#its tight this month like everyone i know but yeh its tight

[aquaticstyles]

the five senses

hello everyone! while a separate 13k fic is in the works, as promised, here is a lil 2k piece i miraculously came up with at midnight. as always, feedback is happily welcomed!!! happy reading lovies x 

it's been five months since it ended.

you should hate him. you should utterly and fascinatingly despise him. you should hate the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he smelled, and the way the sounded. you should forget him—rip every page, crumple him up, and strike a match.

key word: should.

but you don't hate him. you couldn't if you tried. you are utterly and fascinatingly still wrapped around his perfect, ring-encircled fingers. you love the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way he sounded. you can't forget him, no matter how much you want to. his ink is still scattered in the novels of your memories, proving to be permanent and stubborn as you try desperately to put fire to its pools.

you are still utterly and fascinatingly not over him.

and you suppose that is why your mind has chosen to drift off to candy land, marshmallow puff trees and gooey caramel lakes, visions of him swimming around, around, and around.

and you also suppose that you shouldn't be thinking of him while another man touches your skin.

key word: shouldn't.

but you can't help it. not when you're reminded of just how differently harry captured your senses and locked them away in the thumping of his chest, throwing away the key.

sight

you can still see him.

his dimples popping, inviting you to curl up inside one of them for just a moment, bunny teeth displayed in an ear to ear grin when he sees you, his lover, his everything, finally in 3D again, because boy oh boy pixelated facetime does not do you justice.

those two endless forests of green paired with wispy eyelashes, billboards for his every emotion, reeling you in and casting you back over and over and over again.

that body of his that makes you positively drool—fresh out of the shower, a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, those ferns that if you had it your way, would never be covered, tempting your eyes to what's below, other markings of ink scattered across a toned bicep, chest, thigh, an endless coloring book for you and only you to paint with your lips, diamond water droplets clinging onto tanned, sun-kissed skin, mimicking your fingers as they slide down the tight muscles, ridges and valleys, of his back, the velvet, rose scrunchie of yours that he has claimed as his own cozying up around those stubborn, chestnut curls atop his head, the ones that cause eyes to roll and skin to furrow between his brows because "they're always in my fuckin' way."

the way he looks when he's napping in the summer heat after taking a refreshing dip in the pool—cheek smushed against a lawn chair, causing his bubble-gum pink lips to pucker unintentionally, begging for a slow, lazy, warm kiss, a van gogh masterpiece of bright blues, oranges, yellows, reds, whites, greens, browns, swirling together in his canvas, those green forests peacefully hidden as his pure, innocent relaxation melts into a scene of serenity before you (you're guilty of laying directly on top of him one too many times, pressing your cheek against the warm expanse of his back and sneaking in a cat nap as well).

how he looks when he enters a room, especially those rooms with a stage and thousands of fans bubbling over with excitement, confidence and swagger exuding from his pores as the spotlights hit him in all the right places, bouncing off the numerous gems and glitter of that night's glamorous get-up. then later the way he looks as his face twists in pleasure during a post-show-adrenaline-rush-dressing-room-quickie.

his reflection in the mirror of your vanity as you do your makeup, broad shoulders leant up against the doorframe, watching you as you carefully add sparkles here and powder there, the glint of curiosity and pure infatuation in his eye, his fingers toying with the smirk on his lips when you meticulously swipe on your favorite his favorite red lipstick, knowing good and well that once he's finished with you there won't be a single trace of crimson left on your lips.

you can see all of him, from the tufts of hair you love to tug and pull and sink your hands into, to the perfect slope of his nose, the sharp pinch of his jawline, his cute ears you poke fun at much to his annoyance, his tongue darting out to wet his perfect, perfect lips, his neck that always seems readily accessible to leave bites and red stains along, the ship stamped on his bicep, his abdomen that isn't too tight or too soft under your touch, just right, the happy trails leading to that one part of him that leaves you aching for days, his thighs, all the way down to his toe permanently labeled "Big."

touch

you can still feel him.

the tips of his calloused fingers tracing down your spine, a valley of goosebumps following in their tracks, a sea of comfort washing over you. fingers intertwined between yours, squeezing your palm, fresh autumn air and central park and new coats and steaming, black coffee. fingers fanned out across your thigh, splashes of pastel purple polish on cuticles and knuckles (he was shaking too much from laughing at something on twitter like an avocado in a top hat or a dog in gucci loafers). fingers following directions on a well-traveled map, tracing over the outline of your chapped lips, up to the apples of your rosy cheeks, to your temples, and entangling into long locks of tangled hair, braiding, massaging and scratching when you've had a tough day, exhausted, hypnotized, harry.

lips against your ear, hushed whispers meant for only you in the midst of a thundering crowd (one too many neat tequilas and risky texts), cold rings sneaking underneath your shirt and spanning out against a piping hot back, the vibrations from the bass thumping beneath you joined by the organ in your chest, sweaty palms and shaky knees as rivers of suggestions flood from his earth to yours, promises that will be proven true later in seductive, blue moonlight.

his sudsy chest cuddled snugly behind your back, sinking beneath bubbles of lavender and rose because he couldn't just pick one scent, your missing puzzle piece, pruny fingers tracing shapes onto your knee beneath the water, vibrations from his giggles when you mistakenly guessed the shape as a dinosaur (it was a banana), warm puffs of breath against your neck, sopping scrunchies stacked on the ledge next to a half empty bottle of red, lips painting across your shoulder down your arm to your fingertips coating you in bright yellow, affection, admiration, addiction.

the prickles of the new addition to his face scratching up against you in the most agonizingly amazing way as his face buries between your thighs, the magic of that mouth of his, pixie dust, an arched back, an eager tongue accompanied by glistening, cherry lips, pleadings of "never shave again."

him buried inside you in the early hours of the morning, legs anchored around his waist, miles and miles of his soft, tanned skin washing against your own, nails digging into the toned ridges of his back, chestnut locks falling onto a sweaty forehead, scorching lips dancing over every inch of you over and over until he reaches that one spot, moans and exhales and crumpled sheets, your temple resting on a swallow, fingertips tracing a lone butterfly, clutching onto the cold metal of a cross, lazy smiles, bed head, halfway closed eyelids, a tranced daze basking in fresh, crisp sunlight.

taste

you can still taste him.

the bitter taste of whiskey coating his tongue as it encircles your own in the back of a taxi, wrinkled suit jackets and bunched up satin, fingers toying with buttons and zippers, giggles when his nose bumps against yours carelessly, a clouded drunken haze of city lights and sparkling sequins.

minty toothpaste covered lips smushing against yours because he just "couldn't wait," spearmint, foamy smiles wiped away on plush towels.

juice from a ripe watermelon dribbling down his chin and leaving a sugary path along his exposed neck and chest, glistening in the afternoon, summer heat, lapped up teasingly by your tongue, causing widened eyes and a harsh gulp, the reflection of heart shaped sunglasses rippling in a crystal clear pool.

a warm cup of coffee sitting on your bedside table, placed there by your lover before he leaves for a run, waiting for you in the early morning glow of your bedroom, the scent from a fresh pot still lingering in the air, the steaming liquid slowly cascading down your throat during his absence.

coconut chapstick coating his lips, stolen from your side of the vanity, even though he has countless of tubes himself he claims using yours "is more moisturizing" when in reality he just likes keeping a part of you with him at all times.

saltwater droplets clinging onto his skin, coating your lips as you leave trails of kisses along his chest and sunburnt cheeks, awaking him from his nap in the shade, waves crashing behind you, seagulls chirping and trying to steal crisps, low grumblings of "what's this fo?" accompanied by a dimple and a smirk ("just cause").

smell

you can still smell him.

the candle burning in his dressing room on tour, the one you bought him that you immediately recognize when you visit him for the first time since he left, a warm batch of butterflies brewing in your tummy when you notice the almost completely burnt through wick, apples and cinnamon.

his detergent, leaving your clothes coated in a fresh linen scent because "no way yeh leaving mine with laundry to do, love" a pair of his boxers that he knows you love to wear folded neatly on top of the rest of your belongings and sent off with a pillowy peck to your lips and promises of "see you tomorrow."

his body wash and hair product duplicates in your shower, dancing with daisies in the steam surrounding him, persisting in the small, tiled space for most of the week, even in his vacancy. sometimes you'll accidentally on purpose grab his bottle of shampoo with your eyes closed, using more than intended (harry goes through shampoo much quicker now).

the diffuser in his bedroom, spewing out vapors of a eucalyptus blend he ordered online after extensive research ("it helps with clear breathin' and relaxation"), another scent that can only be described as pure harry, later encompassing your abode as well due to your incessant claims of how much you love it (one night you came home from work to a perfectly wrapped package on the foot of your bed, a diffuser and the same eucalyptus blend hidden inside).

his cologne perched on your dresser, tom ford, tobacco vanille, harry in a bottle, sneakily spritzed on your sweatshirt when he's not looking (he notices every time), lingering on your pillow case, his purple robe hanging next to yours, and your hand towels, tokens of him dolloped throughout your apartment, a tornado of familiarity swirling you into his galaxy. the same scent filling your nose as it buries into his neck, arms wrapped around him in an ages-long bear hug, his cheek resting against the top of your head, the soft fibers of his sweater tickling your skin.

sound

you can still hear him.

the warm drip of his honey voice in the early hours of the morning, raspy and deep from his slumber, pooling in the pit of your stomach growing thick and heavy until releasing with moans and whispers lost in the rising sun.

that laugh of his that doesn't bubble up often, the one you cause more than anyone else, buckets of giggles that leaves behind tears, crinkled eyes, and hands over tummies.

his thick accent that repolishes itself after he's made a trip to london, mumbles of "bugger," "oi love," "rubbish," and your favorite, "absobloodylutely" leaving his cherry lips more often than he realizes.

his moans. your favorite kind is when you're riding him, locked in a sweaty, pulsating embrace—twisting here and turning there and doing the things you know drive him absolutely mad—those moans that erupt from deep inside him and uncharacteristically replace his typical, filthy language because you're doing him so good that he's left speechless in a heap of tangled limbs and panting breaths.

his voice as it echoes in the acoustics of the shower, the soft patter of the water serving as his own orchestra, notes belonging to rock anthems of the 70s or sometimes his own verses that have been freshly inked in his worn-in journal (occasionally you'll record him singing the new ones—unbeknownst to him—to listen to when he's away for too long).

the clinking of his rings together when he's in full-on discussion mode—using his hands as he elaborately details a story of his childhood or a conversation he had with jeff today or why he thinks salsa shouldn't go in the fridge or the reason behind this lyric and that chord progression.

his keys clanking against the ceramic dish by the door, the sweetest symphony to your ears because he's home.

and finally, the sound of those three words—smooth as butter rolling off his tongue effortlessly, a hurricane crashing and splashing against you, three strings lifting you off your feet and soaring into the clouds, green eyes and rosy cheeks pulling your heart strings, sweet sugar crystals floating from his lips to yours—"i love you."

physically, he's gone, probably off writing another album, undoubtedly doing much better than you are. maybe he's even moved on, cuddled up into another woman's side, whispering things in her ear, tangled up in her sheets.

but in every other way imaginable, he's still with you.

five senses, five million memories.

#My writing #Harry Styles #solo harry #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry fluff #harry one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #writing #imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #bf!harry #boyfriend!harry #harry styles x y/n #tell me what you think #the five senses #the five senses type beat #reblogs appreciated!

[harrysgloves]

Trouble (chapter 2)

>>>Catch up with master list here!<<<

word count: 5.6K

story summary: You’re nothing but trouble and Harry can’t help the fact that he wants a taste.

warnings: LANGUAGE // Bisexual character // Date rape drugs (not used only mentioned no one’s getting drugged I promise!) // Smut and lots of it fam. // Oral female receiving // Rough sex? // Unprotected sex (don’t do this okay?) // slight degradation // Size kink? (honestly it’s a lot lemme know if I missed something.)

chapter summary: You and Harry hook up 

a/n: wooo took me a long time to write but it’s long so enjoy. This is turning out to be another series so I’m super excited for that! Also, I don’t condone any of this behavior this is just a story for fun. Don’t do this shit. PLEASE. Okay. Thanks.

>>><<<

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off you all night. He stared you down everywhere you went. Following your every move across the bar. From the minute you walked out of your bedroom dressed like THAT he couldn't peel his eyes off you.

Your tight black faux leather skirt hugged every inch of your thighs. Your ass seconds from popping out of the back of it. When you did a little spin for him to tell you if he liked your outfit or not he had to hold back the groan bubbling in the back of his throat.

The thigh high boots you had on with that little crop top that made your breast so out there and full with that choker necklace around your neck was driving him mad. He had to readjust the problem in his pants many times before even walking out the door to go meet the rest of your friends.

He knew he was done for the second you teased your hair one last time in the mirror by the door. His mind immediately started flashing images of his hand laced through your hair pulling it so tightly your head snapped back as he rammed his cock so deep inside you those beautiful moans fell from your perfectly pouty lips. He'd fuck you so hard into the bed teasing you the whole time about how you couldn't take his big cock.

Your sloppy wet hole squeezing him for dear life as he pounded into you over and over again until you came all over him but he wouldn't stop there. No, he'd use you all up, make you never want to be with anyone else ever again. Have you cumming on his length until you couldn't even remember your own name.

"You coming?" You said, holding open the apartment door open, looking at him with those curious doe eyes that he'd love to see looking up from the floor as he shoved his dick so far down your throat you'd choke.

"Uh, yeh." He tried his best to wipe all his thoughts out of his mind but he couldn't help it. Ever since he saw you spread out on the living room floor, hearing your sweet moans, he wanted to fuck the soul out of you.

You smiled biting your lip as you turned to walk down the hallway. Knowing full well what he was thinking. Your hips swaying just a bit more than usual as you walked in front of him.

"Jesus, just fuck her already." Finn groaned from beside Harry snapping his eyes off you lingering at the bar to his friend.

"Whatever." He said rolling his eyes and taking a swig of his beer. If he wanted to stare at you he had to get better at hiding it. Your friends lived to give him shit.

"He's right. You stare at her any longer you're going to get a restraining order." Link laughed from the other side of Harry the second the brunette shot him a look. He was already tired of this conversation and it had just started.

"Yeah Link, like you don't look the same way whenever Addie walks into a room." The last boy, Lex, in the group smiled widely as Link flushed slightly and Finn gagged.

"Shut the fuck up that's my sister!" Finn groaned looking around the room as he tried to not get pissed about his friend fucking his sister… again.

"They've been together fo' 4 months mate. It's time t'get over it." Harry said, smiling at his now very pissed off and uncomfortable friend. Thankful the conversation had moved off you and towards anything else.

He was so tired of everyone giving him shit for how much he liked you. He just couldn't help it. From the first time he saw you he was intrigued. Your not giving a fuck attitude. Your style. Everything about you was so enticing.

He knew you were nothing but a heartbreak waiting to happen but he couldn't help the fact he thought about what it'd be like to be with.

But now with those lingering thoughts of you on the floor moaning and thrashing around, he wanted you more than ever.

"At least he's not fucking your sister." Finn argued to Lex. Their feud building. Really it was like they liked fighting about this, since it was almost every time they went out someone brought up Link and Adeline.

"No the British fucker is doing mine." Lex said, rolling his eyes before he looked at Harry.

"It was one time and I was drunk and 've said sorry 12 times! Besides, she's with Rose and I didn't know." A shudder ran through his body as he thought back to his night with Elena. He wasn't one to help someone cheat and if he would have known about Rose he definitely wouldn't have slept with her.

"I'm so glad I don't have a sister." Link said, smiling widely as Finn glared at him.

"Your brother's hot. He can be fair game." Harry smirked at Link who stood there with his mouth gaping.

"Oh fuck, he got you there." Lex cackled, Finn joining along with Harry as Link grumbled out something about killing all of them.

It didn't take long for Harry's eyes to move back across the room to you. He should have guessed you'd be at the bar chatting up some guy who had bought you the same cheap beer he was drinking. His arm touching your leg.

You only looked away from your drink for a second. Your head turning around to look for all your friends. It was only a second but it was long enough for the creep trying to get you home with him to slip something into your drink.

"Holy shit." Harry coughed, spitting out the alcohol in his mouth back into his bottle, ready to go kick someone's ass when Link's hand reached out to stop him.

"You're going to miss the best part." His friend said making Harry turn to him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Wot?"

"Ohhh, did someone drug her drink, again?" Finn asked way too excited as they all turned to look at you staring at your drink. Your eyes rising so slowly to the guy in front of you before turning to the group of boys.

Harry watched completely confused when Finn gave a subtle nod. Your head snapping back to the creep in front of you. The sweetest smile Harry had ever seen coming across your face.

"God, I love this." Lex said making Harry look at him momentarily before focusing back on you.

He was going to walk over to you but Link's hand stayed firmly over his chest as he shook his head no. Pointing to you now gesturing to the guy somewhere behind him.

Harry's heart racing as the jacked up jock turned around in his seat to look behind him. You looked over to the group of boys sending them a wink before switching the bottles of beer around before the guy turned back to you.

"Fuck, everytime. These idiots, I swear." Finn gave a short chuckle as the huge guy sitting across from you at the bar started drinking his drink so pleased with himself as you picked up your own and took a large gulp.

"Not like they don't deserve it." Link shrugged, removing his hand from Harry's chest.

His eyes never left you. At the bar chatting up this asshole like he didn't about date rape you. Your arm resting on the jerks leg as he started to sway in his seat. Your hand reaching out for the dudes phone, sending a text from it before putting it back in his pocket.

Your hands running around in his other pants pockets until you pulled out a small baggie and the guys wallet. Placing a kiss on the sleeping man's face, an outline of your lipstick left behind on his cheek as you turned so triumphantly towards your group of friends.

"Looks like drinks are on…" You paused opening the wallet one more time. "Aaron Anders. What a fucking name."

"Here you go, knock yourself out and make sure you flush those for me. Can't let anymore rapey pervs get ahold of that shit in here." You said throwing the wallet and baggie to Finn who caught it instantly.

"Who'd y'text from his phone?" Harry asked, his head peeking around you to see the guy being lifted out of the bar by his friends.

"The creeps friends. Couldn't let him die or some shit. That'd be hard to explain." You shrugged, not bothering to look around at the guy being pulled out of the bar.

Really. It was his own fault.

"Where's Ellie and Rose?" Lex said, turning his head around the room to try and look for them which was really pointless.

"Probably fucking in the bathroom." You said, not even attempting to look around. If you knew Rose, she was already trying to win her girl back.

"I'm serious about those pills, Finn, flush them." You said, turning your attention to the guy on your right. His hand running through the billowing waves of dark black hair at the top of his head as he debated what you said.

You should have known the idiot would be thinking about taking them. He had a real problem when it came to drugs.

"We could just take them and see where the night goes." He said, his dark chocolate brown puppy dog eyes looking up to meet yours. Making you laugh at how serious he was being.

He was always a fun time but the kid had some real issues.

"Dude, no."

"Yeah, you got some serious problems."

"I think we should get y'sum therapy mate."

"Fuck, sugguest one thing and all the sudden its oh Finn you have a drug addiction. Fuck you guys." Finn huffed, turning to leave the group and heading for the bathrooms. Your smile wide across your face as you watched to make sure he didn't detour to go date rape drug himself.

It was only a few seconds of you staring at the now closed men's bathroom door before you felt eyes burning through you. Your attention snapping up to Harry who didn't even bother to look away from you.

"Wanna dance?" You asked him, licking your lips. His eyes focusing on them so intensely your breathing caught in your throat. The way he looked at you sometimes, like he was ready to pounce on you, take you right then and there. It was exhilarating.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him through the crowd before he even had a chance to respond to your question. As much as you love playing this teasing game with him he wasn’t going to be staring at you all night long, looking like he was about 2 seconds from ripping your clothes to shreds, without at least dancing with you.

"GET IT HARRY!" You heard Link yell from behind you, making you roll your eyes and try harder to push through all the people on the dance floor.

"If you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to tell Addie about this shit. We can't take you anywhere." You heard the last bit of what Lex yelled at Link and a sharp “ow”, you assumed Lex had hit him and honestly, you were thankfully.

Your misfit group of friends, while very entertaining at times, were assholes. They stuck their noses in everyone’s business and had no problem forcing themselves into things that didn’t concern them. They were rude, overbearing, and you loved them for it. Even if it was a little much at times.

Your hands instantly wrapped behind the back of his neck when you made it to a clear enough spot on the dance floor. His firm grip on your waist sent sparks through you. Your big doe eyes flashing up to his smugly smiling face, knowing damn well you felt whatever was between you two.

His body was like a magnet slowly drawing you closer and closer to him. You swayed to the beat of the music, moving in complete sync with him, his body pressed so tightly to yours as you moved back and forth.

The air around you two became thick with the body heat of the others around you. Your hair stuck to the back of your neck but you couldn’t have cared less. The way he was holding you to him like you were the last thing on this earth that he wanted to touch had you wanting to beg him to fuck you right now.

You had no idea dancing could be such a turn on.

He pulled you in even closer to him, his large hands hungrily running over every inch of you that he could possibly touch.

You stopped dancing, biting your lip as you looked at him. His own movements stopping with you. His eyes focusing from your chest that was pressed against him to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" You asked, eyes pleading up to him. You'd never wanted to kiss someone so much in your whole life.

His lips curling up slightly at the edges as he hummed, thinking about what you'd ask. His hand moving your hair off your forehead, wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled your lips to his.

Fireworks wasn't even close to how it felt, more like an explosion.

Sparks.

Fire.

Shooting flames of adrenaline pulsating from his mouth to your own. Consuming your entire being into him.

His tongue forcing its way into your mouth with no hesitation. So damn determined to get what he wanted from you. So demanding, so forceful, so dominating.

The submissive inside of you whimpering. Clawing its way to the surface of your mind.

"I love being right." You heard the sweet voice from beside you. Pulling back from Harry not even needing to look beside you to know she'd be wearing a smug smile on her face.

"I like y'bein' right too." He said to Rose. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him before turning to her. Silently questioning what she was talking about.

"I said you'd totally fuck him. He didn't think so." She shrugged, her head laying on Elena's shoulder.

For being so cozy with Rose the girl looked like she wanted to murder you. Her eyes narrowing at the hands around your waist. Harry not letting your body go very far from his.

"Must be nice to be right all the time, baby." You said with a smile. "We're going home."

>>>

Any shred of decency you had left in you was gone as soon as the car door to your uber closed shut. You were on him from the minute you two were semi alone. Legs straddling over his waist in the backseat. Your skirt riding up so high your ass was exposed. The cool air coming from the vents licked your hot skin.

"Gonna give him a show like y'did me?" Harry asked when his lips momentarily disconnected from yours. That swoon worthy smug on his face as you shrugged.

"Don't think he'd mind." You said, leaning back down to connect your lips to his. His hands grabbing your thighs, running up to your cheeks of your behind, pulling you forward onto his clothed length.

Rose definitely wasn't lying. The dude was fucking stacked. Your core clenching involuntary at the sheer thought of him sliding into you. Already feeling bad for the abuse you were about to put your body through.

"Not that the free porn isn't great but we've been outside your place for 10 minutes." The guy from the front finally interrupted you two.

Harry pulled away with a smile on his face as he slapped your ass signaling you to get off of him.

You squeaked, slapping his shoulder, grumbling about him being a dick as you got out of the car. Harry tapping the poor drivers shoulder when he finally got out, shaking his head, smiling at you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you up the stairs to your apartment.

The second the door to your apartment flew open he was on you. Hands gripping the back of your neck as he held your lips to his. Your feet stumbling over his as you both tried to take off your shoes without disconnecting your lips. His arms wrapping around your waist to steady you on your feet.

"Eager?" You asked, smug smile on your face as you peered up at him.

"No idea sweetheart. Had t'deal with a hard-on all week after y'little show." He said pulling you in closer to him. His hands traveling down the valley of your back to your bottom, squeezing each cheek hard in this hand.

"My room. Now." He ordered. Your lips rolling into your mouth at his demanding tone of voice. Already loving the idea of him being so rough with you.

You turned on your heel heading for his bedroom. Taking off your top as you walked down the hallway with him shortly behind you. Throwing the useless piece of cloth over your shoulder, you heard him groan.

You felt his arms back around you, his chest bare chest pressed against your back as he guided you quickly into his room. Slamming the door behind him and promptly pressing you up against the flimsy wood.

"Thought I said my room, not get undressed?" He asked a small smile playing on the corner of his lips as he watched your chest rise up and down from your heavy breathing.

"Thought you knew I liked to break rules." You said arms snaking behind yourself to undo your bra clasp. The black material falling to the floor in between you two.

His eyes immediately focusing on your chest. You could have sworn they visibly darkened. A shiver running through your body as he looked at you. His eyes eagerly eating up every inch of your chest. Studying every crevice of you as his hands grasped each breast firmly. His slightly callused fingers running across your soft skin was such a contrasting feeling to anyone else you'd been with. Taking the air from your lungs as he continued to touch you like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do.

"Fuck." He groaned when he heard your soft sighs, leaning down and capturing your lips again.

Your arms laced behind his neck as he guided you to his bed. Pushing you down on the soft blankets. Following you down to the bed. He laid over top of you, leg between yours, hands on either side of your head as he kissed the soul out of you.

Every movement of his tongue against yours had your hips shifting for any sort of friction you could find. Thinking of the things that tongue could do to other parts of you as you pulled him in closer to you. Your chest pressed tight against his as your nails ran down his back and eventually to the button of his pants.

"Eager?" He asked, pulling away from you with a smile, throwing your own words back at you.

"Yeah I am. So get these off." You said, pulling his pants down the little bit you could from your position under him. Not caring how desperate your voice sounded. You were impatient and not above showing it.

In the short time of you kissing him in the club to now he had gotten you so worked up. Every touch he laid on you sent sparks shooting through your entire body. Kissing him was better than any kiss you'd ever had.

It was already addictive. He was addictive.

"Awe, lovey, 'M sorry want me t'touch y'yeh?" His one hand lifting from beside your head, pushing up your skirt.

Your breath catching as his fingers gently ran across your soaking wet underwear. Your hips lifting of their own accord, chasing his hand as he pulled it away from you.

"Jesus, fuckin' soaked fo' me."

The tease knew what he was doing to you. Smiling down so brightly with those perfectly white straight teeth gleaming at you, taunting you. You groaned in frustration, rolling your eyes at him as you laid further back into the mattress.

"Harry." You whined, shifting your hips again. Hands desperately pulling at the front of his undone pants, finally freeing him.

His length hitting you on the leg before bouncing to his stomach. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the very large situation you had at hand.

"That's not gonna fit." You said staring down at the monstrosity before you as he laughed deeply from his chest, shaking his head at you.

"I'm serious! That's like a fucking forearm!" You knew Rose saidwhe was supposed ro be huge but the guy was as big as a porn star. There was no way that thing was supposed to fit inside you. No way.

"Guess I'll have t'get y'ready then." He said, standing from the bed, slipping off his pants one leg at a time. His eyes never leaving you for one minute.

You cautiously eyed him as he continued to smile down at you. You could feel his ego inflating by the second which was infuriating but you honestly had no idea how the hell he planned on getting that fucking thing inside you without it hurting.

"You'll stop if it hurts right?" You asked, making him pause as he got back onto the bed.

"Course. Y'still want t'do this?" He asked, slowly backing away but you quickly reached for him, arms around his neck.

"Yeah just wanted to make sure." You quickly kissed him again. Hoping he wouldn't start having second thoughts about this. You were already here, half dressed, and turned on. It'd be a shame to waste a good night out and not get laid.

"Tell me if y'get uncomfortable, yeh?" He asked, pulling away from you, his eyes that soft cute green again, making you bite your lip as you nodded your agreement.

You laid back down on the bed as he moved further into you. Resting on your elbows as those soft satin lips you were slowly becoming obsessed with connected to yours again. Calming to waves of anxiety in your mind.

His hands smoothly unzipping the side zipper of your skirt with ease. Slowly pulling the taunt fabric down your legs. The tips of his fingers gently brushing across your silky legs as the fabric was pulled off and tossed carelessly to the floor.

His lips parting from your needy mouth. Trailing his lips across the sensitive skin of your collarbone, down to the swells of your breast. His tongue running circles across your pebbled nipples, slowly, but with determination to give care to each one individually. His lips curling at the sounds of your gasps and sighs when he pulled back slightly to blow cool air gently across the warm trail his tongue left across your chest.

Watching so intently when your nipples poked to hard points. A satisfied hum coming from him as he observed your body's reaction to him. Your chest moving up and down so quickly, hands clutching his blanket for dear life.

Trailing lingering wet kisses down your stomach. Your legs involuntarily clenching when he nipped lightly at the sensitive skin close to your hip bone. A hiss coming from you as he repeated the action on the other side.

His tattooed hand running across the thin lace fabric of your underwear and you could feel his grin against your heated skin. His fingers gently tugging down the remainder of your fabric.

Leaving you completely naked in front of him. Your heart rate picking up the second he moved so swiftly in between your legs. Resting on your elbows to see him sat with one of your legs on either side of his head. His hands running down the insides of your thighs, making you clench around nothing.

"What did Rose say again?" He asked, finger gently pulling back your lips slightly. His thumb rubbing light circles around your bundle of nerves before looking up at you, waiting for you to answer his question.

"What?" You asked, confused as to why these two insisted on talking about the other as you laid beneath them. He had you dripping a puddle between your legs and he really expected you to talk about Rose?

"I think she said sumthin' 'bout makin' y'sing right, love?" He asked, not bothering to give you any time to answer.

His mouth connecting with your core in an instant. His tongue flat and thick as he leisurely swiped from your entrance all the way to your clit. Your head landing back on the bed as you let out a shocked moan.

"Fuck, y'taste so sweet." He said his British accent somehow getting thicker as he became entranced in you. His arms wrapping around your thighs pulling you down on his face as he took his time tasting you.

Your eyes struggled to stay open as you peered down at him completely devouring you. The things he could do while kissing you was impressive. But this? This was on a different level.

He took complete joy in hearing your untamed moans. Showing no care in world as he dragged his face around in your arousal. Happily lapping up every single drop from you as he switched so skillfully between your pulsating bundle of nerves and your entrance.

He was a man who hadn't ate in years.

And you were his meal.

His hands around your thighs digging into your skin only added to your insane amount of pleasure. His fingers embedded into your skin leaving bruises on your soft silky skin for everyone to see.

You felt like an instrument being so beautifully played. Chords echoing from deep in your chest as his fingers slipped inside of you, pumping to a distant imaginary metronome.

Your body burned brighter than the sun, a warming sensation pulling at the pit of your stomach. Completely different than anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Harry." You breathed out, hands lacing through his hair to pull his mouth off you.

"It feels different." You whined as a third finger entered you. His pace not faltering the slightest bit as he smiled up to you.

That adorable angelic simple popping out was such a contrast to the devilish things he was doing to you.

"I know." Was the only thing he said before his mouth was back on you, giving light suction to your clit as his fingers expertly slid into you on final time.

The dam had broke. Flooding, gushing, out of you as your vision blackened around the edges. You'd never had an out of body experience before but you were sure this was what they felt like.

Your whole body tensing before a wave of mind numbing euphoria rained over you. The moan you let out was like thunder, roaring in a tidal wave of absolute pleasure.

You had no idea sex could feel like this.

Your body no longer felt like your own as you laid on the now wet bed. Slight twitches of your leg was the only thing keeping your eyes even slightly open until the smug smiling Harry came into your line of sight. He licked his lips so arrogantly as he brushed the hair from your face.

"How was that fo' gettin' y'ready, love?" His playful green eyes would have infuriated you with his taunting tone of voice but you were too gone in that fuzzy state of mind to notice.

"Amazing." You said honestly, you had never had anything even remotely close to that before. Your body was still experiencing random shocks and twitches as he guided you to a less wet spot of his bed.

He parted your legs, hands running down the inside of your thighs as his length slapped gently against your bundle of nerves. Jolts running through you everytime he sprung back to your clit.

He slowly guided himself through your soaked folds. Watching your lips encased around him. He let out a low hiss when his tip slipped inside you, already stretching your walls.

You whimpered at the feeling of his thick tip sliding in and out of you. Slowly working his way up to you being able to take all of him. He moved so carefully. Inching his way fully full inside of you.

"God, y'fuckin' tight." He groaned as your walls clamped around him. Pulling him even further into you.

You whimpered out a pathetic moan when he pulled out of you slowly all the way to his tip and fully back into your tight channel. His eyes glued to where you were connected, watching himself finally fuck you.

"What's wrong, pup?" He asked when he saw your hips shift forward slightly, the cocky smile on his face as he leaned down over you. Resting on one forearm his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck.

"Harder." You whined, bucking your hips underneath him, trying to get him to move the way you wanted him to. Desperate for him to make you feel like he did before.

"Thought y'couldn't handle me?" He said his hips ever so slightly pushing harder into you. Making you wither and moan beneath him.

"Please, Harry." You cried, arms wrapping around the back of his neck as you. Your legs connecting around his back trying anything to get him to finally fuck you.

He connected his lips to yours swallowing your cries and moans as his hips rolled against yours. Crashing against you with so much force against that sweet spot inside of you could barely think straight.

Your body became nothing but a moldable toy for him. He ripped you up from the bed, turning you around within a blink of an eye. Slamming himself back into you from behind.

"Oh, fuck." You cried, head hanging down between your bent arms.

"Wanna hear what 'M doin' t'ya" He said breathlessly from behind you. His hand around your neck as he brought you to his sweat covered chest.

Your hands holding on to his one arm for dear life as he took whatever he wanted. His lips pressed against your ear. His breathless, groans and whispers of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him so tightly were the only thing you could hear.

Your body couldn't take anymore. The high just on the horizon as his thrusts started to get harder and sloppier.

"Gonna cum all over my cock, sweet girl?" He asked, a satisfied hummed leaving him when your walls tightened around him at his words.

"Such a dirty girl, puppy." He whispered into your ear. Chuckling softly at the moan that left you, shaking his head.

He let your body fall to the bed. Your arms barely catching yourself before your face smacked into one of his pillows. You were so close to going again. Your orgasm so close you could taste it as his hands held tightly onto your waist.

"Should 'ave known y'wanted me to use y'like a cocksleve." He said so close to your ear as his front draped over your backside. An earth shattering moan left you at his words. Throwing your hips backwards faster into him as your body worked of its own accord.

His free hand rubbing the perfect amount of pressure on your clit was all you needed to finally let go.

Fucking him was the closest you'd ever get to heaven.

Your eyes closed, rolling into the back of your head as the euphoric feeling swept you away. Your body shaking as you let it all out. Let yourself go completely. Your fuzzy state of mind only increasing with this long lasting effect he had on your body.

You'd never cum as hard as you did when you were with him.

The finale snap if his hips and warm release across your ass was what snapped you out of it. Laying down flatly on his bed as he laid down beside you. Arm over his face as he tried to take in much needed air.

"We should 'ave done that ages ago." He said, making you laugh as you got up from your spot in his bed.

"We could always do it again. I wouldn't mind." You said as you picked up your random articles of clothing from around his room.

"Where y'goin'?" He asked, removing the arm from his face. The confused look he was giving you was nothing short of adorable.

"I'm going to my room." You said simply shrugging as you grabbed the last thing you thought you had in his space.

"Why?" He asked, sitting up on his elbow as he watched you scanning for any leftover articles of clothing you may have laying around.

"Cause I don't do stay overs." You pulled your underwear out from beneath his pants quickly adding them to the pile of clothes you had to take back with you to your room.

"Wot?"

"Have you ever seen someone leaving here in the morning that I've been with?" You asked him, finally, done looking for everything you could finally talk to him face to face.

"No?"

"Yeah, because I don't let people stay over and I don't do the whole cuddling thing or staying at theirs. Just easier that way."  You said sternly. Making it well known from the start that this wasn't going to be anything serious.

You didn't do serious.

"See ya tomorrow, Harry." You said with a smile as you walked out his room shutting his down behind you.

He groaned lay back against the bed hands running down his face as he looked at the ceiling in his room. His mind running with all the things he liked about you. All the ways you were perfect.

And God, the sex, it was just the best with you. Everything about you was just so fucking addictive.

And now that he's had a taste, he wants more.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x You #Harry styles x y/n #Harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #Trouble

[foolgobi65]

yeh rishtaa kya kehlataa hain

@allegoriesinmediasres asked for: Rama/Sita, travel!AU, friends to lovers, “you confuse me”

as usual, this is completely unedited and thus is probably chock full of grammar errors, bad characterization, and terrible pacing. but! it was fun to write on my end so as always if u want me to rewrite it I’d be glad to lmaoo. it’s super super super cheesy at the end...like the whole third bit is just super cliche but w/e i love cliche romance its all good lol. anyways, i hope you like it at least a little!! thank you so much for the prompt <3 <3 <3 

if you’d like to send me an au prompt from this list, please do!! 

(title is from a lovely ar rahman song from the movie meenaxi, and also apparently a hindi soap, meaning “what is this relationship called?” )

---

It’s been two weeks since the Raghuvanshi Group put out a notice that nearly brought the Indian manufacturing industry to its knees: Ramachandra, eldest son of Dasaratha Raghuvanshi and anointed heir since his very first breath, has been stripped of his VP positions within the company, his stock options, even his entrance card. The gossip blogs report that Ramachandra has lost access to the family accounts and family property, have posted pictures of the young man once posed to be the next titan of Indian Industry at a local branch of the Bank of India, handing over what is rumoured to be his great-grandfather’s watch as a starting sum so that he can get his own personal account.  

Bharata, three years Rama’s junior, is still in the United States working on his MBA: he has not yet been told of his brother’s effective exile from the family, nor of his own subsequent ascension to the position of CEO-in-waiting. Twins Lakshmana and Shatrugana, five years younger, are in London having just begun their undergraduate degrees. It was interesting, people used to say, that of the brothers it was only Rama who stayed in India. Rama who attended every company party and toured factories, solemnly noting down worker complaints on the weekends he could spare from his studies, in all respects the near exact opposite of his father whose four children are the sons of three women. 

Four days after the company announced its decision, Ramachandra disappeared from the public eye. It takes ten days, but Janaki eventually tracks down enough public and private conjecture to find him in a housing colony nearly an hour long ride from Ayodhya, the Raghuvanshi family home in the center of the city. The door opens, and Janaki greets the man who can only be Sumantra, Dasaratha’s long-loyal driver who had apparently left the same day as it’s once shining son. 

“Hello!” she says, palms folded and motorcycle helmets dangling by their straps from her wrists, “I’m a friend of Ram. Is he at home?” 

The door closes almost entirely. “Why would sir be found here,” Janaki hears from the gap, as Sumantra hooks the metal chain that would prevent her from barging in even if she was strong enough to shove aside a man nearly 50 pounds heavier than herself. “He is a very rich man’s son, and I am only a driver.” 

Janaki frowns. “No one is ever ‘only’ anything Sumantra-ji, we all do some type of work in order to live, and not one of these jobs is better or worse than another.” 

From behind the door, she hears the sharp exhalation that could almost be a snort from someone more given to expressing his own feelings. Janaki was right, then, Ramachandra Raghuvanshi who grew up on one of the most expensive properties in India has sought refuge in a home he could have bought on a moment’s whim only two weeks before. The chain rattles, and the door opens wide. 

“Janaki Videha,” Rama says, and suddenly it is four years ago and Janaki is again a student politician stuck in a hospital bed after a bad encounter with the police, flipping through notes meticulously taken by a classmate who insists on anonymity but could only possibly be the lanky, nearly silent boy that everyone knows will one day be one of the richest men in India. 

Normally, a person seeing an old acquaintance after a few years would speak their name, then utter some platitude about how long it has been since they last met and invite them inside to catch up. Rama, who is only capable of erudition in front of men his father wants him to impress, conveys the implication that all of these social niceties have been uttered without saying anything but her name. Janaki smiles, takes off her shoes, and walks in. 

---

“What are you even doing here?” 

Janaki raises an eyebrow, pouring a little more soap into the bucket they were offered to use for clothes washing. It has been a month since Janaki found Rama and told him that she was going on a trip, and that she needed male company to keep her safe. A month since she handed him one of her motorcycle helmets, helped him pack his single spare change of clothes and toothbrush, and directed him to sit behind her and hold on tight so that they might make it to another friend’s village by evening and have a place to spend the night. Together, they have followed the western coastline, trading off who drives when Janaki realizes that not only does Rama have a deft hand at the wheel, but in the proper circumstances can coax thrills out of her old bike that she hadn’t even thought possible. 

“What do you mean,” she asks, grabbing his kurta top from the pile of clothes he has slowly gathered from the families he has inadvertently charmed over their travels. He’s standing off to the side, hanging their host family’s saris to dry in order of color, taking the pains to smooth each piece of fabric and making sure none of them touch. In exchange for doing the family’s laundry today, Janaki and Rama are allowed to do their own, an exchange of goods and services that has served them well so far. 

“We both know what I mean,” she hears in response. “You’ve just been elected President of the University Student Union, your father is up for election this year, and even if neither of those things were important enough you must have research you should be doing instead of traveling the coastline with the penniless, disgraced son of an industrialist.” His voice is as matter of fact as it always seems to be with him, but Janaki feels an undercurrent of self-hatred at the core of his little speech. Still, she thinks with a faint flush, it’s nice to know that he has kept up with her just as closely as she had him -- though of course it was much easier to find information about Ramachandra Raghuvanshi, always in the papers at exact, two week intervals so as to prevent the creation of scandals to amuse the public with during a news drought. 

“I’d call your father a capitalist if I was really embarrassed to be seen with you,” she says back, “and there is more to be ashamed of in becoming rich through exploitation than in being poor through no fault of your own.”  

Janaki hands over his kurta, and watches him wring it out one more time with hands stronger than her own. He smiles slightly. “The revolution never stops, does it?” 

“No,” she smiles in return. “Not with me, and not, I think, with you either.” 

Rama looks away, walking back to the rope to hang up his shirt. “What do you know about me that makes you so confident?” He pursues his lips briefly. “We weren’t even friends, and still you’re here with me.” 

Why are you here, Janaki hears go unspoken, why haven’t you abandoned me as well? 

When Janaki arrived on campus all starry eyed at 17, she had taken the student body by storm. Blessed with a vibrant personality and the natural pull of a gravity well, she brought people into her orbit effortlessly, rising up the university party ranks within months rather than years of her peers. Academically, she was registered as an economics student, a category the papers said she shared with the Raghuvanshi heir who had created quite the stir when he took his place at an Indian University instead of going abroad. She had been doing quite well, she thought, until the exhaustion after her first collection drive in support of a local workers’ strike fund had caught up to her and she had slept through a full day’s worth of classes. Just when Janaki had been about to call up an acquaintance in their batch she thought might lend her notes, a folder had been slipped underneath her dorm door. Inside, a set of meticulous notes, and a 2 lakh check. 

“Isn’t the factory a subsidiary of the Raghuvanshi group?” Janaki’s roommate asked, turning over the check as Janaki flipped through the notes. Thank you for your work, they said at the top. Please let me know if the workers need more. 

“Yes,” she had said, “but we can’t tell anyone about this.” For four years she had kept his secret, waiting for his packages whenever she was detained, or ill, or beaten up and could not attend the day’s lectures. More than just a copy of the class outline, Rama’s notes were full of asides, connections, slips of paper clipped with outside citations when he saw something that could be countered, or expanded on. When the party canvassed for funds, her notes would arrive with another check, no demands made in exchange except a humble request to let him know if they ever needed more. 

Janaki looks at Rama now, hair growing long to match his new beard. Ramachandra Raghuvanshi had always been clean shaven, hair short and neat and slightly parted to the side in a way every girl instinctively knew must have been how his mother told him would suit. Her eyes soften. 

“You used to take notes for me,” she says, “Why?” 

His lips turn down just slightly. “It helped me study, to transcribe them again.”

Janaki raises an eyebrow. She remembers that the notes had always focused especially on areas she was known to be weak in, but she lets his half-truth slide. She has a better arrow in her quiver. 

“And the money?” 

His eyes are trained to the ground. “It wasn’t my money.” Well, certainly the last six weeks have made that much clear. But Janaki did not remember Rama spending exorbitantly in school: his largest expenses seemed to be the checks he sent her. 

“We weren’t friends,” Janaki agrees, “But I knew that you were a good man,” Janaki says, “even if you’ve had to hide it from your family your whole life.” She snorts. “And if we weren’t friends then, we certainly are now -- look, I’m washing your underwear right now, and if that isn’t friendship I don’t know what is!” 

The joke isn’t really that funny, but suddenly Rama bursts into laughter, loud and deep in a way Janaki doesn’t think she’d ever heard from him in class, on campus, even in the videos posted by the gossip rags online. 

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he finally says, and Janaki tries not to show her surprise or the way that makes her hurt on his behalf. “But I would be grateful to be yours.” 

--

Another two months pass, Janaki and Rama journeying up and down and around the west coast. Slowly, Rama starts to gravitate towards the work that he seems suited to do in trade for the day’s food and shelter, and Janaki watches as he seems to blossom in front of her eyes. Every place they drive into, Janaki begins to ask around and invariably there is a person who, more than needing wood split or clothes washed, is in need of a good scribe to write, in English, the details of their grievance against someone with more power than them. Rama listens, and writes, and accompanies men and women to go see a lawyer, or their landlords, and stands behind them speaking in that perfect colonial era British Indian accent he says he picked up at boarding school, making even Janaki squirm when she hears it. 

Janaki’s ideology does not allow for her to venerate colonial markers of class, so that squirm must be one of discomfort, rather than, well, --

It has been three months since Janaki and Rama set out on their travels, and time is running out for Janaki who really does have things she has to get back to: a student union to run, a doctorate to work towards, a father’s election campaign to help out with. But everytime Janaki thinks about waking up one morning without seeing him when she turns her head, the pit in her stomach grows larger and more snarled. She doesn’t know how it happened but somehow Rama has gone from acquaintance, to friend, to....to something Janaki can’t even describe beyond simply laying claim to the person at her side. He has become “her” Rama, even though she knows you can’t own a person -- yet Janaki is greedy, and when she watches the small smiles that their trip has coaxed out of his mouth, watches him bargain with their host so that she can eat her favorite vegetable at dinner, watches him finally fall asleep after talking to her for hours into the night and finally look like the youth he is, Janaki knows that she can’t bear to leave. 

“Are you angry,” she asks one day, passing him the newspaper cone of roasted peanuts they’ve been trading between themselves while they sit on the sand of an empty beach. There is no need to clarify what he possibly could be angry about. 

“No,” he says, taking the cone. “I obey my father’s will.” 

From anyone else, Janaki would laugh, but she knows that he speaks the truth as he sees it. The Raghuvanshis raised the perfect scion, a boy right out of those terrible 90s Hindi films who saw their parents as God and venerated at the altar of increased profits. Yet, they chose to throw him like yesterday’s trash -- but no matter, because their loss is Janaki’s gain, and she knows him, knows what makes him happy and sad, and glad and mad.

She knows, for one, that he is angry and that he needs to acknowledge it before she can ask him to come back with her and start over. 

“Yes,” she says, “you obeyed quite beautifully. That doesn’t mean you aren’t upset.” 

“Don’t -- I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.” 

She turns to look at him, jaw already clenched where usually it would take five times as long to get him to this state. He’s furious. Janaki’s heart aches in sympathy, longing to gather him up in her arms and tell him that it’s alright to be upset, that it would even be right to feel so, to kiss away the furrow in his beautiful brow and brush his curls behind his ear. But that would only make him close up, so instead -- 

“Don’t what?” she asks. 

His entire body tightens, like a screw wound one turn too much. “I’m not upset,” he hisses, eyes flashing. “I’m fine!” Janaki brushes her hand over the one of his currently crushing the newspaper cone. As if burned, he lets go.

Sita sighs. “We don’t have to talk about it, but you’re clearly angry and it really isn’t healthy to keep it all in. There’s no one here at the beach, so I think you should just scream it out and try to move on with your life.” She’s not being entirely truthful, since she really does think he should talk about his family’s sudden and entire abandonment after years of encouraging near insane amounts of familial loyalty and emotional repression, but even this journey started out with a single step. 

“You think I should... scream,” Rama says, eyebrow raised in perfect, aristocratic, condescension. Janaki nods. 

“Just go out into the surf, scream at the top of your lungs for 20 seconds, and then we can leave no questions asked. I promise.” 

“You won’t bring this up again,” he asks as if to confirm the terms of a business deal. Perhaps that’s what this is to him, finally back on familiar territory. Janaki shrugs, ignoring how her heart sinks to think of him seeing her care as nothing more than something to trade in order to keep away. 

“For now.” At his frown, she shrugs again, allowing herself to smile a little. “If it looks like you’re struggling in the future, I’m definitely going to ask again.” 

For a moment, Rama’s eyes widen in ...shock? Surprise? Was he not expecting for them to remain in each other’s lives? Janaki can’t allow herself to think too hard or long on the subject, especially since Rama has, without a word, risen and walked over to the surf. 

He glances once over his shoulder, and Janaki waves in encouragement. He begins to scream. 

20 seconds pass, and Janaki really does think he will stop and walk back, brushing off any questions and wandering back into the village they’ve decided to stay in this week. But then 30 pass, then a minute, and suddenly Rama is just screaming, knees falling into the waves and hands coming up to clutch and pull at his hair and Janaki is running as fast as she ever has to crash next to him in the wet sand. She shifts sideways, putting her body perpendicular to his so that her back is not to the waves but she can still look at his face -- he’s still screaming, doesn’t seem to have noticed her body next to his, tears streaming down his face. Janaki’s hands flail, but finally she realizes that she can only rely on the instincts that have led her the past few months to find him, to drag him on the back of her bike, to tell him to scream. 

Janaki pulls Rama into her chest, her arms around him as she begins to weep along with him. Every time she tries to grasp the scale of the injustice done to him, she finds that her mind is too small. He was raised with every luxury, but with a conditional love that demanded a machine instead of a man. He’s stopped screaming, but has replaced it with gut wrenching sobs, hoarse from when his throat seems to have finally given out -- Janaki wonders when he last wept.

She loves him, she realizes, pressing an absent kiss into his hair. That’s what this feeling must be. 

“You what?” 

Oh, Janaki thinks, did I say that aloud?

“Ah,” she hears, “yes you did.” Rama raises his head, both of them still kneeling in the surf, tear tracks glistening down the cheeks he had just shaved at the request of an older lady who offered to house them if only he would look respectable. “Do you mean it?” 

Janaki swallows, the pit in her stomach as large as it ever has been. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be -- she was supposed to convince him to come back with her, and then later talk about how she wants to kiss him silly. 

“You want me to come back with you?” Oh for--

“Yes,” she says, confident that nothing she thinks now will remain within the privacy of her mind. “I want you to come back with me, and study to become a lawyer, and live with me as we try to make the world a better place.” 

Rama’s eyes are wide, and Janaki wonders if she’s ever seen him look so fragile. He sputters. 

“Fragile? I don’t look frag--” 

Janaki laughs, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek, right thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. “Alright?”

Rama swallows, blinking his assent as if he suddenly can’t speak. A minute passes where the only sound is of the ocean waves crashing gently in front of them, water periodically flooding them up to their hips. 

Rama clears his throat. “Do...” he takes a breath, “do you really think I could?” 

“What,” Janaki asks, “become a lawyer?”

He nods. “Everything. I...” he looks away, and Janaki feels the beginning of euphoria. In his eyes there is fear, but not dread -- he wants what she wants, wants it bad. “My entire life I was trained to bring honor to our family name, to do that by making money and keeping my family members happy. I don’t--” Janaki’s thumb moves from his cheekbone to his lips, before he can say something idiotic like ‘I don’t know how to keep you happy.’ Rama laughs, eyes glistening with hopefully something other than tears. 

“But I don’t know! Your needs are so different from the people I grew up with!”

Janaki leans forward until her forehead rests against his and their lips nearly touch. “I love you as you are,” she says, “the things I want, you’ve already given me.” 

She can feel his brow crinkle, pressed as it is against hers. “I don’t own anything to give you!” 

Janaki laughs: only the hideously rich could think so. 

“I’m greedy,” she says, eyes closed as wave after wave of happiness floods her exponentially like the way the water of the high tide touches further and further parts of the land. “I want things that you’ve given no one else -- your grief, and joy, and triumph, and failure. I want to wake up with you, and go to sleep with you, and make breakfast with you, and dinner too. I want--” 

Rama bridges the gap, and Janaki says no more. He gasps when they break apart, and a vicious part of her wants to ask if he’d kissed any of the high society women he’d been photographed with like that. 

“No,” he laughs, and Janaki feels another thrill to see it. “It wouldn’t have been polite.” He leans back, bringing up his own hands to cup her entire head in his palms, lips curved in a wistful smile. “Everyday you confuse me.” 

Janaki bites her lip when he doesn’t continue. “Do you like that?” 

He shakes his head, and suddenly the pit comes roaring back. “I think I love it,” he says instead, smiling still. “I think I love you, Janaki.” 

His smile widens, almost a full grin now. “My Jaan.” 

#ramayana #maya writes #obviously this is just wish fulfillment #but he goes back with her becomes a lawyer #leaves behind the company #eventually probably reconciles with his family #definitely with his poor brothers stuck abroad who don't know wtf is happening #but he never goes back to running hte company esp when hes in love with communist sita #who gleefully talks about her 'class traitor' husband #he takes her last name when they marry eventually #oh i keep calling her sita on instinct instead of janaki #which is a change i made entirely based on how much nicer janaki videha rolled off the tongue than sita videha #its just a slight different but w/e #i still think sita is the prettier and better name tho #also...had to be janaki so that the nickname could be jaan #had to sneak that shit in ok its gold #but yeah he becomes a lawyer specializing in land rights cases vs the state #its all very sexy

[awesomeshadowedninja]

The Sacrifice of a Hero (All Might x reader)

Hi guys, umm, I’ve really been engrossed and into my hero academy lately and OMG!! I love all of it! The character development is ON! It makes me cry and happy and excited and entertained and proud all at the same time. Never thought I would love another anime as much as Naruto (Og, RIP) But gawddd. Okay sorry, ignore this I’m just rambling about it now. 

Warnings: None.

Contents - All Might is still in love with you after 15 years and he still misses you. And yeh, I can’t describe it. Continue to read if you want. Okay baiii

All Might. The Symbol of Peace. The Pillar. The Number One Hero. That’s what everyone called him, acknowledged him for and it brought him pride and honour with a never ending smile. Everyone knew how strong and confident he was. The hero that saved everyone. The good hero who puts everyone else first. The hero that sacrificed himself till the end.

And in one day, one moment. It was all gone. 

He was nothing but the remnants of a past. The leftovers. He was now the ‘use to be’ hero. All Might needed to be protected because his body was weak and frail. Scrawny and bony. There was nothing left but the shadow of a true and powerful person. He was just, Toshinori Yagi.

But even then, in those insecurities, those dark moments and thoughts. It couldn’t compare to the regret and guilt of a life so far from what he’s walked. He could have been completely different. A normal man with a normal life, a normal goal that left him to rely on others for his safety and security. 

No, I cannot dwell on the past. The retired hero thought to himself as the sign of class of 1.A came into view. Sluggishly he opened the door and entered with a large smile, hiding away the doubts that he had a second ago. For the sake of these kids, these promising children, I will continue to smile. Of course they greeted him with a lot of enthusiasm, some more than others - Izuku Mirdoriya, who smiled at him adoringly. Today he decided to talk about the heavy side of becoming a hero. The sacrifice it took.

“As you all know, becoming the number hero that all of you students have the potential to be. Being number one has its faults.” The male’s blue irises scanned the room of all their wide eyed faces, even young Bakugo was paying attention to what he was saying. “Or no matter what hero you decide to be, there are consequences to this duty.” Staring directly at his successor, Toshinori felt a little bit of pity but continued to speak. “Now do any of you have ideas of what someone might have to sacrifice?” To his prediction, Lida was first to put his hand up and boom across the classroom to have permission to speak in which he granted.

“Time, All Might-sensei. We sacrifice time for training and becoming greater than the day before.” The blonde haired blue eyed teacher felt pride at the words and he nodded in acknowledgement but continued to listen to what the other’s had to say. Young Uraraka mentioned food, which made him laugh. Kirishima mentioned having passion for other things and manliness. So forth and so forth. This exercise was to cause the teens to realise the world they could be missing if they chose the road of a saviour, a protector. Wanted them to understand that not everything wasn’t bright and bushy. Wanted them to realise that the road of a warrior was challenging and difficult. But Izuku Midoriya, when he put his hand up, surprised All Might so much that it left him stunned.

“What did you have to sacrifice?” 

All Might, the great symbol of peace. The number one hero that brought ease to people’s minds as they slept soundlessly at night. Had to finally admit the truth. What did I have to sacrifice?  The question kept him up at night as he tried to sleep. He knew all too well of the answer. In fact, the answer to his question was as simple but as complicated as the word, life. 

He felt the intrigued gazes of his students, waiting for a reply, an answer. He assumed that they were expecting something goofy and stupid, perhaps a joke. But the truth is harsh and it hurts. Still pained him to this day. Out of everything, his ultimate sacrifice was…

“Love.” Toshinori didn’t expect the young students to understand but he knew they would react. They all oohed and instantly questioned who it was since all that was something no one knew about except for Gran Torino. All but a secret. But Toshinori didn’t want to tell the high school students so he brushed it off with a joke. “It was just a high school crush, nothing serious.” His booming laughter echoed through the walls of the classroom. So fake. So plastic. None could imagine the pain behind his words. 

Yes, Toshinori Yagi’s greatest sacrifice was letting her go. His greatest mistake, guilt and regret. The choice and burden of choosing to be the number one hero, to protect and save the world instead of the love of his life. To this day, his feelings never wavered, still burned with fiery passion.

How could he ever admit that she was his greatest weakness. The one thing he was prepared to follow, to leave his life as the symbol of peace to be just a normal guy living with the only woman that moved his heart. The only woman in his heart that he would have changed the past for. All Might knew if he could, he would have reversed time and chose you. 

How could he forget you.

The sweet innocent smile that danced on her lips when he cracked one of his goofy jokes, every time. The blush that gave your pale cheeks colour, the blush that only he could cause as he’d hold her hand and show even a little sign of affection.The way your soft but genuine laugh would warm his body that no one could ever make him feel. Lighting up his world. The way you accepted him so easily when showing his true self, didn’t look at him differently but treated him the same. Like a strong and capable man.

The woman that held his hands in the street when he was just Toshinori Yagi, ignoring the odd glances and glares of those around them. The woman that stayed up on nights ends waiting for his return just to make sure he was well fed and okay. 

You were forever and always imprinted in his mind. 

You held his body tight when he’d come home tired and exhausted, even the times when he’d bawl his eyes out because of the people he couldn’t save. You whispered your feelings to him everyday and night, so pure and genuine. You were like an angel, a woman that made lazy days so much better. That made him confident in both forms. That loved him endlessly. Truly. Honestly. And willfully.

He imagined his life with you if he wasn’t All Might. If he was just Toshinori Yagi. How he’d wake you up with a tender kiss and a smile, holding you firmly in his arms. With kids running around the house that were spitting images of you and him, calling you Mum and Dad. How he could have been a simple man with a loving family, that he would care for till the end of his days. 

But that dream, that hope, that could have been all crumbled away when he chose to spend the rest of his life being the number one hero. 

The day he left you with nothing but a note, saying he didn’t love you anymore. It was just a lie. But a lie that had to be. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, packing his gears and then disappearing with the last of a lingering kiss on the cheek of your sleeping figure.

Yes, out of all the battles and challenges in his life. Leaving you was the nightmare that haunted his dreams for months. He gave you up because he knew that people would find out about you and they would come after you. He told himself it was to protect you. All Might told himself everyday to keep himself from running back to your arms, to your warm smile, your love. But deep down, Toshinori Yagi and All Might were just afraid of the happiness he could have had.

‘Yes, it was to protect you.’

That’s exactly what he said before he walked out the door, the day he chose his dream and duty over love. The burden of being the pillar for the rest of the world. That was his sacrifice. His sacrifice was you. 

The Sacrifice of a True Hero.

#allmight #my hero academia toshinori #toshinori imagine #mha #bnha #bnha all might #toshinoriyagi #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #love #sad #my hero academia

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars IV (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: Next to writing in another language, writing Hagrid’s dialogues is a nightmare. So, I just did it as little as possible though I love him so much.

Words: 2,449

Warnings: None!

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Chapter Four: Rubeus Hagrid.

The next days were horrid, it had been years since she had felt so powerless, locked in her house with no one to play, even worse, knowing Harry had been kidnapped by the Dursleys. Her mum was anxious too, but she was better at hiding it. From time to time she would go over to the window and look around, Mel knew she was looking for an owl.

Then, on the evening of the second day, a loud bang on the door made them jump from their seats. Emily stood up and opened the door, gasping at the sight in front of her.

"Hagrid, what are you doing here?" A man, taller than anyone she'd ever known, was standing in the doorway, hair rustled and beard long and messy.

"Dumbledore," He said in a deep, rusty voice, "sent me"

"Why?" The woman asked, "Harry's not here!"

"He thought that Mel might wan' to come!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

His eyes looked around the room and landed on the little girl, hiding behind the sofa.

"Well look at yeh, Mel!" He laughed, "Look at yeh! Yeh've grown!"

"Do I know you?" She asked.

"He saw you when you were a baby," Her mother moved away from the door so he could come in, looking more tired than before, "he's an old friend"

"Oh," She said, standing up from the sofa, "nice to meet you, uh..."

"Rubeus Hagrid," The man walked up to her with heavy steps that made the whole house tremble, "keeper of keys in Hogwarts, bet yeh know about tha' now"

"I know about Hogwarts," Mel nodded, pleased to recognize the name.

"Hagrid," Emily closed the door, "I'm sorry, but did you just say that you're here to take Mel?"

"If yeh allow," Hagrid smiled, putting his hands inside his coat, "if not, I still wanted to deliver this to dear ol' Mel. Yeh turned eleven this month, don' think I forgot!"

He handed her a box filled with strange candies that she couldn't wait to eat.

"Can I go?" She asked her mother, "I promised Harry I would help!"

"I... I don't know," Emily looked over to Hagrid, "you know where Harry is?"

"Yes," He nodded, "we'll be there in no time"

"You have to be careful," She replied, "please Hagrid, the kids..."

"Dumbledore trust me," He made a careless movement with his hand that almost knocked off the lamp, "yeh'll have yer daughter back safe an' soun"

"I'll be good, I promise," Mel jumped, holding tightly to her mother's wrist, "Please?"

"I'll have to talk with Dumbledore one of these days," She huffed, "He keeps forgetting who is your tutor"

"That means I can go?" Mel held her breath.

"Bloody-" Emily groaned in frustration, passing a hand through her hair, "put on your coat and listen to everything Hagrid tells you. If you disobey you won't be going to any fun trips again."

Mel let out a short squeal and hugged her mother.

It was hard to tell exactly what thing impressed her most: Hagrid or his motorcycle. The trip was wonderful, he answered to every question the little girl had on her mind since Dumbledore's visit.

She learned many things that day, not only about the school but about how the wizards and witches behaved, she wanted to know how to act around others, she wanted to be prepared.

"My mum said she kept me away because of the rumors about my father's family," She frowned, "you know those rumors?"

Hagrid groaned.

"What yeh hav' to know Mel, is tha' Dumbledore is one of the most powerful an' bright of al' the wizardin' community. Many folks feel threaten' by it. Yeh should never feel bad abou' the family yeh come from. Not even once."

Mel nodded, although Hagrid hadn't answered her question.

"Yer a lot like Matt," He said after a few minutes had passed, "he always asked questions 'bout everything. Smart ones. He was bright, that one. Yeh have the same look as him and Dumbledore, but those are Em's eyes. Tho' yeh have his smile too"

Mel didn't know how to respond to that. She hadn't seen any pictures of her father, but she felt happy to find out that she was similar to him. A sting of annoyance went through her heart as thinking of all the years she spent away from where she truly belonged.

They got closer to what it seemed a place taken directly from a horror movie.

"Is Harry there?" She asked in disbelief.

"His relatives sure are odd, aren' they?"

"They treat Harry very poorly," Mel shook her head in discontent.

"Do they?" Hagrid frowned, "Would yeh mind telling me more?"

Mel told him everything she knew about the Dursley, watching as the anger grew inside Hagrid.

"We'll fix this al'right," was all he said.

When they landed outside the little cottage, Mel prepared herself for what was about to happen.

"Is midnight," Hagrid said, "Harry just turned eleven"

And without adding to it, he knocked loudly on the door.

'BOOM!'

He knocked again, getting no answer.

He stepped back and said:

"Careful," And knocked down the door.

Mel jumped at the sound of the wood hitting the ground. Hagrid walked in and she followed, holding to his sleeve tightly, drenched from the storm. He lifted the door back in its frame. Mel remained behind his arm, cold, she moved along as he turned to face the Dursleys.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He moved heavily towards the couch, she moved slightly away from his body, looking around. Harry was right in front of them.

As Hagrid forced Dudley to get up by sitting on the sofa, she ran to her friend.

"Harry!" She gave him a tight hug, "I told you I would find you!"

She heard a loud gasp on her right, when she looked up she saw Mrs. Dursley staring at her with wide eyes.

Well, she won't be able to hide her oddness anymore.

"An' here's Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed, "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got your mother's eyes."

Hagrid then had a little discussion with Mr. Dursley that ended up in Hagrid destroying the rifle and calling him names. Petunia Dursley was horrified, she kept mumbling, 'not her, not her...' as if Mel being a witch was the same as having a terminal disease.

"How..?" Harry whispered in stunned wonder.

Mel moved away, so happy that she couldn't stay still.

"He went for me so we could find you."

"Harry," Hagrid had his attention back to them, "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

Hagrid dug into his coat and pulled a box, this one a bit more damaged than Mel's. Harry took it and opened with trembling hands, inside there was a cake with 'Happy Birthday' written with green icing.

Harry looked up to Hagrid and asked.

"Who are you?"

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Mel was ecstatic, this was really happening! Soon enough Harry would know everything. Hagrid and Harry shook hands (more like Hagrid almost ripped Harry's arm) and then added:

"What about that tea then, eh? I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind"

Mel stifled her laugh with a hand, watching as Hagrid quietly prepared the tea. She crossed her legs and waited patiently, amused at how easily Hagrid could scare the Dursleys. Hagrid passed her and Harry warm sausages and she took one of them, biting into the food with a hunger she didn't even know she had.

"I'm sorry," Said Harry after a moment, "but I still don't really know who you are."

"Call me Hagrid, everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course"

Mel frowned, hadn't Dumbledore told him all the issue with the Dursleys? If not, then Hagrid was in for a treat.

"Er- no" Harry admitted, "sorry"

"Sorry?" Hagrid turned to look at the Dursleys, "it's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?"

"All what?" asked her friend innocently.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid stood up suddenly, causing Mel to drop the last bit of her food.

Hagrid was angry, and though he looked pretty scary, Mel had to cover her mouth again to hide her giggles. It wasn't a funny subject, but she couldn't help herself.

"DURSLEY!" Hagrid seemed to think it over, going back to Harry, "but yeh must know about yer mum and dad. I mean, they're famous, you're famous."

"What?" He then looked at Mel, "My- my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

That did take her by surprise, Mel hadn't heard about that specific thing at all.

"I don't know," She replied, "my mum never mentioned..."

"Yeh don't know," Hagrid seemed deeply affected by the news, "yeh don't know... yeh don't know what yeh are?"

"Stop!" Exclaimed Mr. Dursley suddenly.

There were a few screams here and there until Hagrid lost his patience.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," He turned to face the kids, "Harry, yer a wizard."

Mel stopped moving.

Finally.

"I'm a what?" asked Harry.

Things happened fast. Hagrid handed him the letter and he quietly read it, Harry asked about the owl and Hagrid pulled a real, angry-looking owl -Had it been there the whole time?- from one of his pockets, and wrote a little note like her mother had done a few days prior.

Then he went back to the sofa and Mr. Dursley said he wouldn't let Harry go, and well, Hagrid called him something neither Mel or Harry understood.

"A what?" They asked in unison.

"A muggle" Repeated Hagrid.

Muggle. Mel didn't think it was proper to go around calling every non-magical person like that, but she would be more than happy to address the Dursleys as big ol' muggles from now on.

Then things stopped being funny all of a sudden. Mrs Dursley had an outburst and completely confessed every little nagging detail about Lily's (Harry's mum) past. Blown up, she said, was the way she had died.

Mel knew a total of three things about her father so far:

·They had the same smile.

·He was a curious man, always asking smart questions.

·He died thanks to Voldemort.

So when Harry asked what had really happened with his parents, she understood his shook, all his life living in a lie was infuriating. They knew so little about their families it felt like a cruel joke.

Mel didn't feel like laughing anymore.

"But what happened to Vol- sorry, to You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful- Why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back."

"-Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on – I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin' about you stumped him, all right"

"I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

Hagrid chuckled.

'Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared, or angry?'

Harry shared a look with Mel, who smiled shyly.

"You..?" He didn't finish the question, but he didn't have to.

"I kept it a secret a few days because they asked me to," She assured him, "I didn't know until Dumbledore- he's my uncle, you know- he came into my house and explained it to me. My mum was pissed about it, and they made me promise I wouldn't tell"

"Why?"

"I don't know," She frowned, "I wanted to tell you. I didn't like lying to my best friend."

"You're also a... a witch?"

Mel nodded.

"I would show you my letter, but I left it at home."

Harry looked back at Hagrid, now smiling widely. Hagrid returned the expression.

"See?' said Hagrid, "Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts. Both of you."

But Mr. Dursley wasn't having any of it. He started another argument with Hagrid, this time insulting Dumbledore. Hagrid lost control, affected by the words, he grabbed a hold of his umbrella and with a swift movement, gave Dudley a tail. A pig's tail, to be precise.

"Merlin's beard!" Mel exclaimed, deciding that it was about time she started to grow accustomed to the usual lingo of wizards and witches.

Hagrid apologized for losing his temper, he wasn't allowed to do magic since he got expelled in his third year at Hogwarts, he didn't explain why. He handed his coat to Mel and Harry so they could sleep in it, warning them about the dormice.

The children didn't mind one bit, they were glad Hagrid had come to the rescue.

Next Chapter —>

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter xoc #harry potter x reader #rubeus hagrid #WITT fic #harry potter x y/n

[little-murmaider]

Fic: Everybody Make a Scene

Summary: The band doesn’t understand why Charles won’t let them go trick or treating. 

Rating: General

Notes: This was my gift for a trick or treat exchange! The prompt was “The boys in costume, have fun with it.” And I did! Enjoy!

Charles reclined into his seat with a sigh, moving aside the volumes of paperwork cluttering his desk. Clearly he would not be getting to it today.

“So you’re just going to ban trick or treating,” Nathan said. Green paint was smeared inelegantly down his face and neck, his lips and eyes blacked out with dark lipstick. Duct tape secured a pair of double D batteries to either side of his neck. “Wow. Talk about heartless.”

“I’m not banning anything, I just—“

“Maybe you should have dressed up as the Tin Man.”

“Ah. Very clever.”

“From The Wizard of Oz.”

“Yes, I’m aware—“

“Because you don’t have a heart.”

“I understand, Nathan, but what I’m trying to say is now is not the time for trick or treating—“

At Nathan’s side, an inflatable t-rex waggled it’s pathetically tiny arms.

“Yeh didn’t even cahmpliment our cahstumes!”

“YEAH you haven’t said one nice thing about our costumes!”

“You—“

“We gaht all dressed up an’ ya haven’t even said anything!”

“—haven’t given me an opportunity—“

“You ban trick or treating, you hate our costumes, you’re ruining our Halloween!!!”

“—to say much of anything.”

One of Nathan’s batteries dislodged from his neck and clunked to the floor. “I’m Frankenstein’s monster. Not that you asked.”

Charles pushed his fingers beneath his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he said after a pause. “If it will get you to listen to me, fine. Nathan, your get up is very…intimidating. Out of curiosity, where did you find those batteries?”

“Carbon monoxide detector.”

“Ah. Well. One moment, allow me to just…” He grabbed a Post-It note and scribbled SPEAK WITH CONTRACTOR; ACCELERATE HIDDEN ALARM SYSTEM TIMELINE. “There we are. Pickles?”

The creature’s massive head turned to face Charles, its google-eyes rattling in their plastic prisons.

“You…are a dinosaur.”

“Yeeah Imma dinosaaaaaaaaaaur!”

“Quite, ah, daunting. Did you happen to purchase this item while drunk?”

“Yeeah dood I was totally hammered, how’dja know?”

“Lucky guess. Toki. You, hm.”

Toki perked up with pride as Charles’s gaze scanned the full length of his body. Charles drank everything in. The scraggly green-dyed hair. The vibrant three-piece suit in three wildly disparate colors. The face like a geometry worksheet—chalky white skin, blue rectangles over the eyes, pink circles dabbing the cheeks, a bright red curve stretched across the mouth. Charles pressed his lips into a thin, tight line.

“You are. A clown.”

Toki beamed. “You likes it! It’s de cool new characters Toki mades up! De Toker.” He held up his gloved hands and waggled his fingers. “I’s just a kitty-cats chasingks boats.”

“What a…terrifying new outlet for your creativity."

“T’anks!”

Hovering at Toki’s elbow, Skwisgaar was almost unrecognizable. A green cloak draped his slender form, a yellow scarf knotted neatly around his neck. His eyes were shadowed beneath the wide brim of a pointed hat, a bright yellow feather and a garland of daisies contrasting against the green fabric. He had tied a fishing line and lure to the neck of his guitar, which had been stuffed into a brown satchel strapped to his back.

“Skwisgaar, my apologies, but I don’t recognize your costume. Are you some sort of woodland entity, or…?”

“Snufkin,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Beg pardon?”

“I’s, huegh, I’s Snufkin? From Moomins?”

Charles shook his head. “I’m not familiar.”

“None of us are,” Nathan added.

“I ams!!!” Toki chirped unhelpfully.

“He’s a character in dese books I used to reads as a little tiny kids.” Skwisgaar grimaced as though the explanation caused him physical pain. “Dey mades a bunch of shows, it’s really populars.”

“Dey gots Moomin theme parks in Finlands and Japan!!!”

“Ja. And. Eughhhh I just. Wants-ted toooooo dress up. As. Snufkins.”

An embarrassed scowl darkened his features. He untied his scarf and coiled it around his rapidly flushing face.

“You know what’s I don’ts has to explains myselfs!!!”

“Skwisgaar, I think it’s very sweet you wanted to revisit something beloved from your childhood.”

“Fuck yous.”

“Indeed. Murderface, you—“

Murderface expelled a full-body exhale.

“Am I ever going to get a chance to schpeak?!”

“Well I did just address you by name, so…”

“I thought we were doing a group coschtume!!!!”

“Where’dja get that idea?” Pickles asked.

“We talked about it!”

“No we didn’t!”

“Yesch we did Picklesch I know we did becausche I wrote it down in my ledger!!!”

“Actually Murderface, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Charles said. “You, ah, can’t keep carving notes into the furniture and walls and call it your ledger. But that’s a separate issue, so if you all could please—“

Murderface barreled on: “We agreed to the group coschtume and then you chucklefucksch backed out to make me look like an idiot! Well jokesch on you.”

He held his arms aloft in triumph, inviting everyone to drink him in. A sunny yellow crop top clung to the top half of his torso, his doughy belly pudging over the waistband of the matching white-striped athletic pants. As much hair has he could gather had been cinched into a high ponytail on top his head.

“I look amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan said flatly. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Schporty Schpice! From the Schpice Girlsch!”

“You really thought we agreed to dress up like the Spice Girls?”

“You DID! Schkwishgaar wasch Posh, Toki wasch Baby, Picklesch wasch Ginger, you were Schcary and I wasch Schporty!”

“You don’t think that maybe,” Nathan formed a Y with his hand and rocked it back and forth between himself and Murderface, “two of those roles should be reversed?”

“No! I’m Schporty Schpice becausche everyone knowsch I’m the schportiest member of Dethklok!”

“You’re the sportiest member.”

“Yeah!”

“I was a state-ranked defensive back in high school!”

“Oh Nathan that’sch scho embarrasshing.” Murderface’s chuckle was rich in condescension. “Looksch like Schkwishgaar ischn’t the only one living in the past.”

Skwisgaar yanked his hat over his face to muffle his scream.

“This is stupid, none of this even matters because YOU.” Nathan whirled on Charles, a paint-tinted finger prodding him in the chest. “STILL haven’t given us ONE good reason why we can’t go trick or treating!”  

“Because it’s April!”

The unexpected boom of Charles’s voice stunned the band into silence, and he realized the sound had literally driven him to his feet. He adjusted his glasses. Stooping to the side, he withdrew a calendar from his desk drawer and slapped it into view.

“You can’t go trick or treating because there is no trick or treating,” he said, tapping at the month with unconcealed impatience. “Halloween was six months ago.”

It took a long time for the boys to process the information. Nathan squinted at the evidence on Charles’s desk. Skwisgaar peeked out from his cap and exchanged a mournful look with Toki. Murderface punched dejectedly at the air. Pickles’s reaction was unknowable, because he was inside a giant inflatable t-rex suit.

At last Nathan spoke.

“So,” he began slowly, “what you’re saying is, today is Halfway Halloween.”

“Get out of my office.”

#metalocalypse #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #william murderface #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #charles foster offdensen #my fanfic

[acdeaky]

five ways

john’s birthday week - part 7

warning: fluff, angst, dialogue heavy at parts, foul language

note: i hope you’ve enjoyed john’s special birthday week! i really enjoyed writing some of these in the past week (even though it was a little stressful!) thank you for all the support forever and always xoxo

word count: 2.6k

1. (1964)

“deaky, no!” you squealed as john chased you around the garden. it was summer, and after the big freeze of 1963, everyone was happy to finally be feeling some heat. it was the second day of the summer holidays for you both, and you were enjoying as much time together as possible.

“i’m gonna get you!” john called after you, trying to move his legs faster so he could catch up to you. your little legs were moving as fast as they could to get away from john (who had threatened to tickle you once he caught you). he knew how badly ticklish you were, so threatening tickles meant hell for you.

“deaky, i’m gonna trip!” you worried as you found yourself running down the cracked path towards the front of john’s house. it had been broken for years. john’s father had always made an example that he was going to fix it, but when he passed away suddenly, no one had the heart to fix it; it was like the path was one of the last things of john’s father.

“be careful then!” he chattered, laughing still as he seemed to be catching up with you. it wasn’t long until what you had feared came true. your entire body flew forward as your toe had just caught the edge of a tile. your knees scraped against the ground as your hands flew in front of you to prevent your head from hitting the hard concrete.

john stopped right beside you as you laid on the floor, your hair sticking to your tears and covering your face.

“Y/N!” he gasped, dropping to his knees to help you up. he grabbed under your arm and pulled you up as gently as he could. you managed to sit on your bottom, both of your legs stretched in front of you, scraped and bleeding. your hands were slightly marked, too, but they didn’t hurt as much as your knees did.

“i’ll go get my mum.” john fussed, his hand moving your hair out of your face and wiping your tears (which was quickly replaced by fresh ones). he jumped up, rushed inside and called his mother. lilian grabbed the first aid kit while john grabbed you some tissues. once they came outside, they kneeled on opposite sides of you, john near your head and lilian by your knees.

john’s mum was talking to you, but you couldn’t fully hear over your tears and the pain. a scraped knee wasn’t bad, but to you, it was the worst pain you’ve experienced in your young life. john sat and wiped your tears everytime they fell from your eyes as his mum cleaned your cuts, disinfected them and placed a plaster on each knee to stop the bleeding.

it took about five minutes and your tears, not your pain, had stopped. john and lilian helped you stand and held your hands as you hobbled into the house. they sat you down on the sofa, john sitting next to you and lilian going to get you both a cup of water and a snack. john wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently so you were leaning against his side.

your head resting against his shoulder as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “are you okay, bug?”

“yeh, better now.” you nodded, smiling slightly at the nickname that had happened because you had a small fascination with a bug once. john turned his head slightly, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. your smile grew bigger slightly as you seemed to move closer to john (if that was even possible).

“you’re my best friend, bug.”

2. (1969)

“but do you have to go? you’ll be so far away.” you whined as john packed the car with his suitcases. it was late august and john was attended university, a whole two hours away from you.

“bug, it’s the best place for what i want to do. the uni is praised on its science and technology courses and i can’t miss out. i want to be the best electrical engineer there ever has been.” he placed himself on a podium as he lifted his last bag into the boot.

“you can be the best electrical engineer no matter where you go, deaks. you’re so smart and amazing at what you do already, it won’t matter what uni you’re at.”

“bug, please. i’m going, don’t make it any harder than it has to be.” he sighed facing you and holding your hands gently.

“i’m sorry, i’m just gonna miss you, that’s all. after ten years we won’t be neighbours anymore. you’ll be swanning around uni while i’m here working for another year.” you both laughed at that. john being a year older than you sometimes had its perks, but at times like this, a whole year seemed like a lifetime.

“i’m gonna miss you, too, love. i know it’ll be hard, but you can visit me on weekends or when you have time off work and i’ll be home every holiday, you’ll be wanting to get rid of me!”

“i’ll never want rid of you, deaky.” you smiled brightly, pulling him forwards and into your arms. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. john did the same, but with his arms around your waist. your head he snuggled its way into his neck as he rested his chin on top of your shoulder.

“i’ll see you soon, bug. you’re my best friend.”

3. (1971)

“you made it!” john smiled widely as he saw you backstage. it was queen’s first ever gig as the four of them and you weren’t going to miss it for the world.

“of course i made it!” you replied, opening your arms as you walked towards john. he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around. both of you giggled loudly, smiling wider than you have before.

john soon put you down, realising spinning equals being dizzy. he kept his body holding yours, pulling you impossibly closer to his body as he held you tightly. “i’ve missed you so much, bug.” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“i’ve missed you so much, too, deaky, but it’s only been a couple of months.”

“so i cant miss my best friend now, is that what you’re telling me?” he teased, his fingers beginning to dig into your sides.

“no, no! i was just saying- deaky, don’t!” he pressed harder. “john richard, i swear to god.” he laughed at your worry and your attempts at escaping his grasp.

the only reason you stopped was because a loud cough erupted behind you. you and john practically pushed yourselves away from each other, creating a distance you so desperately didn’t want.

you looked to see the band who john played with that night. what a great first impression.

“i see you’ve found your friend, deaky,” the short one with dark brown wavy hair said. “i’m freddie, darling. freddie mercury.” he stuck his hand out to shake yours. you were apprehensive at first, but john nudged your arm, encouraging you to shake freddie’s hand.

“and i’m brian may.” the tallest one with dark brown curly hair spoke, reaching his hand out to do the same.

“and i’m roger taylor, but you can call me tonight.” the shorter one with beautiful blond hair spoke, taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss on it.

“oh, come off it, rog. can’t you see she’s smitten with john?” freddie spoke, motioning to the closeness of you and john. you weren’t smitten with john. maybe you were, but you weren’t about to openly admit that.

“i’m not- there’s nothing- me and john-”

“we’re friends guys, best friends.”

4. (1975)

“thank god you’re here, bug,” john sighed, pulling you in to a tight hug as soon as you had walked on the bus. “i don’t know how much longer i could deal with those fuckers for.”

“deaky, it’s been two hours at the most!” you giggled, accepting the hug and pulling him closer to you.

“i know that, but they’ve already been... difficult.”

“in what way?” you asked, pulling away from his embrace, but keeping your hands on his shoulders.

“they- they’re just-,” his fingers fumbled around on your hips, pulling them closer to his own. “i- there’s, well there’s this girl-”

“oh.”

“what?” he noticed the quiver in your voice. “what? no, no, bug-”

“no, john, carry on. it’s okay. just tell me.” your hips were still joined together, but your hands hand slid down from his shoulders onto his biceps.

“okay, well, there’s this girl and i’ve known her for a while and when the boys mention her or i talk about her, i can’t help be blush and think about how beautiful she is.”

“oh, john.” there was nothing else you could think of to say. you let go of his arms, pulling yourself out of his grasp and away from him. his hand reached out to grab you, but you simply pushed him away.

“bug, listen-”

“john, please. don’t.”

“bug, it’s you. it’s always been you,” he grabbed your hand, but you still wouldn’t look at him. “it’s been you since i met you. Y/N, please. look at me.”

the desperation in his voice was something you couldn’t ignore. you turned your entire body back towards john, looking him directly in the eyes.

“it’s you. the girl i talk about, the girl i think about, the girl that makes me blush. it’s you.”

you pushed towards him, your arms wrapping themselves around john’s neck like they have done for years. his hands found your hips again, pushing your bodies closer together.

“i thought i was just your best friend?” your foreheads touching, lips ghosting over the other’s.

“always have, always will be my best friend, bug.”

5. (1977)

“ah!” freddie exclaimed, his arms opening to you as soon as you walked into their hospitality room. “we’ve been waiting for you, darling.” he brought you close to him, hugging you tightly.

“you only saw me the other week, fred,” you giggled, pulling away from him. “what’s so special about this time you’re seeing me?” the glint in his eye told you john was involved. if anything happened between you and john (or even if he just saw you and john together), freddie would get all happy and excited, the usual glint in his eyes brightening.

“ah, you see, this time john isn’t here so we have you all to ourselves!”

“very funny, fred. where’s john?” you playfully rolled your eyes and freddie gave you a knowing look.

“lover boy is on the stage.”

“i thought he had finishing rehearsing?” all freddie did was shake his head. you looked at brian and roger for any indication as to what was going on, but they gave away nothing. looking back at freddie, he had a beaming smile on his face.

“aren’t you going to find him?”

“you,” you pointed directly at freddie as you stood in the doorway, “are scaring me more than usual.” freddie simply laughed, his smile seemingly wider. with one last look at the three of them, you left the hospitality room, winding down corridor upon corridor to find your way to the stage.

it was dark when you arrived. none of the stage lights or arena lights were on, creating a daunting atmosphere.

“john!” you called out, quickly doubting if he was even there. no answer came, only a light. right in front of you, it was illuminating an area sprinkled with rose petals. as soon as you stepped into the light, it moved, revealing a long trail of petals and a few polaroid photos of you and john througout the years. each time you passed one, you picked it up, stopping periodically to remember the fond memory.

the trail continued, the light still guiding you on the stage. as soon as you reached the end, you saw a polaroid of you and john the previous week. it had been taken by freddie of the two of you saying goodbye for another few weeks. tears stained both of your cheeks while you smiled happily together. even though you were about to leave the other, the happiness was real, and you could vividly remember the teary goodbye.

as soon as you looked up from the polaroid, a couple more lights had been turned on, revealing john holding a bouquet of yellow roses, his hand nonchalantly in his pocket. you smiled widely when you saw him. he gave you a smile, as equally big, back.

“hi, love.” he said, shifting in his position slightly.

“hi, deaks.” you bit your lip, stopping your grin from growing too big.

“i- uh, th-these are for you.” he held out the bouquet, promoting you to move closer to him.

“thank you,” you smiled, taking the roses from him and smelling them. “they’re gorgeous, deaky.”

“Y/N,” john started, taking his hand out of his pocket and kneeling down, opening a black velvet box to reveal the mose beautiful silver and diamond ring you’ve ever seen, “ive waited my entire life for this moment. the day i met you, i knew you’d be in my life forever. and now i’m going to make sure that happens.” he chuckled, making you giggle, too.

“there hasn’t been a day where i haven’t loved you. even as a little eight year old boy, i loved you. i love you, still, but growing up with you was the greatest pleasure i’ve had, and i want to grow old with you, too. the time you scraped your knee on my old garden path, i knew i loved you. the time i left home for university, i knew i loved you. the time you met the boys and i said we were just friends, i knew i loved you. the time i asked you to be my girlfriend, i knew i loved you. i wanted to save so much for you, and i have. now, we can be happy together for the rest of our lives and i can learn to love you all over again.

“Y/N L/N, would you give me the greatest pleasure of becoming your husband? will you marry me?”

“oh, john,” you gasped, your hand covering your mouth as tears began to well in your eyes. “yes! yes, of course i’ll marry you!”

john immediately stood up from the ground, moving closer to you to close the gap. both of your hands were shaking as he pulled out the ring, sliding it on your left ring finger. short chuckles left both of your mouths as you stood in shock at what had just happened. as soon as he pushed the ring all the way down, you stretched out your hand, admiring the way the stone gleamed in the low light.

“it’s beautiful, baby.” you whispered, pressing your hand against your chest.

“not as beautiful as you, bug.” he replied in a whisper, pulling you tight against his body by your hips. your hands cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips down to meet yours. it was soft, full of love and passion. a kiss you’d never felt before. something new. something better than before.

“i love you.” he smiled against your lips, his hot breath fanning over you.

“and i love you, john.”

-

TAGLIST: @never-kept-the-same-address @j0hn-deaky @sohoneyspreadyourwings @brian-maybe-not @deakysbabybooty @1001-yellow-daffodils @retromusicsalad @hardcoredisneynerd @painkiller80 @leatherjacketmazzello @scarecrowmax @mebeatlized @seesiderendezvous @alright-mrfahrenheit @someone-get-a-medic @miamideacon @chlobo6 @teenagepeterpan @spacedust1124719 @deakysgurl

#john deacon #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #queen #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john richard deacon #johns birthday week #acdeaky

[lightread]

meu amado (0.5)

pairing; tour guide and dancer!hoseok x journalist!reader 

genre; fluff, angst 

word count; 1.3k

warnings; mentions of anxiety, implications of smut (later updates), alcohol consumption (later updates), slow burn (??)

author’s piece; good day, everyone! i present to you my first fic! this idea has been cultivating in my cabezita (little head) for a month. my inspiration reached a high after watching ego (stream it on youtube!) and rewatching yeh jawaani hai deewani, which brought upon the title of this project. i’m excited to go on a journey with these characters, and with you, the readers! 

“I can do it, just give me time,” your voice desperate as you push your iPad towards your father, observing his grimace of hesitation and ignoring how his little sigh of exasperation has your hands feeling clammy. “This editorial is going to blow your mind, I managed to get an appointment with Cut-”

“Y/n-,” your father takes off his glasses as he reclines deeper into his leather chair, pinching the bridge of his nose-almost as if a headache’s coming on. Standing in front of him, you can’t help but feel inferior. You can sense his dejection, so you push forward, pointing back to the bright screen on his desk. 

“Pa, no, listen, Headline is gonna be ahead of its time with this piece! I scheduled the appointment with Cutthroat’s top producers, getting the behind the scenes look of the making of the top 40 hits,” you reach towards your bookbag on the chair behind you, rummaging through its contents, but before you could take out the mood board you had put blood, sweat, and tears into for the past week, you hear the little click of the iPad. 

Your hands freeze. You close your eyes. You take a deep breath. You turn back to face him. You hang your head and your shoulders seem to lose their confidence, sagging as the tension in the room gets heavier every passing second. 

You lift your head to glance over at the device, observing his stern reflection on the black screen. You narrow your eyes at the obnoxious piece of technology. No, your inner monologue says, not today. You huff and you straighten your back, pushing your shoulders back, folding your arms as you look up at him. You refuse to look defeated in front of him. How dare he cut me off, you think to yourself. 

“That’s what you said about your last three editorials, y/n. I don’t need the ‘ahead of its time’ piece in my magazine, I need a ‘make an impact’ influence,” leaning forward, he pauses and sighs, staring at his folded hands, and with the gesture alone, you start feeling a dull ache in your chest. You clutch your sleeves a little tighter as the seconds go by. 

“Sweetheart,” you grimace at the nickname, “your pieces are predictable. Your last 3 have the lowest reads on the website and do you want to know why?” Your father stands up from his chair and steps around his desk, walking to the window that looks over Headline’s floor-interns and journalists chatting and typing away on their computers as if their life depended on it. The wall behind his desk joins your father’s reflection; the frames surrounding his various awards and words of praise seem to give him a glow through the transparent glass. 

Your eyes lock on the awards, and as you open your mouth to respond, he turns to face you, cutting you off before you even began, his finger wagging too close to your face, his hands resting at his hips, “I’ll tell you why; it’s because you’re not having fun.” 

As you take a step back, you swallow, your voice tight, “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re writing for the sake of writing. There is no personality in your words. It’s like I’m reading a textbook, a condescending and boring one,” he says matter of factly. 

You scoff, “Thanks for that, dad,” you roll your eyes, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. 

He puts his hands up, “I’m critiquing you because I want you to be better. I want you to grow. And as you grow, the magazine will too.” He places his large hands on your shoulders, squeezing them. “You need to practice.”

Your eyes narrow, you push his arms away from you, your lips setting themselves into their usual grim line, and your arms positioning themselves back into their comfortable crossed state. “I don’t need to practice, I’m good at what I do. I graduated top of my major, my articles have been published in major newspapers and magazine-”

“And yet, with the time privileges that I give you, you just can’t seem to organize a good editorial or write an adequate article for Headline.” 

You close your eyes out annoyance, your hands now clenched and your tone defensive, “My articles are informative-” 

“Informative with no substance-”

“They teach the audi-” 

“ I didn’t realize you were a teacher-”

“Stop interrupting me!” You can hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears, your breathing becoming heavier as you open your eyes to look at the man in front of you-his eyes sharper. 

“Then start listening. Readers don’t care about your fancy credentials. In fact, they don’t care about you at all. They care about what they read, “ He strides back over to his desk and hands the iPad back to you, “The goal that I have for this magazine is enlightenment. I want our readers to be in love with the world they live in, so much so, they’ll want to pay 5 dollars to know it each month. All the while getting a free tote.” He points to the device in your hand, “Your job is to exemplify that goal in your projects, y/n. I’ve read your past works, I’ve read and felt the emotions you put on those papers. So why haven’t you been able to do the same here?” 

You look down, away from your father and the gaze trying to understand you. Instead of answering, you direct your gaze to the words of affirmation and praise that surround him, given to him by the most respected writers and journalists; artists. The frames don’t seem to give you that same glow when you’re in his space. Do the awards in your apartment give you that same glow? Will you glow when you have your own editor’s office? 

You bring the iPad towards your chest, clutching it like a lifeline. How do you tell your dad that you’re scared? How do you explain to him that even though you have been able to write piece after piece for other magazines in the past, you feel like whatever you write for him or Headline now will never be good enough? And that him telling you all this just confirms those fears? 

Knowing there would be judgment behind the eyes of your peers, you decided to work for your father. You thought it would be a great way to get to know him better, you thought you could even learn from and adapt to his work ethic; all this with the possibility of him seeing how capable you could be. How you could be just as good as your older sister. The sister that graduated from university at the age of 18, published her first novel at 22 and started her own publishing firm 5 years later. Successfully, might you add. 

You rearranged your entire life to meet the highest of unspoken expectations for your parents, for him. So, why is it when you want to prove to them that you can, the universe and your brain decide to work against you? 

Your fingers tap against the iPad, creating a steady beat as you rack your brain for something to say, something to do. After a couple more silent taps, you decide to take a seat on the dark violet guest chair. 

Clearing your throat, you look up at your father, “You said I had to practice. What did you have in mind?” 

The corners of his mouth quirked up, and you pick up on the mischievous glimmer in his wise eyes,  “How do you feel about Rio de Janerio?”

#jung hoseok #hoseok #jhope #bts scenarios #bts imagines #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #hoseok LOVE #love #bts #fan fic #fan fiction #writing #prologue #scenarios #meu amado #mine #lightread #lightreads writing

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 14b

"Hey, you're OK. You're safe." Duffy reassured him softly.

Louis searched the room. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was.

"Do you want to talk about your dream?" Duffy asked gently.

“Found Katy dead.” Louis whispered.

"Katy?"

“Girl I met here.” Louis smiled sadly, “I had sex with her in exchange for heroin, we took it together. She was a friend of Tony’s. She had to leave... Dream about her sometimes.” He admitted quietly.

"Ah. Did you have feelings for her?"

“She was troubled, empty eyes.”

"Why did she have to leave?"

“It wasn’t working, her been here.” Louis said sadly.

"It will have been done to help her try to get better."

“I know.” Louis yawned and stretched.

"We should let you get back to what you were doing before we arrived. I'll speak to the doctor for you."

“I went for a run and then I had a shower and tidied. I’ll probably just sleep when you leave.”

"Have you not been sleeping much at night?"

“Some nights I really struggle with wanting to inject.” Louis admitted.

"That'll get easier with time. Do they have you on a substitute substance to ease you off?"

“Yeh, Methadone.”

"That will hopefully help."

“It does sometimes.”

"That's progress." She paused as the staff member from earlier reappeared at the door.

“It’s time to say bye now, isn’t it?” Louis asked the staff member sadly.

"That's right."

Louis hugged his parents goodbye, “Love you both. Thank you for coming to see me.”

"We'll see you again soon. Take care of yourself." Duffy replied as she hugged him tight.

“You too.” Louis kissed their cheeks before heading off back to his room. “Love you.” He called.

Duffy briefly spoke to the facility doctor before joining Charlie outside. She was deeply concerned by how quiet he was.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked her quietly as they sat in the car.

"Yeh." She replied though now she was outside her hands were shaking slightly.

“That cant have been easy for you.” He placed his hand against her knee.

He could feel her leg tense under his hand.

“Talk to me?” He moved his hand from her knee.

"He's just a child." She mumbled.

“I know.”

"Where did I go wrong? I tried so hard to treat him just the same as the others." A tear trickled down her cheek.

He brushed away the tear, “This isn’t your fault. He said it himself, it just got complicated.”

"I started it all. I should have stayed away."

“I started all this, remember.”

"How'd you figure that out?"

“I chose to have an affair. It was me who had a choice to not marry Baz but still went ahead and did it, despite being in love with you.”

"But if I hadn't come back to Holby..."

“If you hadn’t, you’d be dead now.” He pointed out. “I didn’t realise how bad Louis’ thoughts were about you.”

"Maybe." She sighed. "I just keep going back over it all. Everything I've said... Everything I've done..."

“You’ve been amazing to him, Duffy. Seeing him asleep in your lap again, made me realise just how much of a child he really is. And how much he’d been doing this all alone.”

"How did we let it get to this?" She sighed.

“None of us are to blame for this."

"You could barely look at him in there."

“I almost lost it when he said...” Charlie swallowed.

"That he'd had thoughts of raping me?" She whispered.

Charlie nodded. “I wanted to kill him!” He whispered back.

"He doesn't know the true depth of what he said Charlie."

“Doesn’t he?”

"What do you mean? He doesn't know what happened in the past..."

“Do you believe him?” He asked quietly, “That he won’t hurt you?”

"He's your son. What other option do I have?"

“When I decided to visit, this wasn’t what I was expecting to be greeted with.” Charlie paused, “I feel he’s genuinely sorry for what he’s done.”

"So do I." She reached for his hand. "What were you expecting?"

“A moody teenager, still pretending he didn’t have a problem.”

"He's making progress."

Charlie nodded and squeezed her hand, “He is.”

They fell into a slightly more comfortable silence as Charlie drove them home. As soon as they arrived back inside Duffy headed for the stairs. "I'm going to run a bath." She mumbled before dashing up the stairs.

Before he could follow her to make sure she was OK Charlie was railroaded by the twins.

"We need to talk to you dad." Tilly insisted.

Charlie watched as his wife headed up the stairs before turning back to the twins. “What’s wrong princesses?” He asked as he tucked a strand of hair behind Lottie and Tilly’s ears.

"What's going on with mum? She's acting all weird and it's got to stop." Lottie replied.

“What do you mean honey?”

"First she let Beth stay over loads and then she let Sarah move in. She said it was only for a few days til she got things sorted but it's been almost a month now. At this rate she'll still be here when the baby comes!" Lottie explained.

"Is that her plan? To get herself another baby?" Tilly added.

“What? No girls.” He sighed softly, “Your mum’s helping Sarah because Sarah doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not to get herself another baby.” He reassured.

"This place is quickly turning into the house of waifs and strays!" Tilly complained.

He chuckled, “Tots! Be nice, not everyone is as lucky as you to have a loving family.”

Tilly rolled her eyes.

"Its not just people either. I heard her talking to Holly the other day about a pair of abandoned kittens!" Lottie remarked, throwing her arms up dramatically.

“When you were younger, all you and Tilly wanted was a cat. Do you not want one anymore?”

"That's not the point!" Lottie retorted.

“It’s who your mum is, Lottie. She cares.”

"Where does it end though dad? She's gunna start bringing patients home with her at this rate!"

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Charlie laughed softly, “I’ll talk to your mum ok, girls?” He kissed their noses.

"While you're talking to her can you tell her to tell Krystal to put some clothes on before leaving Jake's room next time!" Tilly requested, pulling a face.

“Did you get an eyeful?”

"Yeh and its not the first time!"

“I will mention it to your mum. Anything else I should mention?”

"We're just worried about her. She seems different recently." Lottie sighed.

“I know sweetheart, I worry too. Ok?” He kissed both their foreheads, “I’ll go and talk to her now.”

"Thanks dad. She might listen to you."

“I can only hope.” He went upstairs to their bedroom.

The bathroom door was closed but the sound of sloshing water could be heard from the other side as well as the occasional sob.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?”

Upon hearing his voice Duffy began to cry harder.

“Babe?”

She didn't reply but after checking the handle and realising it was unlocked he cautiously, slowly, opened the door.

Her skin was bright red, both from the heat of the near boiling water she sat in and the way she'd been ferociously scrubbing at herself since she'd gotten in the bath.

Without saying anything, Charlie got into the bath with her fully clothed. He placed his hands over hers to stop herself from hurting herself another more. “You’re not dirty.” He whispered.

She tried to pull away but she lacked the strength to fight. Her skin had broken and started to bleed on her thighs.

“Look at me?” He said gently.

"I..." She ran her fingers along the open wounds.

He gently lifted her chin up and held her gaze. “You are not dirty.”

"Its my fault." She mumbled.

“No it’s not.”

"It has to be something I've done. No other reason makes sense." She insisted.

“You haven’t done anything!” He protested, “None of this is your fault!”

"I've found myself here countless times."

“And every time you fight the same demons that try and drown you.”

"The only common factor is me."

“It’s not because of you.”

She curled herself up, drawing her knees to her chest, suddenly realising how exposed she was. She'd been careful not to let her husband see the devastating effect her fast spiralling eating problems were having upon her once more.

“You need help.” He said gently. “How about we go back to the therapist?”

"No!" She pulled away from his arms and moved out of the bath, grabbing a towel and quickly wrapping it around herself before fleeing the room.

“You need to, baby. We can’t go on like this anymore, you can’t.”

"One tiny relapse and you want me back in therapy?! No!" She argued from the bedroom as Charlie removed his soaked clothes so he could dry off.

“A tiny relapse?!” He replied, “There’s nothing tiny about it!”

"There's nothing wrong with me!" She yelled.

“Yes there is.”

"No there isn't!"

“You’re skin and bone!” He replied.

"Hardly. Don't exaggerate!"

“I’m not exaggerating.” He sighed, “I know you’ve been abusing laxatives.”

"What?! I don't know what you're talking about!"

“You’re not ok, gorgeous.”

"I'd like to know where you get off throwing baseless accusations around..!"

He sighed, “I’m not. I know you’re not ok.”

"I'm fine. I'm completely in control and don't need you fussing and accusing me of all sorts."

“No you’re not fine! You’re skin and bone and you’ve just been scrubbing your skin red raw in the bath!”

"I don't want to talk about this."

“Because I’m getting to close to the truth?”

#chuffy #charlie and duffy #charlie fairhead #lisa duffin

[ivyveil]

Have Yourself a Harry Christmas Part 2

the one where Nick’s got nice soap arrangements, Y/N doesn’t enjoy late late nights, and Harry took off the nail polish

A/N: This is a continuation of my series Saint Nick (found here) and it isn’t necessarily to read them all but it helps!

“C’mon, love, let’s get you inside.”

With his arm gently around her, Nick led Y/N into his apartment. She had shown up on his doorstep with only a few minutes notice, the cab driving off when Nick opened the door. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, her purse loose against her elbow, and her bottom lip wobbled slightly.

He hadn’t been given a clue as to why her eyes seemed empty, or why her shoulders were shaking but her cheeks didn’t show signs of tears. It was deeply unsettling for Nick, but he tried to keep his face and tone of voice calm as he led her into his living room.

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Y/N barely registered the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air, a product of one of Nick’s infamous ‘it seems like I cooked but I really didn’t’ candles. The cinnamon one was her personal favorite, and he tended to only crack it out when she was around. Just like so many other little things in their friendship, it was purely theirs.

His apartment was nice, cozy like Y/N’s but with a better arrangement of art on the walls. The sofas were comfortable, and the array of knick knacks on the shelves were equally meaningful and useless, a nice balance that both Nick and Y/N appreciated in their home decoration.

Nick’s liking of paintings in particular had set her course in what to get him for Christmas. It was why she had researched an artist who had painted some of the works from Nick’s inspiration board the two of them had made months ago. Back when they thought Mood Boards and glitter in mason jars would fix the roaring waves of anxiety crashing upon their ears.

They had found better methods since, thankfully.

But the paintings on the wall and the sculpture near the window failed to capture her attention, as Y/N settled down on the gray couch. Her fingers clasped around one another, her hands rested on her knees, and her back was curled so that she was sitting on the edge of the couch, rather than properly sitting within it.

Nick sat down next to Y/N, putting his arm back around her shoulder and his eyes on her face, unable to hold back the worried slant of his eyebrow, or how he bit his lip with concern. Her eyes were moving around the room but didn’t seem to be taking much in.

“Babe, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s happened,” he murmured, but Y/N shook her head stubbornly.

It wasn’t unusual for this to happen, when she was going through a rough time. Nick knew this from previous breakdowns, as they both had seen the other at less-than-flattering moments.

For Y/N, she needed to establish a sense of normalcy. She hated feeling like an imposition or a burden to others, so having her friends speak about their days, stuff going on in their lives, allowed for her to gradually come to terms with what was happening in her own. It reminded her that bad things could happen, yet life could continue on, and her polite nature made her want to ensure her friends were okay, before she unloaded whatever fears she had carried to their doorstep.

“Do you want me to talk, then?” Nick asked, wanting confirmation that was the right path to go on, and Y/N nodded sullenly.

“Okay,” he began, relaxing back into his couch and pulling Y/N alongside with him. She leaned back finally, cuddling up next to his side, her head resting on his shoulder. His fingers danced along the back of her arms, because he knew she liked that sort of stuff, similar to how he liked it when Y/N brought out her special storage of Nick Blankets (they were super thick and very impractical for LA, but made Nick feel all warm and cozy) when he needed them.

“My day’s gone well so far. Been plannin’ out the party, with the decorations ‘n stuff. I’ve got the color scheme fit, but the guest list needs to be finished. Not sure if Terry’s bringing his wife...my god, I hope he’s not. She’s always got the rudest things to say ‘bout my chandelier. It’s just a fucking light fixture, I’m not sure what I’m expected to do to please everyone nowadays.”

Nick took a second to breathe, to see if Y/N wanted to speak up, but when she didn’t, he continued on.

“I’ve been a bit lonely lately, if I’m being honest-” he spared a glance from his stare on the ceiling, over to Y/N’s face, but it didn’t change from its stony appearance, so he pushed forward, “I dunno if that’s what’s going on with you, but somethin’ about the holidays makes me feel like I’m missin’ out. I mean, I’ve been loads busy but I’ve just not gotten the proper feeling, with it being December ‘n all.”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” she mumbled, and her arm went around to hold onto his side. She knew how he could get, sometimes, and knew he liked to feel grounded. To have the knowledge that someone wanted him there, to know that he was well liked for himself and that he was never alone. With all the parties and festivities he had been going to lately, sometimes things fell between the cracks, and the expectation of having a Grand Time weighed heavier on Nick’s shoulders than he let on.

That’s when they were there for each other the most, with their friendship of love and support. Y/N felt blessed, in the bits of her soul that had a minuscule amount of faith, with how well they got on, how it felt less like working towards some inconceivable goal of friendship, and more like a natural gravitation of two like-minded individuals, wanting to experience life together and simultaneously respect the differences between the ways they lived.

“Nah, I’m alright. I know I’m not alone, ‘specially since I’ve got the two lil buggers.”

Y/N’s head lifted at that, her nose scrunched up as she realized she hadn’t been attacked by puppy kisses and cuddles yet. She thoroughly enjoyed her cuddles with Nick’s dogs, each time wishing she had caved and bought the small puppy at the rescue shelter a year ago, before going back home and remembering nope, she was never home enough for a dog.

Nick shook his head, leaning to the side to check his clock hung up in the other room. He hummed as he did so, taking a quick second to read the analog design.

“Leo’s taken them out on a walk, he should be back in...an hour or so.”

“Leo?” Y/N hummed, and a sly sort of smile twitched at the corners of her lips, so Nick entertained the notion. Anything that kept the smile there for a fraction longer. He didn’t notice, though, that as he spoke, something behind Y/N’s face slipped and her mouth twisted with the suppression of keeping a secret from her best friend.

“Yeah, Leo. He’s been alright, pretty nice guy. Loves dogs more than he could ever love a human being, pretty sure-”

“Harry and I kissed.”

Nick had been expecting some sort of rebuttal, some argument about how Leo would fall madly in love with him eventually (which wasn’t something Nick thought was realistic, but Y/N was a hopeless romantic when it came to her friends, always setting them up in her mind with anyone and everyone). He hadn’t been expecting that from her lips, and his own parted in shock.

Y/N froze, as well, still staring out against Nick’s living room wall. They listened to the clock ticking against the silence for a moment, before Nick managed to get a few words out.

“Just now? While yeh were at his?” he asked, bewildered, knowing that they had plans that morning, but not understanding why they had fucking kissed. Y/N was dating Spencer, and Harry hadn’t shown a sign that he liked Y/N in a while.

“No.”

“When did it hap-why did you not tell me?” Nick questioned, feeling a bit of regret for Y/N’s flinch when his voice grew, but his hurt had swelled up in a grand wave of confusion. They were best friends, he had told her the things he hadn’t even told his own mother, and she kept this from him?

In the depths of his chest, he knew why; he recognized that he was close with Harry, and even in a split second, Nick could sympathize with the awful dilemma that kissing your best mate’s best mate could pose.

Y/N shook her head slowly, cowering into Nick’s chest, her bottom lip sticking out as she mentally went through everything again. It wasn’t even the kiss that had been weighing her down, but wasn’t that where everything really began? The kiss that held an essence of a promise, like it had sealed some sort of affection into her own breath and against his cheeks, and if she squeezed her eyes tight she could almost feel the way his hands felt against her cheeks and -

She was getting ahead of herself.

“I didn’t tell anyone, Nick. I didn’t know what it fuckin’ meant, I-”

“Love, love.” Nick hushed her gently, shaking his head and feeling the baffled reaction within him dissolve as he saw his best friend close to tears. His instincts kicked in.

“I’m gonna make us a cuppa, then you’ll tell me everything, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her fingers reaching out to clutch at one of his couch blankets. Nick slowly removed himself from the cuddle, making his way towards the kitchen as he began processing what Y/N had said. She bundled herself up into the soft, patterned throw, tucking her cheek against one of the couch pillows and letting herself wallow in isolation, before slowly rising to follow him, the blanket around her shoulders.

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“...The night of the gnome?! When’d you have the time, we were together all night?” Nick’s hands held tightly onto the cup of tea as he took another sip, his eyebrows arched with surprise. Y/N was sure he’d be excusing himself from the kitchen table shortly for another refill. There had been a lot of tea poured, a lot of feelings confessed, and Y/N’s heart still felt shattered.

“When I left to get water or something, and Harry followed...” Y/N trailed off, not particularly wanting to relive the night again. Not that the kiss hadn’t been nice (it was extremely nice, which was why she had agonized over it for so long) but the recent events made her wish it hadn’t occurred at all. Things would’ve been simpler, if she and Harry had just identified themselves as friends from the start, and kept it that way.

“Isn’t that the night I asked you about Marie?” Nick’s eyes widened as he pieced together the events he hadn’t known about, and how they coincided with what he did know.

Y/N nodded, her eyes trained on her own cup of tea.

Hers remained mainly untouched, mostly due to her go-to stress reliever drink being coffee, not tea. She understood Nick’s instinct to boil the water and ready the cups, though, and usually went along with it during their dramatic heart-to-hearts, taking sips when it had gone cold without really tasting much of a difference.

“Why’d yeh tell me to set them up, Y/N?” Nick sounded incredulous, which made sense to Y/N but she couldn’t put the explanation into words. Her feelings had meshed together into something indecipherable.

How conflicted she had felt, how her first instinct was to jump to the worst conclusion – that Harry had mentioned it to Nick, that he had asked for a way out, that Nick was trying to let her down easy – all of these absurd possibilities seemed exactly that, in the bright light of two months later, and Y/N couldn’t formulate any words that expressed it better.

“I dunno. Just thought...just thought it’d be for the best. That maybe I read the situation wrong.”

“So you two just...” Nick trailed off, a hand gesturing out into the air to signify the muddled mess of ‘nothing’.

Y/N nodded again, shrugging her shoulders when she felt the tingling prick of tears edging closer against her throat.

“Nothing else happened. We just became good friends, stayed that way during his tour. I mean, you know how much Harry and I talked, we’ve been over it before.”

And while that was true, the discussion of Harry and Y/N’s closeness had gone down under the guise of faux jealousy from Nick, without the understanding that Harry and Y/N had, at one point, been interested in each other.If Nick had known, he would’ve helped them to address their feelings, get them in a place where they could’ve been open with each other, as opposed to getting more lost in the ‘what is this’ blurred regions of their friendship.

“You know, I tried to set you two up, near the beginning. Was why I started the group chat, wanted you two to meet,” Nick confessed, and Y/N’s jaw dropped, her grip loosening on her tea cup.

“What the fuck, Nick?” she swatted at his arm, and for a second he found the glimpse of Y/N hidden beneath the mundane facade of repression, “What happened, why’d you bring up Marie?”

It sounded more vulnerable, a voice crack and a slight wince in her face, like she was curious into his opinion of the idea of her and Harry together. As if he had found something she didn’t, seen a flaw or a warning sign that Y/N had missed.

As if she needed to know what Marie had, that she hadn’t.

“Honest?” Nick asked, and Y/N narrowed her eyes, indicating that yes she wanted it honest, “I just figured it wouldn’t work, after a while of seeing you two hang out. You both seemed so swamped with work. Thought Marie might be a better fit for Haz, she’s much more casual.”

Y/N’s mouth twisted as if she had tasted something sour, but Nick interrupted before she could even ask the inevitable what the fuck.

“It means,” he started calmly, “That you like it when a man can commit and stay around. Marie isn’t like that, she’s fine with vague communication ‘n stuff. And that suited Harry’s situation at the time, more.”

Y/N stubbornly glared at her tea, knowing that Nick was right.

It wouldn’t have worked out between them at the time of their kiss, with the knowledge of his tour hanging over their minds. The present itself was enough of a clusterfuck, before bringing questions of what Harry and Y/N could be, in different circumstances, into the mix.

She had Spencer, for Christ’s sake, and the sudden revival of these feelings reminded Y/N how much Harry could excite and hurt her all at once. Especially with how she tended to read too much into the small things he did, back when a touch on her shoulder felt like a ripple in a lake, and a laugh from his lips felt like his lips pressed to hers all over again. Spencer was never so mysterious, he was always blatantly clear about his expectations and desires. Y/N appreciated that.

“Well, what happened today?” Nick asked, which was honestly the main question he had on his mind. He had been in similar situations before, when a relationship with a friend became ambiguous and unsure, and things crumbled and rolled into each other to become bigger or lesser, and overall a confusing mess. He had never been like Y/N was at that moment, though, and Nick frowned.

Y/N explained everything that had taken place earlier on in the day, although she skipped over when they had bought Nick his Christmas presents for obvious reasons.

She placed extra attention and emphasis on the questions Harry had about Spencer, and how the man answered questions about Marie. Something had stuck out in her mind during those seconds, whether it was just her heightened sensitivity or if she were looking for something, she wasn’t altogether sure.

“-and then I...mentioned...uh, the supermodels,” she finished, feeling her stomach swoop down with intense regret. It blossomed against the sides of her stomach, vines of pain shooting up against her ribs and she felt nauseous. A part of her couldn’t believe she had genuinely said that to Harry, didn’t want to accept the reality that had led herself to the current situation.

Nick was shocked.

“Y/N...” he mumbled, perhaps not fully recognizing that he had spoken out loud, else he would’ve lessened the tone of disapproval. All she could do back was nod, numb, as her best friend in the entire world looked at her, disappointed.

“Y’know most of those are fake, yeah?”

Another nod.

Nick sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“Harry’s not close with a lot of people,” Nick began, choosing his words carefully and his tone of voice swaying in an odd rhythm as a result, “-and it’s mostly ‘cause people tend to have a misconception about him from the start. About his sex life ‘n stuff, which no one should have a proper right to know about...but, point is when he trusts someone enough to be his friend, enough to let them listen to his ideas for bloody unreleased music that I’ve not even heard-” Y/N shot him a pointed look at that, and he widened his eyes and nodded, signaling that yes, he knew about that “-it means he’s let himself be free ‘round you. And that’s a lot for him. Means more than it does to yeh and me, since we don’t have everyone in the world up our ass-crack, trying to see who else has been up there.”

Nick took another pause, before continuing.

“He told me that he likes you because you always take him at his word. That he is to you who he says, that you know Harry before Harry Styles. Just thought he meant as a friend at the time, dunno about now, though.”

A splash in her tea cup startled her a bit, before Y/N saw that she was crying. They fell slowly and didn’t cause her body to wrack forwards; it felt like a natural reaction, like her body had been filled with so much sadness and regret, that she had no other way to let it out.

Nick let her cry without comment, realizing that any effort to try and stop the tears would be futile. It was important for her to cry, anyway; she was the type of person who needed to let it out when her emotions boiled over, lest she repressed everything even more.

“What about Spencer?” Nick asked, quietly. He wasn’t going to judge, because he knew how crazy over Spencer Y/N had been. She was proper smitten with the guy, something Nick hadn’t understood, but now somewhat got. He was certainly different from Harry, and after the emotional turmoil that angsty guy tended to cause, a straightforward guy like Spence obviously had a sort of appeal.

If this had been a mistake of some sort, Nick knew damn well that it was a genuine mistake. Y/N would never string someone along for the sole reason of not making it work with someone else, her take on ‘love’ was more serious than just needing a body next to her. And with one look at her red-rimmed eyes and fidgeting fingers, Nick figured this had been on her mind, as well.

“I don’t know what to do,” she spoke quietly, a gasp breaking around her words. One of the tears slid down the side of her nose, reaching the tip, and her hand flicked it off fully. Nick’s eyes went from her down to the table, as he sat in quiet contemplation.

“Does Spencer even know? About you and Harry?”

Y/N paused, before shaking her head, one of her hands going up so she could rest her forehead, leaning down on the table and staring at the wood pattern.

“I didn’t think it was important,” she moaned, ‘Cause it was in the past, y’know? If he’d asked, I wouldn’t have lied about it. But like-” she shook her head again, “-I just didn’t think about it. I was just happy with Spencer.”

The past tense clung to the air, tendrils sinking themselves around the light fixture and the heavy body slinking down towards the pair at the table. The connotation of the tense, the impact of the word choice, revealed itself a moment after she spoke. Nick watched her carefully, trying to figure out what she herself couldn’t translate into words.

“Maybe you should talk to him about it. Even if you don’t know how you’re feeling, the conversation still matters,” Nick suggested gently, and Y/N took a deep breath.

“Y-yeah.”

She paused, her mouth opening and closing before she decided to go for it, to ask the question that had been beneath her tongue for a few minutes now. Y/N wasn’t sure if there was an answer, if, like most things, it would be revealed what to do after a length of time, when things didn’t seem so serious. But, it didn’t hurt to ask, especially since Nick knew Harry so well.

“What should I do about Harry?”

They both looked at each other in silence for a second, Nick nodding in thought and letting out a sigh. He seemed as conflicted as she was about the situation, and Y/N could tell he wasn’t particularly on anyone’s side, but just there to help pick them both up. That was a comfort to her, because the regret in her lungs that was like a vine clinging to her bones would’ve only gained strength if Nick had felt caught between two people, two of his best friends.

“Not sure, t’ be honest. I do know one thing.”

Y/N waited for him to speak again, the ticking clock behind her head seeming like extraordinarily loud in the silence.

“He doesn’t just...he doesn’t just kiss anyone. It’s not quite,” Nick groaned, reaching up again to ruffle his hair. Y/N tucked hers behind her ear again, shuffling in her seat and sniffling.

“It’s not-it’s just he’s shy, when it matters to him-” he looked up at Y/N to find her searching within his eyes, nodding as her own drooped with more tears, “-he’s a bloody Greek god, don’t get me wrong. And he knows that too. But when it comes to talking about his feelings, he’s shit. Proper shit. And kisses tend to lead to that sort of talk, so he doesn’t often make a move like that unless he’s got a hope.”

Harry might’ve had hope.

Y/N felt awful.

Nick’s disappointment had faded into sympathy by this point; he cared deeply about both of these kids, and the more he thought about it, the more the idea of them together made sense. Yet, they had been so far in their own minds, that things had gotten jumbled around until the only emotion they could exude was frustration.

“Y/N, take some breaths,” his hand reached out to cover her free one, and she attempted a smile, “It’ll be okay, you ‘n Harry can talk about this, make up and whatnot. It doesn’t seem like either of you meant what you said, yeah? But I think what’s most important right now, is tha’ you be honest with Spencer. If you’re gonna make a decision, he’s gotta have all the information.”

“What kind of decision would I be making?” Y/N asked, half confused and half wanting Nick to be the first to say it.

“Well, do you have feelings for Haz still?”

“No.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Pinky swear over Mr. Gills’ grave?”

Mr. Gills had been Y/N’s old goldfish, one that Nick had won her at a carnival and had only known the world for three brief days, before its remains became acquainted with her guest bathroom toilet. Nick and Y/N often swore of Mr. Gills’ grave as a sign of complete somber truth.

Nick’s pinky was held out, but Y/N didn’t do the same. In fact, it seemed like her pinky had withdrawn itself deeper into her palm, a shift of the hand to tuck it away from a type of perjury.

She avoided eye contact and shuffled her hands around, shrugging repeatedly and staring out the window.

“No,” she finally admitted, and Nick nodded, satisfied.

“You don’t have to say you love him or anythin’, but are there still feelings?”

“I didn’t realize-” her throat choked up a bit, and she swallowed before continuing, “I didn’t realize there were still feelings until today, I swear it. I just, I didn’t even realize how different it’d be to see him in person again.”

Before they could continue on, an intense rattling shook their attention. Nick jumped slightly and Y/N’s head immediately turned to her purse, having that millennial sixth-sense that it was her phone. And there, in the depths of her wallet and keys, was her mobile ringing, vibrating against whatever was in contact.

When she pulled it out, she saw Spencer’s name flashing across the screen, with a photo of the two of them cuddled on his couch. He had taken it of them a couple of weeks ago, when Y/N had called for a proper movie night and pillow fort competition, which had failed disastrously but still brought a smile to her face.

She wasn’t smiling now.

“One sec,” she mumbled to Nick, whose eyes were caught by Spencer’s name, before she swiped at the ‘Answer’.

“Hey, Spence.” She tried to keep her voice as casual as she could make it, and fortunately Spencer didn’t seem to notice anything different.

“Hey babe!” he crowed, and Y/N couldn’t distinguish the lurch in her chest as butterflies or nerves, “Just wondering when you’re coming over tonight, I was planning on getting Indian. Are you still at Harry’s?”

Y/N’s chest deflated some with the mention of his name, her breath catching in the depths of her throat momentarily, which overall felt dramatic, but she didn’t have too much control over her reactions at the moment.

“Actually, I went over to Nick’s. I’ll be at my place in a bit, though, do you wanna come over?”

Nick nodded at her, smiling to show her that he was supportive, that he agreed, and mostly that he didn’t want to hear the inevitable fight happen in his kitchen, with Y/N on the phone.

“Sounds good.” Spencer paused, and Y/N’s heart thudded in anticipation, knowing he was either toying with what words to use, or simply distracted. Regardless, she was praying he wouldn’t ask why her voice had cracked, or if she had been crying, or-

“Did you tell Harry I liked Kiwi?”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, before answering, “No, I forgot to mention it. I’ll tell him later.”

Not fucking likely was she going to ever speak to Harry again. Not after he told her that she was living at bare minimum, as if her standards were drastically lower than his own. He had known her insecurities about not having it ‘all figured out’ in her early 20s, and he had hit her where she was weak. Even though she regretted some of the words she had spat out, she couldn’t deny the wrenching rips of her heart. He had hurt her too.

“Kay, sounds good. See you in a bit!”

The call ended rather quickly, which was fortunate for Y/N because her stomach was in absolute knots. They pulled and tightened against one another, building up in the complicated twists and turns as she bit her lip.

She hadn’t the slightest clue what to say to Spencer, how to explain her predicament and try to approach it with him as a team, rather than as an individual. Because that was the point of being together, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what she had always insisted relationships were about? Learning how to deal with life’s problems together, supporting one another and whatnot. Even when it got hard. Especially when it got hard.

It was because she was scared, that was why she had to tell him. Because even though it was one kiss, and even though it was before she’d met Spencer, the fact it was still prevalent in her mind meant something. That seemed more and more likely the longer she sat at Nick’s table, mulling over what had happened, what hadn’t, and why it bothered her.

Nick smiled at her gently, as if he could read her mind and could see how sense had begun to slowly grow once more in her mind, like daisies in the springtime. He knew she would get back up on her feet eventually, that this was just a low moment that was necessary to reassess everything. She was strong, she’d push through.

“Alright, love, I can drive yeh home,” Nick offered, and Y/N murmured a thanks as he stood up from the table to go get his shoes. As he rounded the corner towards his room, Y/N felt her phone buzz again from the palm of her hand. Figuring it was Spencer, she unlocked it with her fingertip without checking the notification, swiping to access the messages.

She read it once, and then twice, before realizing it wasn’t from Spencer at all. It was her group chat with Nick and Harry, and it was Harry’s name next to the text bubble. To see his name was unnerving for a handful of reasons, but the most obvious was that it had been XXX My Ass for so long, since the beginning of their friendship, really, and Y/N swallowed against the lump in her throat.

The message reached forward and grabbed onto the edges of the blanket, wrapping it around her neck until she felt slightly suffocated, her throat straining against the material, and overheated, a rush to her head making her face feel hot.

Hey Nick, can I bring a +1 to your party? xx.

Nick entered the kitchen silently, leaning against the doorframe as he slid his other shoe on. With his free hand, he held up his phone, obviously having received the same message that Y/N did, but a second too late.

He didn’t realize it was too late, his head whipping to look at Y/N, his mouth opening to ask her to just delete the message, to not read it, because life’s unfortunate timing had struck again and he wasn’t sure how she’d take it. But then he saw her raised eyebrows, the way her fingers were posed over the keyboard, as if she were going to type back, before setting the phone back down on the table.

“Oh, love,” Nick went up to her chair, settling in the one next to her, and immediately pulled her in for a hug. Her hands wrapped around his middle, her face hidden in the front of his shirt (surely staining it with makeup, but Nick had learned to keep stocked on Tide pens years ago), and she began mumbling words Nick could barely make out. He thought she was saying to go ahead and tell Harry it was fine, that she was totally cool with it, that she didn’t know why she was crying and to just ignore it, but Nick knew better.

He reached for the table, picking up the phone and leaning back from Y/N to slide it into his back pocket.

“C’mon, Y/N. Let’s go. I’ll give this back when we reach your place, alright? Think you’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

Y/N nodded, wiping beneath her eyes at the tears half-formed. She didn’t know why the message had gutted her. Or she did, and didn’t want to address it. Everything was a fuckery at the moment, and while everything seemed to make glaring sense, she feigned ignorance. It would be too difficult to admit that she had made a mistake, that she had let her heart be attached to someone before it had fully left another. And she hadn’t even realized.

Being unaware of something seemingly catastrophic at the moment, felt like waking up in the midst of washing blood off one’s hands. Like she had done something unspeakable, like she was the villain in the play that no one would root for, because who could do that without knowing? Who could block out how their heart raced when Harry giggled, or how he seemed to be high up on her priority list? Who could pretend like that was only friendship, while being with another man?

She really didn’t want to be the bad person. As if it were a movie role that needed be fulfilled within a cinematic relationship, as if she couldn’t escape the label or mold her situation to fit her. The ringing memories of Harry kissing her, of seeing those blurred photos of Harry and Marie out, of meeting Spencer and forgetting to text Harry back for a few hours, of sleeping with Spencer for the first time and feeling a warmth in the pit of her stomach. Of everything coming together and not quite fitting.

The memories swarmed up to the top of her mind, clouding her vision and keeping her only half-aware as Nick led her to his car.

Y/N continued stewing in her thoughts, and Nick let her without interruption. Again, he knew her well enough to recognize that barraging her with questions would only confuse her more. She’d come to him again when she was ready, when she needed someone to bounce ideas off of.

“I think,” Y/N broke the silence, and Nick nodded to himself, knowing that was exactly what she was doing, “I’m going to tell Spencer everything. And we’ll decide what to do from there. I don’t think that my feelings for Harry are founded on much, y’know? Like, we’ve really grown close over the phone, and that’s different from in real life ‘n stuff. I think it’ll be okay.”

Y/N nodded to herself, shifting in the seat so her purse was firmly in her lap, and her hand was over the clasp.

“And what about Harry?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow and shooting a quick look at her before focusing again on the road.

A pause.

“It’ll be okay.”

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Y/N had roughly an hour alone before Spencer arrived with the take-out. It was enough to get herself cleaned up, to wipe beneath her eyes and collect the smudged mascara and eyeliner, to reapply the powders so her cheeks weren’t so shiny. She felt a bit ridiculous, having all those tears come out over something that shouldn’t have upset someone who was logical, someone who could answer Harry’s questions like a normal human being.

She was with Spencer because that was who she liked, and Harry was just a friend. Wasn’t that the truth? 

Was the truth supposed to be this hard to get right?

She just needed to start the conversation, that was all. Y/N couldn’t wait for Spencer to ask what was wrong, she wanted to put herself out there, even if it meant having to make the first move.

Hyping herself up took more out of her than Y/N had realized going into it. The impromptu dance party as she cleaned up her living room, making up the bed Spencer had left, and turning on the lights for her multi-colored Christmas tree only helped so much.

The unsettling drops and swoops of her stomach refused to settle, and Y/N wondered why it had to be her chest that felt so tight. Like her heart was thudding for an escape, as if it were trying to leave and curl up on her bed, have a proper cry over the events that had taken place in Harry’s living room only hours before.

When Spencer had entered her home, the plastic bags crinkling with the boxes of food and Spencer calling out, “I’m here!”, Y/N thought she might throw up.

So, in order to make sure the discussion didn’t involve chunks of tea and the bits of bread Nick had given her on the car ride back, Y/N decided to wait until she felt more relaxed. Until she could make eye contact with Spencer and not feel like crying, until she could breathe.

Half an hour later, with the two of them cuddled on the couch, watching shit TV programs and making crude comments about people’s house-buying decisions, and Y/N hadn’t made the first move yet.

In fact, weirdly enough, it was Harry who helped her out with that. Another text from the Devil himself in the group chat caused her phone to vibrate, and in the dramatic recesses of Y/N’s mind, the foundations of her relationship cracked with it.

James and Jules are in the hospital. Baby’s coming!! They asked me to host Late Late tonight. xx.

It wasn’t an out of the blue text by any means. The conversation between Nick and Harry had continued after Nick dropped Y/N off at her house, and Y/N kept up with the messages. Nick had let Harry know it was okay to bring a +1, and the two of them chatted about appetizer options for an hour or so. Harry had a lot of recipe ideas that Nick didn’t want to cook, and Harry didn’t have the time before Nick’s party to do them “properly”, so the pair had been at an impasse.

It also wasn’t completely random for someone to text the group chat with new updates of how their day was going. It was completely normal. It was also normal for Spencer to glance at her phone screen as she was reading, because the group chat typically consisted of memes and random remarks that Spencer found amusing, despite not getting the context of the situation.

Y/N wondered if it would be more convenient for life to body slam her with hurtful, awkward situations, rather than seeping it into her day like an IV drip.

“No fucking way,” Spencer turned to face Y/N more, his arm tightening around her shoulders as he grinned, “That’s so cool, Y/N! Let’s stay up and watch it, I bet he’s gonna kill it, you always say he’s so funny and-”

“Can we talk?”

Y/N’s blurting tendencies had drastically increased in the past 24 hours, and the surprised look on Spencer’s face seemed to prove that it was, in fact, out of character. The connotation of the words, too, cemented in the minds of all couples as draped with Warning Flags and Caution Signs, neon lights and red tape.

“S-sure,” he stuttered, moving so his arm was no longer around her body, lifting up the remote to mute the TV. Y/N made the move to sit up, as well, feeling a rush of adrenaline kick into her veins and make her hands shake, a bit. She folded them and played with her fingers to cover up how nervous she was. How much she wished the world could swallow her whole.

“So, y’know how close Harry and I are, right?”

Spencer froze, his eyes flashing with something unreadable, before he nodded slowly. He didn’t speak.

“Well,” Y/N looked down at her hands, before firming her sight on Spencer again, reminding herself to just speak candidly, “We had a small thing happen, before you and I met.”

The silence between them felt like an elastic band that was stretched almost to its limit. The two of them sat, waiting for it to snap and preparing themselves for the whiplash.

“What kind of small thing?”

“J-just a kiss,” Y/N mumbled, looking at him worried. Spencer’s expression hadn’t changed, he was still looking at her as if she hadn’t begun talking yet. And, to an extent, she supposed she hadn’t.

“And?” he prompted.

“Just wanted to let you know. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but today...when I saw him, for the first time in a while? I don’t know,” she sighed, reaching up to fix her hair and rub at her eyes a bit before continuing, “We hadn’t discussed the kiss because things got busy right after, and then he left on tour, and one thing led to another...”

“Did you fuck?”

Y/N blinked, startled, before rapidly shaking her head.

“Oh Good God, no! We just talked about the kiss, that’s all. And we ended up fighting, it...didn’t go well.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes seeming somewhat glazed over. Y/N felt a wave of sympathy for him, because she knew that her words didn’t explicitly hold any meaning that would hurt him, but the imagination can take one out to the highest cliff around, even at the slightest thought of something bad.

“What did you think?”

“What did I think?”

“About the kiss,” Spencer was speaking through gritted teeth, obviously uncomfortable at himself for asking, but wanting the answer regardless.

Y/N opened and closed her mouth several times, completely at a loss as to what to say. Her plan of honesty flew out the window, because how was she supposed to look her boyfriend in the eye and say what was on her mind?

Spencer sighed, shuffling against the couch, glancing around the room, as if Harry were hiding behind her gnome, before spitting out another question.

“If he asked you out, what would you say?”

“I’d say I’m dating you, Spence,” Y/N shook her head, but Spencer rolled his eyes, “We’re together.”

“Bullshit, you know what I mean. If you were single.”

Her vision blurred as she looked at Spencer, and she felt her nose crinkling with the effort it was taking to not cry. The silence was a siren between them, and even though Y/N genuinely wasn’t sure what she would say, if the hypothetical situation were to happen, the seed of doubt had been planted in Spencer.

Spencer looked off, rolling his eyes again and grumbling to himself. It took a few seconds before he spoke, and Y/N was still reeling with how she felt. She knew Harry, she knew him almost as well as she knew Nick at that point, but there were still pieces of themselves they hadn’t uncovered. Exposure to the depths of their feelings was almost inconceivable.

“I always had a weird feeling bout that guy. You two talk a lot, y’know?” Spencer’s words felt like sharp pokes into her side, and Y/N nodded, despite it being a rhetorical question. He sighed again and stared at his girlfriend, bitterly swallowing against the lump in his own throat. Fuck this, he wasn’t going to sit around and let himself be compared to someone he knew Y/N wouldn’t leave.

“I’m not like him, Y/N. I’m not gonna wait around for you to realize what you want, y’know? I can’t do that, I need someone who immediately knows they want me and just me.”

“He hasn’t been waiting, Spence. That’s ridiculous-”

“Is it?” The two of them sat, staring, and Y/N couldn’t find it within her to say yes, “You said he’s going out with someone, but is he really?”

“I mean, I don’t know about right now, he’s been busy, he was on tour and-”

“Fuck that, you two talk every fucking day. He’s got the time every fucking night,” and his words were spitting out, his eyebrows furrowing together as he sat up on the couch, feeling more confident in his words and in his anger, “Wake up to you FaceTiming him more often than not-”

“Time zones!” Y/N cried out breathlessly, waving her hands as if they would erase the moment and let them just forget it all, “He has questions, he wanted to show me his hotel room-”

“Listen, Y/N,” Spencer’s nostrils flared as he tried to calm down, tried to speak rationally and respect what they were together, to properly address the situation in a way that he’d be okay with later, when the red faded from his eyes, “I really like you. I really, really do, but I need to know you feel the same.”

“I do, I do,” she found herself begging, tears stinging her eyes. “And we can figure out whatever this is, together. I can let go of what was in the past, I truly think I can-”

“Are you saying that because we’re together, or because you want to?”

The question hit like whiplash, Y/N wasn’t expecting it and she sat back, physically startled and mentally shaken.

Spencer waited a few seconds, before calling his losses.

“Listen, I’m gonna go.”

He stood up from the couch, walking in front of the TV where Brenda and Martin were purchasing their first home, after a long search balancing a good school district zone and a nice enough kitchen for Brenda’s side job making dog biscuits in the shape of Iranian political figures.

“Spence...” Y/N held out a hand.

His back was to her when he stopped in front of her door, before he turned slightly, his eyes set on the floor.

“I’ll come back for my stuff later, ‘kay? I just, I can’t right now.”

“Okay.”

It was all she could say, really, because who was she to ask Spencer to stay? If he needed space, she could give him space. She wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, if this was something she needed to work through on her own. But she just knew that she had some shit to deal with, and she had tried to see if she could do it with Spencer. And he wasn’t up for it, which was his decision and was okay.

It still hurt, though.

But he’d be back, and they’d talk about it again, and everything would be okay. Wouldn’t it?

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She wasn’t planning on watching it. It truly was not in her mental schedule for the night.

Y/N had hoped to be asleep by now, wrapped up in her blankets and ignoring the fact that her bed was emptier than it had been for a long while. She expected her arms to be wrapped around a pillow – and to be fair, they were – but the pillow was against her chest as her knees were up on the couch.

The Late Late Show was about to begin.

“All the way from Holmes Chapel, Chesire...” the show started, and Y/N instinctively held her breath. As if seeing him would be more dramatic than a simple entrance, as if she hadn’t seen him hours ago. The excitement of being a late-night TV show host, even if it were only for tonight, felt very alive to her. Despite being mad, and her wounds still aching from his words, Y/N knew this was a difficult challenge for him. And she was proud, in a natural way that overlapped any of the current frustrations she held for Harry.

The curtains parted, and Y/N’s eyes strained to make out his face clearly. Her demeanor changed almost immediately, her focus was brought back to the Harry she knew, as opposed to the Harry Styles confidently walking towards the audience on her screen.

Were there tear marks, where there spots of patchiness the makeup couldn’t cover properly? If he had been crying, had it been over the introduction of new life into the world, or over Y/N? She felt shameful and selfish, aching and angry, all at once.

He looked extremely happy. Tongue poking out, bowing at the audience, blowing his kisses, dancing slightly to the beat (which Y/N knew was his go-to when he felt unsure, when he needed the reminder that others were working alongside him and it wasn’t him against the world). The distance between them lapped up against her mind, like waves pushing them farther apart, yet Y/N could see him through a telescope, almost, understand him although they felt worlds apart.

And they were, with him on stage and her sat on the couch. Harry had his feet in two opposite dimensions, one of glitter and fame, and the other of hurt and reality. No one lied on camera, even the most obvious lies could be planted in a garden of Charm, Charisma, anything but the web of pain lies created. If he smiled, he was happy. And that’s all the audience needed to know.

He began his monologue, but Y/N found herself only catching words here and there, her mind fighting against the weariness of the early hour. She stifled a yawn and brought the couch cushion closer to her body.

His hands were behind his back, and that was why she missed it at first.

It was when he began speaking with his hands, waving them about as he explained how he had been at the hospital, Y/N noticed something. And perhaps it was her mind trying to hurt her further, because when she saw it, her thoughts were stones, dragging her deeper in ice-cold water. Torrents splashed against her eyelids and the rushed sense of a waterfall overtook her mind.

His nails were completely bare.

Blackened edges were spotted around his nail beds if Y/N peered closely enough, but sure enough, he had taken off every bit of nail polish he could.

Y/N was going to be sick.

She couldn’t pay attention, even when the audience was roaring with laughter, as she numbly watched from her couch. The polish meant something. She knew that for a fact, like she knew the sky was blue and the grass was green.

Was removing the polish his way of removing her? Was it a process, with him bent over the table, swiping carefully at each nail, cursing her out underneath his breath? Did he keep the bottle of polish she had recommended, or was that thrown in the trash? How far did the analysis of removing black nail polish go?

Y/N tuned back into the program, biting down on her bottom lip and groaning under her breath. Why she had continued to watch was beyond her, but he was up there being charming, as always. He was addressing CBS or something, looking dead on at the camera before winking, and then finger-gunning the camera.

Not that Y/N was over-analyzing (which meant she totally was, and her journal was going to receive all the possible theories in a week or two), but that was his response to her, when they were joking around before he had left, before things in their friendship had shifted. It was on the late nights/early mornings at the local grocery mart, the crafts store, any place where they roamed the aisles as an excuse to not call it a night, to not address the fact that they couldn’t spend another night together.

Y/N would say something stupid, start making puns about the products around her and begging Harry to buy her any amount of ridiculous things she could get her hands on. Eventually, the jokes would turn dirty, and Harry would just wink at her before putting the items in the cart, a smirk somewhat hidden to himself but still noticed by Y/N as she tried to change the topic. And when they were across the thrift store from each other, and Y/N was holding up the weird denim jackets as high as she could, he’d finger gun at her to indicate yeah, put it in the cart.

Y/N put her head in her hands, groaning to herself. It was all too much, her mind was racing too fast, and her thoughts were grossly offensive.

“What are you doing?” she muttered, fully realizing that it was on another world of pathetic to be watching the show. Nick had texted, offering to come over after Y/N told him that Spencer had left, but she just wanted to be alone. And what did she do in isolation? Made everything worse.

The audience roared again with laughter, and Y/N looked up just in time to see Harry, cocking his hip out, a shit-eating smirk on his face, saying he had made up a joke himself. And Y/N could tell he had, she could see the pride on his face and the way his smile had stretched into the territory of ‘I’m doing so well oh my god’ and it really, really fucking hurt.

Harry didn’t always look that good, did he?

It must’ve just been her mind tricking her, now that he seemed so far away, sadness gripping at her vision and making the stabbing go deeper, make the regret flood higher.

Her head went back down and remained on the pillow, rolling her cheek to the side so she could still catch a glimpse or two of the screen, until Harry mentioned a kiss, when her face shot up and she genuinely felt the Indian dinner churn in her stomach. (Spencer had left it and Y/N wasn’t going to let a good take-out go to waste, not her fault.)

“Fucking hell,” she mumbled when she realized it was a kiss he had shared with James, not her. And that Harry was probably not even thinking about her, not when he was filming, or even after. He was probably at some after-show party, toasting to his great success, brushing off deals from TV executives dying to get his face on their cameras, collecting phone numbers of fantastic contacts who could get him anywhere in the world, meeting interesting people who he’d ask to paint his nails next week, and-

And then it happened.

“I have to be very honest, it’s not exactly how I saw my day panning out. Um, I was sat at home, two hours ago-” and his eyes shot down, blinking a bit more rapidly than normal.

It was a split second, but that was enough.

Y/N held her breath, gripping the pillow tighter. He had snapped out of some train of thought, and Y/N knew damn well that he had been thinking about the fight. Again, she knew it like a fact. It was just in her veins, she could tell.

He broke the set-back with some comment about his suit, but Y/N could tell his mind was still working on lurching back from the words, from the feeling, from the horrendous aftermath neither of them had approached fully, quite yet. Because he was on national TV and had to get his act together, but even the sliver of exposure, a hint at how wrecked he might’ve been inside, comforted Y/N. In a dastardly way, she knew, but it made her feel not so alone.

Watching him dance like an idiot was hard, too. Not because he looked like a sixth grader trying to break the awkward tension at the middle school dance, when all the boys were on one side and all the girls were on the other.

But because she found herself giggling and staring at her TV screen like she would if he were there, like he was an idiot and attention-seeker (which he totally was), and he would smile at her like he always did, a flash of teeth and a dimple poking into his cheek, his eyes watching her as she moaned about how shit his moves were. He’d then pull her against his chest, fingers lacing into hers, before he’d stumble off towards the makeshift dance floor at whatever house party they were at, making her walk backwards until she inevitably stumbled and his hand rested on the small of her back for support.

And then they’d dance together, using alcohol as an excuse and their friendship as a guise. She felt ridiculous now, because at the time she had understood them to purely be friends, and was convinced the sparks were in her mind alone. She used Marie’s existence as a barrier, an explanation as to why Harry’s hand lingering on her back was just him being too drunk to think much of it, a reason as to why Harry’s searching eyes was just him being him, being a cuddly drunk who liked to take up a person’s essence when he spoke to them. Who liked to make them feel special, because God knows the world never did.

It was after the episode, when she was laying on her couch in the sullen darkness after having turned off the TV. She was ten minutes into searching for a will to move over to her bed, when her phone buzzed again. She groped in the darkness to find the bugger, before her fingertips ran into the phone and she slid open the messages.

It was Harry, again, in the group chat.

What did you guys think? xx.

Nick responded immediately, letting Harry know that he had done a great job, and telling Harry off for never offering to fill in for Nick. Y/N looked at the screen, scrolling up through the day’s texts that had been between Nick and Harry exclusively, before deciding that 2 in the morning (which was never a good idea, she should have some sort of app that blocked her ability to text after midnight) was a good time to be an adult and respond.

Stupid jokes but the dogs were cute.

It was radio silence, which felt much longer as she found herself, yet again, staring at her phone. Waiting for something. Not being able to see the dots across the screen and wondering if it had been too much. Harry had texted the group chat, though, not Nick personally, so that was a strong indicator in itself that he was okay with her responding. Maybe the group chat was neutral territory for him.

No new messages came through from the group chat.

Y/N trudged up towards her bedroom, not feeling particularly surprised but still a touch disappointed.  Once her head hit the pillow, though, she was out like a light, too tired to mourn Spencer’s stuff littering the path to her bed. They’d work it out, she thought sleepily. It would be okay.

And in the nights following, she was too tired and cried-out to take notice of how much emptier her apartment was, with Spencer’s stuff in boxes. And eventually, Spencer’s stuff was gone.

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“Pretty wild color scheme.”

“Shuddup, it’s just gold, red, black, and forest green.”

“So, why is only the green’s shade specified?”

“Uhh, because fuckin’ Terry’s wife is gonna rip me a new one if it’s the wrong one?!”

Y/N let out a deep sigh and intensified the speed of her swivel, turning around and around atop of one of Nick’s barstools by his kitchen counter. She had been at Nick’s since 7 that morning, helping him set up for the party and reviewing every minute detail. Nick was an extravagant host, even if the actual events were fairly humble. The food was sure to be excellent, the music carefully planned out to be a seamless transition between most genres (except country, of course), and the booze was to be a continuous waterfall of good tides and cheer. What Nick did, he did well.

“Why’d you even invite Terry?” she yelled out the question towards the empty archway, hearing Nick shuffle around the bathroom to set up his fancy bath salts, so guests would think he was a luxe man with pubes smelling of vanilla caramel.

“He’s a family friend,” Nick yelled back, before pausing. “No, that’s not quite right. He’s...uh...I don’t know Y/N, but I think he’s bloody important o’ summat.”

“Right, right,” she murmured, slowing down as Blob padded closer to her. Pig sat in their new dog bed a few feet away, looking glumly at Y/N as she knelt down to pet the small, excited pupper.

“Oh you like your new bed, don’t you? Don’t you?” she cooed as the dog flopped its tongue out, licking at Y/N’s hand softly as she scratched behind the ears. According to Nick, Harry had dropped by the previous night to bring over his Christmas gift. It was most likely to avoid seeing Y/N until he absolutely had to, as the pair hadn’t spoken since their fight a week ago.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to think, even after a week.

She had brought in Nick’s new painting earlier, after giving him the heads up a couple days before so he wouldn’t have an additional thing to worry about, and it now was placed over his couch. Nick had fallen in love with it, dramatically kissing Y/N’s cheeks as if they were in an old-fashioned film together, praising her for her magical abilities of knowing what he liked. As if they hadn’t gone to countless galleries together, with Nick taking careful notes of his likes and dislikes that he would send out to his friends as a personal memo later in the evening.

Y/N had a lot of love in her heart for Nick.

“Your gift’s coming in late, I’m afraid,” he had informed her, and she shook it off with a grin and a wave of her hand. She didn’t particularly mind, the gifts weren’t the highlight of her holiday season, anyway.

“Alright, how’m I on time?” Nick called out, and Y/N reached down into her back pocket to withdraw her phone. “About two hours before the early birds show up,” she replied, knowing that some of Nick’s friends liked popping in as early as possible in order to excuse their early good-byes. And Nick didn’t mind, in fact he held a great deal of appreciation for those who came early. The party’s swing/vibe/mood/whatever Nick called it that night would have a chance to launch before others showed up, and there was rarely a moment of quiet once the actual assigned time of the party rolled around.

“I should go and get ready, can I use the guest bathroom?” Y/N asked, groaning as she stood up and made her way over to where Nick was stacking extra toilet paper beneath the sink. Always the planner.

“Yeah, just don’t mess up the soap arrangement.”

Y/N blinked, before nodding and briskly turning around, walking back to where she had laid her duffel bag in the guest room. The plan was for her to spend the night at Nick’s; ever since she and Spencer broke up, things had been rough. Shadows turned into abysses of isolation, and an empty apartment housed nothing but reminders and negative spiral thinking.

It had been rougher than she could put into words, what it felt like to lose her boyfriend and one of her best friends at the same time. It felt like a wrench hitting her chest, every time she would check her phone instinctively for a text from either of them, before remembering they had their reasons to be staying away. And who could she blame but herself? Even with Nick, conversation would come to an unnatural still point when Harry’s name would’ve been mentioned. Which was infinitely more often than Y/N would’ve realized, if things had been normal.

Y/N spent more time than she would’ve, inspecting her reflection and making sure her outfit fit her body how she wanted it to. She was dressed comfortably; Grimmy didn’t throw a gala dress code into the invitation, and it was hard enough to survive in the LA heat without worrying about a face full of makeup.

She was still trying, and she’d admit it too, how she wanted Harry to see her and not see the woman who had spent too long crying over men she had hurt and lost. Frankly, if the night went well, Harry wouldn’t even see her. They would miss each other by seconds the whole night, if luck was on her side.

(Spoiler: luck was never on her side).

With a deep sigh, she dusted one of her fluffiest makeup brushes over her face once more, reaching for the setting spray tucked in her bag.

“C’mon, you’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, but her reflection seemed unsure. “You’re just going to say hi to Harry and Marie, and then get massively drunk with your friends. But-” she snapped, as if reminding herself sternly, “-you’re going to lock yourself in the guest bedroom before things can get out of hand,” she wagged her finger, “Don’t need to be making a fool outta yourself.”

She gave herself a stern nod, twisting around to see how the back of her outfit looked, and gave an agreeable thumbs-up to the mirror. The woman standing before her seemed put together, like nothing had ruined her holidays, and Y/N was more than willing to play the part for the night.

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The party was a thriving mix between a celeb-filled gala and a small house-party, with recognizable faces by the punch and fireplace, but everyone was swaying, dancing, and not using that high-pitched laugh and poised manner in the way they’d stand in groups at more formal events.

Nick’s closest friends weren’t the type to blab to the media about who was seen with who, wearing what, etc., and Y/N loved Nick’s parties for that reason. Not that she would’ve been sought out, by any means, with her casual mention in articles about the “normal women” Harry Styles hung out with, and whether or not she was a lesbian. But it still meant she could cut loose a bit more, not worry as much about the people around her being documented and thus her, to an extent.

Harry thought it was a good party, too, as he held open the door into Nick’s entryway.

Neon lights streamed down the wall as he helped her take off her coat, which hadn’t been necessary with the Los Angeles warmth, but she still wanted to bring it in case the night-time introduced a new sense of frigidity into their December. Harry had done the same, mostly to please her, and hung his own up on the rack.

She was positively glowing, and Harry couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he, hand wrapped in hers, brought her through the mass of people.

He stopped to say hi to several people he vaguely knew, especially when they reached out to stop him and gush over the woman next to him.

“Harry! Lovely to see you again. Who’s this?” the group nearest the door cried out, drinks in one hand, a cigarette tucked between their fingers, and random Mardi Gras beads slung over their necks.

Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder, almost protectively, as she blushed.

“This is my mum, Anne,” he said, his dimple deepening as his mother stuck a hand out and greeted them.

Harry didn’t know all of Nick’s friends, but the majority of them certainly knew of him. He and Anne had quite a few people to get through before they could make their way towards the bar.  Will, Bryson, Monica, Patrick, and Terry were all overjoyed to finally meet Harry’s mum, as they had put it with a mock English accent that made Harry cringe internally, and even Terry’s wife was pleased to meet her. She did, however, insist to know Anne’s opinion on the shade of the napkin’s green compared to the half-inflated balloon behind the ottoman in the living room.

“It’s just atrocious, I truly think Nick’s color-blind,” Terry’s wife widened her eyes, and Harry prayed to the heavens above to help him keep his laughter in check.

Anne didn’t really have an answer for that one, and Harry made sure to hurriedly whisk her off to find the punch bowl. Nick was around somewhere, most likely about to start a round of Waterfall to keep his friends friendly and drunk. Harry wasn’t too sure if he wanted his mother to join in on that, despite him knowing that Anne was more than willing and often was more of the life of the party than he was, so he poured themselves both a water at the bar.

Set to the sound of Post Malone rapping about rock stars and drugs, the party was going well. Conversations began and ended and flowed together into a sea of words, laughter, and the occasional yelling. Anne’s eyes were sparkling as she took a sip, scanning over the decorations against the walls, and lingering on the painting behind the couch.

“Is that one new? I like it,” she asked, and Harry leaned down to hear her properly, before looking the way she had been. His eyebrows came together, before he recognized where he had seen it before, and with pursed lips, he nodded. Anne looked a touch confused at his reaction, but shrugged it off, turning her attention to the hired entertainers who were making their way through the crowds.

Harry was wearing a thick knit white sweater with black jeans, the pockets of which one of his hands seemed to be stuck within. His posture was slightly bent, his eyes scanning over the crowd again and again, with his hand holding his drink occasionally rising to push his hair to the other side of his head, before fixing it. A few minutes later, the process would start again, and Anne recognized the nerves in her son from a mile off.

The pair of mother and son were talking to each other and those around them, as conversation tended to peak and intensify when Harry Styles entered the building, and everyone wanted to meet his mother and tell her all sorts of embarrassing stories about him. She took it well, gasping at the proper times and laughing at some of her son’s antics. Harry had the sense to look sheepish, but she could tell something was still off.

It was when they were alone again, Nick’s friends trying to hunt down the appetizer tray of fancy cheese sticks, that Anne realized what was happening. His eyes seemed brighter, caught by someone across the room, a new flush in his cheeks that wasn’t due to the eggnog they had switched over to, a bit earlier.

Anne’s attention was taken off the magician who was pulling someone’s card out of their shoe, distracted by finding the person Harry was staring at. The music swelled in the moment, crescendo-ing against the air, which suddenly warmed and the lights were a touch brighter. He didn’t notice his mother straining her head to look through the crowd, the way she turned again to see the direction in which he was looking, before settling back on her heels when she recognized Y/N.

The woman was standing by the fireplace, holding a half-full glass of drink as she was laughing with a small cluster of people. A man with a heavy beard and thick mustache was speaking to everyone, his hands out wide and exaggerated as he spoke, and his audience seemed thoroughly engaged, breaking into raucous laughter at the right moments. A string of Christmas lights were around some people on the duvet behind Y/N, and occasionally she would step to the side so the lights wouldn’t get caught around her feet.

Anne recognized Y/N easily, especially since she had followed her on Instagram and wasn’t an absolute idiot. Harry had mentioned Y/N quite a bit, more than he would a normal friend, as if he was trying to make sure his mother knew that name in particular.

She had figured there was something there that hadn’t been brought up yet, with how Harry would retell Y/N’s jokes and talk about how “wonderful” she was, which had soon become both a compliment of Y/N’s personality, and a way for him to address what she meant to him. Her assumption had come to an abrupt halt earlier in the night, when she had asked if Y/N was going to be there as well, and Harry had responded with a grunt of, “We aren’t talking.”

As if that were an answer, but Anne supposed it was an answer within itself.

“Stop staring,” she murmured to her son, unable to hide the smile growing on her face. She could see they were on the rocks at the moment, with how quickly he had shut down the conversation about Y/N, but seeing her son light up at the very sight of a woman (one who seemed to have her head on her shoulders) warmed her heart.

Anne worried about him frequently, how often he was alone, in strange cities, in strange countries, not knowing many people but everyone feeling like he owed them something. It had been a comfort, hearing Y/N’s name so often and knowing he had a good friend back in LA, one who he could talk to from various time zones.

And, if Y/N’s Instagram posts were anything to go by, Harry was just as special to her.

“I’m not staring,” Harry grumbled, taking another sip of his drink. With a sigh, he paused, before taking another swig of it and not letting his eyes roam back to Y/N’s corner anymore. He instead focused on the magician, humming in distant surprise as someone’s card was found.

Anne shook her head, a gentle smile on her red lips.

"You're staring, dear. And she's looking back, you just don’t see it."

And it was true, that when Harry would duck his head down, Y/N would lift hers, worry creasing her forehead lightly as she eyed him up and down. When she spotted the woman standing next to him, Anne clearly recognized tension, and perhaps the faintest smidge of jealousy, from the tightness in the girl’s shoulders, before she recognized Harry’s mother and raised her fingers in an embarrassed wave.

Anne waved back.

“Go talk to her, you don’t need to stay with me all night. I know Paul in the other room, I can go play Scrabble with them.”

“I’m not ditchin’ my mum,” Harry said sternly, taking his hand out of his pocket to hold onto hers. She held his hand tightly, giving it a squeeze, eyes crinkling as she smiled. “You’re my date tonight, the only one I wanna talk to.”

Anne’s face then shifted to look less than impressed, choosing to just stare at her son until he dropped his shoulders and sighed.

“I don’t even know what t’ say, mum. Last time...it just didn’t go well. ‘N she’s probably here with Spencer.”

“Spen-who?” Anne asked, shaking her head.

“Her boyfriend.”

“You can still talk to a woman with a boyfriend, Harry. She isn’t going to slap you like she’s exceeded the amount of men allowed in her life.”

Harry was disgruntled, eyes quietly shifting to Y/N, before realizing she was looking back at him. In a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it made the lights dim lower and the crowd noise lessen, and his heart picked up a tiny bit and-

“I’m going to go play some Scrabble,” Anne mused, drifting off to go find Paul and beat his ass with eight-syllable words. She gave one last glance at her son, who was still staring at Y/N, before humming to herself. He’d figure it out eventually.

Harry walked near the group Y/N was in, his hands in his pockets, his drink abandoned in the kitchen, and his head ducked a bit low. He was trying to be casual, walking through the crowd of people as though he hadn’t a destination in mind. Whether this failed or not, he wasn’t sure, because he could feel the heat of Y/N’s eyes on the side of his face as he walked by.

“Haz!” Nick cried out, tugging on Harry’s sleeve so the younger man stumbled into the group. When he lifted his face to smile at Nick, he saw Y/N out of the corner of his eye, staring as she sipped on her drink. Harry looked over at her, though, wondering if she’d hold the eye contact, but her head snapped to the side, her attention suddenly on Samuel and his story about Sea World and aliens.

“How’s the party?” Nick asked his friend, and Harry could tell by the dazed look in Nick’s eyes that he had thoroughly enjoyed the eggnog thus far, and was having a grand time himself.

“Lovely. Heard you’ve got fancy salts ‘n your bathroom,” Harry replied, a cheeky grin on his face at Nick’s weird antics. Nick laughed, a booming sound as he pulled Harry in closer, giving him a tight hug.

“Love yeh, man,” Nick mumbled into Harry’s neck, and Harry squeezed his best friend tightly in response.  They were cuddled together, arms around one another and Harry’s legs somewhat on Nick’s lap. Harry couldn’t properly explain what came over him at that moment, but he leaned in closer to Nick and whispered.

“Why isn’t Spencer here?”

Harry knew what Spencer had looked like, and might have even looked up the man’s Instagram earlier on in the day to make sure he’d be able to recognize the sharp jaw, the green eyes, the shaggy hair. But nobody at the party fit that description, and Harry knew if he were at a party with Y/N, he would never leave Y/N’s side. Especially not when she was glowing like that, with her eyes sparkling. Which meant only one thing: Spencer didn’t come.

Nick froze for a second, before looking at Harry. It was as if he were looking Harry up and down, trying to decipher his motives, before determining him worthy enough for the information.

“They broke up three days ago.”

Harry looked away, nodding lightly as he processed it. Regret welled up against the back of his throat, when he realized that he hadn’t been there for Y/N when she must’ve been hurting, and panic simultaneously gripped at his collarbones when he wondered if he had anything to do with it. Not that Harry was particularly big-headed, but the timing of the two events seemed to be too close to be a coincidence.

After a few minutes of the group discussing various topics, none of which captured Harry’s interest, the people began moving around. Samuel went to go find his ex, Tom, in hopes of rekindling a lost love, and Jarisel wanted to show Rita how to make her special Christmas cocktail.

Soon, it was only Nick, Harry, and Y/N left.

And Harry felt positive in that Y/N would’ve walked away already, if the situation were different. Because there was no way she wanted to stay in the awkward atmosphere, with Harry staring at the carpet and Nick rambling about how stunning Leo looked in tight jeans. But no, she wanted him to be the one to leave. Harry knew this by how her eyes would flicker up at him, her jaw clenched and her straw stuck between her teeth as she continued to sip on her drink. One, continuous sip it felt like, and Harry almost asked if she had any water. Because that’s what he would normally say, under normal circumstances, when he didn’t have a gaping hole in his chest.

“I want to make sure Leo sees my soap arrangements,” Nick declared suddenly, lurching forward to lift himself off of the couch. Harry offered an arm for his friend to use as support, to which Nick mumbled “thank yeh”.

Then, abruptly, it was just him and her.

He could feel her staring at him, as if he couldn’t see and as if it had no repercussions. Which it did, because everything she did impacted Harry, whether she knew it or not, and he couldn’t deal with those eyes looking at him anymore, not when he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Not when he didn’t know if she regretted her words.

“What?” he snapped, glaring over at her, once he decided it had been long enough.

“Nothing.”

Her response was immediate. Her eyes didn’t stray away from his, and he was surprised to see that they were filled with curiosity as opposed to hatred, which was what he had been expecting. It was a relief, partially, but it also made him more upset, perhaps irrationally so. He wanted her angry, because that was the only way he could justify his own.

“No, what?” Harry repeated himself. She was stood, still, by the fireplace. The couple behind her had moved, most likely to find an empty closet or bathroom. Harry was sat on the couch, on the arm rest because Nick had been sitting on the couch and Harry hadn’t moved, and it was all pretty useless because that’s where they were, and Harry didn’t know who would move first.

By some coincidence, they were alone in that space of the party, a bubble of tension in the midst of so much cheer and friendly commotion. A distant yelling was heard from the living room, where Nick and Leo had been caught under the mistletoe.

“I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled, and had the decency to look away once she recognized the fire in his eyes. Y/N wasn’t sure how to express it, the anger she had before the party, the relief of seeing Anne, and the irritation of having so many questions she didn’t feel she had the right to ask.

“No, yeh can tell me now.”

“Fine,” Y/N relented rather quickly, perhaps agreeing that it was best to get it over with, leaning her head back to finish her drink before setting it down on a stray coaster. It slammed a bit loudly, and a few other party-attendees glanced up at Y/N in drunken interest. She didn’t look over, though, her eyes set on Harry. “Let’s go outside, then?”

Harry nodded, agreeing silently that it needed to be a private discussion. They were too somber for the party right then, anyway, with Harry cutting his way through the crowd to pick up his coat from the front, and Y/N following right behind him. They slipped through one of Nick’s back exits, out to his backyard.

It was Los Angeles, but the night air still felt cold. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, with Harry refusing to make eye contact with Y/N, and her feeling very hesitant to say the first word. She felt like a voodoo doll, waiting for the next prick, anticipating the way her heart would be shredded once again. It had been a rough week and encountering Harry while drunk couldn’t end well.

“So, Marie couldn’t make it?” she found herself asking, and shut her eyes in frustration. Those weren’t the words she meant to say, and Harry didn’t seem to appreciate it either.

“Haven’t seen her in a few weeks,” he confessed, running his hand down his jaw. It looked more scratchy than he usually preferred it, and Y/N had half a mind to ask what else had changed.

There was still no nail polish on.

“And all the models on my phone couldn’t make it either. Cause that’s the only reason I’d bring my mum, yeah? All the women I’ve been fuckin’ were too busy being meaningful elsewhere.” He breathed out harshly through his nose.

They were roughly halfway across Nick’s yard, pacing without a sense of direction towards a group of trees. The wet grass squished against their shoes and their hands buried in their coat pockets, each of them looking down at the soil instead of at each other. Harry walked on ahead, his pace slower than Y/N’s as she trailed behind, swinging out her feet as she walked so it wouldn’t seem so rushed. It felt awkward, and Y/N began to wonder if she would ever feel normal around Harry again.

“Harry...”

He wasn’t finished.

“I just fuck models and break hearts, isn’t tha’ right?” he asked bitterly. His eyes were more vulnerable, though, flicking finally to her face, and countering his words with an exposed sort of plea. Asking her to not to agree, begging her to insist that he was who he thought he had been, before her words had made him rethink everything.

“Dunno if I can say, it’s a bit hard to see all the way down here from the bare minimum,” she retorted, feeling upset for him but also pissed off for herself. He had no right to say that, and she was going to make it clear as day that she had a damn right to be hurt, as well. The sway in her mind, the way the air nipped against her skin and made her feel more grounded than tipsy, collided against her breath as she glared at Harry.

Harry bit his lip.

“I didn’t mean it.” he whispered, hoarse and pleading.

“I didn’t mean it, either,” Y/N admitted, deflating somewhat and shrugging her shoulders up so her coat would cover more of her neck. Their voices had changed from accusatory to more of a soft confession, like they were sat at candlelight in a rickety pub, hands in the other’s and their words a hushed apology. But, in fact, they were stood in a lavish area of town, in the dank cold, their words the only sounds surrounding them.

“I just got angry, wasn’t the right thing to say.” Harry continued.

“Why were you angry?” She felt it was a fair enough question, as their discussion a week ago had obviously escalated beyond ordinary conversation, but Y/N still felt a bit lost as to why things had gotten so out of hand. She felt there were tensions about their kiss, unspoken words that she was nervous about approaching.

"I can’t feel those certain things, love. I..just can’t.”

“What things?”

Harry sighed, stopping suddenly in the grass and turning to face her. Y/N shuffled around a bit, looking down at the ground, before back up at Harry. They held eye contact for a few moments, both of them unsure of how the other felt, before Harry furrowed his brows, a deep concern setting in the lines of his forehead.

“Stop starin’ at me like that,” he tilted his head, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“Like what?” she diverted her eyes regardless, feeling a rush of embarrassment as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Like yeh...” Harry swallowed harshly, and in the moonlight Y/N could see a tear make its streak down his face. His hand went up to quickly brush it away, but as he blinked, a few more dropped against his cheeks. His eyes flicked up towards the stars as he tried to keep them in, before he let out his answer.

“Like yeh care.”

It was weak and vulnerable, his voice cracked on the end and Y/N realized she hadn’t understood the concept of heartbreak before that second. Because right before her stood a man, a boy named Harry, who had his heart on the line, with all its bruises and scars, and he could do nothing about it. She had a glimpse of him without any type of facade, even the normal ones that people carry with them daily, and all he could do was stand there and wait.

He couldn’t bring himself to believe that she cared. Because the implications of that messed with his mind, and he had been so hurt by her rejecting him before, that he was overwhelmed and at a loss as to how he should interpret her words or her actions.

“Of course I care, Harry.”

He watched her silently, his eyes moving to scan hers. They were still wet, tears collecting at the inner corner, but they didn’t budge from behind his eyes. She supposed hers looked similar, as her vision had blurred considerably and she felt the deepening weight on her chest which meant she would be crying soon, too.

“What am I to yeh?" he lifted his chin up, his confidence in the questions building up incrementally as she hadn’t run away yet, as she still stood there and they seemed to have gotten over their insults and petty attacks.

“You’re kind. So fucking kind, nicest person ever, I swear. And you’re well read, and smart, and giving, and beautiful, and fuck Harry, I don’t know how to explain-”

“How can I be enough for you?”

They were both crying. Harry in particular broke first, his voice cracking on the last word and his eyes filling up quickly with tears. He still stood firm in front of her, making no apology for his words or his crying – he needed an answer, and the way her cheeks were watered by running tears made his chest ache. His lips stretched out in a thin line as he attempted to hold his own tears at bay, but it didn’t work.

“What-” Y/N felt herself blubbering, and she raised a hand so her sleeve could cover her mouth for a brief moment, as she tried to collect herself. Blinking away the tears made her eyelashes thick and stick together.

Harry was still staring at her.

He needed an answer, he needed to know what to do. Harry had felt that loss, when he thought Y/N was pushing Marie onto him as a form of rejection, that he couldn’t offer her what she needed. He knew he couldn’t offer the stability Spencer did, seeing as he had to leave in a few months to go travel the world again.

His plan for the first tour was just to get to know Y/N better, to see if there was anything worth pursuing when he had the ability to commit, but he had come to the brutal realization that he might have genuinely not had a chance. That he wanted to be more for her, but all he could offer was Harry.

Y/N felt a devastating sadness for Harry, it crashed against her bones and sunk her heels into the ground. Nothing made proper sense to her, yet, but she knew that a piece of her had stayed with Harry, ever since he had left for his first round of touring. She knew that she cared for him so deeply, it hurt sometimes. It hurt on the good days, and it was torture on the bad ones. And perhaps it hurt because she restrained herself from fully showing it, for whatever reason her brain could provide.

“Why’d you kiss me?” she asked.

It seemed like no one was getting answers that night, with how the bullets had been fired and how they had both been reduced to tears. Harry’s own had slowed down some as he transitioned into numbness, into the state of being were he could take whatever rejection Y/N might’ve had saved up for him.

“I...I wanted to. And you wanted to, right?”

“Yeah. I did.”

The numbness was fading away, and Harry saw a glimpse of what hope might’ve looked like.

“I had gotten to know yeh a little better since we’d met, and I just needed to know.”

Y/N held her breath, after uttering a, “Need to know what?”

“Just...” he took the few steps that brought them closer, and from this distance she could see his face more clearly, and her gut felt wretched and raw but he was still beautiful. Because Harry was simply beautiful to her, because he was a good person and she perhaps wasn’t at the stage of ‘love’ yet, but there was a yet and that in itself spoke so loudly.

“Are you going to?” she whispered, as if anything louder would hurt them more.

“Can I?” It was more than a question of whether he could duck down and narrow the distance even more, but a question of if she would stay this time. If they could talk it through, if this could be a Beginning instead of just another Moment. It was a question of whether they could do this, without breaking each other again.

“I-I just broke up with...” her eyes had been caught by his lips, staring as his hands reached forward. His fingertips touched hers, gently curling around them until he had both of her hands firmly in his hold. His thumb moved over her skin, and a small ripple of a shudder made its way beneath her jacket.

“I know,” he whispered, and Y/N swore his eyes had galaxies in them. The tears worked like a magnifying glass, intensifying the gleam in his his pupils. “And I know we’ll be sensible tomorrow mornin’, but let me have tonight?”

He was staring down at her lips too, one of his hands untangling from their hold. His thumb moved to rest on her bottom lip, gently but still weighed against her mouth, his eyes flickering up to meet her own.

“Can I have tonight?”

Y/N nodded, her mouth opening to speak but no words came out. His thumb almost went in her mouth, like it was an instinct of his, but then his palm reached out to cup the side of her face, holding her cheek as if she were fragile, as if she were going to disappear with the sun and all he’d be left with were memories.

This kiss was different from their first.

With the first kiss, tucked away in her kitchen against memories of wine and gnomes, Y/N didn’t know much about Harry. She had been surprised by how gentle he had been, how soft his lips were, and how quickly he had gotten wrapped up in the moment.

This time, she knew.

She now knew the lip scrub that he used was one his mother’s friend made, back at home. She knew that he used to own the butterscotch one, but he had switched to vanilla a few weeks ago. Vanilla was his favorite, but sometimes he liked switching it up for the various lip tints that each flavor came with. And she knew that he would always purchase the lip scrubs in person, going to his mother’s friend’s shop and greeting her with a warm hug and leaving with a bag full of balms and scrubs.

She knew that he liked to have his hair pulled when he was kissed, but that it sent a special sort of shudder down his spine if she were to lightly move her fingers up the nape of his neck, brushing against the tiny hairs before locking around the thicker ones. She knew that not many people knew he liked it, and she knew that he was surprised, a staggered groan coming from his throat, that she had remembered.

She knew that when it took a second for Harry’s eyes to close, it was because he needed to see her for a moment longer. She knew that he wanted to see her eyes close, to see her briefly before letting himself feel her.

He kept his lips closed again too, this time, more focused on getting them both acquainted with an aspect of the other that had remained behind (but not forgotten) for over two months.

What neither of them had expected, however, was the feeling of coldness on their cheeks. With his hands still against her skin, thumbs lightly on her jaw and his fingers clasped against her neck, Harry leaned back a bit, sighing as he did so, as if he were reluctant to break away just yet.

Y/N’s eyes were still closed, her lips rosier than before. His attention was caught by that, before she opened them to look at him, and then at his cheek.

“You’re crying still,” she murmured, her hands moving from his hips to brush off one of the tears. Harry smiled, a wobbly, teary sort of smile, and his own fingers brushed at her cheek. Her smile was similar, because she knew just as well that she had a few tears left to squeeze out.

“Yeh are too, love.”

“I’m just really sorry, Harry-” and her eyes squinted together, and Harry could see the blurry signs of more tears to come, so he did what felt instinctive. He pulled her in close, breathing in deeply as she immediately fit against his body, like they were puzzle pieces. His hands moved to wrap around her waist as he held her, tucking his head on her shoulder and speaking softly in her ear.

“I’m sorry, too. Shouldn’t’ve said anything, didn’t mean it. Swear I didn’t, I know you’re working hard.”

Y/N had her head in the crook of his neck, and reached forward to press kisses against his skin. She could feel him swallow hard, as his grip on her tightened and he kissed her shoulder. They shifted from speaking with words to kisses, which spoke more than they could’ve vocalized at the moment.

He pressed short ones to her lips, harsh and desperate, and the two of them eventually started grinning against the slowing tears, laughter bubbling out of Y/N when Harry missed her lips and kissed her Cupid’s bow instead.

“Think it’s so funny...” he grumbled, his eyes roaming her face as if he hadn’t ever seen her properly before. She bit her lip and shrugged, her hands slipping beneath Harry’s coat, both for warmth and to have a better grip on his waist as she tilted her head back. Standing on her tiptoes, she was about to kiss him gently on the nose, when a voice broke through the dark of the night.

“Hey, Y/N!”

While Y/N moved to take a step away from Harry, the man only held her tighter against him, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before looking in the direction of the house.

“What, Nick?”

“Did you buy extra hummus? We ran out, can’t find any in the fridge.”

Nick seemed completely unfazed by his two best friends huddled in the dark together, Y/N’s hand on Harry’s ass and Harry staring at Y/N like she put in the moon in the sky. Nick just kept his eyes on Y/N.

A slight grin might’ve been twitching on his lips, though. He had been rooting for them, after all.

“Uh,” Y/N looked quickly at Harry, and he murmured a go ahead, it’s okay, before she turned back to Nick. Harry’s arms dropped from around her body, and Y/N walked over to the house, as Harry stood alone for a quick second to readjust.

“I think I did, but we might’ve snacked on it before the party,” she confessed, approaching Nick, who was leaning against the door, his arms crossed and a suspicious amount of faint lipstick on his neck.

“Ugh, damn. Leo really likes Sabra, he says it changed his life,” Nick muttered, before glancing back over at Harry.

“Hey,” he whispered, nudging Y/N with a ridiculous grin on his face. “Who kissed first? Anne’s said you’d do it, but I’ve got a tenner on Harry. Think he’s got the balls.”

Y/N tried to make an angry face, to do something that showed how annoyed she was that Harry’s mother and Nick had placed bets within the time span of the party, but the pleased grin on her face couldn’t fade away for the world. She didn’t really mind, anyway, so long as she made half Nick’s profit.

“Harry.”

“Thank fuck,” Nick brought his hands together, eyes going to the sky briefly. “Anne’s gonna have to pay up.”

Y/N swatted at Nick’s arm, but the older man dodged it easily. He didn’t seem bothered by the redness in both of their eyes, as Harry walked closer, knowing his two besties were being emotional lil shits again and just getting their feelings out. He just stood there, grinning at them like he hadn’t seen them in years.

“We all good, then? Don’t have to cancel our threesome for New Years, do I?” Nick crowed, slapping his hands on their backs and looking between them. Harry was still drawing himself out of the haze of the night, the eggnog working a bit against him in terms of speed. Y/N was all bright-eyed and rosy-lipped, and Nick wondered what the acceptable length of time was before he was allowed to tease her to death. Harry always took a few days before he’d understand it was just a joke.

“Oh, Nick...” and when Y/N spoke up, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed together because she couldn’t be denying what happened outside, could she, “-just invite Leo and make it a foursome. I’ve totally called this, by the way,” she turned to Harry, raising her eyebrows and Harry rolled his eyes, a relieved sigh escaping his lips.

“Oh, the thing between Leo ‘n Nick? Totally obvious, dunno why he’s tried to ignore it,” Harry agreed, and it was Nick’s turn to pout.

“Guys, stop it! He’s just a friend, not my type at all,” he whined, before realizing that his best friends’ attention had been suckered in on the lipstick. Nick had the decency to look sheepish, running his hand down his neck and looking at the porch.

“I, uh...Merry Christmas!”

With that, Nick’s arms flew around Harry and Y/N both, holding them tightly against his body as he mumbled some nonsense Christmas songs he had hodgepodged together after his sixth round of eggnog. After a few moments of hugging, Nick looked up towards the sky (meaning to loudly thank Jesus Christ for dying on the cross for everyone, or something to that extent) before he realized a bunch of mistletoe had been taped up over their heads.

Yelling triumphantly, Nick placed a wet one on Y/N’s forehead and swung his head around to kiss at Harry’s closed eyelid.

“Merry Christmas, Nick,” Harry laughed, and Y/N kissed Nick’s neck, right next to where Leo had marked him up, a dopey grin on her face as the holiday spirit (ie, the eggnog) took full force over her body. Harry kissed the other side of Nick’s neck, to which the man giggled and complained about being ticklish.

“Merry Christmas, you filthy animal,” she teased, and Nick mumbled an incoherent response, understood to be full of well-meaning insults and Christmas-related jargon.

“Now yeh two kiss,”Nick instructed, stepping back from his friends. He pressed his palms together, obviously excited to finally witness a kiss, definitely still mulling over the fact neither of them had told him about the first one.

Harry looked over at Y/N, a soft smile on his lips as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he murmured, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she said it back.

“I feel ripped off, that was a fucking disgrace of a kiss. You two been out here slobbering all over each other-” Harry burst out laughing at this point, “-and I don’t get to see a single second of it.” Nick groaned, slipping back inside and commenting loudly to whoever was by the door, that the hummus was gone and Y/N was to blame.

“Sorry!” Y/N called back towards Nick’s retreating figure, and Harry chuckled.

“Wanna go back inside? Don’t think you’ve met my mum yet,” Harry’s hand went down to hold onto hers, their fingers linking together naturally.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Anne’s a legend,” Y/N shook her head, her free hand reaching up to pat down the corners of her eyes and wipe beneath, removing the messy bits of mascara. She didn’t want to look too much like a mess in front of Harry’s mother, after all. Harry didn’t seem to have that in mind though, his eyes still shining as he looked at her.

“Yeah, she is,” and Harry’s smile grew fonder as he roped Y/N in for another hug, the pair of them swinging in an odd three-legged walk back into the house, linked by their hands, into the warm, loud scene of singing, holiday cheer, eggnog, Scrabble, and good tidings.

A/N: And that is it - the last piece of the SNV. :’) For anyone wondering, I don’t currently have another bit in the works, but I always love to hear what you have to say! I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #saint nicholas verse #snv #saint nick verse

[uclaradio]

Interview with TK, Artistic Director of the Kind Music Festival

interviewed and transcribed by Mahala Herron-Rutland

Hey there we are here interviewing my friend TK on UCLA Radio.

TK : How is going Mahala?

Everything is great apart from the fact it’s raining outside like crazy. Is it raining where you are? 

TK : Actually, I am in Palm Springs so it’s nice and clear right now but I think it’s meant to be raining this weekend. 

Oh I am so jealous. So to be clear you are the creative director for the “Be Kind” festival? 

TK: That is correct I am the artistic director and creative marketing director of the “Be Kind” festival. 

Wow, and how old are you? I know that you recently celebrated a birthday. 

TK: Yeh, I just turned 20.

How were you able to get this opportunity at such a young age? What was your backstory for such a deal for you? 

TK: I’ve been doing music my whole life and went to school for jazz and piano performance. I play about thirteen different instruments and I got into NYU after graduating but decided to dropped out after six months because I didn’t like it too much. Then, I started interning. At the internship, I learned about producing which led me to link up with other artists in the LA area. This made me move back to LA where I started producing, making money, and getting placements on records. Somehow I end up meeting Mike Tyson on a boat with a family friend. Mike mentioned his son who is sixteen is an aspiring musician so we linked up and had a great vibe.

That’s interesting, and what led from that point? 

TK: It turns out Mike wanted to throw a music festival to launch his cannabis company called “Tyson Ranch.” Next thing you know I am in the Tyson ranch office and they wanted my input because I was experienced with social media and well connected in LA. I guess they needed a millennial opinion on the festival since the audience they wanted was within our age and college kids. [laughs] After that moment I got full fledged involved and worked my way up to the artistic director of the whole thing. 

All this before the age of 20, congratulations. To my knowledge, this going to be the first all-ages CBD festival am I right?

TK:  Yeah, we are saluting California’s progressive stance on cannabis and how it is used for recreational and medicinal. The brand of the festival is not to do with cannabis or CBD but more to do with kindness, that's why it is called kind music festival. We want to focus on unity, kindness, and bringing people together. 

I hear that. So when is the festival?

TK: It’s going to be down here in Palm Springs, CA and that’s why I am down here. We are getting football fields of astro turf laid down to do this festival, but the event is going to be on February 23rd. It’s a one day opening pop-up event that can be considered a micro-festival. We have A$AP Ferg and Miguel headlining it's going to be a good time and we have plenty of activities at the festival. There will be a surprise at the festival that will mark the opening of our brand and Kind music festival. 

Sounds like a great time. How has it been working with Mike and the whole crew, what can you tell us about your experiences?

TK: Mike Tyson is a legend, everyone always says you can go anywhere in the world and people will know three names Mickey Mouse, Michael Jackson, and Mike Tyson.  He’s really the face of boxing ever since Muhammad Ali passed. Its crazy every day being surrounded by these people who come into the office, like we had Diplo last week. It's a crazy experience getting all this at such a young age and being around this caliber of people. 

Do you see yourself in the future being someone like Tariq? Rolling Louds co-founder?

TK: This festival in a couple of years is going to be another Rolling Loud or hopefully down the road turn into something as large as Coachella. So I definitely think I will hopefully be one of those names in the future. 

How much of a reference did you use of Rolling Loud for the Kind Fest?

TK: What we're doing is very different but it's still a music festival, so it is obviously going to be inherent things that are similar to other music festivals. I grew up going to Coachella as a local of the Coachella Valley so that's one of my really big influences. Everyone knows that Coachella is probably one of the craziest music festivals in the world. They do an insanely good job doing the marketing to millennials and influencers and kids who are apart of our generation, so that's obviously apart of my inspiration but what we're doing is next level. Nothing that we’re doing has been done before. 

What kind of treats can we expect at the Kind Festival?

TK: There's a lot that you can expect. We do have some fortune 500 companies that will be involved as far as sponsorships and stuff so you will see a lot of cool brands. A lot of stuff that is not normal for a music festival as far as creating an experience as opposed to just a festival. There’s going to be a ton of activities to do around the grounds such as theme park kind of feels and a lot of interactive stuff that you can do. And we have a huge surprise that's going to be a part of it, so you gotta see for yourself or wait till the footage to come out because we’re selling out pretty quick. 

Talk about the lineup, how did that work out? 

TK: There are so many hip hop and EDM festivals nowadays so we wanted to tune it pack and make it a relaxed vibe at least for this first one. We do have that hip hop representative, with ASAP Ferg, a hip hop legend, but we wanted to make the headline vibe relaxed which is why we have Miguel. October we’re going have the full festival so as soon as this pop-up event ends February 23rd, we're going to start working a week after for the one in October multiple days, multiple stages. It’s going to be huge. 

How is this February fest going to differ from the one in October?

TK: It's going to be bigger and better. Every year it’s just going to get bigger and better. Longer, more acts, and crazy headliners for the one in October. 

So how do you think having more festivals besides Coachella is going to affect the community?

TK: Well I feel like we’re going to have a lot more kids running around, and I feel like that’s good for the valley, progressive. It’s good to have stuff that kids do because all these people come and retire here and they have kids and grandkids. Kids growing up don’t have a lot to do out here besides throwing house parties or… that’s pretty much it, you know? Other than Coachella every year, they really have nothing to do. Mike is building an entertainment complex so there’s going to be a lot of stuff that’s going to start catering to the younger audience. Hopefully, we see a shift to a community that revolves more around the future.

Yeah, ok so when you say ‘entertainment complex’ what does that mean exactly?

TK: Yeah, the Tyson Ranch is building an entertainment complex, CDB research facility, an arena for concerts year-round in the desert, a luxury glamping site--

Luxury glamping? I love it!

TK: Yeah, a waterpark, lazy river, pool, all types of stuff, so it’s gonna be insane.

Alright, so give us a re-cap again about what we can expect at the festival

TK: Alright yeah, so at the festival, it’s gonna be a really great time, you can expect ASAP Ferg, Ric La Flare, Miguel will be there, a bunch of other acts and a bunch of other entertainment and activities that you’re gonna be able to do. It’s February 23rd, it’s a pop-up concert, it’s gonna be a good time down in Palm Springs 2-11pm, all ages, bring friends, bring family. I have a discount code for you guys it’s BEKIND, all caps, you get thirty dollars off your ticket and it goes down to like fifty dollars. Fifty dollars for all that good time, it’s a no-brainer.

Yeah, it’s a no-brainer. So, how can we put that in? What website?

TK: it’s www.kindmusicfestival.com you scroll down to a pink button it says ‘tickets’, it’ll take you to Front Gate tickets site, that’s by Ticketmaster and there’s a discount option at the bottom, put in BEKIND, all caps, and just proceed to checkout and it’ll apply that discount in for you.

Perfect, well I know I’ll be there.

TK: Well I’ll be there too! I’m actually performing with one of the acts there, so I’ll see you guys on the main stage.

You’re performing?!

TK: Yeahhh

What will you be doing?

TK: I’ll be performing with Yonnie, he’s an artist that I produced for, so I’ll be back there doing a bunch of the background instruments so, it’s gonna be a good time.

Oh tight, congrats! Break a leg.

TK: [laughs] Hopefully not, it can get real serious on that stage.

Ok, well we’ll see you on that stage at the Be Kind Festival. Thank you for tuning in, thank you TK for calling in.

TK: Thanks Mahala, you’re the best!

Yeah, alright. UCLA Radio, we’re here every Wednesday, Monster Mash is the show, I’m just filling in for them. See ya!

[harryff]

Tease

More from CEO Harry. You two are married now.

You strut into the building trench coat tightly wrapped around you protecting you from the cool autumn weather.

“Mrs. Styles” the security guard bows to you as you approach the elevator

“Mr.Miller! Nice to see you again”

“Always a pleasure to see you ma'am”

“Tell your wife I said Hi”  

“I will”  

You press the 7th floor button where all the executives had their office you would think that they would opt for the highest floor but the architecture of the building made the 7th floor the best floor. Harry hated heights anyway.

You wait patiently as the elevator rises. You step out heels clicking you look around new renovations; everything was glass giving it the modern look. You look around trying to figure out where Harry's office is

“Mrs. Styles”

“Hi Jason!”

“Hi! How are you?” he walks up to you

“Great! is my husband in?”

“Yea Alicia is in there with him”

“Ok thank you can you point me towards his office haven't been here in months” you chuckle

“Yea! No problem it's down this hall to the left straight ahead can't miss it”

Alicia his assistant who for some reason always got under your skin. You step into his office and their so deep in conversation they dont notice you. But you notice them you notice Alicia sitting too close for comfort biting her lip biting back a blush failing miserably. You clear your throat

They both look up “Oh Hi pet how are you?” Harry gives you that boyish grin

“Hi” you smile back at him

“Hey” Alicia smiles at you

“Hi” you respond with a tight lipped smile

“Give me a minute” Harry talks to Alicia. She nods and leaves you two alone

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks looking at you  

“Oh just missed you wanted to see the new design too” His eyes dart back to the paper work while you were mid sentence

“Oh” he smiles not looking up from his papers

This is why you popped up he had been so busy lately he barely paid you any attention.

“Can you take a break?” you ask walking up to him running your fingers through his hair

“Can't meeting in twenty minutes” he shoots you a sympathetic smile

“Aww” you pout

“Don't pout” he says without looking up at you

You smile he knows you too well. You walk and close the door

“Can't it wait?”

He shakes his head mumbling something to himself. “I'll be home soon” he bargains

You sigh frustrated “but i want you no! I need you now”

“What d'yeh need poppet?”

“Uh...”  you look at the glass panels surrounding the office “Why is everything glass?”

He shrugs “not my idea board didn't want any cases”

“Oh”

“What do yeh need pet?” he asks again

“I can't really say”

“Why?” he looks up at you

“Because of the transparency” you motion to the glass

He makes a face confused “hmm?”

You look back towards the office Alicia isn't in sight everyone is busy buried in their computers.

You walk up to him “move please” he scoots back you sit on his desk you look back once more and you see another one of his workers you smile and wave innocently you turn to face Harry who is still confused sometimes you loved how innocent he could be. you open your trench coat to reveal your lingerie a garter set.

He takes in a sharp breath “Y/N” he speaks softly as his eyes take all of you in. Slowly cascading down

You sigh “I wanted you to fuck me on your desk but you can't” you whine

He looks at his watch

“It's sad might need to get Danny to take care of me”

His glares at you “I'll kill him if he dares” your pool boy Danny was always attentive to you which always made Harry very jealous

“When's the last time you made me cum?” you ask dragging your finger down your chest between your breasts

He goes to answer but frowns

“Yea that long”

“Please pet yeh cant”  it was killing him to hold his composure. His eyes constantly darting between you and the door

“Been spending all your time here neglecting me” You bend forward placing your hands on the arm rests of his chair “I missed your touch daddy” you whisper near his ear before you take his ear lobe between your lips and suck lightly

“Pet I can' ” this is torture for him

“Why not?”  you straighten up you reach up and remove your thong you place your foot on his chair

“Y/N” he warns speaking softly, he can't keep a lookout  and pay attention to you. Plus another tease and he might just fuck you right there

You grab his hand “i just want you to feel how wet you make me when i think of you” you ghost his hand down and he whimpers at feeling the pool on your heat

“Can't tease me like this pet” he looks up at you eyes darkening

“Well I had to take drastic measures or it will be a month since you last made me cum”  

He can't help but play with your slit

You bite your lip moaning softly

He looks up at the clock again “ ‘M gonna be late” he mumbles “fuck!” he stands up and slips a finger in you. You gasp and grab his arm “all this f’me?”  

You nod wrapping your arm around him “only you”

To outsiders you two look like your sharing a romantic moment if they only knew. You tie your trench coat around you securing it tightly.

“You have a meeting” you grab his wrist to stop him from getting carried away

He scowls at you removing his finger he caresses your cheek and slyly inserts his finger in your mouth you see his eyes turn dark as you suck on it he takes a deep breath “wait f’me”

You nod twirling your tongue around his finger.  

He removes his finger and adjusts himself

“How long?” you ask stepping aside

“Give me an hour ‘nd we’re going home” he says grabbing his notebook.

“You mean 2 you know they never last 1 hour” you counter

“Today it bloody will! Behave ‘nd be nice”  

“I will daddy” you say sitting on his couch.

He chuckles shaking his head “drivin’ me mad”

You play on your phone waiting patiently

30 minutes pass and Harry is rushing through the door

“Everything ok?” you ask worried

“Yea let's go” he says grabbing his things

“That was fast” you stand up  

“Got more important issues to handle”  he pulls you close to walk in front of him “Alicia no more calls today won't be in till Thursday (its monday)”

“Yes Mr. Styles”

His foot anxiously taps as you both wait for the elevator

“Oh Cara! How are you?”

“Good Mrs. Styles how are you?” she greets back

“Great. He takes good care of me!” you compliment Harry  “Oh Sean! Hi!” you wave at him

The elevator dings and Harry pushes you backing you into the elevator. He waits for the doors to close before he traps you against the wall with one arm above your head

“Cameras” you warn

“Don' bloody care youre gonna pay for this almost made me lose m’bloody job” his nostrils flare

“Sorry Mr. Styles” you tease your hand ghosts down to his bulge he groans you hear the elevator ding you both look up it stopped on the 3rd floor he stands beside you holding onto your waist.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #sleepy harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fiction #one direction fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #one direction fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction #one direction fan fiction #1dd #1d fanfic #1dff #1d fan fiction #1direction

[stylessemantics]

AU Harry and you working in the same building and you bring him the mail that was mixed up with urs and he's a clumsy babbling goof who is just so desperately trying to convey he likes you but you're so oblivious and smile and leave a red face Harry in his office, one of the boys grinning cause you're the first girl Harry can't talk around

Rating: All cleanWarnings: NoneCategory: Fluff - First meetings. Request: yes sir, thank you so much! they are closed for now but I’m trying to get old ones out of the way to open them back up soon. Word Count: 2,062

NOTE: this will have a part two? Also feedback is much much much appreciated? 

18. Office Correspondence. 

You had been working here for around 4 months by now. It was fun. It was a new office and thankfully it didn’t take you long to get used to how things worked around there. Your co-workers were nice, at least the ones you’d gotten to meet, the building was big, housing different types of offices for different types of things, so you didn’t really know everyone that worked there just yet.Every morning you’d arrive bright and early and go about your day of filling papers, signing contracts and supervising work.

If he was to be honest, he had seen you before. As he also went on about his busy day, he’d spot faces here and there that he knew, some that he didn’t – which wasn’t often since he’d been working here for around 3 years by now – and it was just a random day when one of those faces he didn’t know, really caught his eye. You. He’d just see you passing and never interact with you which he never understood how suddenly he didn’t know how to speak. He didn’t know why it was so difficult to come drop a small friendly hi but he just couldn’t. All he could do was silently wish that by some sort of magic he’d get the chance and strength to do so and get to know you at last.

And Harry got that magic to work his way. That magic was called the mailman. With whom you’d made good friends with. He was just an old man doing the runs around the block and dropping letters here and there, and with a smile and lots of love you had helped him and kept him company on his rounds before, so by now you considered him somewhat of a friend. You couldn’t deny sometimes he had busy days which is why you understood perfectly when he handed you a wad of envelopes before rushing to the elevator.
“oh” you said noticing the name on a couple of them was not yours and you sped walked behind Mr. Thomas to let him know. “Hey George” the old man stopped midway entering the lift.“What is it sweetie?”
“Just… Think you got this one mixed up, but no worries” you continued quickly, pushing the button to call another elevator up instead of down where George was headed. “I’ll deliver it. Have a nice day!” You chirped and he seemed happy that you offered to help him today as well as he travelled back down and to continue his busy day of mail deliveries which was very similar to you right now. 

You rode the elevator up towards the floor marked on the envelope. Apparently this person worked on the top floors on a completely different area as you, but the name did seem familiar – you were sure you’d seen it pop up in important company notifications or heard it being called while passing through the rooms where meetings were held – but when the elevator doors opened with a ding you are welcomed with the sight of a very busy floor and not even knowing where to start your search.

As for Harry he was currently having a chat with his mates and co-workers in one of their offices. In the middle of laughing he looks out to the floor through the fancy floor to ceiling wall, immediately coughing when he spots you. He can’t believe his eyes. The girl is on his floor looking lost in between the rushing bodies that carry all types of papers and projects as the busy day gets worse.“Oh, god” he mutters while his friends have a laughter, successfully interrupting the conversation.
“What?” Liam asks upon seeing Harry become frozen in his spot resting by the wall. Soon the rest of the lads are aware of the weird situation and turn to look where Harry seems to be so fixated.“Nothing!” He rushes, trying to keep them from spotting what had caused him to freeze and zone out for a second. 

The truth is he hadn’t told anyone about this girl. Number one it’s not like he knew who you were to be able to form a sentence congruent enough to introduce her to his friends, and number two, he was so embarrassed that he liked you so much without having this basic information that he couldn’t bare to tell them and risk eternal mockery. Liam, Niall and Louis looked at the green eyed lad quizzically, was everything ok? His reaction was so weird and sudden they couldn’t help but worry there was something important that he wasn’t telling them, and he stammered over his words trying to convince them otherwise, still flustered with the thought of her and being caught – or rather have his feelings being found out like this. He tried to ease his nerves thinking about how she worked here, she probably wasn’t here for him and nothing forbade her from coming to his floor – even though you never had before – so there was nothing to be exaggerating for. But then from the corner of his eye he could see how someone pointed her in the direction of Liam’s office where he currently stood in the middle of diverting the attention of his friends from the scene at hand. Although if he thought this was a scene, then what came after was a full movie. “Harry, are you-?” Louis was interrupted when you came knocking on the slightly open door letting out a soft excuse me that had Harry’s knees about to buckle whether from lovesickness or agitation he wasn’t sure. You were greeted with three pair of eyes turning to you with calm smiles, while Harry tried to hide at the rear of their bodies so you wouldn’t catch him peeking from behind a nervous hand that covered half his face. Oh god oh god oh god, he kept thinking over and over, this couldn’t be happening. Breathe Harry, he told to himself, mostly to his erratic heart, she’s not here for you and even if she was nothing is happening. Everything is under control. 

He barely got to finish the sentence in his mind when you popped up with a “Uh… Hi, I’m looking for Harry Styles?”
As if rehearsed, all his friends turned to Harry, moving to allow him coming forth to the girl, and that’s when they noticed. His hands were in tight fists as he walked towards her with a low shy chuckle. Suddenly, the three pair of eyes turned back and forth between the two, with piqued interest.
“Y-yeah… T-tha’s me” Harry mustered however he could and your mouth broke into a cute welcoming grin. He was cute, with his bold and interesting choice of clothing that seemed to somehow suit him and the company’s aura perfectly, short brown curls atop his head and bright green eyes that seemed friendly.
“Hi! Turns out your mail got confused with mine, just here to deliver it to its rightful owner” you stretched a hand out with 3 envelopes clearly directed to him. It took Harry a second to reach out and grab them from your hands because he was stuck thinking that you had prettier eyes up close and it was unfair he never got to realize that before. “O-oh… Hahah, thanks”
“No problem! Nice office” the comment was innocent, trying to make some light conversation in the seemingly awkward air. The other three men were still silent, heads moving like fans at a tennis match between Harry and you as you each spoke, and for some reason each time with bigger smirks. 
“Oh! I-its… S’not m-mine” that was the truth, this was Liam’s office. Harry’s was down the hall and a tad bigger due to his position, and even though he knew she probably didn’t care about that information, that didn’t stop him from nervously rambling into details right after “Mine’s d-down the hall… I’m head o-of department” He looked just a bit older than you and you wondered how good he was at his job to have nailed him such a nice position. He continued “and-and we’re v-very b-busy today as… as yeh c-can see. Oh, but! That d-doesn’t… I don’t m-mean yeh hafta l-leave…  right now. I… mean…” 

It was painful to watch – to Niall at least. Liam and Louis seemed to be reeling at how much of a doofus Harry was making of himself – how Harry seemed to dig himself into a hole he was not going to easily climb out of, so he made sure to give him a gentle push, covering it up with a cough, signaling him that he should probably stop talking nonsense about how she can stay and he bet her office is super nice just like the ones in this floor and a bunch more crap that would leave him babbling on for days and regretting it for months. 
“Yeah… New client coming in soon” The blonde signals outside as if saying the chaos that is going outside Liam’s office is a clear indicator of the upcoming business. Knowing exactly what that was like, you nodded with a short giggle “Uh, so what’s yer name?” Niall continued to cover up as Harry fixed his tie and rubbed his hands on the sides of his pants discreetly, a habit that he did when he was extremely out of his comfort zone. 
“I’m y/n, I’m on the marketing team on the seventh floor” with a warm smile you put your hand out for all of them to shake, and they did with a nod, Harry with a specially tight mouth careful not to spill another word, scared it might lead to him endlessly talking about something stupid like this year’s raise in the company’s market shares. “Nice to meet ya y/n. I’m Niall, and these are Louis and Liam. Thanks for uh… bringing Harry’s mail around”
 he finished awkwardly.“Yeah, thank you!” Right after Harry chirped in, Niall pinched his bicep in a nice sign of shut the fuck up. All and all, Harry appreciated it. 
“No biggie! It was nice to get out of my desk for a bit.” Your smile was big and bright and beautiful, and Harry was feeling how his throat itched he wanted to tell you that so bad, but he held his ground and gave you a dimpled smile right back. 

Before he knew it you were saying goodbye and wishing all the men in the luxurious looking space a nice day, making sure to close the door on your way out and wave to them through the glass with their eyes following your steps as you walked to the elevator. And then Harry was left alone with three pair of eyes looking at him with big smirks and telling faces, making heat rise on his.
“So…” Liam started.
“Y/N…” Louis chirped in continuation, making Harry groan and pick up his belongings.
“‘M out if yeh lot are gonne’ start blabbering shit.” His tone was sharp but funny letting them know he wasn’t really mad – yet – at the fact that they were clearly itching to poke fun. 
“Not gonna spit more hogwash than yeh did when she was ‘ere” Louis was quick to interject making the other two burst in laughter. “First lass yeh can’t speak proper in front of… Got to make the most of it” And with that Harry was stomping down the hall with red cheeks, back to his office to try and drown himself in work and not think too much about the fact that he at least now knew your name and that was certainly going to get his mind out of focus for the rest of the day, not to mention opening the mail you brought him yourself. 
“Should we do something about this?” The one who wondered out loud as soon as Harry was out of sight was Louis, and while all of them would love to see Harry go on and try to get himself a relationship with a nice girl like that y/n, Niall quickly jumped in.
“We’re not meddling in his relationships”But Louis and Liam were already thinking up ways they could help a nice relationship bloom during the office hours.’

Smooches- Iv. x

I want to get back to finishing requests so I can open them back up sooner for you guys!! I’m going to try to get part two of this going if you guys want that for like… ASAP? This was nice to work on to get my mind of BIM since I was stuck. Will be working on that and other requests and hopefully have something more to post real soon.

Requests are still Closed for now, sorry :(

Masterlist here

#stylessemantics #semantic #harry talk #permanent #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #fanfiction #writing #mine #fanfic #imagine #request:filled #office correspondence #anon love #love in my inbox #requests #blurb #fluff #requests are closed now #iv #au

[a-butterfly-on-his-tummy]

Day Nine: Giving Makes Your Heart Feel Warm

“Can yeh take this one into the house?” Harry pulls a bag out of the boot, holding it down so Grace can grab it.

“Yup! I help you.” Grace takes the bag from Harry’s hand and waits for him to grab the last four bags from the back of the Range Rover. Harry closes the boot and stands behind Grace.

“Looks like that’s the last trip love. Are yeh ready to help me wrap all these gifts?”  Harry walks with Grace towards the door that leads from the garage into the mud room.

“Yes!!” Grace walks up the stairs and into the mud room, taking the shopping bag into the front room that is now littered with plastic bags full of toys and clothing.

“We have a lot of work to do, bug.” Harry sets the four bags in the pile along with the others. Sitting on the ground, Harry opens up a roll of wrapping paper, spreading it wide so it is ready to be cut and wrapped around a gift. “Will yeh please hand me a toy?”

Grace looks through the sacks, pulling out a stuffed rose pink octopus. The tentacles curl and the little smile on its face melts Harry into a puddle.  Grace hands the soft creature to her father.

”Can yeh hand me a small box?” Harry asks. Grace turns around and walks towards the pile of gift boxes. Picking a small box up, she walks towards her father, placing it on the floor.

“Tank you!” Grace thanks her father.

“Oh Grace.” Harry chuckles. “I say thank you. Then you say you’re welcome.”

“O-tay. Welcome.” She watches as Harry places the stuffed octopus into the box. Harry places the lid on the top and starts to cut the paper. “Daddy?”

“Yes fluff muffin?” Harry continues to wrap the gift.

“Who dis for?” Grace plops down on the floor, crossing her legs, watching the process of wrapping a gift for Christmas.

“Remember how we went and bought toys and clothing for other kids? These kids aren’t lucky like me and you. They don’t have a daddy or a mumma. So we are giving them Christmas, Grace.”  

Harry went to a local orphanage and talked with the director. He wanted to give the children Christmas, and he felt that it would be good to teach Grace about the importance of giving. Harry took Grace to Hamley’s, a local toy store, where they picked out two toys for each child. One toy will be a stuffed animal, and the other is something fun. After toy shopping Harry went to Trodders, a children’s clothing store where each child would receive an outfit, shoes, and a coat.

“No mumma. No daddy.” Grace looks down at her hands that are sitting in her lap. “Dat make me sad.” Grace is so in touch with emotions, just like her father.

“Makes me sad too, bug. Let’s make these kids smile by giving them a gift.” Harry finishes tapping the wrapping paper. “Can yeh find me a bow?”

“Red!!” Grace stands up, walking over to the box of bows, pulling out a shiny red bow, taking it to her father who helps her place it on top. “Pur-fect!” Grace places her hand on her hip.

“Okay. Can yeh help me make a pile?” Harry hands the gift to Grace who takes the package over to the other side of the room, placing it on the floor. “Let’s find another toy!” Grace searches the bag to find the next thing for Harry to wrap.

The next couple hours are spent with Harry and Grace working together to get each gift wrapped and finished with a beautiful bow. The conversation is filled with Harry explaining how much he loves to give to others and how it makes him feel good.

“What is this?” You run your hand down your seven month baby bump, as you walk into the front room that is covered in wrapped gifts and left over wrapping paper.

“Presents!” Grace shouts. “For kids with no mummy and daddy.”

“That is very kind. Looks like you have a lot of gifts to hand out.” You say, sitting yourself on the couch.

“Each child will get a…” Harry prompts

“Stuffed toy, like Bob!” Grace says “And a fun toy.”

“And an outfit, some shoes and a coat.” Harry smiles at you. “Each gift has a child’s name on it so we know who they belong to.”

“Oh Gracie bug, this is amazing.” You wipe a tear from your eye. “Did you help daddy pick out all these gifts?”

“Ya, it a lot of work mumma.” Grace puffs out some air. “They gonna love it?” She walks close to you, wrapping her arms around your bump.

“They are going to love it so much.” You say. “We should take Poppy! I bet they would love that as well!”

“What a good idea!” Harry agrees. Harry and Grace finish the last few presents, making sure everything is ready for their delivery in the morning.

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

It’s delivery day and Harry is extra perky, especially for 7 AM. Harry brings the Range to a stop right in front of the orphanage. You had to drive the Range Rover you typically drive because both cars are packed to the brim with gifts.

“I so excited!” Grace unbuckles her seat belt and jumps up and down in the car. Harry opens her door, helping her hop down from car. You join them and as a family, you enter the orphanage to meet with the director.

“Would you like to be here for when the children open their gifts?” The director asks Harry.

“We were hoping to spend the day; get to know the kids!” You and Grace both nod in agreement.

“That would be lovely.” The director smiles, her eyes expressing how grateful she is for Harry and his kindness. “The tree you had delivered is down the hall where the children eat. We can put the gifts in there.”

“That sounds perfect.” You confirm.

“Do you need some help with the gifts?” She says. “I have some boys that can help.”

“It’s their day. We can bring them in.” Harry says. Taking Grace’s hand in his, you walk out to the cars to bring in the gifts.

After all the gifts have been placed under the tree, the Styles family enjoys a lovely breakfast with the kids. The children are happy to have guests and enjoy their company. When breakfast is finished, it’s time for gifts.

All the children sit on the floor as you and Harry call out the names of the children. Grace delivers each gift to a child, who beams with genuine smiles.

“Alright! Everyone should have 4 gifts. Did we miss anyone?” Harry surveys the room noticing they didn’t forget anyone. “On the count of three. You can open your gifts.” Harry rests his big hands on Grace’s shoulders. “Grace would yeh like to count?”

“Yes!!!” Grace smiles so big her dimple makes an appearance. “One… Two…. Three! GOOOO!” Grace yells.

The children attack their gifts with so much excitement your heart feels like it might burst. Harry and Grace walk around, talking to the children about how awesome their gifts are.

Grace watches as a little girl picks out the rose pick octopus. She picks it up in her hands, and gives it a tight squeeze to her chest.

“Daddy!” Grace pulls on Harry’s hand.

“Yes love?” Harry replies.

“She got da oc-a-poose. She wobes it.” Grace points toward the little girl who is now rocking the stuffed animal in her arms.

“Looks like she does.” Harry feels the tears begin to fill his eyes as he watches his  little girl hold the gift of giving to others so close to her heart. His heart is full and his emotions are now catching up with him.

“Are yeh okay?” You ask Harry, wrapping your arms around his arm, pulling him in close to you.

“Can we take them all home?” Harry whispers, his voice quivering with emotion.

“I wish we could babe.” Laying your head on his shoulder. “I wish we could. Grace would love it.” Both of you look over at Grace who is giggling with the girl who received the octopus.

The rest of the night is spent with the children.  Playing with their new toys, some of them insisting on a fashion show of their new clothes. Poppy is receiving more attention that she has ever had. The hugs and kisses make her think she is in dog heaven.  The room is full of laughter and smiles as the children receive a Christmas they all deserve.

After dinner, Harry and Grace sing a collection of Christmas Carols for the kids, who quietly sing along. Once the performance is over, it’s time for the Styles family to go home. You, Harry and Grace give each child a hug.

“Happy Christmas!” Harry bellows throughout the room.

“Happy Christmas! Thank you!” All 147 children say in unison.

Harry buckles Grace into the car for their drive home.

“Daddy?” Grace asks. “My heart happy.”

“Yeh know what Gracie bug? My heart is happy too.” Harry agrees. “Giving makes your heart warm. I think that’s why I love to do it.”

“We do it again?” Grace wonders.

“Yes! I think we can do it again.” Harry confirms to Grace, loving the fact that the best gift he is giving Grace this Christmas is teaching her the love of giving to others.

A/N: A small story. This story was inspired by someone in my life who is constantly giving to others. @whoopsharrystyles has the biggest heart and she is such an example to me to give not only things, but my time, and my love to others. Please check out The Adventures of Harry and Grace Masterlist and Wattpad page. Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, and recommending! It means the world!! Love you all! Happy Holidays!!

#please send in feedback #I want to know your favorite Styles tradition #Send me an ask #The 12 Days of Grace and harry #THE ADVENTURES OF GRACE AND HARRY #harry styles fanficiton #harry styles fan ficiton #harry styles #harry fluff #dad harry #dad!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #original writing

[faithsummers11]

Dream come true!!!

A/N:- So this one is the second one I’m doing on this blog. This one don’t have a lot of foreplay but its a smut. So someone asked me to do a Zac Efron, so this is whai i came up with.

Request:- Can you do a smut where you are like a rising model and trying to get into movies and you get lucky to get to work in a movie with your biggest celebrity cruch zac efron.

I hope you guys like it and again english is not my first language so pardon me for any mistakes.

————————————————————————-

“You are all i have ever wanted, you are the reason to my life, you complete me, i can’t think about anything else but you Emily ”

“Finally!! i have been waiting for this moment for ages now, i thought you never thought about me in that way adam, i thought I’m a fool even thinking about u liking me”

“I do like you, from the moment i met you, infact I Love You Emily with everything i have, from the bottom of my heart. I Love You ”

“I love you too Adam, i love you too and I’ll prove it”.

*OK CUT!!* director yelled.

“Great job guys, it was perfect, ok you tow now take a break and get ready for the next seen its the kissing seen intimacy involved we will call you when the set is ready, and all others get the set ready” the director commanded half yelling and half explaning.

With that you went back to your dressing room wondering how do you got this lucky you were just a model and a struggling actress till yesterday and today you were going to shoot a intimate seen with your biggest celebrity cruch Zac Efron. Zac Fucking Efron. Thats when you went in flashback recalling how you landed here.

You were a model, actually a very good model you have modeled for a lot of adds and brands you have also walked in lots so runway events and fashion shows your last walk on NewYork fashion week event had nailed your future in modelling. But modelling was not what you wanted you got into modelling only so that you can become an actress. You had auditioned for a lot of movies but never got a chance, but you were stubborn enough to keep trying. When you auditioned for this romantic movie you didn’t know who was the male actors and you didn’t even know that you will make it through. Then one monday morning you got the call from the people telling you about it that you made it and you need to reach the director’s office for paperwork.

But when you reached there yourjaw dropped hitting the floor, it took everything in you to keep calm and not freek out when you came to know that your partner for the movie the male lead was no one else than Zac Efron, the Zac Efron.

The one who you fantasized about, the one who’s posters were hung on your walls, the one you always thought about when you touched yourself, thing can’t go any crazy for you not just you got a break but u also got to shoot with zac.

Its been almost a month now you have been shooting together, honestly it was hard shooting with him he sent your hormones in one drive, everytime there was a shirtless seen of his you found yourself getting wet. You have become a good friend with zac after working all month with him he was fun to b around he kept entertaining people and making even the most boreing shoot intresting and this added with the charmer he was made you want him more with each passing day.

You were brought out of your flashback by the knock on your dressing room door, “come in ” you said. “Mam the set is ready the director is waiting for you” the spot replied. Making you aware that the time has come and butterflies started dancing in your stomach you were finally going to kiss The Zac Efron your dream was coming true “Mam??” the spot asked when you didn’t replied for a moment “coming ” you quickly replied coming out of your trance.

You asked your makeup artists to check your makeup for one last time and the headed to the sets. Once you reached the sets you could see they have set up a couch like bed in middle of open field with a roof made of a shear cloth supported by four poles with lighting dropping down each pole and candles illuminating the place, with the beautiful lake view ahead the sky was falling dark making everything look perfectly beautiful, ofcorse it was not made for you this was the place Adam brings Emily on a date to confess his love and dose it all it was ment to be beautiful (Adam and Emily are the characters you and zac play in the movie.) You kept adoring the place till zac snapped you out of it shaking you “Y/N i asked you ready ?” zac questioned you just noded your head in approval.

You heard your director tell you “you know wht to do zac walks towards you and kiss you remember to keep it passionate and the rest i leave it on you to just a little bit of stripping and sensual touches don’t get too much into it Got it” you both noded and he continued “ok now everyone positions everything correct LIGHTS! CAMERA!!! AND…. ACTION!! ” “take 1 love making” and the seen started.

Zac started coming toward you slowly he hold your hands and kept them on his shoulder and moved his down your body feeling your curves his touch sending shivers down your spine you had gosebums and rested them just above your hip pulling you closer into his chest, your hands were interlocked behind his neck. You knew it was not real it was just a seen for your movie but his proximity to you made you weak in your knees he was starting right in you eyes, you could see his blue eyes shining in the dark of the night. You wre shaking badly you tried keeping calm but if he was not holding you, you would have falled there he could probebly see you shake and feel you weak in your knees as he has to hold you and suddenly you saw a smirk creeping up his perfect lips as he leaned closer nad wisper to you “don’t worry I’ll handle it” and what he next did shocked you he turned to the director and said “ hey pal can we do it tomorrow or sometime later I’m just not feeling it today” and you could see the frown on director face and he was like “CUT!! But we have set it up all come on now” but zac being zac convinced him “come on man I’m not getting it you will end up with nothing but trash” and the director growled “ok then, PACK UPP!!” and you stood there dumb founded why did he do that you were not able to understand and with that thought in your mind you went to your dressing room to change and get ready to leave.

You got ready and were about to leave all the things that happened never leaved your mind why did he do that you were thinking to your self when you heard a know on the door “Com in” you said and there he was standing in a plain blue shirt and a skin tight pants. You looked at him with confusion written on your face you were about to ask him when he started “ i know that was rude but i can feel you shake and you were weak in your knees i felt either you were too scare or you were too EXITED” he said pressing the last word and a familiar smirk creeping on his face and then he continued “i know its hard to give intimate seen who you hardly know and you beign new in here it makes it worse so i was thinking we should spend sometime together so we can be comfortable doing that” you were starting him unable to process what he just said and he was watching you intentionally waiting for an answer. You answered a shaky ok still unable to process what he just said.

“Ok then dinner tonight at you place” he more like offered. “But its already night ” you said now that you were back to your senses, “ohh yeh we will just take a parcel then. ” “why can’t we just go outside to eat? ” you questioned unable to understand why he wants to go back to your place “ c'mon now won’t like the paps following us, and then printing some shit off a story in tomorrow’s paper and perhaps we won’t get to speak with alot of people around Plus..

..home is comfortable and we get privacy too!!!” he said with that stupid smirk back on his face, his explanation was over done you quiet didn’t buy what he said but agreed to his offer his smirk was killing you.

You both headed to your car and hit the road to your place, you took some food on the way when you stopped at a red light you were waiting for ti to turn green you look out of the window and your eyes went wide, when you saw a billboard of him doing some ads, and thats when you realised you cannot take him to your place. Not with your bedroom decorated with his half naked posters and pillow covers and blanket with his face plastred on it you would be just done but it was too late you were like only 2 mins away from your place now you have to take him to your place making sure he doesn’t see your bedroom.

Once you entered your parking he carried the parcel for you to your place like a gentleman. Once you entered your place you both hung your coats and headed to the dinning area. As you were moving there he was looking at your place with amazement “ So you live here huh.. Have to say what a beautiful place ”. “Yep decorated it myself, every single thing you see is my choice things i love” you said proudly. “Sure” you said not thinking twice. You showed him the entire place even the guest room talking and giggling throughout after you showed him the spare bed room you skipped your bedroom and were heading towards you dinning again, when he stopped you “hey we didn’t say this one” he said pointing toward your bedroom door, “I-its nothing just some extra space” you said fidgeting with you ring. “ C'mon let me see it” he said turning the knob and opening’s the door a little. You quickly grabbed his hand on the knob and close the door again. “I said it nothing, you cannot see this room” you said taking your hand back.“Well I’m really stubborn and i want to see it so ” he said quickly opening the door. And before you could react he was inside you room glancing at his half naked pictures and all the dvd of his movie in the cd case, pillow cover and the sheets. You stepped in the bedroom behind him head lowered staring the ground and freaking out in your mind.“So this is why you didn’t want me to see your room?” he questioned you nodded your heart racing in your chest, and even though you were not looking you could see the smirk on his lips, he then came close to you made you look him and then pinned you against the wall, your hands were pinned above your head and his lips attacking your neck he place soft kisses along your jaw to your neck, it didn’t took time for him to nibble at your sweet spot earning a soft moan from you,“i knew you wanted me ” he said smirking and looking satisfied.

“You knew?” You asked looking into his now darken and fully clouded with lust blue eyes. “From the day i first saw you, the way your jaw dropped looking at me the way you stared at me when i did those shirtless seens and when you went weak in your knees with the proximity we had, i just knew” he said hovering his lips on your and finally pressing his soft lips to yours in a soft gental kiss, the kiss exceedyour expectations it was beyond perfect your lips moved slowly in sync with his like they were moulding together he licked your lip for enterance and you granted it his toung exploring your mouth both of your toungs batteling for dominance. And the next thing you remembered you were lying naked under him on your bed.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to” he said placing soft kisses on your jaw, “i want this, plzz i want you to fuck me” you just pressed his button saying that. He quickly kissed your lips and moved kissing all the way down he stopped at your breast sucking on your nipple and swirling his toung around your hardened nipple and took your nipple between his teeth before moving to the second one and repeating the prosses with it. Then he moved down kissing you and stopped just above your now dripping core. Your breathing was erotic by now he than took hold of your thi and started kissing upwards till he reacjed your core he blew cold into you core sending shivers down your spine and earning moans form you he then kissed your core and started sucking it, your back arched to the sensation and he hold you down by pressing his arm around your waist, and started eating you out you gasped as he entered a finger inside of you with his mouth still working expertly on your clit, you were a moaning mess by now and you felt burning sensation at the pit of your stomach making you aware that you were close he felt you clenching around his finger and he added one more finger increasing his pace “c'mon baby cum for me, let me taste you”, he words sending vibrations through your core were enough to send you over the edge. You grabbed a hold of the sheets, toes curled and his name leaving your mouth as you came undone. You wre comming down from your high and he licked you clean.

He came up hovering over you again and kissed you you can taste yourself on his toung. You were still kissing when you felt his tip brushing your entrance, you broke the kiss and asked “you don’t want me to suck you off?” He chuckled and said “ i would love you to do that but im so rock hard that if you sucked me now i won’t last long” when he finished he quickly searched for his pants back pocket and grabbed a condom from it he tear opened the packet and started rolling it on his lenght you stared at his with an awe he was huge and thick you were not sure if he will fit but you were so excited that you can’t care less about it “ you came prepare huh.. And you are huge i don’t thik you’ll fit” you blurred out. He chuckled at you words and placed his tip at your entrance “ if you have such a beautiful co actress you need to be prepared and don’t you worry I’ll be gental” with that he pressed his tip inside you moving slowly till he was completely inside you and you were moaning continuously one he was completely in he gave you a minute to adjust to his size and then started to move in and out slowly, he soon found his pace and was now pounding into you “you are so tight�� he said through gritted teeth. You let out a loud moan as he hit your g-spot “ plzz fass..terrrr. harder ” you said moaning and he increased his pace hitting you spot correctly you were a moaning mess again under him. Soon you found your second orgasm comming close your walls clenching around him made his aware you were close he kissed you roughly and wispered in tour ears “let it go baby let it go” Whit that you came you second orgasm. He still pounded into you and soon found his release he growled as he filled the condom with his hot cum.

When he was done he came crashing on you, your breathing were heavy and slowly down starting to stabilize he slowly removed himself out of you and you wimpiered at the loss of contact he disposed the condom before laying down next to you “that was amazing ” he said “better than i have expected” you said.

“So now what?” You asked knowing that things are not going to b the same between you now on.

“I’m hungry” He said and you rolled your eyes on that and he giggled

“I know this is a bit of backwords but if you’ll like to come on a dinner with me like a real date ” he offered and you nodded like a child outside a candy shop.

He laughed

And you both got dressed and moved down to your dinning area to eat the food you have got and you talked about a lot of stuff

“but im sure this has made things easy to soot our next seens”

“A lot more easier”.you said and you both laughed.

"It was a dream come true for me you see "

#zac efron #smut #dirty imagine #zac efron smut #zac efron imagine #imagine #zac efron dirty imagine #request #zac love

[fauxfables]

Without 🛋️

A/N: This piece is very long and has taken me a long time to write for several reasons. But I hope this is what these lovely people hoped for when they sent in their requests (x x x)! Love you all and I hope you have a great day :)

Harry had always been in awe of you.  

From the moment he had you in his life, his heart had been filled with your gentle compassion. He had admired your instinctive kindness, personally witnessing the way you’d give a piece of your heart to everyone in your life. “Being kind is all that I can give” he’d hear you say and it breaks him just a little when he watches your smile falter for a fraction of a second, before you arch your eyes and nod your head slightly towards him in reassurance. You’re doing it again, he gathers, putting up a front to satisfy the people around you. Making sure they remained lost in their pursuit of happiness while you’re left alone to pick up your own shattered pieces.

Harry had regretted that night the most. The first, of many, where your heart felt particularly heavy as you smiled and whispered “I’m fine” to his concerned eyes. The silk of your dress clumped at your shoulders as you walked away from him then, away from a night of celebrating your recent promotion at work and into a cab to nurse your friend that had gulped too much tequila to shove away his own misfortunate thoughts.

He looked at his watch again, recalling the ten minutes that had passed since you gingerly held his hand and walked in the club together (fashionably late as always).  Only ten minutes for someone to transform a night devoted to you to a night spent collecting tears and vomit. It baffles him really; you hadn’t blinked at the suggestion of taking poor Aidan home. No one else wanted to –  their shifty eyes had been obvious. It was as if they all had silently agreed to let your happiness become swallowed by the desperate plea of your drunken mate.

Has it always been like this? Harry thinks, and he wonders if he’d ever seen your friends return the favour; he hopes they had. It’s then he promises himself to do the same, despite your stubbornness, he’ll hold you the moment your shoulders become raw from carrying the weight of the world.

And he had that early morning when you waddled home. Carelessly dropping your keys unto the floor, along with your coat and heels, you shuffled through your shared apartment when a soft smile tugged at your cheeks.  Harry was stretched across the couch, asleep, presumably waiting up for you. His arms were crossed against his taut chest, his cheek smothered into your favourite rose coloured pillow. Blood rushed from your heart to the tips of your fingers as you moved some curls away from his poufy eyes, carefully waking him up from his light sleep.

“Love,” he grumbled slowly, raising his hand to cover your small one that rested on his cheek. You kissed his raspberry lips lightly then, shoving him a tad to make room for you on the sofa and you swear you never felt more relaxed. “S’Aidan okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, closing your eyes and pressing your nose against the warmth of his neck. “Poor boy was apologizing the whole time.”

“He should have,” Harry rasped quickly, kissing your forehead to relieve the tension in his veins, “yeh should’ve been celebrating tonight.”

You nodded at his words, kissing his neck in the process. As much as you wanted to, your friend was in need, it would’ve been cruel to leave him alone in a guttered state. “Do yeh wanna talk about it?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“No,” you breathed, your mind was concerned with something else. “You didn’t have to wait for me on the couch, the beds much comfier.” His soft curls grazed your face as he shook his head and skillfully moved your five foot body to straddle his. He wrapped his legs and arms around you as if hugging a teddy bear and if you weren’t this exhausted, you would have protested to his actions (constantly asking if you were smooshing him with your weight). 

But instead, you shuffled comfortably, and allowed his soft hands to bury itself under your shirt as his raspy voice filled your ears, “Bed feels empty when yeh not there.”

⭐

Harry woke up to an empty bed the next time your care was requested. His eyes squinted through the darkly lit room when he found you hastily pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt he wore last night that had been carelessly thrown on the floor in the midst of your collected desires.

His voice startled you as you grabbed your satchel and wove it around your head and through your arm. You turned to find Harry rubbing his eyes as he sleepily shifted and sat up to switch the lamp on. Your hooded eyes blinked instinctively from the bright light and you couldn’t help but focus on Harry.

The soft glow illuminated his angelic form, so much so that you could follow the thin hair from his v-line all the way to the swallows on his chest. The blanket had pooled in his lap, and it was very obvious he was naked underneath. Your mouth would have watered at the sight, until your eyes softened when you saw the small pout that pulled at his lip.

“Where yeh goin’ at this hour?” A soft smile tugged at your cheeks as you recognized that deep voice of his that had been scratched from slumber.

“Dante. He called me,” you sighed, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “He was crying … I think Troy left him for good.”

His tired eyes narrowed. “S’this the same bloke who shut yeh out as soon as he gotta boyfriend?”

You nodded a little numbly as you sat on the edge of the bed. In the midst of acquiring a new love, Dante had ignored your texts more often than not, mistaking your birthday to be a month later than it actually was, only to call you for advice when he was in trouble. It wasn’t fair to judge him though; he had dealt with a lot in the past year and you were happy he found someone.  But you couldn’t help but feel a little used. 

The title settled low in your stomach and your heart chipped away at its corners at the thought of him selfishly abusing your kindness. But the warmth of Harry’s hand pulled you out of your reverie as he engulfed it to leave a kiss on your shaky fingers.

He recognized the smile you showed him now; a reassuring one, that hadn’t quite reached your eyes.

“He shouldn’t be alone.”

“Bu’ why do you have to go?” He scoffed, shifting his hands to the curve of your waist. “S’not like he’d do the same.”

“I … No one should be alone,” you breathed indignantly, savouring the warmth of his thumb that massaged your skin. “I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Harry,” you mumbled softly, kissing the frown between his eyebrows and shaking your head slightly. “I don’t need a reward to be kind.”

⭐

It took almost a year for Harry to recognize that first sign, where the smile halts at your cheeks and U-turns before it reaches your eyes.  For the most part, anyone would simply smile at your late arrival, despite the hunch in your shoulders and tension between your puffy eyes. If it weren’t for Nick sprawled across the love-seat, snot on the surface of his sleeve, Harry would have gotten up to remove the red cloth off your small shoulders and place a plethora of kisses to your face because he knows it at least buys him a smirk from you on days like this.  

Instead, however, your trench coat is still glued to your skin when Nick comes dashing towards you in a bear hug, sniffling along the way to keep his teary-eyes at bay. Despite Nick’s resistance, a sob echoes the room, now paired with your sweet words as your delicate frame comforts his lanky body.

“What’s wrong, my love?” your voice drips of honey, but Nick refuses to answer, feeling the sting in his eyes and the twists in his gut for the fifth time today.

His silence confuses you for a second (as he gets quite chatty when he’s upset) but your eyes lock with familiar emerald ones over Nick’s shoulder, and Harry mimes his hands into the shape of heart which breaks apart as he points to his watch, and your eyes arch before it crinkles in concern - a terrible break up, one with the rotten excuse of “timing” as closure. Your gaze shifts down for a moment, momentarily thanking all those rounds of heads up, before settling on him again, determination shadowing the dread which once laid there moments before.

“Go make some tea, I’ll calm him down.”

It’s a silent suggestion, one made through eye contact, and Harry sighs a little as he stumbles around the wooden table to the kitchen, reminding himself to make some green tea (with ginger and lemon) for the girl who’s delaying her own tears due to the momentary intrusion.

When Harry shuffles back in, he fixes on the sight in front of him. You’ve moved Nick to the couch by now, your hands are holding his as whispers are past between the two of you. Nick pays no attention to his tears as he’s fixating on your words and the soothing rub of your fingers. 

Harry thinks he should move back to the kitchen, almost feeling he’s intrusion as he’s witnessing the interaction unfold. The clanking of the rings on his favourite mug makes his presence known, and he stiffens at his abrupt disturbance before relaxing as it’s been rightfully ignored.  

“There will be a lot of people who will hurt you. A lot of people that will take you for granted. And despite all that fear, all that pent up panic, you fell in love. You did that, you beautiful soul.” It’s the first smile Harry’s seen from Nick all day, and you mirror the smirk as the inside joke plays between you both. “S’gonna be painful for a while, I won’t lie to you, but … to quote our favourite show … Every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”

There is a low hum that centers in the living room now, and Nick’s thankful for it - for you. And he crashes into your arms again for a tight embrace that he hopes holds all his appreciation.

Harry licks the tea of his fingers once he finally sets the mugs down, and dashes to the other side of the couch to crush you both with a hug of his own and he smiles in triumph (dimples on full display) as laughter bubbles out of the three of you.

“Oi boy get off me you prick!” Nick squeals from the Hawaiian shirt awkwardly stuffed over his mouth. A warm shoulder is awkwardly shoved under your chin as his stupid six foot build nonchalantly rests over the both of you. “You’re fuckin’ heavy!”

A pinch to his love handles sends Harry off the now crushed bodies and when he stands you savour the hint of cologne and warmth that lingers in the air. A dramatic puff escapes your pouty mouth as you peer up at the perpetrator, hair sticking in all sorts of places, and it’s then he sees the smile falter from your face when your eyes momentarily shift from his own to the wall behind him.

Nick is speaking again (with a few sniffles along the way), discussing what movie to watch and Harry’s listening as he sits on the coffee table directly in front of you two, but he can’t help become distracted of the somber aura that’s disintegrated around you now. He wants to know what’s playing in your head when he catches your eyes skirt down to the fingers on your lap.

“Think we should watch the Notebook,” Harry suggests with a little smile, grabbing the two mugs behind him. “Wait – no that’s Y/N’s, this ones yours bud.”

Nick accepts it graciously, blowing over the hot beverage before he spots the mug in your hand. He’s quick to make a jab at his mate for the sheer allowance of you drinking from Harry’s ‘special’ mug, despite the times a raspy voice snapped at Nick for even grabbing at the damn thing. But the joke dies on his tongue once he’s reminded of his exes possessive nature over certain glassware – which he’d reluctantly have to pack up and move out himself. The thought sends a bubble to his throat, and he excuses himself this time, leaving with a quick promise to return before he rushes to the guest bedroom.

“Should we go after him?” Your head is turned to where Nick dashed through, and it gives Harry a moment to study the second sign of the day – dry eyes and the faint discolour of your foundation that begins at your eyes and streams downward.  

His knee bumps yours as he wiggles it closer, right in-between your legs, and his warm fingers sneak to the end of your chin, forcing your gaze towards him. He leaves your question unanswered with only a shake to his head, and he doesn’t speak again, choosing to shift his eyes around your face. The mug is still in your hand and you move away from Harry’s grip to take a sip, admiring the chip at the top from the time you accidentally bumped its glass at the edge of the sink after you scrambled to clean it once you heard a jingle of keys and familiar footsteps at the door.  

He’s observing you now, savouring your strict gaze on the faint smoke above the hot tea, and he almost had to repeat his question. Finally, you looked up with a tired smile, one not quite as strained as before. “Sorry,” you breathed, “I was just thinking.” Your voice was soft, almost tense, like someone had hit you in the gut and you were still recovering. “I get lost a lot these days,” you added shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“None of that now,” the mug was moved out of your hands and placed on the spot beside Harry. His hands instinctively rose to cup your cheeks, green eyes shifting to the doorway behind you to ensure privacy. “My love,” he rasps, licking his lips while leaning towards you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

A deafening silence danced around the room. Your eyes had fallen shut and your frail hand cupped the anchor on his wrist. He guesses you’re contemplating what to tell him, fearing you’d intrude his mind with your troubled thoughts. It’s an improvement, he gathers, when you were just friends you’d simply walk out of the room, but here it’s just him, waiting for you - as he always had. And you’re thankful for it, even more so when he wraps his arms around you when he spots the tight jut to your stomach in retaliation of the tears glistening over your irises.  

“M’here, pet, m’here … not goin’ anywhere - promise.” He kisses your forehead as if to solidify his words and he expects to feel a certain wetness on his shoulder, instead finding your lips molding on his in a sweet kiss. Before you’re able to pull back, though, he presses your lips together again, trying his best to drain all that tension around your body. And he smiles when you melt against him, choosing to pertly kiss the end of your nose as an end to his brief treatment.

He’s looking up at you now when you stand, small hands on taut shoulders as his larger ones rest peacefully on your hips. Your smile is improving now, and it drops a little when you make eye contact with his that shines unbridled. You observe his earnest smile, one to at first please thousands of fans, but the familiar eyes gleam in curiosity, and ... disappointment? 

He wants to know what’s made you upset, but most of all, he wants to know your reluctance in being vulnerable around him. He curses your dedication to ensure the happiness of others, but you’re in his home, in his arms – safe, with a man who loves you dearly – isn’t that enough?

“Let’s go check on Nick, hmm?” His hair feels soft under your touch, and he leans into it, the other hand resting on his cheek as the smooth yet prickly texture battles across his arguably attractive peach fuzz. Your hand then moves out in front of him as you step back. “Come on, bub, wanna make sure he’s okay first. Then we’ll talk.”

⭐

Harry doesn’t hear you walk back in this time. He’s waiting up for you on the couch that same night, TV playing softly in the background as he catches up on his reading. Nick is asleep on the opposite side of the couch, having been too exhausted to wait up for the junk food you had promised to buy him (ben & jerry’s ice cream to be exact). 

You shrug off your coat as agonisingly slowly as possible, frail arms burning from all the boxes you hurriedly packed and carried out of the bloke’s house, and into your car for about three hours straight. Harry had begun to worry at your absence, but a text about your general detour made him relent as he focused all his energy on cheering Nick up.  

Your eyes are straining under the dim light, your chest slumping as your heart, heavy as a ton of bricks, watches the crinkle in his eyebrows when he flicks through the old book you had given him for his birthday.  Sometimes when you see him like this, your stomach cavorts in the image – this man, adored by millions, is waiting up on the couch for you. He’s as mundane as he could be, and it takes nearly a second for you to lick your lips and ultimately declare defeat. 

There’s a quiver at your mouth then and you bite down on your chapped lips to stop the tears rimming your eyes. Your hand flies to your mouth as the vision of Harry blurs and you shuffle across the floor towards him in a soft pace. He doesn’t even notice you yet, until you sniffle and grab the book out of his hand. 

“Love, are yeh –” 

He stops immediately at the startling shake of your head, and his heart breaks at the sight. He’s frozen, almost confused at what to do, but you lead him as you pick his hands as if playing with a doll, while you snake your legs to straddle either side of his waist before you settle your forehead on his shoulders as the sobs shake your small frame. 

He’s warm right now, arms squeezing around you as tight as he can. He shifts his head on yours, whispering lowly to you, concern and relief filling throughout his body. 

“I got yeh peaches, don’ worry now.” He can feel how tight you’re gripping him and he uses his non-ringed hand to smooth the hair on your head. “Love you so much. M’here and m’never leavin’ yeh okay?” 

Each sob is a punch to his chest, but he’s glad you’re not alone, he’s glad you let him in, and most of all, he’s glad he’s here to hold you when your shoulders weaken from the oncoming storm. 

And as your tears finally decease into small hiccups, your left cheek lands on his shoulders as your swollen eyes gaze towards the TV series playing softly in front of you. Harry’s hand is rubbing soothingly against your back before it falters as relevant words echo from the late night re-run.

“Only in darkness are we revealed. Goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage. Good is good in the final hour. In the deepest pit, without hope, without witness, without reward.”  

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