that?"

"Uh-huh. I like it, daddy. Like it so much."

"Knew a slut like you would."

All of her risqué comments had given him a perfect insight into what she was into and now he had the perfect opportunity to make those things happen. Why wouldn't he use her teasing to his advantage?

Another spank.

"That's for having a whore mouth."

Again.

"And that's for making me jerk off in my room every night instead of enjoying this pussy like I could have."

One more.

"That's just because I like the sound you make."

The sound of his voice sent chills down her spine as she looked back over her shoulder to see his dark eyes glaring into hers, full of lust and lust for her as his grip on her butt tightened and he pushed back inside of her again, grunting loudly as he buried himself deep inside her once more.

"Your cunt is tight as fuck," he said huskily, hitting her ass once more, eliciting a loud gasp from her lips as he continued to pound away into her. "So tight that I don't think I'll ever be able to stop fucking it."

"Please don't stop."

Grabbing onto her hair, Adrian drove his cock into her hard and fast, his tongue flicking out of his mouth and wetting his lower lip as he stared deeply into her eyes. "Is this how you like it?" he asked, pulling out completely to shove himself right back into her with the same force as before. "Want me to fuck you stupid, baby?"

She nodded as best as she could as tears filled her eyes at the sight of him, his eyes glazed and his cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement, sweat pouring down his forehead to his muscular chest. His muscles rippled and flexed as his hips pumped rapidly into hers, driving her crazy with pleasure as he fucked her into oblivion.

"Yes, daddy!" she panted breathlessly. Once she had uttered that fateful name, it was all she could say, it seemed, meaning that he'd successfully completed his mission. Her back arched and she cried out "Daddy!" over and over again, his hips buckling with pleasure as he threw his head back, pumping into her hard and fast until she couldn't breathe from being consumed by her own orgasm and, seconds later, he came too, filling her with his seed and spurting deep inside of her.

When the two of them were finally both finished, she slumped forward until her head hit the cool countertop, a huge smile plastered across her face as she giggled softly. Adrian chuckled at her reaction, bending down to press a tender kiss to her temple as he rested his chin atop her spine.

"You good?"

Her hand soon formed into a thumbs up and a nod followed suit.

They stayed there on the kitchen countertop for what felt like an eternity, neither wanting to get up and leave each other. Finally, though, they had to. It would be best to clean up the mess they'd made before it got cold and sticky.

"Let me just..." He slowly removed himself from her and gently pulled her up. "I can carry you, if you want."

With trembling limbs and blushing cheeks, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the bathroom. She held him tightly, not wanting to relinquish him even for a second, and he smiled fondly at her in response.

That's how life went for a while. They'd fuck and kiss and do most things couples do together. But they weren't together...nope, Adrian wouldn't allow it. When he was balls deep in her, he'd be seconds away from professing his love and claiming her for his own, however, he would deny that they were anything more. They both knew that wasn't the case.

"Dude, you fuck her, you buy her flowers, you sleep in the same bed, you talk about her non-stop. Face it, Y/N is your girlfriend," Chris argued on the way back from a mission. Adrian had been excited to get back to his 'not-girlfriend' since they'd left. And it seemed like his eagerness was showing.

"If she's my girlfriend, why is she going on a date with another guy then?"

"I don't know. Do you like the fact she's going on a date?"

No. No, Adrian didn't like the fact that she was going on a date with someone else. And that someone else was fucking Taylor from work.

A week or two before the Vigilante-mobile was in the garage and Y/N had offered to pick him up from work. She walked into the restaurant and, whilst waiting for him, had gotten talking to Taylor. Next thing Adrian knew, Y/N had his number and apparently they were arranging to go out to dinner together.

Chris could tell just by his buddy's face how he truly felt about the situation. It was pretty clear. It was obvious that he loved her. But he was scared to admit it; scared to acknowledge it to himself and accept it. Afraid he wouldn't fit into the role he had imagined for himself in his mind. Afraid that he wouldn't be good enough for her and so he kept it under wraps.

"You've got two choices, do jack shit and hear another dude fucking the absolute shit out of her through her bedroom wall, or go for it so you get to fuck the shit out of her."

Adrian groaned as his mind started spinning wildly and he realised what he had to do. That was it! His chance to show her that he could be the man that she deserved, not only did that mean that he could fuck her, but also that he could actually treat her well. He could make her happy.

Loser: i'm injured. can you take care of me when i get back?

Loser: please?

Loser: pretty please?

Stupid: How bad?

Honestly, the only pain Vigilante was feeling was emotional.

Loser: really

Loser: really bad

Stupid: K.

Oof. He felt the weight of that single letter in his bones as he read it over and over again in his head. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

The moment he opened the door, she was checking him for injuries immediately. She didn't find a single one (which was odd because he was quite clumsy and reckless). But her gaze was sharp with her brows furrowed.

"What's the issue?"

"Me. I'm the issue." He sighed. "I fucked something up."

She placed a soft hand on his cheek, stroking it as he gazed into her eyes, seeing the concern written all over her face. "Talk to me," she whispered, her fingers trailing along his jawline in order to calm him down, and it did - he sighed and ran his hands through his messy, brown locks.

"Taylor..."

"Oh."

Like some twisted form of fate, the person in question knocked on their front door just moments after. In a huff, Adrian opened the door and instantly regretted it. As soon as he saw that it was Taylor, he quickly slammed the door shut in his face.

"Get out of the way," Y/N mumbled and pushed Adrian away from the door. She opened it up and ignored how Adrian was glaring at their guest over her shoulder. "Hey, didn't you get my text?"

"What text?"

"Ade fell in the shower and has a concussion so I need to keep an eye on him tonight," she lied with ease.

Taylor took one look at them and nodded. "We can always rearrange the date." He looked directly at Adrian. "Hope you feel better soon, man."

"Oh, I will."

Then he was gone. As soon as he appeared, he had left. And Y/N let out a small sigh as she shut the door, turning towards Adrian who got to his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs, looking up at her with pleading eyes, a pout tugging at his lips and his eyebrows knitted together.

"If you want me to beg, I'll beg."

He gave her the puppy dog eyes that no doubt would work wonders on her. She sighed, running her hand through his hair, barely holding back a smile at his cute antics as she stood there, contemplating whether or not she should give in so easily.

"Go on, beg for me."

"Please, baby. I wanna be with you. Just me. Just you. Please." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly with a desperate whimper. "I'd really like it if you'd be my girlfriend. My forever girlfriend, please." He leaned in to place a soft kiss on her against her knuckles, nuzzling against her skin affectionately. "Can I please call you mine? Can we, can we be a real couple?"

All his tactics - the puppy eyes, the pleading, the begging, those pathetic whines - everything about this boy was just irresistible. She bit down on her lip, biting back a chuckle at his adorable expression. She was completely unable to refuse this little shit anything.

"I'm yours."

The words slipped out effortlessly from her lips without any hesitation whatsoever, causing a wide grin to spread across his face. Then he suddenly lifted his body off the ground, pulling her closer to him with his strong arms wrapped firmly around her waist, and kissed her passionately. She responded to the kiss with enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around his neck as he picked her up, carrying her to their bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them with his heel.

Later that night when they were both cuddled up in bed under the covers, he reached out to grab her phone as it lit up. "You've got a message from Taylor."

"Oh, I'll reply tomorrow."

Adrian had a better idea than that. He found his phone and told her, "I want a kiss." She complied and leaned in to give him a quick peck on his lips yet he deepened it, possessively moving his one hand to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing vertically across her jugular. The other hand was in front of them, taking a photo of the passionate smooch that ensued.

That photo would be sent to Taylor as soon as their lips disconnected.

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