#because of how busy i was in december due to holidays i wrapped up the last two months together

[lskamil27]

January / December Progress Wrap-up on [ Patreon] !!

#weeping rosemary the game #my art #illustration #pixel art #rpgmaker #game dev #horror #ophelia burrows #sorry for the delay in the monthly posting!! #because of how busy i was in december due to holidays i wrapped up the last two months together #i've been so slow due to the cold... i need spring to come back faster... #and i have regular art of my ocs i need to post to! #i've also been dabbling in fanfiction writing again in my freetime which is fun! havent done since i started uni and now that im done #unhinged freedom

[jexxtv]

It's a wrap

Pairing : idol!Seonghwa x Fem!Non-IdolReader

Summary :  dealing with Ateez's heavy schedules for so long, reader becomes annoyed with the lack of attention from her lover. leaving an unexpected surprise for him when he finally returns home.

an : this is mostly inspired by the song It's A Wrap by Mariah Carey. the lyrics and the idea I have matched so perfectly so I hope you enjoy <;3 

warnings : mentions of heavy drinking, alcohol usage, reader is drunk— really bad, heavy emotions, angst, reader self doubts a lot, some fluff towards the end. 

A heavy sigh rolled right from your mouth as you looked up at the ceiling of your once-shared bedroom, moving your head over to the empty side of the bed, which belonged to your lover, you scoffed and sat up in bed. It had been almost two whole months since you’d seen him. Knowing how busy he can get was one thing, but now it was just starting to get annoying. 

From the interviews, comeback stages, tours, and variety shows. You name it, you had just had enough. From the beginning of your relationship with him, you knew it wouldn’t work out well, and you did warn him several times. But he continued to make promises that never lasted. With little to no commutation, on top of hardly seeing him, you started to doubt the relationship would even last a year. However, here you are, four years into the relationship, somehow you two made it work in the first two years, the third year becoming a bit rocky due to the group taking off successfully.

Don’t get it wrong! You’re more than happy for them to succeed, it’s all you ever wanted since you’ve learned to love each of the seven members, including Seonghwa. You also knew the tag-along weight that came with dating an idol as well, knowing that their schedules would be packed, very limited time with them in public, and many more because the list is never-ending. You just really wondered why you fully went through the relationship knowing what could happen. 

It mainly started right after the promotions of Guerrilla, Ateez skyrocketed to the top like crazy and a lot of opening things for them to do came in. The last time you might’ve ever spoken to Seonghwa was maybe right before the announcement of their tour. 

“I need you to bare with me, love…” holding your hands, bringing them up to his lips to kiss them. 

“Exactly how long are we talking Hwa, whenever you start saying that, it means I won’t see you for a while.” Looking at him in his eyes, your eyes slowly start to tear up. 

“Not too long, it’s just an America & Canada tour, a few shows outside the tour and I’ll be home for the holidays.” 

He didn’t lie, however, during the midst of their tour in America, another tour was announced for Europe, which blew a short fuse on you. 

It was now December and their first half of touring was finally over, however, another surprise to add next to the Europe tour, they had another comeback. 

Lucky you...

Walking over to the bathroom to do your regular morning routine, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed, wondering if you had lost your attraction to him as to why he never calls anymore. Or maybe he’s just that busy? You shrugged at the thought, walking away after finishing your routine. 

Your days and nights have been very limited. Some days you find a new hobby to get into, painting, going to museums, finding cute little cafes you’d hope to bring Seonghwa by sometimes. During the night, you’d find yourself with a glass of wine and a book, reading yourself away. It didn’t get much better than that. 

Sometimes wishing for him to just walk through the door and whisk you off your feet into a long loving hug. It became such a bad wish for you, some nights while drinking, you’d go from wine to a small martini or two, to a few shots of patron...It would just get ugly. 

You already sought in your mind tonight would be one of those ugly nights, seeing that you just wanted to forget your loneliness and fill the void with something else rather than wasting away. 

Deciding to spend your day shopping for the holidays, it had been long past twelve hours since you were out. Walking back into your shared apartment with arms filled with bags, you kicked the door closed. Dropping the bags by the couch, deciding to go through them later, you only picked up four of the bags, having had a little shopping spree for yourself. Heading straight for your bedroom to reveal what you had bought.

A red glittery off-the-shoulder dress, that had a leg open silt and was sized perfectly to hug your curves, something you thought a certain someone would love to see you in. Laying the dress on the bed, you reached down to grab a shoe box, opening it to reveal the black red bottom strappy heels you bought to match the dress. A wide grin appeared on your face as an idea popped into your head.

Leaving everything on the bed you ran into your bathroom to quickly hop in the shower to wash away today’s adventure, adding extra steps to shave, exfoliate and moisturize every inch of your body. The idea you had was simple, a few videos and photos sent over to Seonghwa and maybe it’ll gain his attention again.

You took your time in the shower, as well as getting yourself ready for your master plan, then moved to the makeup, doing a black smokey eye with showgirl false lashes and a red matte lip. Your hair was blown out and rolled into curlers for a more dramatic effect, you left the rollers in to slide into your dress. Which, definitely fits you snugly like a leather glove.

Sliding your foot into the heel, lacing it up your leg, you couldn’t help but think about the outcome of this plan. After lacing the shoe on, you stood up walking to the mirror to take yourself in, and damn did you look good. Undoing the rollers out of your hair, you did a few dramatic tosses and flips to add volume, and took one more glance at yourself.

“I know he misses this..”

Grabbing your phone to set it up to record yourself, then grabbing it to take photos up close and selfie-wise. You made sure to catch all his favorite angels and more, then went through to select the five attachments you wanted to send him. Adding the message, “Missing you..” you threw your phone down onto the bed making your way towards the kitchen for your nightly session of drinking.

[ 18:26 @ KQ Entertainment ] 

“Waah, I’m so happy to finally be back here. I’m ready to curl up and sleep..” stepping out of their travel van, going into a big stretch. San placed his bag down, also stretching out, “You sure you’ll be curled up and sleeping tonight?” looking at his older member with a brow raised. Soft squeaks could be heard from the trunk of the van, “Hyung has a lady who’s definitely going to make him sleep on the couch,” Wooyoung said slyly while grabbing bags, only to be nudged by Hongjoong. 

“Ya! shut up, I’m sure she’s expecting him with warm arms. She’s always been understanding since our debut.” He said with reassurance. Seonghwa’s mind raced to the thought of you and how long he’s been away. He could only think about what was the possibility of his unannounced return and exactly how you would react. 

“yeah, I should go ahead and head home now. It’s still early and I can catch her before she goes to sleep.” grabbing his bags and saying his goodbyes to his other members, he walked towards another van that was designated for him to head home. Once settled in the van, he checked his phone to see if there were any updates, just for him to see the five attachments you had sent him. 

“Oh.. you..” tapping the video you first sent of you showing off the dress, doing twirls, and showing your leg every few seconds for a tease. Seonghwa couldn’t keep his eyes off you, as he swiped to the next video, now up close to see the details of your makeup, “beautiful as ever.. can’t wait to see you.” Bringing his gaze to the window to see how far he was from the apartment, holding his phone closer to his chest. 

His mind wandered off to the thought of you now, what were you possibly doing all dressed and dolled up tonight? Did you spoil yourself for no reason? Or had you planned this whole look just for him because you somehow found out when he and the members were coming back? 

Little did he know, you just wanted to feel pretty for no reason. 

By now, you had already had about five or six classes of wine, four martinis, and currently drinking out of the patron bottle. Heels removed, somewhere tossed in the living room, dress still on you and hair slightly fluffier than before, holding the bottle in the air as you drunkenly swayed to the beat of the current song being played on your speaker. 

“All I ever asked was for you, to pick up the phone when you alone..!!!” 

Playing Games by Summer Walker was currently being played. You were a mess, emotionally a mess, at least you admitted to that. Alcohol fully running through your system as the lyrics to the song touched you, your singing, more so yelling out the lyrics with heartfelt meaning. You took another swig of the patron, “wahhh, I only asked for you to show me some loooveeee,” spinning around the living room, moving to the couch to sit down. Kicking your feet up onto the coffee table, another swig was thrown back and you let out a sigh.

Holding the bottle close to your chest, you stared at the wall as your mind started to race with so many thoughts. Unsure if you wanted to hold onto your current relationship, it hurt for you to even think of said things, but you were so frustrated with the lack of attention and love you needed to stay afloat. 

To deep into thought, you didn’t even hear the door opening, let alone the unlocking sound, so as soon as you heard it close you snapped your neck towards it. “Nooo fucking way..” putting your feet down and standing up to look at him. You didn’t even recognize him, forgetting that he bleached his hair for their promotion of “Halazia”, you blinked slowly at him.

he stood at the door looking at you, taking in your current state, eyebrows slowly raised when he saw the alcohol bottle in your hand. “have you... have you been drinking?” his voice coming out soft, and all you could do was scoff. 

“well no shit I have. what does it matter to you?” walking towards the door but then redirecting yourself to the bar. 

“you’ve been gone for SO long and I know for a fact you’ve seen me calling and texting you.” the words flying out of your mouth felt like venom to Seonghwa’s chest, clearly aware of his lack of communication while he was away. 

“baby, I know but-” 

“no, no no no no no, you don’t get a but in this situation.” snapping at him, turning around to face him. “I told you so many times Hwa, like, even before this!” leaning back onto the counter, taking a deep breath. “need to catch my breath, because you don’t understand obviously.” 

“yn, please, let me explain..”

“there’s no need! it’s a wrap for you! i’ve made up my mind!” looking him in the eye now. “you know, I did try, after the first month. I was okay! but now, I just can’t.” breaking eye contact with him to look at the ground, running a hand threw your hair. 

“it doesn’t have to be like this love, we finally have a moment to rest yn, don’t you understand?” he made his way over to you to get close, hands finding their way to your arms. “I know, my communication has been terrible the past two months, i’m here to admit that. but i’m also here to correct my wrongs, baby. don’t do this..” he brought a hand up to cup your chin, making you look up at him. 

you stared into his eyes and shook your head while his hand held you. “no, i’m not playing games with you anymore Hwa, I can’t. i’ve been sitting here, all alone, day and night…” feeling your heart race now because you’re confessing your true feelings and actions. “I’ve drinking myself to sleep sometimes because I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore.” unaware of the tears now rolling down your face, a broken sob came out of you as you continued your rant. 

“I kept telling you, over and over again from the moment you guys started touring. when it’s gone, it’s gone Seonghwa. That was your last shot…” pushing out of his hold, quickly wiping the tears away and regaining your composure. “It’s over! You can’t come back as if nothing happened!” you said walking towards the kitchen. 

Seonghwa stood in place, blinking slowly as he tried to process everything that was just said. 

Was he really about to let four whole years go down the drain like so? No. 

His heart wouldn’t let him even if he wanted to. 

He stormed behind you into the kitchen he gently grabbed your wrist, “No! It’s not over. Yn, you’re drunk right now…” turning you towards him so you can look at him, face to face. 

“Four years. Are you really going to throw it away yn? Everything we’ve been through? Does it mean nothing to you know??” 

“You’re holding on to the past Hwa, things obviously changed since the first two years..” now trying to wiggle out of his hold. 

“Stop it, I’m trying to talk to you yn! I’m not letting you go!”

“Seonghwa, let me go! You’re gonna wake the neighbors…” 

“Oh, as if you haven’t already, blasting sad music for God who knows how long..” 

You stared at him as he made that comment and your jaw slightly fell, how dare he? “Out. OUT!” 

He let out a deep sigh, noticing your actions now. He slowly moved in closer to you, knowing how you were about to break out into a tantrum, bringing his arms around your figure. 

“Get out Seonghwa!! Your shit is going outside, and you can follow suit! Get out of my face!!” struggling to get out of his hold. 

Seonghwa only rolled his eyes as your behavior started to show through, all he could do was bring you into a big warm embrace. Both arms around the small of your back, he brought a hand up to the back of your head and pulled you into his chest. 

The first thing that started to bring you back down to ground zero was his scent. The scent you fell in love with and always wanted to smell. 

“N-no…s-stop!” still trying to fight him out of the embrace, but his strong scent kept you in place. Memories flood your mind causing you to tear up again. “This isn’t fair…” another broken sob escaped you. “I’ve been here…all night! Just leave me alone!” bringing a fist up to beat his chest, but you only melted into his chest as you cried. 

Seonghwa rocked you side to side slowly, shushing you quietly. “I know babydoll…but i’m here now aren’t I?”

“But you’ve been gone for so long Hwa, it’s not fair!”

“Baby, trust. I know. I’m sorry, I don’t care how many times I have to say it, but I’ll keep saying it till you feel better. I’m here to make it up to you doll... it’s just the alcohol speaking for you right now.”

“I’ve been drinking since quarter to three...It’s bad I know.” now quieting down, just crying softly on his chest. “you’ve done me so wrong Hwa, I missed you so much.” 

Resting his chin on top of your head, he let out another sigh. “And I missed you just as much doll. Don’t ever think I didn’t miss you. You were all I thought of while I was away.”

The two stood embraced within each other, a moment that needed to last forever.

Seonghwa looked down at her and gently pecked her forehead. Your eyes now closed and completely relaxed in his arms, you were close to dozing off right there. After all, you did do some heavy drinking.

He cradled your figure closer, guiding you both towards the couch to sit down. Allowing you to get comfortable on him, rubbing small circles on your back as he listened to your soft breathing.

“I love you so much, let’s not call this a wrap okay...?”

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #kpop imagines #jexxtv

[terrence-silver]

I love your Terry McCain thoughts and headcanons! Hardly anyone seems to write about him and yours are perfect. Can you please share some headcanons about Terry M and the winter season/Holidays?

CHRISTMAS WITH TERRY MCCAIN.

🎄

---

― Well, he's an Irish Catholic boy to the teeth, so just going off of logic alone I figure Christmas is, was and always will be an important and continued tradition in the McCain family, something Terry, for all his rough and tough Chicago Detective tendencies wants to keep observing and honoring in the future as well, possibly in a quaint, somewhat intimate atmosphere as one gets the impression Terry has lived the life of an on and off bachelor for a very, very long time up in his big city apartment close to his calling at work and the mean streets, and that if he craves for anything it is for the simpler days of a charming, domestic sense of self. Something akin to what life was when he was a kid. Sweet and idyllic. Ironically, he undoubtedly hasn't celebrated Christmas properly in years. By properly, I mean that for the longest time, it was just him, a bottle of beer or two, maybe a quickly put together holiday arrangement on some table somewhere purely to maintain the spirit of it all alive, (the company of a cat or some other pet?) and him spending the holidays down at the jazz bar, playing the piano for a cheering crowd.

― Does Terry immediately remember all the old customs and traditions from his childhood he wants to observe full out once you come into his life? Yes. Yes, he does. Now, Terry McCain might seem something like a smart-mouth cynic initially, but he's unusually emotional and warmhearted and he will be, flat out, looking forward to winter all year purely so he could have a first ever Christmas with you. First ever Thanksgiving. The cutting of the turkey. First ever snow. First kiss under the mistletoe. First ever blizzard over the city (which he hopes persists for as long as it can). First ever walk alongside the banks of the Chicago River wrapped in two warm coats. First ever meet cute with hands covered in mittens. A first drive out into the country. A first exchange of presents. A first ever dance along to some mellow, quiet Christmas ballad. Terry McCain wants it all. And my god, if your business in Illinois is temporary, count on it being delayed (under mysterious circumstances), because you're staying all year and you're staying because Terry needs you to stay. Should he simply.you know, pretend he's sick? Or shot?

― He isn't complaining if subzero temperatures envelop he city from up north and he can disguise his desire to keep you around as merely his well-intentioned concern with avoiding you catching a flu due to the cold local conditions. Freezing local conditions, rather. If you're not from around here and have no knowledge how goddamn cold it can get around December and January, he can very easily just lie and ensure you're ill-prepared where coats, jackets, scarves and knitwear are concerned. Whoops. Great, Detective McCain is out to be a good friend and acquire you weather appropriate clothes, during which, you'll of course stay put in the apartment and wait for him to return with your newest batch of attire, some borrowed, some bought and a great many of it (oversized) his; a tirade that might last weeks, if we're honest. What can you do, though? Walk out in a thin jacket when it is -25 degrees out? Yeah, sure. A deliberate and very tactical stalling on Terry's behalf. If he stalls enough until Christmas, traffic, airline ticket bookings and cabs might be too busy and pricey to be worth the try, so you'll have to stay over the holidays. Tough luck, champ.

― It is one of those white lies people tell when they find someone really special they want to keep around, not really caring what methods they have to use to reach their end goal --- and what if you don't celebrate Christmas, you ask? Well, Terry already knows. He isn't a Detective for nothing. He did his due diligent snooping and some innocent abuse of power to find out everything he could about you that he didn't already discover merely by being close to you, from your own mouth, so be it Hanukkah or Chanukah or something else entirely, Terry will be calling relentlessly and showing up on your own front door ready to connect the two holidays and celebrate them both to create something entirely new out of the blend, gaining all the more time to himself with you, not really wishing to be parted, his trademark possessiveness coming through. You almost get the impression that with the amount of effort he's been putting into everything, that this is more than a friendship and more than a relationship. Terry McCain feels something like family to you at this stage, and that is surely the case for him as well.

― And so, booking himself a couple of weeks off away from the force and the stresses of his work's environment, setting his badge and guns to the side (but not too far out of reach, old habits be damned), for all his firecracker, hotheaded character traits, the holidays with Terry McCain are spent with a sense of serenity and the best type of simplicity imaginable ---- no problems, just peace --- warm wine included, piping hot tea, a purring kitten and you in his lap, exchanging gifts, decorating a Christmas tree together (something he hasn't done in ages and has yearned for) dining together, dancing at the jazz club together and him introducing you to everyone he knows there, midnight walks and matching scarves, days and days lounging in bed naked together, cuddling, playfighting riddled with laughter and sex, sharing stories, watching movies tangled in knit sweaters with the heater roars and roars and it's actually ---- unbelievably charming. All of it. Like something that belongs on an old postcard, and he decides there and then, that this will be your first one of many Christmases together.

#terry mccain #excessive force #terry mccain x reader #terry mccain x beloved #fluff #christmas #holidays #excessive force 1993 #terry mccain headcanon #terry mccain headcanons

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER HCS🥶 — 6. ANGEL REYES

A/N: I’m late to the party finding out that Clayton and Ms. Emily are a item…it’s not my business but when it clicked for me I was like ohhh lmao. Anyways here’s the last 1 out of the possible 4 of my December prompts that actually didn’t see December? Thank y’all so much for the constant support, it does not go unnoticed 🤍🥂 ALSO Mentions of other characters from other tv/films such as: Livan Duarte from Pitch, Issa Dee from Insecure, and Evan Ross’ character, “Ant” from the classic film ATL

Situational prompt: you need a date to a holiday party because your parents/friends/co-workers think you’ve been dating someone all year but you’ve completely made them up.

*•*•*•^•^•^•^•*•*•*•*•*•^•*•^•*•*•*•*•^•

You instantly regretted bringing this shit up since angel was all smirks and his ego meter probably went past 10,000

He finally put out his cigarette as the both of you sat outside in the back on his stoop

That man apparently liked to have his heat cranked all the way up and it was starting to make you nauseous and he wouldn’t turn it down OR off and he was ready to body slam you if you touched his thermostat

He was all, “I’m pussy?!” When you told him he wouldn’t survive winters up on the east coast in your childhood hometown in New Jersey where it reached single digits

So yeah you west coasters were soft

Anyways that started the whole argument where he called you out on your shit for lying about your love life to the co-workers you did but didn’t like??

“Listen, I don’t like people in my business so I had to do what I had to in a short amount of time.”

“And now you’re stuck asking the prettiest motherfucker you know to be your pretend man of the night…sounds like you’re letting them in a little bit.” Angel commented with a pinch of his fingers, making you roll your eyes while tightening your crossed arms

“I would have asked EZ if I was looking for the prettiest.” You argued making Angel give you the nastiest side-eye

Angel scoffed, “then go to his house, what you sitting here in my face for?”

You laughed, “you’re my bestest friend so why wouldn’t I ask?”

It was angel’s turn to roll his eyes, “I’m feelin’ a little unappreciated.”

“How? you love getting dressed up and to show out? Free food, booze, music?”

“Not at some fucken office party with some phony bitches.”

You hummed, “which is why I keep my distance but I missed the last two and I want them all to stop nagging me. I already told them off last year but since they think it’s a new year they want to try me again. Just say you’ll help me, we can only stay an hour-two tops.”

Angel scowled but part of him wanted to put them all in their place himself—if need be

He didn’t understand why you stuck with marketing when you should have been an event planner or something like it

that’s where you really thrived but he couldn’t say shit since he got wrapped in the club instead

Life brings you to different places so you have to make due with what you have and figure it out

And so the both of you showed up to the building where temperatures were reported and rapid tests were taken place

Fifteen minutes later the both of you headed upstairs in the elevator together, Angel dressed in all black and you in a silver shimmer wrap around dress that hugged you just right underneath your coat that is

“So what’s the story between us?”

“Story?”

“Your lies mi reina, keep up.” He snapped his fingers at you which you shoved his hand down in reply

“Like I said, I didn’t tell them much even though the girls pried.”

“They wanted to know how I was in bed right?” He fixed his jacket, so proud of himself

You shrugged saying back nonchalantly, “that too, compared to Livan.”

The doors open as Angel craned his neck, “who?”

“Nobody. here they come! Let’s play fake nice and get this over with.” You quickly slipped your hand into Angel’s who intertwined his rough fingers with yours as you turned to most of your co-workers who approached you

Your dysfunctional bosses which consisted of Gerald Bernadotte and Jahanara Mohan who cheated on their significant others for years before Gerald’s wife found out, and left his ass fleeing to France to start a new life (with his twin brother)

Jahanara’s husband basically put her ass on blast to her side of the family and his family and their children wanting to get his revenge so now there’s bad blood and nobody seems to fuck with her in her family

She seems to deal with it well living extravagantly while always vacationing in Vegas? and keeps denying marriage and living with Gerald although she’s still married to her husband since she won’t sign divorce papers

Then there was the most nosiest of them all but ditzy yet really good with numbers and kept trying to add you on Instagram—that wasn’t happening, Avery Struhl who was all squeals at the sight of you two

“Lovely to see you, y/n and y/n’s friend?!”

Angel smiled as he held out a fist for the woman to bump, “her boyfriend, Angel.”

“Oh, how romantic! Gerald and Jahanara, meet y/n’s boyfriend we’ve all been dying to meet!”

“Avery. We’re right here,” Jahanara replied, “great to have you two, come and get yourselves a drink.”

Angel liked her already, plus she was giving real MILF energy

but he wasn’t going to cross that line however!he didn’t mind looking every now and then

Behind their backs you made sure to whack him real good with your clutch before smiling at your co-workers and employers as you took a flute glass

“So tell us everything!” Avery boasted while you let out a small sigh

Angel sipped at the brown liquor in his square glass, “what would you like to know? I’m a open book.”

Oh god.

“Unlike y/n here, it’s like pulling teeth with her majority of the time.” Gerald laughed which you returned a much fake one

Jahanara fanned her hand, “there’s nothing wrong with creating some distance. We all have to have some peace of mind to ourselves. I respect it.”

“Thank you.” You smiled a genuine one at the russet skin woman who sent you a wink in return

“What do you do for work?” Gerald asked cutting right to the chase while Avery wanted to know the other juicy details

You leaned towards Angel as he easily answered, “Tattoos and mechanics is what I do.”

“Hoooot.” Avery sung while you snorted and Jahanara hummed

“Oh it’s a business combined? how’s that field?”

“Very fulfilling.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Avery bounced on her toes.

You answered, “plenty. All over and he wants more. We have one matching one together.”

“Adorable! How did you two meet?”

You and Angel met each other’s eyes and laughed, “we got stranded in traffic underneath this tunnel and I thought she was letting me over but apparently I cut her off? I drive a beautiful bike by the way so I had enough room to get over, everybody else was bumper to bumper so she’s blowing her horn at me and yelling through her window shield but I’m not paying her any mind until she starts throwing bagels at me?”

“I was having a bad morning that day and everything and everybody was getting on my nerves. He just made it worst, once I got the nasty raisin bagel to hit the back of his head after he flipped me off? I sent my dog after him too.”

“Have you met her dog? That dog is dangerously fast. Which is also why she’s under ‘my pretty’ in my contacts.”

Avery swooned at that while Angel tenderly pinched your chin and you almost gagged but covered it with a crooked smile

“I’m allergic so I had to become a cat person.” Jahanara answered

“What kind of dog?” Gerald titled his head to the side, curious

“A Whippet named zipper. He loves me now, tho. I even babysit when she has to go out of town.”

“Even your dog learned to like him? Animals and family always know before you do about someone you bring into your life, believe it.” Jahanara added glancing at Gerald who chose to ignore her stare

“So how long has this been going on?” A new voice interrupted from behind you, to reveal your other co-worker, Livan Duarte and you already felt yourself tensing up

And ofc he also had to look good tonight

You inhaled, “Livan. This is my boyfriend, Angel. Angel this is Livan.”

They both sized each other up before Angel tossed an arm over your shoulder to dangle across your chest

Livan blinked, “really, boyfriend? And here we thought Y/N was making you up.”

“We?” You questioned.

You noticed your other co-worker Issa dancing up beside Livan and cut in, “Yeah I’m not part of the we that was mostly those three so we not about to do that vani.” She pointed at Gerald, Avery, and Livan.

Dipping your head at Issa, the only co-worker you fucked with, she sent you a pound to her chest and a peace sign before she shifted at the slight side eye the deep-dimpled man in front of her sent over his shoulder

“Well, I’m as real as they get. Been together for a solid eight months, close to a year, we don’t really keep count since time seems to pass whenever we’re together.” He pressed a scratchy kiss to your temple in which you placed a hand on top of his

Livan snorted at that, “woooow. Congratulations, didn’t think relationships was something y/n did.”

“Should we really be having this conversation?” Issa asked, “remember what Mary j said? Don’t need no hateration.”

“I’m not hating,” Livan crossed his hands in front of him, “We’re all just trying to get to know Y/n and Angel a bit better.”

You and Angel both peeped how Livan said his name and Angel could also pick up on his energy along with the way Issa was throwing hints too

This man was clearly jealous and Angel was out of the loop on your history with him, which really wasn’t the norm??

The both of you hardly kept anything from each other

“Well so far he’s into tattooing and mechanics, he and y/n met on the freeway under this tunnel and she threw bagels at him and sent her dog after him which sparked a romance somehow! And I’m getting either Aries or Taurus vibe but that’s all we really know.” Avery announced

Livan raised his brows and stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek, “tattoos and mechanics…interesting. Where did you say you were from?”

“el cajon but I reside in santo padre.” Angel’s response was clipped

“Ah, both places are close to the border, huh? I’m familiar with the area.”

“And you? Where you from man? Feel like I hardly know anything from you since you’re firing away all these questions towards me.” Angel widened his eyes with a sarcastic grin

Here we go

“me? Born in Georgia, raised in Miami with Cuban parents and originally played baseball for a couple of years.”

“Were you any good?”

Livan sent a dimpled smile, “one of the very best, I went pro for the Padres and even played with the first ever black woman pitcher for a major league. So yeah I’d say I was pretty damn good.”

“Then what happened?” Angel had his eyes in slits wondering if this guy thought he was hot shit or not

“That’s a story for another time.” He held up his own brown drink in cheers before taking a sip, “if you’ll excuse me, I see some other colleagues I should say hello to. Y/n, glad you made it out tonight, mami.”

He sent a smile your way as he walked by the both of you, his scent hit your nose almost making your knees buckle

And Angel watched Livan easily engage with the others here at the party for a moment before he pressed his fingertips into your opposite shoulder whispering, “fuck was that?”

You shushed him turning to the remaining four seeing Issa patting at her hair awkwardly looking at her shoes, Gerald sent you a thumbs up, and Avery pursed her lips while Jahanara was clacking away on her phone

“As entertaining as that was, I have other business to attend to. Enjoy yourselves, mingle, try to keep things professional here! we’re here for a good time not rowdy time, and don’t think about leaving before you say goodnight.” Jahanara gave her orders before she spun on her heels with a sway in her hips leaving you all

Gerald was like a sick puppy stuttering over his words as he made some excuse to get away and be by her side

“So angel? Do you have Instagram, Twitter, or tiktok?”

You immediately shook your head while issa made a cutting motion

“Um…yeah? I’m not really active on any of the socials, too busy with work.”

“Understandable. But if you want to build your brand you must build something to promote it?”

“That’s something you have to discuss with my boss, Bishop.”

“Well here’s my card, you can give that to him and tell him we can chat sometime, alright. But you still need to tell me where to find you?”

Angel reluctantly gave his Twitter and nothing else

After that slight mess, you all found yourselves on the dance floor dancing to some mainstream music but you tolerated it since you had a few drinks and was pushing borderline tipsy

Yet angel was in your ear trying to get the tea especially since Livan had his eyes on you two while chatting to the girl who worked 3 days a week at the front desk downstairs

You were swatting him away while he kept his hands on your hips dancing with you and dodging your attacks which made him sigh and drop his lips into the space between your head and shoulder

His ego meter was up right now since he had you in his arms and Livan did not

Angel wasn’t completely clueless, he knew there was something going on between you and that man who felt so comfortable to walk around this party with his titties partially out—he was just trying to talk to you about it so he wasn’t completely in the dark

The both of you with liquor in your system was not a good combo but Angel held his liquor better than you and wasn’t throwing as many back as you and he knew it had something to do with that asshole over there talking to his own personal Megan fox look-alike

“I need to pee.” You whined, “come get me if kacey musgraves comes on.”

“You’re telling me this Like I know who that is.” Angel held his arms out with a frown on his face as he watched you leave the room

And ofc he got distracted by some other pretty lady chatting him up which made Issa shake her head in disapproval

That was enough for Livan to get you alone

You were just fixing your lips after seeing everything else was still in tact to hear the door barge open

Placing your hands down on the counter you groaned, “this is the woman’s bathroom, Livan! And last time I checked— you motioned as Livan smirked at you

“Who are you fooling here tonight, mami? I see right through this whole thing.” Livan crossed his arms as he looked at you in the reflection

You blew a raspberry showing you didn’t want to hear it, “don’t you have to get back to your fling of the week? Yet you’re in the wrong bathroom taking up air.”

“I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.”

“Ugh, don’t come in here with this bullshit. I don’t want to think, I just came here to get everything over with and you just had to be here. I thought you were going back to Miami for the holidays.”

“Ah, so you are avoiding me? That hurts me.” He mocked placing his hand on his chest, “and bring some clown here for what? To make me jealous?”

“Hey, Angel is my clown!” You pointed, “and it wasn’t about you anyway, I didn’t know you’d be here. Also You ended things with me remember?”

“Because you’re too scared of a serious relationship.”

“Please don’t mansplain to me about what I want. We weren’t ever going to be serious and you know that. We started screwing in these bathrooms just because with no strings attached and then the next thing I know you suddenly want more as if you weren’t messing around with other girls here?”

“So you never felt anything? Or was it all for him instead?”

“Who?” You turned to face him

He gave you a look as your face twisted before you fixed it, “well duh he’s my boyfriend.”

“Please mami, you see bullshit and I smell it.”

“It might have been from the calamari nachos, don’t quote me on this but there was one elderly lady in here before me and she dropped her toilet spray. I think I scared her into forgetting to spray or something.”

The dark haired man laughed pinching at his lips before he licked them slowly making his way over to you

“No.” You knew that look and you weren’t having it

“No.” You glanced downwards, telling her to control herself too and you could faintly hear the music change to your girl Normani and cardi b

One touch to the side of your neck and his body trapping yours against the counter and you knew you were in some deep shit

“I’ll see you in the new year, huh? Y/N.” Livan kissed your cheek while you glared at him

“Fix your pants, you bastard.” You patted his face as you made sure everything was in tact yourself for a triple time before leading the way out of the hallway first just to bump into Issa

Issa took one look at you and closed her eyes with a shake of her head, “bitch you gotta get it together, you and Livan keep playing games.”

“I know.” You whined, “where is my idiot of a boyfriend?”

“The one you pretend or really cheated on?”

“Pretend.” You whispered.

“I was about to say—but I’m in no position to judge too much, we all do some stupid shit but both of them dudes are fine as hell so I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not like that with Angel, we’ve been besties since our early twenties.”

“Well if you don’t want him—

“Nope.”

“Damn sis you don’t have to be stingy too.” Issa commented as she spotted Livan making his way around the corner, “yeah I see you negro, just go ahead.” She waved him along

Livan kissed his lips at Issa who shook her head yet again as the both of you shared a laugh

“I’ll get the timer started. What we doing, five minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll just blame it on the calamari nachos.”

“We had those? Poor squidward.”

The both of you took a seat along the comfort of the cool tile wall falling into easy chatter

Eventually you made your way out to the main area to see Angel excusing himself from chatting with Jahanara

“You were gone for a long time, y/n. You good?” Angel asked

“Yup! Want to head out?” You quickly snatched your jacket from a near by chair and shoved it on

Angel gripped your forearms and took one look at you and sighed, “you fucked him again didn’t you?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, “I told you we shouldn’t have come to this party.”

Angel laughed at you in disbelief, “it was actually the opposite but alright we’ll go with that. Let’s get you home then.”

Eventually you all said your good nights to everyone except Livan, which you believed was purposely done by Angel however that was fine by you since he seemed to be in Megan fox’s face again smh

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re mad at me?” You suddenly asked Angel after the both of you showered and you bounced your dog, zipper on your hip

Angel was stretched out on his stomach in your bed shirtless after you finally managed to get back to your room, still doing your night routine while under the influence

He halted scrolling on Twitter to look over at you, “what?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Mad about what?” Angel groaned rolling onto his back as he stared up at the ceiling waiting for you to talk

“I didn’t tell you about Livan in the first place and on top of that, asked you to be my fake boyfriend for the night.”

Angel scoffed, “it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that y’all messed around, y/n. I don’t care about that. Or helping you out to shut your co-workers up, by the way, only 3 of them were actually solid tonight.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the selfies you took with Issa.” You placed zipper down in his bed before plopping down on yours

Angel laughed

“But…” you pressed

Angel let out the longest sigh you ever heard from him before he said, “I hate to be that person but Livan ain’t good for you.”

“How many times have I had that conversation with you?” You laughed

Angel shrugged, “yeah but I’d eventually learn my lesson, you on the other hand learn quickly. He seems like the type to say anything to get you under him so why are you still dealing with his ass?”

“He does keep saying he’s after a relationship with me yet keeps talking to other women but I’m not aggy about that, I don’t like to get attached to those I know won’t stick around. He’s apparently looking at the sports department again so he might take a job offer elsewhere sometime in the new year.” You shrugged, “we’re good at pleasing each other, that’s all the relationship is, I don’t know why he can’t see that.”

“Good, I hope the owl-looking fuck goes and maybe a few metal baseball bats on a semi-truck hits him on his way.”

“Damn angel, so violent! That man didn’t do anything to you.”

“He’s too possessive over my girl and I don’t like that. I’m glad you never bought him ‘round here or I might have shot his ass.” Angel muttered as you rested your cheek on his chest, “Gotta find you a new dude, somebody as worthy as me.”

“As you?” You repeated with a snort, “so it’s up to your standards and not mine?”

“Uh yeah because the last few before him were also very questionable.”

“Whatever, you ain’t my daddy.”

“I could be.”

“Ew.”

Angel chuckled, “you don’t have a daddy kink? Noted.”

“Shut the hell up Angel before I have to call my first boyfriend, Ant on you.” You joked, mentioning the old relationship that you had a recent encounter with at a old high school reunion a few years back

Basically the spark was still there and he even came out to see you one summer to also visit his big sister who was a famous actor and he didn’t like how comfortable Angel made himself in his presence

You and ant were just in the talking stage and hanging out but angel rubbed ant the wrong way and questioned if Angel was always like this and if you and him were to get back together then Angel would have to tone it tf down

Angel didn’t know who tf ant thought he was but he didn’t respect no man that came at him crazy

Don’t let the rolled up small beanie and essential oil carrying man fool you, ant was with the shits too

So they butted heads very quickly

“Tell Lenny Kravitz, I’m ready for him too.”

“Can’t, I think he blocked me.”

“You need to stop messing with these little ass boys.”

“Okay, so I’ll call Medina up tomorrow,” you reached for your phone checking the time in which Angel also reached over you to snatch your phone

Angel immediately shook his head, “definitely don’t approve of that one either.”

“I’m gonna be single forever with you around!” You groaned, “the difference between you and I is I don’t cock-block you.”

Angel shifted his head from side to side silently agreeing with that, “we could just date or get married or whatever. Might as well.”

It was silent and Angel was expecting the both of you to fall into laughter just to see you sleeping against him at complete peace

And that’s all that seemed to matter to him, despite these weird feelings that were starting to develop

“Happy holidays to me, I guess!” Angel pressed his cheek against your head and slowly closed his eyes as well

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*••*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Continue along with my December anthology series here.

#Mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #Angel Reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x reader #december prompts #clayton cardenas #december headcanons

[heauxplesslydevoted]

I'll Be Home For Christmas (nsfw)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: Ethan gets the Christmas gift of his dreams.

A/N: This was supposed to be out last night but I had unexpected Christmas plans and did not make it home in time to finish this, but it's here!

~v~

“I have the best Christmas gift for you,” Naomi says over the phone, and Ethan can tell by the breathless excitement in his wife’s voice that she means business.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. And Teeny is really excited to give it to you too. I let her put it in the gift bag, so she swears it’s her gift to give.”

“Well I can’t wait to see it.”

“She is also very excited to bake cookies with you when you get home.”

Christmas with Naomi was always a fun time for Ethan, whether they spent it at home, or visited her family in DC, but now Valentina is finally at an age where she can understand the holiday and some of the fun trappings that come along with it like putting up a tree or helping bake cookies for Santa, and Ethan doesn’t want to miss a second of it.

Working Christmas Eve was not part of Ethan’s plan. He wanted to spend the entirety of both days at home with his wife and daughter, but hospitals do not care. And being in charge of a hospital is more than a full time job. So he’s decided to compromise and work only half a day. He’ll be home before the sun sets.

“What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, boss?” Naomi asks.

“Review a budget increase proposal for the oncology department, then help pass out candy canes in the pediatric ward, and after that I’m coming home to you.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.”

“Tell me more about this gift you have for me,” Ethan orders.

“You’re going to like it,” is all Naomi is willing to offer up. “And you can open it as soon as you get home.”

“Does it happen to be something I can rip off of you?” He asks. “Preferably with my teeth?”

Naomi giggles on the other end of the line. “Down, boy. And no, it is not, so keep your mind out of the gutter. You’ll find out in a few hours.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone.” Ethan checks the time in his watch. “I have to go, but I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“Love you too!”

Ethan hangs up the call and places the phone on the desk, not before checking the time one more time. He’s never felt so ready to leave work and go home, especially on a holiday, but things are different now.

And in four short hours, he gets to go home.

He instantly regrets saying that to himself because his pager goes off alerting him to a 911 situation downstairs.

Whatever it is, he just hopes it’s nothing major.

~v~

It’s well after 11 o’ clock when Ethan finally makes it home. The page that he hoped was nothing serious turned out to be an overcrowded ED due to a major pile-up on the highway because bad weather turns people into terrible drivers.

The entire ordeal took up more time than it should have because the hospital was short staffed due to the holiday and unnecessarily clogged up. What was supposed to be a short work day turned into almost 16 hours.

Ethan kicks off his shoes at the front door and drops his keys at the entryway table, taking in the silence. He hates how quiet the house is when he finally creeps in. From sunup to sun down, Naomi has music blasting and movies playing through the entire month of December, and if it’s quiet, he can only assume that his wife and daughter have gone to bed.

His assumption is confirmed when he walks into the living room and sees Naomi and Valentina, adorably matching in their red pajamas, sprawled out on the couch asleep. It’s an adorable sight, Valentina clinging tightly to Naomi, arms wrapped tightly around her neck, the lights from the Christmas tree illuminating against their skin. But despite how sweet the scene is, Ethan’s chest aches. He was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with his family, not at Edenbrook.

He crouches down in front of their couch and gently strokes a finger down Naomi’s face to gently rouse her from her sleep, careful not to disrupt the 3 year old. “Naomi. Naomi, baby, wake up.”

“Mhmm?” The sound of Ethan’s voice coaxes her from her sleep and Naomi’s eyes eventually settle on her husband’s handsome face and she smiles. “Hey, you made it.”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, there was a major pile-up on the highway, it became an all hands on deck situation. I wouldn't be a good leader if I left in the middle of a crisis.”

“Don’t apologize, I understand.”

Ethan looks down at his still sleeping daughter. “Was she upset that I was gone all day?”

“Valentina knows daddy has an important job and has to help people when they get sick.”

It does nothing to ease the guilt in Ethan’s gut. It’s the first Christmas that Valentina will remember and he should’ve been here with them. He has the world’s most understanding wife, and clearly she’s passed that trait onto the youngest Ramsey. What on earth did he do to deserve them?

He carefully extracts her from Naomi’s arms and she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shirt.

“How long has she been out?”

“About an hour. She tried her hardest to stay up for you.” Naomi yawns and stretches her arms above her head. “I dozed right after she did.”

“I’ll put her to bed, and then I’ll meet you in our room.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

It takes Ethan all of 5 minutes to get Valentina up to her room and to untangle her limbs from his before he’s able to slip out of there and make it to the master suite. There he spots his wife turning down their bed. “How was your day?”

“Val and I made two batches of cookies because she couldn’t decide between chocolate chip or snickerdoodle. Then we watched movies. All in all, I say it was good. How about you? Did you save lives today?”

“There were no casualties, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Ethan answers. “The most major thing I saw was surgery for a shattered ankle. It is bad that I almost wish something catastrophic happened? I just feel like that would actually warrant me not being home today.”

“We have all day tomorrow,” Naomi says gently. She takes a step towards her husband, and he pulls her in the rest of the way, his hands settling on her waist. “You wouldn’t be the man I married and chose to start a family with if you didn’t rush to help people and see it through. I guarantee Val is still going to idolize you.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For getting me out of my own head. You’re good at that.”

Naomi stands on the tips of her toes and kisses Ethan. After she takes a step back, she toys with one of the buttons on her shirt before popping it open.

At the first sight of something green and lacy, Ethan’s eyes darken. “Mhmm, is this part of the gift you were so eager to give me?”

“If you remember correctly, I said Valentine helped wrap the gift I really wanted to give you. And you asked me if your gift was something you could tear off of me, to which I said no.” Naomi quickly unbuttons the rest of her shirt and slips out of her pants. “This is just…a fun little detour.”

“A fun little detour,” Ethan repeats, reaching out to touch, but Naomi steps out of his reach.

“So tell me, Doctor, have you been naughty or nice?” Naomi nudges Ethan towards their bed and he falls back, their soft down comforter fanning out around him.

Ethan looks his wife up and down, taking in the sight of her in this lingerie. She’s so beautiful and he loves her so much, it makes him dizzy. “Whatever you want me to be.”

Naomi smirks at his eagerness as she leans forward. “I like my men a little naughty.”

He flips them over so he’s on top and they barely lock eyes before he leans down and kisses her. Naomi kisses him back with just as much fervor, her hands wandering. She helps him get undressed, unbuckling his pants and pushing them past his hips. He helps her, breaking their kiss and slightly lifting off of the bed so he can rid himself of his pants fully, and in one swift motion, he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Then it’s your lucky day.”

Leaning down, Ethan’s lips find her collarbone, kissing and sucking until Naomi is impatiently squirming underneath him. His hands travel to her rib cage and hold her down.

“I don’t remember saying you could be in charge,” Naomi teases. Her breath hitches slightly as Ethan pulls down the cup of her bra and he toys with one of her nipples.

“That’s because it goes without saying.”

“Oh yeah?”

Ethan hums in confirmation, further punctuating his point by teasingly brushing his lips across his wife’s. Impatient as ever, Naomi huffs in annoyance. “Patience, my love.”

“You know that’s a trait I don’t po—” her breath catches in her throat as Ethan’s hand slips beneath the waistband of her panties.

Ethan smirks at her. “What were you saying?”

Naomi’s hips tilt forward, chasing Ethan. She groans when he finally pulls her underwear aside and slips a finger inside of her. “I’m not patient, you jerk.”

“Such a smart mouth for the woman who’s not in control here,” Ethan tsks.

“You love it.”

“For more reasons than that.”

Her brain goes fuzzy as she feels him add another finger, and a few seconds later his tongue swipes across her clit. The sensation zips up and down her spine, and it’s becoming increasingly harder to keep her eyes open but she can’t help but watch him. The slow drag of his fingers, the way his tongue moves against her, the way she can feel the smug bastard smirking against her, it’s all too much.

“Ethan.”

“Yes, my love?”

“I want you inside of me.”

“I am.”

And she’s the one with a smart mouth? Naomi rolls her eyes but they get stuck like that when his fingers thrust into her again. “You know what I mean.”

Naomi usually isn't one to initiate a quickie, especially at home, but who is he to deny her anything she wants? His fingers stall and he quickly removes them. “You sure?”

Rather than answer verbally, Naomi takes Ethan’s still wet digits and sucks them into her mouth. Ethan’s throat goes dry at the sight. Eventually she released them with a soft pop.

“Missus Ramsey, you are a dangerous little minx.”

Ethan doesn’t count the mere seconds it takes to get rid of his boxers because he knows it’s a new record for him, and they’re tossed unceremoniously onto the bedroom floor. Naomi doesn’t get much time to brace herself before her husband has both of her wrists captured between one of his hands and braces above her head. Still deciding to leave her underwear on, Ethan simply yanks the offending material to the side once more before fully sheathing himself inside of her.

She should not be this stunned. She and Ethan have been together for years, but sex with him still manages to take her breath away. A silent gasp lodges in her throat when she feels Ethan bottom out and eyes fall shut. Thankfully he feels the same way because the grip he has on her wrists grows tighter and a few expletives fill the mostly silent air. It’s always a healthy ego boost to know she makes him just as crazy as he makes her.

His thrusts start out slow and measured, and as much as she loves it, Naomi hates it as well. She tugs at her wrists, testing his strength, but she’s still locked in.

“You’re not running the show right now,” Ethan says. Just to prove himself, Ethan slows down even more, his next thrust feeling like torture. Deliciously amazing, but torture nonetheless.

Naomi whines. “But I want to touch you. Please?”

“You’re absolutely gorgeous like this,” Ethan murmurs, thrusting a bit faster now, but the pace is still not what she wants. “So pliant and mannerable.”

This position makes her feel incredibly open and raw, and for the most part, he’s left her feeling defenseless to the pleasure he yields at his whim. Wanting to level the playing field, Naomi’s hips lift from the bed once more and she clenches down on him, her inner walls squeezing his cock. The move catches him by surprise and his hips stutter, the rhythm lost.

Ethan’s eyes flash mischievously. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Her hands are released, but the victory in that battle of wits is short lived. Ethan lifts himself slightly so he’s on his knees, and one of his hands tangles in her hair, pulling it so tight, she couldn’t move if she wanted to. He pulls out, but the next trust is so sharp, she nearly screams.

The noise is swallowed by a demanding kiss. Fire licks at her veins as Ethan’s tongue pries her mouth open and invades the space, claiming it as his.

The kiss is so all consuming and relentless, stars dance behind her eyes as his thrusts pick up in pace. It isn’t until she tries to break the kiss and isn’t able to because of the vice-like grip Ethan has on her, does Naomi realize he wasn’t playing around when he said he’d make her pay.

Checkmate.

Ethan’s pelvis grinds against her clit in dizzying fashion, and she’s unable to hold off for a second longer. Her orgasm is so intense, Naomi is pretty sure her vision goes white for a few seconds because of it.

It takes a few more thrusts for Ethan to follow suit.

Only then does he break the kiss and Naomi inhales deeply, thankful that her lungs are able to expand fully again.

The room grows silent again as Ethan pulls out and rolls over onto his back. He pulls Naomi into him and she curls up against his side. Her hand smooths her hair back, and she gets annoyed by the curly flyaways that won’t stay put.

“Hey, guess what?” She asks.

“What?”

“It’s after midnight,” Naomi says. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Ethah drops a kiss on her forehead, not caring that she’s slicked with sweat. He watches as she rolls out of bed and sweeps her bathrobe off the floor, slipping it on. “Where are you doing?”

“I’m going downstairs. You and I have a plate full of cookies to eat before Valentina wakes up, and I have to get you your early Christmas present. You didn’t forget, did you?”

“No, but I figured we’d just wait until the morning.”

“I want you to open it now. I’ll be right back.”

Naomi leaves their bedroom and comes back a few minutes later, a platter of cookies in one hand and a small gift bag in the other. Ethan sits up and turns on the lamp at his bedside table.

“Chocolate chip or snickerdoodle?”

“Chocolate chip,” Ethan says, plucking a cookie off of the plate. Naomi shoves the bag into his hand. “Thank you.”

Ethan locks eyes with Naomi as she watches him carefully remove tissue paper from the bag. “It’s tissue paper, just rip it out.”

“God, you really have no patience.” Happy to oblige, Ethan opens the gift with more gusto.

“Remember all those years ago, we made a pact to get new ornaments every year?”

“Yes.” Ethan pulls out not one, but two small white ornaments with dainty gold writing on them. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust, but when he does, he notices that they both say “Baby Ramsey Coming Soon”.

Maybe it’s the late hour or the fact that he’s exhausted and sated, but it takes far too long for him to register the meaning of the ornaments. But when he does, he jumps off of their bed.

“You’re pregnant?”

Naomi nods. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant with twins?”

The word yes can’t get out of her mouth fast enough for Ethan before he pounces, wrapping her in his arms and spinning her around excitedly.

“Whoa, slow down before I throw up!”

“I’m so sorry!” Ethan gently returns Naomi back to down, and even after her feet land on the soft rug underneath their bed, he keeps his hands on her, holding her in place. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Naomi assures him, laughing at his excitement. “I just can’t get spun around like I’m at an amusement park.”

“How long have you known? Do you know how far along you are?”

“I’ve known for a little over a week now, and it’s still early, just 9 weeks. I snuck away one day at work and had Dr. Fowler confirm it.” A laugh escapes Ethan and he rests his forehead against Naomi’s. Just a few months ago, they started talking about the possibility of having another baby. So to know they’re having not just one but two babies in the new year takes his breath away. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy? You have no idea just how happy you’ve made me, mama.” One of Ethan’s hands travels to her stomach. “I love you so much. So, so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you more,” Ethan argues, giving Naomi a kiss. He kisses the apples of her cheeks, her forehead, and her nose before kissing her lips once more. “And I love these two. And the little goober down the hall.”

“So is it safe to say I won the best gift award this year?” Naomi asks, teasingly.

“You absolutely won. This is the best Christmas gift ever."

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @stateofgracious

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ns*fw

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

pairing: dylan o’brien x best friend fem!reader

summary: in which dylan has been your best friend for as long as you could remember. your busy lives and schedules may have pushed both of your lives in vastly different directions as you’d gotten older, but somehow you two would always be led back to your hometown, and each other, during the holidays. however, one moment causes all of that to change. 

warnings: angst (what else is new), some fluffiness, mentions of past trauma (the maze runner incident), existential crises, explicit language

word count: 3.6k words

author’s note: idk why i decided to write something christmas related in the summer but it happened lmao (also i feel like it’s slightly important to mention that this takes place in 2016)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rocks being thrown at your window were not what woke you up. Instead, you had been lying awake for hours; getting little to no sleep was something that you had become used to at this point.

However, on this specific night— or morning, depending on how one looked at it— you were glad that your sleep had been restless once again because it made it easy for you to get out of bed and walk to your window when the rocks began hitting it.

There was really no need for you to push open the curtains and check who was doing the throwing because, of course, it was Dylan. Ever since he moved onto your street in Hermosa Beach in middle school and the two of you easily became friends, he was the only person that would ever wake you up in the middle of the night with the soft pings of rocks, especially on this specific day at this specific time.

You waved at him and gestured that you would be down in a moment. You slipped on a random pair of sweatpants along with a hoodie and then placed the Christmas gift that you bought for him in the pocket. The item was small enough to fit in the not too big pocket of your hoodie; however, it did awkwardly protrude a bit.

All of this was a sort of unspoken tradition that the pair of you had developed over the many years you’d known each other. Meeting at five in the morning on Christmas day, walking to the beach that was only a few blocks away from your respective childhood homes, and exchanging Christmas gifts with each other as you both watched the sunrise. It started when you were in ninth grade, and you hadn't missed a year since, not even when the ending of high school pushed your lives in vastly different directions, especially since Dylan graduated a year before you and was almost immediately thrust into his acting career.

But, it didn't matter that Dylan's career took off, and you eventually decided to go to college in Santa Barbara, because, no matter what, you both would always come back for the holidays.

When you opened your front door and saw Dylan lingering by the sidewalk no more than ten feet away, you were quick to go toward him and pull him in for a tight embrace. It actually hadn't been too long since you’d last seen him, maybe only five or six months, but for some reason, it still felt as if the last time he was in front of you was last December.

"Hey," Dylan breathed out in a short greeting, his arms wounding around your waist.

“Hey to you too," You responded, a small smile gracing your features when you both pulled away, and you looked up at him. "How have you been?"

It was quiet for a few moments as you waited for him to answer the question, but eventually, you were met with no verbal response, and instead, Dylan simply shrugged. The short action made your heart constrict in the most painful way, and it was then that you noticed the light remnants of a scar peeking out from behind his dark hair that covered the majority of his forehead. You were quick to peel your eyes away from the scar and instead cast them down at your Converse-covered feet, but that didn't stop the memories from quickly coming back.

The Maze Runner accident had happened back in March, but to you, and you knew to Dylan as well, it felt as if it was just yesterday, especially considering the fact that he was still dealing with the unavoidable repercussions from it.

"Wanna walk?" You asked, finally looking up at him once again.

Dylan nodded. "Yeah."

A silence that could only be deemed as comfortable lingered between them as the two of you took the five-minute walk to the beach and sat down side by side on one of the random empty benches.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Dylan said as he handed a present over to you. The present was messily wrapped, something that was not at all uncommon when receiving gifts from Dylan, and the sight of it made you smile.

Before you unwrapped the gift, you pulled out the one you had for him and handed it over. "Merry Christmas, Dyl."

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A simultaneous shocked and happy yelp emitted from your lips when you held up a Harry Potter t-shirt. But, it wasn't just any Harry Potter t-shirt; it was one with a version of the Goblet of Fire movie poster on it, which was your all-time favorite movie in the series.

"Holy shit."

"It's the original merch that was sold when the movie came out," Dylan told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the green bow placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at Dylan and then back down at the shirt as you processed his words. "Wow, double holy shit. I would put it on if it wasn't freezing right now."

Dylan laughed a bit. "Very understandable."

“Why haven't you opened yours yet? I'm dying to see what you think of it," You said. You were now holding the t-shirt to your chest, genuinely feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning again.

Dylan finally began unwrapping your gift to him, and when all of the paper was peeled off, there was a square box. "Aw, a plain white box. Thank you so much. This is what I've always wanted."

You rolled your eyes and playfully bumped him with your shoulder. "Ha ha. Please save all of these bad jokes for your stand-up act; I can't wait to boo you off the stage along with everyone else."

"So, what I'm hearing is you don't think that becoming a comedian is going to be the next best career move for me?" Dylan asked. He attempted to make the question sound as serious as possible, but there was a joking undertone to his words.

You bit back your laughter. "Please just open the box already so I don't have to hurt your feelings by truthfully answering that question."

"Okay, we'll circle back to that topic later," Dylan smiled and then finally opened the white box to reveal a slightly faded baseball. When he picked it up, he ran his thumb over the black signature written on it. "Now it's my turn to say holy shit."

You could feel yourself smiling at his awestruck reaction, and you wondered if that was what you looked like when you saw the Harry Potter shirt. The baseball was signed by one of the players of the New York Mets that had been Dylan's favorite player when he was younger, and he'd even caught a ball hit by him when he went to a game before he moved to California.

"I've had this idea for years, but I could never find a baseball signed by him," You began explaining, the excitement clear in your voice. "But, last month, someone named Paul Todd posted this on eBay and I immediately bought it. God bless that old man. It's completely authentic and everything."

Dylan was quiet for a few moments as he simply looked at the baseball in his hands, a small joyful smile on his face, and it made you happy to see him so genuinely elated with the present.

"This just made my gift look like shit," He finally said, a light laugh falling from his lips.

"I have always been the superior gift giver. I think that's my hidden talent," You responded with a playful smirk.

Dylan placed the baseball back in its box and then looked at you. "Next year you will receive the best gift ever from me. It will completely top everything that you have ever given me."

"You're saying that as if I should feel upset about receiving a trip to Italy as a Christmas gift."

"A trip to Italy?"

"In my strong opinion, that would be the best gift ever," You said with a smile and then looked down at the t-shirt, which was now in your lap. "But, anyway, I don't think this gift is shit. I'm in love with this shirt already."

Dylan let out a joking, overexaggerated sigh in relief. "Phew, okay, since you think this gift is great, that means I don't have to do the trip to Italy next year."

"What? Did I say I like this t-shirt? I hate it! Harry Potter actually su— Fuck, I can't say this with a straight face," You laughed, and Dylan was quick to join in with you.

The joking statements leading up to the laughter hadn't even been the funniest things ever, but it didn't matter because this was probably the hardest you had laughed in a while, and you were both glad and unsurprised that it was with one of your favorite people in the entire world.

You missed joking around and laughing with him. You missed simply being with him.

Eventually, the laughter died off, but there was still a smile planted firmly on your face. You looked ahead at the darkness in front of you and the ocean that looked completely black; it was still kind of early, so the sun hadn't begun to rise just yet. Your back pressed against the wooden bench, and you let out a small sigh, your head finding Dylan's shoulder as you leaned against him.

"How have you been?" You asked him, your words coming out both soft and slightly quiet, and before the mood became too serious with your question that was nothing but serious, you attempted to lighten it. "And please no shrugs as a response this time. I don't wanna get a headache due to my head bouncing off your shoulder."

Dylan let out a breath of a laugh at your final statements but refrained from answering the question for a few moments.  

After what felt like forever, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I honestly don't know. My mind has felt so fucked lately, thinking about everything. I swear I've been feeling every feeling known to man these past months."

"What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

"I'm really happy with you. This is probably the only normal and familiar thing I've experienced in a while. But, of course, there's still that confused feeling in the back of my mind revolving around everything else." He paused for a brief moment before continuing, his next words came out quieter. "I don't even know if I want to go back to acting."

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him as you pulled his hand into yours and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"No matter what you decide. I'll be right there to support you," You told him and then added a "bro" at the end of her sentence along with a small smile. Whenever things became too deep in a conversation you two were having, one of you would always throw a "bro" or "dude" in there to bring some playfulness to the mood.

The corners of Dylan's perked up a bit. "So, you'll support me when I decide to become a comedian?"

You were unable to stifle your light laughter. "Yes, fine, fuck it. I'll be the loudest one laughing at all of your shows."

Dylan squeezed your hand back because he knew exactly how reluctantly true your words were. "Don't worry, I promise not to put you through that."

"Thank you."

"So, how have you been?"

"No."

"Oh, come on," Dylan said as he playfully poked your side. "I'm not gonna be the only one exposing my feelings."

You sighed and then hesitantly nodded. "Okay, okay."

The truth was you had been far from good lately. Your life was moving, but for some reason, you felt like you weren’t moving with it.

You felt stuck.

Stuck in a confusing mindset where you had absolutely no idea what you wanted to do with your life. You thought that identity crises usually happened in high school, but apparently, yours had come five years late. But, you knew that this delayed identity crisis had been your own doing because you had convinced herself that you would figure everything out once you were in college; and you were both lucky and smart enough to receive a full ride to UCSB.

And although you were finishing up your Master's degree in Creative Writing and had a TA job at the university with the department, which was the reason behind why you could even pay for the Master's program, something in your "should be great" life simply did not feel right.

However, you felt absolutely terrified to say any of that out loud because admitting it would only finally make that statement a wholehearted truth, instead of just a spiraling thought in your mind. And even though Dylan was your best friend and you knew you could tell him anything and not receive any sort of judgment, it still felt hard to let the words leave your lips.

You thought about the way to perfectly word everything, but nothing felt right. You pulled your hand away from Dylan's and covered your face as you let out an exasperated breath. "I can't figure how to say it all."

Dylan placed an arm around you and then mimicked the same question you had asked him not too long ago. "What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

You would have both laughed and smiled at the fact that he was using your exact words if the current circumstances were different.

"Scared," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the fuck I wanna do anymore, and actually, I don't think I really ever did. I only went to college because of the scholarship, and I convinced myself that I would figure my life out when I got there. And for a while, things felt right because I found creative writing and genuinely enjoyed it, but something doesn't feel right anymore. And I actually do like school. Because it's stable, and I am doing things, even if it's taking a dumbass test. But, it's about to be over soon, and I have no idea what I'm gonna do."

Your words were coming out like vomit, and nothing could stop it because finally, everything you had been feeling for so long was out of your head and put into the open.

"And don't get me wrong, I do love to write, but I don't know, I just can't see myself doing it for the rest of my life," You admitted and then let your next words come out quietly. "Honestly, I can't see myself doing anything. I'm so unhappy here."

You did not say it aloud, but you didn't think you were ever fully content there. Aside from Dylan and your parents, you never truly liked California. You had grown up there all your life, and although there were millions of people that adored the state, you felt the exact way someone from a state like Wyoming probably felt.

Dylan did not verbally respond to your long confession at first; instead, he simply pulled your confused and stressed self in for a hug, and you let out the simultaneous sigh and breath that you had been metaphorically holding in for years at this point.

"Maybe you should take a break," Dylan finally said; his arms were still around you, an action that made you feel completely comforted. "Right after high school, you went straight to college, and I don't think you've ever really taken a break to really think about what you actually want. Like, maybe, it's becoming a zookeeper."

Your laugh was slightly muffled by the fact that your face was pressed into the warmth of Dylan's chest. "Zookeeper?"

"I don't know," He laughed too. "You said you would support me in whatever the fuck I decide to do, and I'll do the exact same for you."

Somehow a smile found its way on your face. "A zookeeper and a comedian. What a fucking dream team."

Another laugh fell from Dylan's lips. "The best fucking dream team."

"But, honestly, I wish I could've known sooner that this is how you've been feeling. I would've been telling you to slow down so long ago, but you seemed content with everything," Dylan told you and gave you another light squeeze. "Please take a break and don't stress yourself out over the future when your next semester is over. Just relax for the first time. You can even come stay with me in LA for a little bit if that's where you wanna take your break. I'll be here for you, Y/N. Always."

Something about his words hit you hard. The wholehearted honesty and sincerity behind his statement shouldn't have surprised you, but it did. And the worry he had for you resembled the same concern you had for him when the accident happened. You two were best friends, so it should not have been a shock that you would worry about each other, but still, in that moment and for you, it was shocking because it felt like so much more than just that.

"Me too," You whispered, finally responding to his previous statement.

The long embrace came to an end with you being the one to pull away; however, you did not pull away far enough for you both to become completely detached from one another. Dylan's arms were still around your waist, and yours were still around the nape of his neck, and your faces were dangerously close. Your hand somehow took on a mind of its own as it reached around and cupped Dylan's cheek. The miniscule confusion and tickle of panic that began to prick at the back of your mind because of the action were not enough to make you pull away.

The slight way that Dylan leaned into your soft touch was the catalyst for you to take the leap and lean in the tiniest bit to close the small distance between the two of you, your lips almost too easily finding his. The inward sigh of contentment you emitted when Dylan almost immediately kissed you back made you realize that kissing him was the one thing currently happening in your life that actually felt right.

Later, when thinking back to that specific moment, you would wonder if that "rightness" had always been there between you both.

However, that right feeling, which was both comfortable and familiar, was quickly replaced with dread and angst, at least on your part. Your mind was beginning to fully catch up with your actions, and it immediately told you that the current action was both bad and stupid, and there were many, many reasons that proved that.

Maybe there were moments where a younger, and even present-day, you did want more to happen between you and Dylan, but you would always push that thought away because you knew that your and Dylan's friendship was so much more valuable.

And then it was the fact that your lives were nothing alike. Even though you were immensely confused about where your life was going, you could say for certain that it wasn't going in the same direction as Dylan's; an acting career that he genuinely loved and enjoyed too much to truly give up. Something deep down told you that, and you could feel the truthfulness behind the thought. The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect.

You abruptly pulled away, not just from the kiss but from Dylan's body entirely, moving to the edge of the bench you were on. Your hands covered your face in nothing but pure embarrassment and regret, and you wished that you could take back the last minute and a half of your life. And you also absolutely hated that you couldn't help but notice how much colder your body felt now that it was away from Dylan's.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Fuck. That kiss— it was a mistake. I'm really sorry." Your words came out rushed and fumbled, and it probably did not make much sense, but you just hoped that there was at least a little bit of coherency with them.

As much as you wanted to look at Dylan, you refused to do so because you knew that you would only see the regret you were feeling written clear across his face.

"Hey, it's okay, Y/N. Everything's fine. Don't worry," You heard him say but could hear the uncertainty in his voice as if he really didn't know if everything truly was fine. And you knew that it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect, and you had just completely ruined that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts <3

((((already potentially thinking about doing a part 2 to this….. but idk…))))

#dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brien x fem!reader #dylan o'brien gifs

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #I live in the neighbourhood #part 3 #neighbor!harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles story #idk what else to tag #pls leave feedback #lmk what you think #not proofread #lol

[biggest-stupidhead]

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 6

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend? 

Word Count: 5.8K 

Warnings: none? (let me know if I missed something pls) 

November had seamlessly slipped into December, your small town was now decorated with wreathes of evergreen boughs instead of dried corn husks. A large Christmas tree had been set up in the small park off of main street, a crowd of enthusiastic citizens milling about to decorate the large evergreen. You turned your attention back to the hardware store where your older brother was purchasing a roll of wrapping paper and an armful of Christmas lights. Erwin thanked the cashier and pushed out of the store with his arms full of paper bags. You wordlessly relieved him of two of the bags, a smile on your face.

You had to admit, the town was doused in an ethereal winter glow, it was a Saturday afternoon and main street was bustling. The small coffee shop was decked out in Christmas decorations and people were flocking to get a cup of their holiday specials. The small boutiques were advertising the latest fashions, the hardware store was busier than usual, and the small breakfast joint was packed with families enjoying a quiet breakfast. The sidewalks were damp with melted snow, chunks of sidewalk salt crunching underfoot as you made your way to Erwin's minivan that was parked down the street.

"So movie night tonight..." Erwin cleared his throat and glanced down at you.

"Yeah, nothing too special just the usual crew." you shrugged indifferently.

"I figured as much." the blonde sighed as he fumbled for his keys in his pocket.

"Is there a problem?" you asked, a bit nervous that Erwin would change his mind and tell you that you couldn't host the movie night that you had planned.

"No, no of course not, I was just wondering if you were planning on seeing Levi off with Mom and I tomorrow morning." he hummed thoughtfully as you loaded the bags into the trunk of the van.

"I'll be there." you grunted as you settled into the front seat. Erwin nodded, pleased with your response and started the car.

-

When you arrived at your house you were surprised to see that Levi and Hange were both present. A glance at your brother told you that he also was not expecting them to be there either. You both made quick work of bringing in the groceries, you smiled softly at the sight of your mother and Hange fussing over some garland that you draped over the kitchen cabinets as decoration. Levi was hunched over the sink with his sleeves of his chunky knit sweater rolled up as he scrubbed relentlessly at a pan. Erwin bushed past you and into the living room to light the fireplace, you bit your lip to conceal a giggle as Hange got tangled in the itchy garland. Your mom immediately set to work on untangling her and you turned to put away the goods that you and Erwin had acquired.

Erwin waltzed back into the kitchen and set to work on drying the dishes that Levi had already washed, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm. You took the dried dishes and began to put them away, reveling in the domestic environment. You knew that this wouldn't last much longer, they were going to school, starting their lives. Instead of dwelling on the thought you decided to just enjoy the little time that you had left with them.

"Aw that looks amazing! Good work Hange!" your mom praised the brunette as she finished tacking up the garland over the cabinets.

"Thanks Angie!" Hange beamed, your mom chuckled and took the hammer and remaining nails from her to return to their rightful places. Hange turned to see the three of you finishing up the last of the dishes.

"Look at you guys getting along." she cooed, clutching her hands over the sleek black turtleneck that she wore tucked into her bright yellow checkered pants.

"Shut up and go grab me a fresh rag." Levi grunted as he shoved the dirty rag into Hange's hands. She turned and obediently made her way down the hall to the laundry room to fetch a fresh rag for Levi to wipe down the counters.

"What's Kenny planning on doing this year without you home?" Erwin prodded, as he watched Levi scrape a skeptical finger over the countertop.

"Gamble, drink himself to death, hell if I know." Levi scoffed as he wiped his hand off on a hand towel and stooped down to pull out the all purpose cleaner from under the sink.

"Is that what he usually does?" you asked carefully, Levi paused a thoughtful look passing over his usually stoic mien.

"I guess." Levi shrugged, his face falling back into one of indifference. You hummed thoughtfully, nobody deserved to spend Christmas alone, not even Levi's bum of an uncle. Hange jogged back into the kitchen sliding on the clean floors due to her thick cabin socks. She held the clean rag out proudly for Levi who then doused it with cleaner and began scrubbing the counters. Your mom returned from the garage, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

"Levi sweetie what have I told you about cleaning? You really don't have to do that." she scolded, Levi frowned but continued to wipe down the counters while Erwin busied himself with inspecting the new LED lights that he had purchased. Your mother reached up and ruffled Erwins hair affectionately as she passed and made her way towards the stairs. Hange chuckled and settled into one of the stools at the island.

"When will your buddies be arriving?" she hummed, a smirk curling onto her lips as she perched her chin on her intertwined fingers. You pursed your lips and glanced at the clock over the stove, it was only three o'clock, they shouldn't arrive until six.

"Sometime around six." you reported, pulling a holiday magazine out of the stack in the middle of the island. You idly flipped through the pages, ignoring the way Hange's glasses glinted in the light as she studied you thoughtfully. She inhaled, as if she were about to speak, but you quickly shut the tabloid and threw it back onto the pile and stood.

"Welp better go set things up." you stretched dramatically and before Hange or anyone else could get in another word you fled down stairs. Thankfully you had taken the time the night prior to clean out the basement and pull out decorations. You stacked piles of seasonal quilts and other knit blankets about on the couch and some on the floor as well. You lit some seasonal candles in the basement restroom and one on the T.V stand.

You had already set up a tangle of white LED lights at the base of the TV and some other small snowmen figurines as well as a small Christmas tree in the back corner for the group to decorate and place white elephant gifts beneath. The tree was already bundled up with rainbow lights and strands of shimmery tinsel. You deemed the basement as satisfactory and turned to begin preparing snacks and other treats.

You weren't surprised to find Hange and Levi at each others throats, Hange had a fistful of Levi's sweater, and he had her by the ponytail. Erwin was still engrossed by the lights as he attempted to untangle them, seemingly unbothered by his friends. You carefully stepped over the mess of lights and began by preheating the oven, you planned on making frozen pizzas and some of those cheap Pillsbury dough boy sugar cookies that you bought during the holidays.

"Admit it!" Hange snarled as she jostled Levi.

"You're being overdramatic four eyes." Levi hissed as she shook him relentlessly.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

You rolled your eyes and did your best to ignore them. Their relationship never ceased to confuse you, the pair seemed to constantly be in a state of turmoil. One day they were perfectly content with each other, but the next they would be at each others throats as they were now. It gave you whiplash, especially on days when they flipped between these two states every few minutes. Realistically you knew that it was Hange who added the turmoil to their relationship, she was very chaotic by nature. You originally figured that Levi tolerated Hange's presence because Erwin and her were dating, but now that you had gotten to see the two of them interact you knew better. Somewhere deep down you knew Levi cared about the manic young scientist, and Hange openly voiced her affections for Levi.

You smiled at the sound of the two of them tussling, their staggering steps receding into the living room where they would have more room to rough one another up. You heard a body slam to the ground, which is when you turned to see Levi glaring down at Hange who was now sprawled out on the hardwood floor. Erwin frowned at his friends disapproval evident on his features. When he had first introduced the pair all they ever did was fight, but that was when they were younger, now he expected better from them. Also he was surprised that Hange still even attempted to best Levi in a fight, the raven haired male was surprisingly strong and had experience under his belt.

Hange hauled herself onto her feet as Levi stalked back towards the kitchen, his sweater now stretched out around the neck where Hange had tugged on the material. Just as he was about the sit down, Hange snagged him around the neck and locked him into a choke hold, a victorious bout of laughter leaving her lips as she dragged him back into the living room. Levi's socked feet attempted in vain to slow down the persistent brunette as she drug him backwards. You slid the pizza in the oven and turned to pull out the popcorn so that it would be ready for when the others arrived. Erwin scoffed and gathered the lights, which were now free of tangles and hauled them outside into the waning light.

You frowned after him, hoping that he didn't plan to put them up in the dark. Turning your attention back to the brawl in the living room you were impressed to see that Hange still had the upper hand. Levi had a hand placed on her jaw as he tried to push her face away from his, the two of them were on the ground, Hange underneath Levi who was trapped in a choke hold with Hange's legs wrapped around his waist. Levi snarled as he thrashed in Hange's hold, his sweater riding up as he struggled. Hange was laughing her head off, finally releasing Levi in favor of clutching her stomach as her laughter grew more intense. Levi seethed as he took a few healthy steps away from Hange and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it. Hange stood up and wiped a tear from her eye before turning to face Levi.

"But seriously, you should do it." Hange's tone turned serious as she addressed Levi. He scoffed and curled his lip in disgust.

"Probably more trouble than it's worth." he retorted.

"Just give it a shot." Hange begged, her hands clasped together over her chest.

"I'll think about it." Levi snorted, he stalked out of the living room and back into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping over the room, clearly searching for Erwin.

"Outside." you jabbed a thumb in the direction of the front door, he said nothing as he trudged past. You knew better than to ask what they had been arguing about, they always just brushed you off. So instead you returned your focus on preparing for your movie marathon. You could already see a bruise forming on Hange's jaw from here Levi's fingers hand attempted to pry her off of him. You flinched, recalling his iron grip, you knew how it felt to be manhandled by him.

"So...what are you guys doing tonight?"  you questioned casually as you pulled the cookies from the oven. Your voice derailed Hange's train of thought, she whipper her head around and pursed her lips as she considered your question.

"Hm, I guess whatever Levi wants since it is his last night in the states for a whole month." she mused, rubbing her hand along her tender jaw. You nodded, this probably meant nothing, Levi wasn't much of an extrovert so it made sense that he wouldn't want many people present except for those he considered dearest to him to see him off.

"Well if you guys want you could join us, they won't be staying late." you were quick to tack on the last part, knowing that Levi probably wasn't ecstatic to spend his last night with underclassmen.

"I'll see what I can do." Hange winked before retreating towards the stairs and jogging up them, presumably to change into comfier clothes. You leaned against the counter and sighed heavily, things were changing and you hated it. You knew that at sooner or later your brother would go off and begin his life, but you did not expect it to come so quickly. You also didn't expect to grow so fond of his friends. Before you could totally bum yourself out your phone vibrated, startling you.

"Hello?" you asked, not bothering to check the caller id.

"(Y/n)?" Connie's familiar upbeat voice brought you back to earth.

"Yeah what's up?" you chuckled as you wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder to slide the pizza into the oven.

"I just wanted to let ya know that Sasha and I are on our way and we are bringing some snacks just like you asked!" he boasted, you could practically see the swell of his chest and the smug smirk on his lips as he spoke.

"Great! How far away are you?" you asked as you shut the oven.

"About five minutes." he affirmed.

"I'll see you soon." you hummed as you set the timer on the oven.

"Yep!" he beamed, after a moment you heard the familiar beep signaling that the call had been ended. You dropped your phone back onto the counter and glanced out the window behind the sink. The sun had began to sink below the trees, and still Erwin and Levi were outside, you hoped that they were not trying to tack up the lights. With a heavy sigh you trudged through the front of the house and slipped on a pair of Erwin's moccasins and pushed through the front door. You wrapped your arms around your chest and frowned when you didn't see the pair anywhere on the front yard. You cupped your hands over your mouth and inhaled sharply.

"Erwin!" you yelled, your voice echoing off the barren trees and the serene snowy scene. No response. Just as you were about to call again, a huge glob of snow fell off the roof right on to your head. You shrieked and turned to see Levi standing on the roof, the toes of his boot sticking over the newly uncovered patch of your roof. You glared up at him as you brushed the snow off of your shirt and shivered.

"Quit shouting." was all he said before turning and stalking back out of your line of sight.

"Are you guys almost finished? It's getting dark and I don't want to spend the night in the hospital." you whined as you took a few steps back to get a better view of the roof. You heard the distant sound of a hammer, but no response to your question. You rolled your eyes and took yet another step back. This time you could see Erwin hunched over the edge of the roof, Levi had returned to his side to hold him by his belt as he stood on the slippery surface. Not the smartest or safest way to hang up lights but hey if it works it works. After a few more swings Erwin leaned back on his haunches to admire his work, with a satisfied nod the two grabbed the remaining nails and began their descent.

"Hold that ladder for us would ya (Y/n)?" Erwin hollered down and pointed a finger to the old metal ladder that was perched against the side of the house. You nodded and waded through the snow to stabilize the ladder for the two of them to climb down. You only relaxed when both of them were safely on the ground, the three of you quickly gathered all of the tools that they used and folded the ladder back up before trudging through the snow to the side door that led into the garage. You stored all of the items and filed into the door that led into the kitchen, only to find Sasha and Connie milling about with Hange and your mother.

The kitchen was warm due to the heat of the oven and all of the people in the room. You tugged at the neck of your crewneck sweat shirt, your eyes drifted to where Connie was struggling to open a candy cane. Sasha was ripping open a bag of popcorn to place int the microwave. A short knock on the door alerted you that someone else had arrived, just as you rounded the corner to let in your guests, the door opened and Jean poked his head in.

"Hey!" he exclaimed as he pushed the rest of the way in, a paper bag cradled in the crook of his elbow.

"Hey, come on in!" you waved him in, a smile gracing your lips at the sight of Marco close behind him, a stack of old CDs in his grasp.

"Marco! I'm so glad you could make it." you gushed as you went to relieve Jean of the bag in his arms. Marco smiled a bit bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah me too." he blushed, the red tint obscuring his freckled cheeks.

"Well you can go ahead and take those to the basement, Jean can you show him?" you asked as the three of you entered the chaotic kitchen. Jean nodded and grabbed Marco's bicep to steer him towards the basement, before you knew it the pair had disappeared down the stairs.

Your mom had given Connie a hand and opened his candy for him, and now he was sucking on the peppermint candy, the end of it gradually forming a point. Sasha was listening to Hange as she gestured wildly, something about the amount of chemicals and various pesticides used to grow corn. Levi was surprisingly still in the crowded kitchen, although it seemed he was purely there to supervise, Erwin was inspecting Hange and your mother's handy-work with the garland. Just as you managed to wedge yourself between Hange and Sasha to reach the oven, the sound of the doorbell made Sasha jump and push you back.

"I'll get it!" she cried out before making a break for the foyer and escaping Hange's rant. You rolled your eyes and pulled the pizza out of the oven. Hange bounced around the kitchen, stopping in front of Erwin, he pulled her into his embrace by her hips, Levi rolled his eyes before stalking away from the pair. He padded through the kitchen and into the living room where he dropped onto the sofa. You pursed your lips, the thought of joining him crossed your mind but before you could act on it Jean had you by your shoulders and was steering you towards the basement to follow the crowd downstairs.

You allowed him to guide you downstairs along with the others, Connie and Sasha were already in the basement, running circles around the couch chasing one another. Connie had Sasha on the run, periodically jabbing his sharpened candy cane at her whenever he got close enough. You cracked a smile at the pair as the others moved to sit on the couch, you took a moment to appreciate Mikasa's outfit, she had favored a festive red sweater that had a raindeer sewn onto the front instead of her usual goth get up. Eren had also worn a forrest green sweater with a Christmas tree, Armin wore a sky blue sweater with a cheeky snowman on the front. You beamed at their choices, all of them very fitting, Jean and Marco wore a matching set with two elves on the front of their green sweaters. Connie and Sasha also wore sweaters, Connie's had Rudolf with a nose that actually lit up while Sasha wore a white sweater with a turkey on the front.

Connie finally managed to catch Sasha, holding her in a chokehold and dragging her over to the sofa. Marco dropped down next to Armin and the two began to sift through the options, Mikasa watched the two converse while keeping an eye on Eren who was poking fun at Jean's sweater. You decided to let the pair work it out on their own for once and dropped down next to Mikasa. Marco had managed to bring quite the variety of movies, he had classics like Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, A Christmas Story, Santa Clause, Home Alone, and more. You unanimously decided that A Christmas Story would be the perfect start, so you popped the disk in and all settled into your seats. Sasha and Connie had to sit on the ground, you had learned the hard way that they were messy eaters and it was much easier to clean the floor than the crevices in the couch. The movies went by quickly, and before long it was already 12 am, you finished the last few minutes before everyone began to fold blankets and pick up the dishes that they had used. You all climbed the stairs and dropped the dishes in the sink and the trash in the bin, you thanked them for coming and wished them safe travels as they all filed out the door. Jean lingered for a moment, a hand on your hip as the two of you stood on the threshold. The others had long since climbed into their cars, it was only Marco who was waiting for Jean.

"Thanks again for hosting tonight." Jean smirked as he pulled you flush against his chest, the scratchy sweater tickled your nose as you rested your head against him.

"It's really not that big of a deal, I like having all you guys over." you whispered against his chest as he rubbed a hand up and down the curve of your back. You were surprised when a flurry of butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his ministrations. His hand slid up your back and came to rest splayed between your shoulder blades for a moment before continuing to slide up and into your hair. Your heart pounded in your ears as he kept his steady gaze on your face, with a gentle tug he pulled your head back to look up at him. You blinked rapidly, as he slowly leaned in until his breath fanned across your lips.

"May I kiss you?" he murmured, his tongue flicking our over his bottom lip as he awaited your answer.

"Y-You may." you stuttered, that was all he needed. He closed the small gap and pressed his lips against your own, taking your bottom lip into his mouth and sucking. You kissed him back timidly, not quite sure how you felt about this interaction. It seemed as if the kiss lasted for hours, when in reality it was probably only about two minutes. Marco laid on the horn of Jean's car, startling the two of you. Jean smiled sheepishly at you before turning and jogging down the steps and over to his car. He turned and waved at you, even going as far as winking before climbing into his car and starting the engine. You couldn't stop your wandering fingers from tracing your wet lower lip as he drove off, he wasn't a half bad kisser. You stepped back into the foyer and closed the door and locked up. The house was quite, but you could hear Hange laughing upstairs, and your mom's TV in her room playing Grey's Anatomy. Since the others had been kind enough to aid you in cleaning up most of the mess, you decided to go get changed into pajamas. You tiptoed up the stairs and past Erwin's room, you could hear Hange, Levi, and Erwin behind the door, they seemed to be bickering as per usual.

You quickly threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts before wandering back to Erwin's door and rapping on the wood with the back of your knuckles. The voices fell quiet before Erwin pulled the door open just enough to peek through the crack, you frowned at him skeptically. He relaxed when he realized that it was only you and pulled the door open to allow you inside. Erwin's room was like most athletic teen males, messy. His desk was cluttered with papers and pens and the odd textbook. His bed was messed up, Hange was splayed across the comforter watching Levi scroll through his phone. The LED lights in Erwin's room were rotating through multiple colors, the floor was surprisingly clean, probably because Levi was in the room. Your eyes fell on his large beanbag that rested in its usual corner and you moved to fall onto the familiar seat but before you could collapse Hange called out to you.

"(Y/n)! come lay with me." she yawned as she beckoned you over. You sighed but decided to indulge her, you frowned at the small amount of space between her and Levi and opted for the foot of the bed. Erwin dropped down into his desk chair and hunched over his homework, seemingly uninterested in hanging out with you just yet. You sank down onto the foot of Erwin's queen sized bed, Hange frowned and patted the space between her and Levi. You grimaced but still crawled up the bed and pressed your self to Hange to avoid entering Levi's bubble. Hange draped her arm over your waist as you settled your back against her chest.

"Leviiiii let us see" Hange cooed, reaching to pull Levi's elbow so you could see his phone screen. Levi frowned but obliged, angling his wrist so all three of you could see his screen. He was on tiktok, watching a deep cleaning video. His for you page followed the trend of the first video, reviews on cleaning products, amazon reviews and unboxings, some aesthetic videos, mostly boring things. Before you knew it Hange's head slumped down onto your shoulder and you felt her steady breath on your skin, her arm that had been holding you in her iron grip had also gone slack. Levi glanced at the two of you and tried to engrave the image in his mind, the crushing reality of leaving his friends was beginning to sink in. Anyone else would think that he would be happy to leave this bumpkin town for Paris, but they would be wrong. His phone buzzed in his hand, forcing him to tear his gaze off of the two of you. He blinked at the banner that had appeared at the top of his screen, an unknown number.

"Have a safe trip tomorrow big bro! ❤️(red heart emoji)" Levi allowed the corner of his mouth to curl upwards as he read the message. However it was short lived when he realized that it was around 7am in Paris, what on earth was she doing up? He rolled his eyes and opened the message to shoot her a reply:

"Go back to sleep brat it's a Saturday."  he shut his phone off as soon as the message went through, feeling a bit better about his impending departure knowing that his sister was waiting for him. He hadn't seen them in almost 7 years now, he had left France with his uncle when he was only 11 years old when his uncle had gotten a new job. He was only able to return now because he had spent the last three years working odd jobs to save up enough cash to purchase a round trip to France for the holidays.

"Penny for your thoughts?" your muffled voice brought Levi back to the present. He scoffed, glancing down he noted that your eyes were closed and your face pressed into the pillows. He spared another glance to your brother who was now typing furiously on his laptop with a pair of cheap headphones pushed deep into his ears.

"Well?" you pressed, cracking an eye open to gauge his reaction.

"There's nothing to share." he huffed, sinking deeper into Erwin's bed dejectedly.

"So you admit that your head is filled with nothing but elevator music?" you jabbed, a sleepy smirk on your lips. Levi's nose scrunched at the comment, he rolled over onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he glared daggers down at you.

"At least tell me what song is playing in there." you giggled, reaching a hand up to tap you index finger on his temple. He blinked slowly as he allowed you to tease him, knowing that this would be the last time you would get the chance for a whole month. You frowned when he said nothing still and sighed heavily.

"You really won't tell me?" you pursed your lips when Levi's lip twitched, threatening to curl upwards. So that's how it's going to be.

"I was thinking about you." Levi professed, his tone surprisingly tender. Your eyes widened, now you were awake, you felt hot embarrassment rush up your neck and cover your cheeks.

"W-What?" you stammered, the confidence that had flowed so freely through your actions earlier long forgotten.

"You heard me."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Eh" Levi shrugged and rolled over so his back was to you. Astonished, you sat frozen still being crushed under a sleeping Hange. You sat up as much as you could to peek at Erwin, yup he was still grinding on that Economy project. Carefully you shrugged Hange's arm off of your waist and rolled out from under her head. She only snorted and rolled so her back was to you. You sat up fully and grabbed Levi's upper arm to shake him, after a few seconds of jostling, he rolled over and opened his mouth to hand you a snarky comment. His eyes widened slightly to see your finger pressed firmly against your lips. You jerked your head towards the door before you threw your legs over Levi's and slid off the bed and quietly let yourself out of the room. Levi frowned as he watched you leave, a bit confused on what was about to happen. Did you want him to fuck you? Maybe, most likely not but a guy can dream.

He frowned at Erwin who was totally engrossed in his work, even mumbling incoherently to himself as he typed. Perfect timing, he padded quietly across the room and slid out into the dark hallway, a purple glow illuminating the hall as he opened the door. You turned and gave Levi a small smile, but just as he was about to demand why you had summoned him you turned and slunk down the stairs. Now he was officially stumped, still he followed you down into the empty kitchen, you didn't stop there though, you continued down the stairs.Casting a brief glance over your shoulder to make sure that he was following you. Once you had reached the basement you dropped dramatically onto the couch and leaned back into the cushions.

"So are you excited to leave tomorrow?" you asked, turning your sleepy gaze to him as he settled down onto the cushions next to you.

"You could say that." he shrugged as he threw an arm over the back of the couch and tilted his head to gauge your reaction.

"I would be too, I mean those French girls must be smoking hot." you chuckled as you rolled to your side to face him, a wry smile on your lips. Levi scoffed and averted his gaze, once you had stopped giggling you sighed contently.

"It's getting late." you groaned as you glanced at your phone. Levi hummed in agreement as he watched you avoid his gaze.

"Why did you drag me down here?" Levi asked outright, you licked your lips as you attempted to put your feelings into words. But how could you do that when you didn't even know how to feel.

"I guess I just wanted to, I don't know have a moment with you before you leave." you muttered your eyes trained on your hands as you toyed with a ring on your finger. Levi said nothing as he watched you fidget.

"Well here we are." his cold eyes were locked on you as you turned to shoot him a glare.

"I know." you replied meekly, desperately wanting him to ease the awkward atmosphere, but you knew Levi and he wasn't very good at breaking the ice. So the two of you sat in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.

"Even though you're a massive dick, I'm going to miss you." you broke the thick silence.

"Quit being so dramatic, I'll be gone for a month not a year." Levi rolled his eyes and let his arm fall from the back of the couch to drape over your shoulders. You winced, surprised by his sudden action. He tightened  his grip and pulled you into his side, his face still void of emotion.

"It's not like that, I'll just miss you cleaning my house for me. Now I'm going to have to pick up the slack." you joked, a playful smile spreading across your face, but the happiness didn't quite seem to reach your eyes. This didn't escape Levi's watchful gaze, instead of commenting on your obvious uncertainty Levi only pulled you closer to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll just be cleaning up after Isabel and Farlan." he spoke softly, his face still void of any expression in particular. You pursed your lips and nodded thoughtfully, you wondered if one day you would get the pleasure of meeting the pair. When you said nothing Levi tapped his finger against your bicep and inhaled sharply.

"Are you jealous?"

"Ha as if." you scoffed, throwing him a playful glance as you elbowed him sharply in his ribs. His lip quirked upwards, if you hadn't been paying attention you would have missed his small smile.Your chest swelled with pride, it was rare for someone to say something worthy of Levi smiling about, it was only recently that you had noticed that you had been able to coax a few brief smiles onto his face.

You wondered if you would be able to still make him smile when he comes back.

#snk levi #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #eren jeager #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #eren mikasa armin #jean x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #sasha braus #connie springer #krista lenz #historia reiss #ymir aot #hange zoe #erwin smith #modern au #high school au #college au

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fade in, fade out - part six

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A/N: Since this chapter is quite long, mobile viewing is probably not the best option because Tumblr can sometimes be finicky! I would recommend viewing in a browser. Happy reading, loves! x

***

The Climax

January 2013 

Marcus and Nora break up during the spring of her second year.

He wanted things to move much faster than they were, and Nora was far too comfortable with their normal—the normal in which Marcus lived a floor above her and they could wrap around each other in his tiny twin bed without worrying about things outside of their protective bubble. Because this normal was easy, it was simple, it was safe—and doing anything different, switching up their normal, would make it the complete opposite.

So when he tells her that he found a small studio apartment in the West Village one April afternoon underneath a budding black tupelo tree in Central Park, and he would love more than anything for Nora to move in, she immediately declines. She wasn’t ready for that step—wasn’t ready to not live with Ebony and switch up her normal and pop their bubble.

Breaking up wasn’t in Nora’s plan, but she knew that it was bound to happen. It was an amicable split, something that didn’t shake her world or leave her feeling lost at sea without an anchor in the unforgiving rough waters. And two months later, when she’s spending her final summer at home with her mother, Nora wonders if there’s something wrong with her heart when it still feels intact and the still-beating flesh isn’t ripping apart at the seams.

But life moves on, and so does Nora.

When she arrives back on campus at the start of her third year, Nora finds that she has room in her schedule for extracurriculars due to her influx of AP credits from Townbridge. On a whim, she decides to fill in the gaps with Film Study classes, and Nora finds that her heart is thumping in a way that it never has before—in a way that makes her feel that she’s finally found purpose, finally found her passion, finally found something close to unadulterated happiness.

Her favorite film professor is an older woman named Suzanne Davies who insists she be called Sue, or more radically, Suzy. She’s built of thin bones and worn skin, mahogany eyes that have seen almost everything that Nora wishes she could, with grey curly hair that twists at the nape of her neck and covers a brain that Nora wishes she could pry apart and indulge in every memory like a film projector reel on a thin hanging sheet.

She teaches Film Theory & Criticism, and when Nora listens to her thick British accent work through Apparatus theory and Structuralist theory, she can’t help but think of London—a city that feels an entire world away, and how badly she wishes she could visit, if only for a short amount of time.

One dreary November afternoon when Nora is the last one to leave the lecture hall, Suzy stops her and asks her what she wants to do with her life. Nora is instantly brought back to a time in December three years ago, in a different state with a boy she thinks about every now and then, who asked her this very same question as the snow was falling outside and they were laying down on concrete steps, eyes facing the cracked ceiling above. She was honest then, not even hesitating when spilling the words freely from her lips, because for some odd reason, she trusted him entirely in that small moment in time.

She feels the same now, and suddenly, she’s telling her professor about the pressure she feels of choosing a stable career, of how she needs her mother to be proud of her, of how she studies Communications but craves Film, of how she’s never been happier than when she’s watching old movies and dreaming up plots of her own. She tells Suzy how she’s never left the country, of how she wishes to see places that aren’t coastal Newport or rural Connecticut or bustling New York City.

When Nora sits in her usual seat in the middle row for her next class a week later, she finds an application for Columbia’s exchange program with University College London on her desk. She skims through the pages, finding that Suzy has filled in most of the basic information, leaving the personal questions for Nora to finish. And when she looks up at her professor just as she’s beginning the lecture, Suzy feels her gaze warm her wrinkled cheek and shoots her wink, going right back to discussing human nature as a fundamental theme in A Clockwork Orange.

Nora sends in her application right after class, and receives her acceptance letter the week before Christmas break. She feels as if she’s floating through thin air, and the only thing keeping her from floating into the stratosphere is the glossy folder from UCL with the words Congratulations! and welcome and 4 January 2013 printed on thick paper. Her mother might possibly be more thrilled than Nora, and when she’s back in Newport folding thick sweaters and knitted scarves and thrifted trench coats into her suitcases on New Year’s Eve, Nora can’t help but think that if moments could be bottled, she would pick this one to cherish forever.

Time seems to pass much faster for Harry. His first year meshes into his second year without hesitation, his afternoon’s at his internship with his father fall into nights spent with his mates almost thoughtlessly—and it’s only once he’s been doing the same thing for almost an entire year when he feels himself growing tired of it all. He’s sick of this routine. Sick of drinking himself into a place where he doesn’t have any feelings, doesn’t think of all of his past mistakes, doesn’t do anything else except simply exist for a few hours. And when he falls into his bed the next morning feeling his brain throb against his skill in agony, he comes to the conclusion that he’s completely and utterly exhausted from this meaningless lifestyle.

When his third and final year comes along, he decides to stop answering his mates when they call. He doesn’t show up to their penthouse parties anymore, he doesn’t frequent the same claustrophobic clubs he knows they’ll be at. Harry keeps to himself, and when he sees a flyer after his Business Ethics lecture about intramural football tryouts, he brings his old kit to the pitch the next afternoon. He’s a bit rusty, but Harry finds that most of the lads are, and that thought alone makes him start to feel something other than emptiness.

He makes the team and meets a boy named Niall. He’s from Ireland and drinks like a fish, but he’s kind and easygoing and doesn’t care that Harry’s surname is Styles—and it’s a refreshing change from the incessant partying and shallow people he wasted away with his first two years. Niall is warm and comfortable, and reminds Harry of slipping on that warm jumper he’s had for years in the back of his closet whenever the weather gets cold, and it’s nice having a real friend for once in his life.

As October changes into November, Harry feels a change within himself, too. It’s subtle, the smallest of shifts that allows his icy heart to thaw ever so slowly, and he finds that he welcomes it with open arms.

He meets Niall’s girlfriend just as the long stretch of autumn begins. Her name is Piper and she’s practically made for Niall, in the way that the top of her head reaches just under Niall’s chin so that he can rest it there whenever they’re talking to other people, in the way that his hand practically swallows her much smaller one whenever they’re walking from pub to pub, in the way that she instinctively makes him a cup of tea whenever she brews her own, knowing exactly how he takes it. It makes Harry a little bit jealous, because for the first time in years, he finds that he yearns to wrap a body part around another warm person just to inform them that he hasn’t forgotten their presence, yearns to swallow palms with his own, yearns to have another person think of him while doing the most mundane of tasks.

Yearns to have somebody want him in a way he hasn’t ever been wanted before.

Piper is in her third year at UCL, and she met Niall at a house party during their first year hosted by a mutual friend. They fell in love quickly and seamlessly, and after three weeks Niall told her that she was the one for him, and it all sort of made sense.

She welcomes Harry into their eclectic group, filled with a few lads from footie and a few girls from Piper’s dorm, and they’re the fastest friends Harry’s ever made. They spend their fall semester at a small pub in Camden on Wednesdays that plays live music and is filled with seemingly normal people like Harry’s new mates, and busy house parties hosted by UCL students on the weekends, with the occasional club sprinkled in between.

As autumn trickles into winter, Harry finds that he’s quite sad to watch Niall leave for Ireland for the holiday break. He’s not sure how time passed so quickly, and as December fades into January, Harry’s counting down the days until his loud brown-haired mate is back in London, showing up on his doorstep to drag him to the pub around the corner for a pint.

When Nora exits Heathrow during one of the coldest days of the year, she finds that not even the weather can dull her perpetual shine. She barely slept the entire flight, her excitement of being on a plane for the first time and receiving her first official passport stamp keeping her wide awake throughout the entire seven hour journey.

During the car ride from Heathrow to her residence hall in Central London, Nora’s face is glued to the window pane, her eyes taking in every sight that flashes by. Her mouth is close enough to the glass that her humid breaths are causing the window to fog over, but she can’t even think about how rude that probably is. All she can think about is the fact that she’s in another country, in a brand new city, experiencing all of this for the very first time.

When the black car finally pulls up to a brick building, Nora clutches her two suitcases in each hand, her leather backpack strapped tightly against the wool material of her trench coat, and makes her way to the sixth floor.

Nora’s room is small but homely, a single twin bed against one wall with a wooden wardrobe on the other. A white desk sits underneath the decently-sized window straight against the back wall, and when she looks around and takes everything in, she feels herself breathe properly for the first time since stepping on English soil.

Her floor is quiet, but before Nora can begin to explore, she decides to be smart and starts unpacking, knowing that the longer she puts it off, the less inclined she’ll be to put her clothes away properly. 

After about an hour, she decides to venture down the hallway into the common room where a small kitchen and lounge area reside. Nora notices a few coats thrown over the back of the couch haphazardly, and before she can build up the courage to turn down the other adjacent hallway and meet her new floormates, she decides to brew a cup of coffee to push past the jet lag attempting to invade her insides.

When she turns the kettle on and rummages through the cupboards to try and find some instant coffee, Nora discovers nothing but various tea flavors. Disgruntled, Nora plucks a package of Earl Grey and places it inside a mug she grabbed from the shelf, moving the plaid tea towel a little bit further down the countertop as she waits for the hot water to boil.

Nora leans her right hip on the counter while she waits, drumming her fingertips against the laminate material as she tries to remember if she even likes the taste of tea to begin with. She drank chamomile tea once after studying for finals so that she could sleep, and whenever she was sick with a cold, her mother would make her a cup with a dollop of honey to soothe her scratchy throat. She wonders if she’s allowed to put milk inside so the color isn’t a deep murky brown, or if sugar would help with the bitter taste.

Suddenly, Nora detects something that smells distinctly of burning. She springs upright, wondering what on earth she could have possibly done. Water can’t burn, right?

But before her fuzzy brain can start functioning properly, she looks down to her right and notices that the edges of the plaid tea towel have charred, and when she blinks, Nora realizes that the red light on the hot plate has been turned on.

“Shit!” Nora squeals, flicking the switch off that she must have accidentally turned on when she lazily rested her hip against the edge of the counter moments ago.

Just as she makes a reach for the burning tea towel, she hears a high-pitched accented voice behind her shriek, and suddenly, freckled arms are appearing in her periphery, snatching up the ruined tea towel as she yells, “Oi! No tea towels on the hot plate!”

With a flick of her wrist, the girl throws the tea towel into the sink, turning the cold water on while Nora’s cheeks burn bright. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize—Christ,” she splutters, tearing her eyes away from the wet fabric inside the steel basin and focusing them on the smaller girl in front of her.

“Ah, you’re the new American exchange student.” The girl says it in a way that makes Nora wonder if it’s a good or bad thing, as if her identifier explains why she nearly burned their residence hall down a mere three hours after being allowed in the country.

Before Nora can apologize or worse, make an even bigger fool of herself, the pretty girl in front of her chuckles in a way that makes Nora breathe in a deep sigh of relief. And before she can even realize what she’s doing, Nora starts to laugh along with her—loud enough until her cheeks feel bruised from smiling so brightly and her ribs hurt from the lack of air pumping through her lungs. The kettle starts to whistle, forcing them to break their eye contact.

Just as Nora reaches over to turn it off, the girl’s freckled arm beats her to the punch, knocking her hip against Nora’s with a bright smile, “Let’s keep you away from any more potential fire hazards, yeah?”

The lightness in her tone makes Nora believe that she’s being genuine, and when the girl begins to pour the hot water into the mug and shoots a kind smile over her shoulder, Nora takes a step back and feels a bit more at ease.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” Nora announces, watching the pretty girl with auburn hair dunk the tea bag exactly seven times into the water.

“I’m Piper. How do you take your tea?” she asks, looking over her shoulder again. Nora gets a bit distracted by the smattering of freckles covering the bridge of her nose and falling onto the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes are the brightest shade of green Nora’s ever seen, and when the girl tilts her head to the side in question, Nora shakes her head, realizing that she has no idea how to properly drink tea.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” she admits sheepishly. Piper gives her a soft smile, before reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing a small carton of milk.

“You’ll take it like me, then. Reckon I’ll convert you into a proper tea drinker by the time your exchange is over, Rah,” Piper calls out, pouring a dash of milk and plopping one sugar cube inside the cup, stirring it another seven times. Nora wonders if that changes the taste or if it’s just a little quirk her new floormate does.

Nora’s eyebrows furrow at the unfamiliar name that falls from Piper’s pink lips. “Rah?”

Piper hands over the mug with twinkling eyes. “Gotta give you a nickname if we’re meant to be proper mates, right?”

It’s a question that seems to not need an answer, because Piper is the type of girl that says things with an air of unbridled assurance. Piper could tell you that the glowing star in the sky wasn’t the sun, instead, it was a dripping egg yolk that warmed everything underneath, and you would believe it. So when she calls Nora by her nickname, she doesn’t even bat an eye, because if being called Rah means she has a new friend in this unfamiliar place, then Nora will accept it without hesitation.

“Let’s get you all settled in then, yeah? I’ll have my boyfriend bring us some dinner. I think you’ll like him,” Piper says, grabbing Nora’s hand and dragging her into her bedroom at the other end of the hall.

A few hours later, when a brown-haired boy with matching blue eyes and a thick Irish accent shows up with two bags of Thai takeaway in one hand and a twelve-pack of Fosters beer in the other, Nora finds that Piper was right—she likes him quite a bit. They seem to get on like a house on fire, and when he cracks open a beer for her and tells her that he thinks she has a funny accent, Nora laughs and throws his comment right back in his face. The three of them end up eating too much food and drinking too much beer, but Nora doesn’t mind the bellyache when she falls into bed later that night, thinking all of it was worth it, because she made two new friends on her first night.

The next evening, Piper swings open Nora’s door without knocking, and begins rummaging through her wardrobe and pulling out her nicest pair of blue jeans, a cute sweater she got on the clearance rack at some New York City boutique, and one of her thrifted trench coats. She tells Nora to get ready because they’re going out tonight, and before she can decline, she hears Niall yell over from the common room, “Get yer arse dressed, Rah! It’s pub night!”

Barely thirty minutes later, Nora finds herself sandwiched between Niall and Piper in the cold January air, heels stomping against the pavement as they zigzag their way through the crowded streets of Camden Town.

Niall’s phone begins to ring, and before Nora’s head can snap in his direction, the sleek black device is already pressed against his ear as he begins speaking loudly into the night air. “Curly! How’re ya, mate? What? Yes, of course we’re goin’ to the pub. It’s Wednesday! Late? What d’ya mean, late? Oh. Yeah, sure, take yer time, Pipes and I have our hands full breakin’ in Rah over here. What’s that? Rah? Pipes and I adopted her. Yer gonna love her. Right, see ya later!”

He looks over at Nora as he slides his phone into his back pocket. The question is at the tip of her tongue, but when she takes in the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and finds that Piper’s are matching, she just shakes her head softly before muttering, “Do I even want to know?”

Niall flings his arm around her shoulder and Piper’s much smaller one wraps around Nora’s waist. “Best not to know anything,” Piper whispers into her ear, giggling as they make their way around the corner to the brick-faced pub at the end of the street.

When they finally pull Nora inside, it takes her a few moments to get adjusted to the unfamiliar setting. She’s only been twenty-one for two months now, and even though she knows the legal drinking age here is eighteen, she’s still only been inside a handful of bars in her short existence.

Bars in New York City are nothing like the place Nora currently finds herself in. She’s used to proper lighting, sleek bar tops, upholstered seating, and fancy liquor bottles lining the mirrored walls. Instead, she finds herself surrounded by chipped wood, sticky paneled flooring, and string lights fastened to original crown molding. The bar itself has more beer taps than she’s ever seen another place have before, and instead of ornate tequila bottles on thick glass panes, Nora finds numerous bottles of dark liquor haphazardly placed on oak shelving. It’s all wooden stools and high-top tables and stained rims on old surfaces, and when she notices an elevated platform along the farthest wall with musical instruments placed a bit too close together to make up for the lack of room the space provides, Nora finds that she likes this place a little bit more than the ones back home.

Instead of asking Nora what she’d like to drink, Niall just bends down and speaks into her ear, “You trust me, right?” And when she nods and finds that she surprisingly does trust this friendly stranger after only twenty-four hours, he grins and smacks a kiss to the crown of her head, prancing over to the bar with a giddy smile on his face.

Piper just shakes her head with a chuckle, grabbing Nora by the hand and dragging her over to a high-top closer to the empty stage. “Come meet the gang, Rah,” she says, squeezing her palm a little tighter when she notices the nervous look washing over Nora’s features.

With her palm in Piper’s, Nora is happily introduced to a group of five people clutching pint glasses with two plates of chips in the middle of the table. She recognizes two of the girls from her residence hall, and smiles when they compliment her boots and coat. The rest are names Nora tries her hardest to file into her memory, and when she slips into a stool with Piper sliding into the one on her right, she finds herself feeling much more comfortable.

Niall appears with a black tray covered in spilled beer and shorter glasses filled with a deep brown liquid Nora can only assume to be whiskey inside. She gulps, attempting to alleviate her dry throat, mentally preparing herself because she did tell him moments ago that she trusted him. And when she slides the liquor down her throat and feels it burn her insides, she chases the warmth with cold beer and hears Niall’s loud cheer across from her.

“Way to go, Rah! Yer a natural!” Nora feels Piper squeeze her shoulder affectionately, and before Niall can slide another shot glass in her direction, Nora watches his eyes lift over the top of her head to something behind her. His blue eyes suddenly widen and his teeth rip through his skin, grinning widely as he calls out, “Curly! Just in time, mate!”

Nora hears a deep chuckle behind her, and for some strange reason, it sounds all too familiar. 

She’s instantly brought back to a time three years ago in the dead of winter, the rolling green Connecticut hills covered in thick white blankets of snow, in which a boy and a girl spent ten days together without any interruptions. She heard that chuckle enough times in those ten days to permanently have it imprinted in her memory, and suddenly, Nora feels her stomach clench uncomfortably, because how, after all of this time, can Nora still remember that sound?

But then she hears it. His voice—much deeper now, but still gravelly and throaty, forming words slowly with his accent tilting at the end of specific phrases. It’s much thicker now, no doubt from his time spent in his home country, and all at once, Nora feels her face pucker with discomfort. She wonders if anybody else can notice the inner-turmoil wreaking havoc underneath her skin, but then he speaks again, and it’s close enough to cause her to momentarily forget how to breathe.

“What do we have here, then?” Nora can’t bring herself to move. She feels as if her bum is glued to the wooden seat, the soles of her boots are transfixed to the legs of the stool, and her upper body has lost all proper motor function. Nora is almost certain that she’s panicking, but then she’s brought back into focus when Niall’s cheerful voice echoes off the walls of the crowded pub surrounding her.

“This is our Rah! Came all the way from America on exchange, so don’t go and scare her off,” Niall calls out, his grin faltering a little when he notices the alarmed look covering Nora’s face.

“Came all this way and the first person she meets is you? Well, let me formally apologize for that disappointment—” Nora gulps one last time and swivels around in the old stool, finally revealing herself, causing his words to fall flat.

When their eyes finally meet, Nora’s relieved she isn’t holding the pint glass in her hand, because if she were, she’s certain that it would fall to the floor below her, breaking with a resounding crack when she finally faces Harry Styles for the first time in three years.

It feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Sea green eyes widen in shock, and Nora watches as his neck pushes his face outward, as if his body was forcing him to take in every inch of her face to re-familiarize himself with it. He’s a bit taller now, still wearing an expensive dark-colored trench coat, still choosing an inappropriately thin t-shirt underneath. He seems to have grown up in every sense of the word—with the way his chest is a bit fuller and his arms are a bit thicker and his stomach is a bit tighter. His jawline seems to be more pronounced, the bone practically slicing through his skin with the way the lines effortlessly sculpt his face that is still annoyingly perfect. She notices that his hair is pushed back into a low bun, the curls escaping the thin hair tie just kissing the nape of his neck. She can’t help but wonder what the tendrils would look like if she pulled the knotted elastic from his hair, allowing them to fall freely down his back.

“Nora Priestley?” Harry barely calls out. He feels as if he’s hallucinating.

Because the last time he saw Nora Priestley in the flesh, she was all blonde hair and skinny limbs and knobby knees. There’s no denying that this is still her, considering her blue eyes are practically tattooed underneath his eyelids whenever he tries to fall asleep at night, and nobody else can steal that shade. She’s practically a fully-blossomed woman sitting in front of him—all slender legs and tiny waist, long torso that has rigidified over time, undulating hips that truly show a level of maturity that didn’t exist three years ago back in Connecticut. Her face is still angular, her nose is still buttoned, her lips are still pouty, her cheekbones are still high on her face and tinted pink. But when he looks at her hair, he notices that the blonde is gone. In its place is a deep shade of brown, nearly black, flowing over her shoulders and down her back languidly. Her fringe is still there, all messy strands framing a face that she’s finally grown into, and Harry finds a calming sense of familiarity in that.

She’s beautiful—she’s always been this effortlessly cool type of beautiful, and Harry can’t actually believe that she’s sitting in front of him. Can’t actually believe that her lips are moving on her face, forming his two-syllable name. Can’t actually believe that he’s been staring at her hearing white noise flood through his ear canals, blocking whatever else is falling from her mouth.

“Your hair. It’s different,” are the words Harry chooses to say once he realizes her mouth is closed, mentally berating himself for being so wrapped up in this New Nora that he seemingly forgot how to hold a normal conversation.

She seems to be on the same page, with the way she slowly tears her eyes from his own, staring blankly at the wall over his shoulder when an odd sense of déjà vu clouds her vision, before nodding absently.

“Yeah,” she finally voices, bringing her forlorn gaze back to his. “I could say the same for you.”

He smiles a bit, wondering how to maneuver through these unfamiliar waters with her. But before he can even properly locate his mooring, Niall interrupts, causing Nora to swivel back in his direction so that her back is once again facing Harry.

“I’m confused—have you two met?” Niall asks, observing the two with wide eyes, a crinkle in his forehead as he tries to dissect the interaction unfolding across the table.

“Uh, yeah. We went to boarding school together,” Nora explains, filling in the gaps. She sees the pint glass in her periphery and grabs it tightly, bringing it to her lips and gulping three heavy swallows of the bitter liquid to slow down her erratic heartbeat.

“Wait—here? I thought you said you’ve never been on a plane before, Nora!” Piper calls out from Nora’s right side, her auburn hair flicking back and forth when she notices the tension radiating off of their bodies.

“No, in America,” Harry answers for Nora when he realizes her mouth is preoccupied with downing her entire pint in one go. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are darting in every direction that isn’t the blue of Niall’s eyes or the bright green of Piper’s, and Harry can conclude that Nora is uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see comin’,” Niall says through a chuckle, moving his eyes away from Nora’s as he takes a long swig of his drink, shaking his head at the uncanniness of it all.

The whole group seems to be a bit shocked by this revelation, and before Nora can suffocate under the unnatural silence surrounding the table, Piper asks the rest of the group a question about the new band performing tonight, and just like that, all is forgotten.

Nora can feel the body behind her disappear, and when she sees black wool material flutter past her eyesight, she breathes in a sigh of relief when she notices the only chair available is the one diagonal from her, almost conveniently out of her line of vision.

She looks up when she sees a fresh pint glass being pushed in her direction, and when her eyes lock with Niall’s and she realizes that he’s given her the second beer he originally saved for himself, she smiles appreciatively before bringing the cool glass to her lips, swallowing deeply with her eyes shut tight.

If Nora’s meant to endure this entire evening, she’s going to need all of the liquid courage she can muster. Because the universe must be playing some sort of sick-twisted game with her, giving her the opportunity to travel to a new city while simultaneously thrusting the boy who almost broke her heart right in the epicenter of it all. She wonders if this is her karma for ending things with Marcus, for not agreeing to move in with him and take the next steps in their relationship.

Nora sighs, wanting so badly to laugh at her situation, but knows deep down that she can’t. Because London is supposed to be a big city—filled with nine million people and her chances of potentially running into Harry were meant to be astronomically low. The numbers should have been on her side—considering Oxford University is sixty miles away from UCL, and Oxfordshire is an hour and a half away from Central London, and out of the three hundred pubs in all of Camden, the probability of running into him at this very one in this exact moment in time is far too outstanding to even be considered a possibility.

But it is, and it’s happening all around her, and suddenly—Nora needs to leave.

She can’t be sat so close to him after all this time and act like everything’s okay. Because it’s not okay and she’s not okay and this whole fucking scenario will never be okay, and in order to be okay, Nora needs to locate the closest escape route and disappear.

Her head is swivelling and she’s not listening to any of the conversations happening around her, and as if the gods were pitying her, sensing her panic attack all the way from the heavens above, they send her a sign in the form of Niall grabbing Harry and bringing him over to the bar with the guys for another round.  

Once they’ve left, Nora abandons her half-emptied glass and grabs her coat, flinging it on her body without even buttoning it properly. Piper looks over, realizing that Nora’s face is flushed and her eyes are a bit widened, and before she can get too far, she asks, “Rah, you alright?”

Shit, Nora thinks, I forgot about Piper.

“Uh, yeah. Just need a smoke,” Nora lies, teeth forming a barely-there smile to try and prove to her new friend that she’ll be okay and doesn’t need to be followed.

Piper warily falls for it, and when Nora watches her freckled face turn back towards the girls at the table, Nora sighs in relief and hurries over to the front door, flying out into the cold January air as she tries to navigate her shaking feet back towards the Underground.

She doesn’t make it very far, barely rounds the corner of the street before she hears her name being roughly called from raspberry lips she’s too terrified to face. But his legs are longer than hers and his strides are more purposeful, because just as Nora’s identified the Underground entranceway, Harry’s large palm wraps around her tensed bicep and suddenly, she’s spinning on the heels of her boots, officially caught trying to run away in the middle of a busy sidewalk surrounded by throngs of people.

Nora immediately flinches, shaking his hand off her body before she becomes familiar with the warmth that encapsulates the fabric adorning her skin. Harry gets the hint and dejectedly brings his hand back down to his side, shuffling in his brown suede shoes as he tries to form the correct words to say to her.

“You don’t have to leave,” he starts, trying his hardest to identify the wary look in her eyes. Because he’s never seen her look like this—so completely and utterly defeated, and Harry almost wishes she would lash out instead of continue to look at him the way she is doing right now.

“I do,” Nora says, moving her eyes down to the cracked pavement. She can’t bring herself to look at his face anymore.

“Piper said you were having a smoke. I didn’t think you did that.” Harry’s words cause her head to lift abruptly, and she’s not sure if it’s because his voice sounds so broken and dejected, or if it’s because he’s insinuating that he still knows things about her.

“You don’t know me anymore, Harry,” Nora spits out, leveling her blues with his greens in a standoff that she doesn’t feel ready for.

Harry frowns, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck, choosing to back down. “I know.”

It’s sad. The whole situation is terribly sad, because suddenly, Pandora’s box has been ripped open—the lid practically flung across the pavement as feelings that have been buried underneath the surface for so long are unforgivingly being unearthed right in front of their eyes.

Nora turns away, knowing there’s really nothing left to be said between the two of them. Not until she’s properly processed it all. Not until she’s dealt with her emotions the right way instead of screaming in his face and never looking back.

“Nora,” Harry tries, his voice pleading with hers. He waits until she turns around before saying, “My birthday is in a few weeks. The first. Niall’s throwing me a party and all that, and uh—” he takes a massive gulp, his entire body riddled with nerves, “I’d really like for you to come.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nora says after a moment’s pause, offering him a shaky smile in hopes that it’ll be enough for him to allow her to enter the Underground without another interruption.

“And Nora?” her eyes find his one last time before he says, “It’s really great to see you.”

The next Wednesday pub night, Nora decides to stay home. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with everyone, because she does—she just knows that Harry will definitely be in attendance, and she still isn’t really sure how to feel about everything. The last thing Nora wants to do is make things awkward with this new group of friends she just met, so staying in was the easiest option.

On the Wednesday after that, Harry decides to skip out. He doesn’t want Nora to feel like she has to avoid her new friends because their relationship (or lack thereof) is stuck in limbo. Traveling to a new country, especially for the first time, is never fun to do alone—and Harry would hate himself if he made her feel that isolating herself is the best option. So he stays home, and tries not to text Niall and ask him if Nora decided to show up (even though he stalks his mates’ social media and finds that she did, in fact, go).

Niall and Piper try not to ask the invasive questions that are dancing on the tip of their tongues, because it’s so blatantly obvious that Nora and Harry were never “just” mates from school. Nora never explicitly tells her new friends about what happened, but Piper can figure it out, because she’s a girl, and girl’s know what Nora’s eyes mean when they twinkle and break at the mention of Harry’s name. Harry, on the other hand, drunkenly spilled anecdotes to Niall in the past about a girl who deserved so much better than what he could offer her, and with one look at the bruised skin underneath Harry’s vacant eyes in the days that follow their reunion, Niall understands then that the girl in question is none other than his special Rah.

The first of February comes along with a dip in temperature, and before Nora can mull over Harry’s birthday party invitation any longer, she decides to throw caution to the wind and go. She shops for a pretty dress with Piper, and when she finds a discounted Topshop number that pairs excellently with the only pair of heels she stuffed into her suitcase, she purchases it without a second thought.

The girls get ready together and Nora lets Piper curl her hair, and when the rest of their friends make cocktails in their tiny shared kitchenette, Nora feels her worries wash away with each sip of fruity liquor that slides down her throat.

When they arrive at the club Niall organizes all their mates to meet at, Nora barely has time to try and locate the birthday boy. Because suddenly, she’s meeting a handful of new people and being dragged to the dancefloor against her will, and after her second (or third?) Sex on the Beach, she’s in that perfect state of drunkenness in which she feels light and airy and nothing but happiness radiates off her sticky skin.

Harry, oppositely, is in that state of drunkenness in which his words are slurring together and his eyes are glossy. He feels airy, practically lightheaded at this point, and his teeth stretch the skin around his mouth wide as he laughs along to whatever his friends are saying.

He’s barely had time to make the rounds, because people kept approaching him left and right with birthday praises and a shot glass filled with pungent liquor for him to shoot back. Niall finally rejoins him at the U-shaped leather booth in their corner of the club, and when Harry asks him something that sounds like Piper, Niall points in the direction of his girlfriend twirling around the dancefloor with a group of her friends.

When he refocuses his blurry vision on the group, Harry instantly notices brown hair floating through the air. The curls seem to have fallen a bit as the night dragged on, and when the girl turns around to mouth the lyrics of the upbeat song to Piper, Harry grins when he recognizes the pouty lips that are painted a refreshing shade of sherbert. Her cheeks are tinged and Harry wonders if it’s from exertion or alcohol, and when she spins back around to shake her hips to the beat of the overplayed pop song, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s only once her hands scoop the hair at the back of her neck, pushing it upwards to let the prickling skin underneath breathe for a bit, when Harry notices the new etchings of ink on her body.

Three equally-sized birds are tattooed on the back of her right shoulder, swirling on her ivory skin whenever her arms move above her head as she dances. Harry can’t seem to look away—suddenly wondering if there’s anything else about her that has changed in three years. He finds that he wants to know everything about her within the time period when they weren’t in each other’s lives, and it’s that startling realization that causes him to ignore the advances of the yellow-haired girl sitting across the table from him.

“Y’alright, Curly?” Niall asks after Harry waves the girl away, and he nods distractedly, bringing his whiskey and ginger to his mouth to gulp back heavily. Niall shakes his head and tells him that he’s going to go dance with Piper, and Harry just watches idly as his friend saunters away.

For some reason, Harry doesn’t get up. Instead, he pulls more sips from the liquor at his table, watching in curiosity as Nora mingles with his mates and dances with Niall and Piper. He thinks it’s fascinating, thinks that in a parallel universe he and Nora would be doing this every night, and instead of random girls vying for his attention, Nora would undoubtedly have all of it.

With that thought running through his head, he sloppily gets up from his seat, drunkenly hobbling over to his group of friends on the dancefloor near the bar. When he approaches them, he flings an unsteady arm around Niall’s neck for extra support, grinning widely when everyone calls him the birthday boy and pinches his cheeks in drunken adoration.

“Mm, think ‘ve had enough, mate,” Harry slurs in Niall’s direction, resting a good portion of his weight on his shorter friend who has to tighten his grip around Harry’s waist.

“I’ll call a car, have ‘em bring you home. Need me t’come with?” Niall asks, and when Harry looks at each of his mates in their small circle, he shakes his head cheekily and smiles in Nora’s direction.

“No, I want Nora to.” It’s innocent in the way that he just wants to spend time with her, because he hasn’t even had the chance to speak to her tonight, and all he can think about is how much time has passed between them and that he misses her in a way he didn’t think was possible.

Nora watches Harry whine in Niall’s ear, and even though the music is too loud for her to make out everything he’s saying, she somehow manages to hear the words want and Nora and please. Niall looks over in her direction, and when he asks her if she’ll take him home, she considers accepting for some odd reason. Because he’s drunk and needy, and she’s never seen a needy Harry Styles before, and as if the time frame has blurred right in front of her, Nora finds herself in the backseat of a fancy town car driving off into a quieter part of the city.

They sit on opposite ends of the car with the middle seat unused between them, and after a few minutes of silence, Harry decides to break it by saying, “‘M really happy you came tonight.”

Nora’s not nearly as drunk as he is, and she finds it quite adorable the way his deep voice cracks over the slurred syllables, and his lips are bright red from his teeth gnawing into them, and his cheeks are almost a deeper shade from the alcohol surging through his veins.

“It’s your birthday. It would have been mean of me not to,” Nora says softly, watching as Harry tears his eyes away from the blurred streets and onto her face.

He grins. “I don’t think y’know how t’be mean, Nora. Not sure there’s a mean bone in your body.”

Nora just smiles back gently, unsure of how exactly to respond. Thankfully, the car pulls to a stop on a quiet street just in front of a white stucco townhouse. There’s a small iron-clad gate on the sidewalk that comes about waist-high, and when Harry unlocks it and begins his wobbly trek to the navy blue front door, Nora can’t help but look around his neighborhood in slight awe.

The jostling of keys breaks her out of her reverie, and when she finds Harry struggling to place the correct key into the lock, she calmly pushes him out of the way and flicks her wrist to unlock the door, pushing it open and allowing him to step in first.

She barely gets a chance to take in the interior of his home before he’s grabbing the keys from her hand and dropping them loudly in the bowl on the hallway table, unsteadily stepping out of his shoes and leaving them haphazardly on the floor, reaching for her hand and dragging her up the stairs to the loft bedroom above.

Before Nora can even comprehend what Harry’s doing, he’s suddenly flinging his clothes across different surfaces of his room—starting with his trench coat over his desk chair, his belt on the shoe rack in his closet, his wallet on the bureau nearest to the door. It’s only once he starts fumbling out of his jeans when Nora turns around with a squeak, feeling a bit awkward watching him drunkenly scramble out of his clothes.

“What’re you doin’?” He slurs, the sound of his feet struggling to get out of the tight material ceasing abruptly.

“Giving you privacy,” Nora explains, finding herself counting the knobs on his dresser instead of hyperfocusing on the fact that Harry is undressing behind her.

She can hear him chuckle a bit, and then the sound of a body flopping onto a mattress takes over. Harry grunts in frustration, and it’s only once he’s called Nora’s name when she peeks over her shoulder timidly, finding Harry lying flat on his bed with his shirt still on, his feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor as his jeans seem to be stuck around his knees.

“Can you help me?” He doesn’t seem to be making a pass at her, because his voice is whiny and his neck is strained, and he really seems to be struggling taking off his tight skinny jeans.

Nora laughs a bit before walking over, grabbing his jeans by his knees and forcing him to straighten his legs as she pulls. Harry watches, leaning up on his elbows as he wiggles the material off of his skin, gleaming proudly when they’re off and discarded into his hamper.

With her back to him, Harry reaches for a pair of joggers and shuffles them on, swapping his wrinkled dress shirt for an old band tee that he wore the night before. When she hears him trying to untuck his duvet from underneath the throw pillows on his bed, Nora turns around and places her palm on his back in the place just between his shoulder blades, causing him to freeze.

“Go brush your teeth. I’ll do this before you fall on your face,” Nora says through a giggle, and Harry does as he’s told, watching her through the reflection of his mirror with wide eyes as she delicately places the throw pillows on the bench under his window and pulls back the duvet and sheets pristinely.

After he spits out the mint toothpaste and waddles back into his room, Nora pats the spot on his bed that she’s left untucked for him, smiling softly as she says, “C’mon birthday boy.”

Harry grins sleepily, pushing himself on the mattress and burrowing into his pillows, chuckling when Nora pulls up the sheet and duvet until it’s tucked underneath his chin. She checks his nightstand to make sure that his phone is plugged in, and after confirming that everything seems to be put into place, she tries to wish Harry goodnight before he interrupts and asks, “Will you stay?”

Nora attempts to shake her head, telling him that it isn’t a good idea, causing Harry to try an alternative approach. The whiny, annoying kind, that usually works magnificently on the likes of Niall and Piper.

“Please, Nora! ‘S my birthday. ‘S all I want, and you didn’t get me a gift!”

Nora pauses, reading Harry’s face and finding the ghost of a smile hidden underneath his lips. She admires his tactic and decides to play along, stubbornly adding, “I didn’t know what you’d like! Not quite sure I can compete with all of the nice things your friends already got you.”

Harry scoffs indignantly. “I would’ve loved it anyway. ‘Cos it’s from you.”

“Harry—”

“—Please stay,” Harry interrupts, causing Nora to frown as she’s torn. “We can watch a film! Like we used to! I know y’love films, Nora. I even ‘ave a bunch in a drawer over ‘ere, look—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nora rushes out, placing her hands gently over the duvet covering Harry’s chest, forcing him to lie back down on his bed. “No need to get up. It just took me ages to get you tucked in!”

“You’re right, ‘m sorry. ‘S over there.” Harry aimlessly points in the direction of his television stand at the far end of the wall. Nora nods, turning on her heel and beginning to walk in that direction, bending at her knees as she opens the drawer in question.

As she scans over the movie titles, she’s surprisingly impressed at his collection. They span across multiple genres, although Nora does note that he owns a decent amount of romantic comedies for a twenty-two year old boy. She almost chooses Ferris Bueller’s Day Off to reminisce, but those memories are jaded now, and she hasn’t seen the film since she sat thigh to thigh with Harry in his twin bed all those years ago, so instead, she plucks 10 Things I Hate About You and places it into the DVD player.

When the title screen loads, she checks on Harry over her shoulder and finds that he’s grinning from his position tucked snugly in his bed.

“Did y’know this was based on Taming of the Shrew?” he asks suddenly.

Nora pauses her act of getting up from the floor, shocked at the fact that Harry is willingly giving her film trivia that she used to provide. And when she stands up after a beat, looking down at him from the end of his bed, she smirks and asks teasingly, “Have you been studying film trivia?”

Harry just shrugs, a shy smile covering his face as his cheeks bloom pink.

She turns around then and hits play, and once the opening credits begin to roll on the screen, she rounds his king-sized bed and lays beside him on the other end, making sure to lay on top of the covers in her dress to keep a safe distance between them. Harry tries his hardest not to pout at the absence.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Harry whispers just as the opening scene flashes onto the screen.

With her eyes trained on the screen, Nora just nods quietly, trying her hardest not to look over in his direction. And around halfway through the film, just after Patrick belts “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” to Kat on the staircase, Harry looks over to find Nora sound asleep on the other side of the mattress. Without waking her up, he grabs the blanket at the end of his bed and throws it over her body, watching as she welcomes the warmth as she snuggles into it.

It’s far too early when Harry wakes up. The sun has barely started to stretch its sunbeams outside of his window, and when he blinks through the dimness of his room, he finds that the first thing he sees is Nora Priestley. They’re both lying on their sides facing each other, a little bit closer than when they first dozed off. Harry can feel their bent knees brushing against the other’s underneath their respective blanket layers, and when Harry focuses on the hand that isn’t buried under his pillow, he realizes that his fingertips are ever so lightly grazing Nora’s much smaller ones. He smiles to himself, and just before falling back asleep, he hooks his pinky finger around Nora’s.

When he wakes up a few hours later, Nora is gone. He looks around his room to see if she’s in the ensuite or banging about downstairs, and finds himself frowning when all he’s met with is silence. Just as his eyes sweep over his nightstand, he finds a note near a glass of water with two paracetamol tablets on top. He scoops up the medication in one hand, and brings the note up to his eyes with the other.

Happy birthday, Harry. Here’s the best I could do on short notice. -Nora

He glances over to his alarm clock and realizes that it’s not even noon yet, and without really thinking, he reaches for his mobile and rings Niall to ask him for directions to Niall and Piper’s residence hall.

“Curly? What’re you doin’ up before noon?” Niall’s loud voice asks through the receiver.

Before Harry can bring himself to respond, he hears a giggle that sounds almost identical to Nora’s in the background, and suddenly he’s asking, “What’re you up to?”

“Hangover brunch, mate. Sunday tradition,” Niall responds easily, the sound of the late morning air ruffling through the speaker.

“Since when?” Harry asks, straining his ear to see if he can try to hear Nora again.

Niall laughs loudly, breaking his focus. “Since always! Yer dead to the world until the afternoon, so Rah always third-wheels with Piper and I—oof! I’m just messin’ around, Rah! You know we love yer company!”

Suddenly, Harry’s springing out of bed, running into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash cold water onto his face to wake him up. He asks Niall the name of the restaurant, and just as the words leave his mouth, Harry hangs up and throws on the first clean pair of jeans and jumper he can find, shoving a beanie over his mangled hair and flying out the door.

He arrives just as tea gets brought to the table, and when he finds that the only open chair at their table of four is the one across from Nora, he grins and slides right in, watching the way her cheeks blush as her eyes burn holes through the plastic menu.

“Any particular reason why yer up and at ‘em this mornin’, Curly?” Niall asks, a knowing look on his face as his eyes dart between Harry’s and Nora’s accusingly.

“Just felt like waking up, I suppose,” Harry says in Niall’s direction, ordering a cup of tea from the waitress as she passes by. When he realizes that Piper and Niall are indulged in their own conversation, Harry leans forward over the table and asks Nora lowly, “So, what’s good here?”

Nora’s eyebrows dart up in surprise, asking, “You’ve never been here before?”

Harry shakes his head, smiling when he coaxes a pretty giggle out of Nora’s mouth. He finds that she looks cute in the morning, all sleepy eyed and puffed out cheeks. He almost wishes he caught her before she snuck out of his flat. He would have loved to see what she looked like buried in his pillows.

“I usually get a full English and give Niall my tomatoes,” Nora explains, sipping her tea generously.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks.

Nora scrunches her nose. “Not a fan of them.”

Before Harry can say anything else to her, the waitress pops over to take their order, and when their plates arrive and the first thing Nora notices Harry does is eat a bite of his grilled tomato, she pierces her fork through the two on her plate and drops them on his own instead of giving them to Niall.

If anybody at the table notices, they choose not to say anything.

After that Sunday morning, Harry finds that he can’t stay away from Nora. He remembers lurking through her Facebook page a year ago and finding that she has a thing for coffee shops, and after asking Piper for her class schedule, he waits for her outside her lecture hall one dreary Tuesday afternoon and brings her to his favorite café a few miles away from her residence hall.

It’s called the Muddy Cup and Nora’s surprised that it’s a place Harry frequents, considering it’s the complete opposite of his personality. It’s all bright colors and mismatched furniture, uniquely shaped mugs with bluesy, light jazz music playing in the background. It smells of coffee grinds and a hint of vanilla, and after their third trip there, Nora finds that this version of Harry is just like the one she remembers enjoying during their ten days together back in Townbridge—except, it’s heightened here in London. He tells her things without hesitating, he seems to have recognized how wrong his actions were, he seems to have a plan for his life. It’s a lot all at once, but Nora takes it all in stride, constantly reminding herself not to hold grudges and to try to remember that people are continuously changing and evolving, and that if Harry is trying his hardest to let her see this side of her, then she should at least give him the opportunity to allow him to do so.

But she’s not naive. She knows that she can’t just hand him her heart without precautions all because he’s trying to show her how much he’s changed. Because underneath all of her strong walls, all of the barriers she’s constructed to ensure that she doesn’t feel pain again, she knows that if anybody has the power to weave through all of her booby traps and decoys and rattle the infrastructure, it’s him.

Harry knows this, too. Knows that even though this New Nora in front of him changed her hair and grew up a little bit, she is still guarded, and he really can’t blame her for being overly cautious of him. He’s trying though—really trying, because if there’s anybody in this world that can bring out the best version of himself, it’s her.

After a few more coffee dates and a walk around his campus, Harry finally comes up with a plan. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it sooner, because he’s almost positive it’s going to be the best first date Nora Priestley has ever been on. And he wants that for her—so badly, because she deserves it.

Harry schemes with Niall and Piper to make sure that Nora is free on a rare sunny late February afternoon. He shows up outside of her residence hall in his black Range Rover, watching the way she smiles bashfully at him when she notices him leaning against the passenger door of his car, posture nothing but attractive confidence with the way his jean-clad left leg is bent resting on the steel door, the way his emerald green jumper stretches across his chest due to his arms being crossed over the thin material, the way his long hair is free flowing down his shoulders as the wind ruffles the tendrils in the cool air. He weaves his sunglasses atop his head when he sees her exit her building, giving her a one-armed hug as he simultaneously opens the car door with his other hand, allowing Nora to fall into the warm leather interior.

“Where are we going?” Nora asks after they’ve merged onto the motorway. Harry looks over at her then, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other pushes and pulls at the skin covering his lower lip nervously. He offers her a shy smile, before muttering, “A surprise,” causing Nora to blush immediately.

Once the colorful pastel townhouses flood into view, Nora isn’t sure how she didn’t realize it sooner. The streets are winding and her nose is practically glued to the window as she takes in the flashes of raspberry, lilac, peach, coral, and mint lining Notting Hill. She can’t wipe the aching grin covering her face, and when she whips her head around to look over at Harry and finds that he’s already looking at her, it’s almost instinctual when she slips her hand into his and squeezes it in gratitude.

When Harry has to park the car, he almost whines at the fact that the moment he removes his key from the ignition, Nora’s hand will leave his own.

They spend the afternoon weaving through the crowded streets. Harry leads her through Portobello Road Market and watches as Nora’s eyes flick through racks of clothing and tables filled with various antiques and collectables. She notices Harry eyeing a gold ring from a jewelry stand towards the end of the market, and when he offers to buy them a cup of coffee from a small café across the street, Nora sneakily purchases it for him as a way of saying thank you (and maybe for another reason entirely, too.)

As Nora sips through her warm styrofoam cup of hazelnut coffee, she notices a string of bookshops across the street. She laughs to herself, her memory immediately reverting to three years ago in her tiny twin bed at Townbridge when she and Harry were cuddled up underneath her mom’s handmade blanket watching Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant meet for the very first time. She wonders if Harry is thinking about the same thing, too, but she doesn’t dare ask him. Instead, she links her hand with his and drags him to the first shop she sees, pushing the door open with her hip and letting the smell of old books and worn leather fill her senses.

Harry isn’t sure if Nora is doing it intentionally, but as they scan through the spines of books resting on dusty shelves, her hand never leaves his own. It warms his insides up in a way he’s never experienced, and he feels as if he’s floating through air, and the only thing that’s keeping him grounded is her small hand squeezing his ever so lightly.

Once they’ve rounded the end of the store, Nora looks over and asks him, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Harry’s heart thumps a resounding string of three beats, and he can’t help but wonder if she felt the same whenever he asked her to pick out her favorite films for him three years ago back in her tiny dorm room. From the smile coating the lower half of her face, Harry can assume that she most likely does, and without slipping his hand from her own, he drags her to the classics section and peruses through the titles.

Nora watches as he somehow maneuvers three paperbacks into one hand while keeping her own nestled tightly in his, and when he brings her to the front of the store and easily grabs his wallet from his back pocket, she tries to wriggle her hand from his grasp to stop him from paying for her. Harry doesn’t allow this though, and instead, shushes her by squeezing her hand tighter, looking down at her with his chin resting on his shoulder as he shakes his head with a coy smile covering his face. Nora isn’t sure how to respond—mainly because she’s mesmerized by the turquoise twinkle in his eyes, or the way his large hand wrapped around her own makes her feel overwhelmingly safe, or the way she can’t seem to look anywhere else but at the profile of his structured face. The realization strikes her straight into her heart, an electrical current causing the beating flesh to vibrate almost erratically, making her skin prickle with warmth and her stomach twist and turn with giddiness, and she finds that she never wanted her hand to leave his in the first place.

Before they even realize it, the afternoon is over. Harry intentionally slows his gait so that he can do everything in his power to extend the time he has with Nora’s hand nestled in his own and the left side of her body sidled up to his. But unfortunately, not even Harry has the ability to slow down time, and sadly, they’ve approached the car in despondent silence.

He turns her around just as they’ve reached the passenger side door, Nora’s back resting on the cool steel as she lifts her head up. Harry’s eyes are focused on their tangled hands, toying with her fingertips as he tries to figure out what she’s thinking.

“I got you something,” Nora says after a beat, waiting until Harry’s eyes are on hers before she slips the hand that isn’t knotted with his inside her jacket pocket. He watches as she removes the gold ring from the paper envelope and drops it into his palm gently.

“Nora—” Harry starts, pausing as he stares at the thick gold band with dancing bears engraved in the middle. The sun makes the metal twinkle in the light, and when he shifts his eyes into Nora’s blue pools, he isn’t sure which is brighter.

“Put it on me?” he asks. Harry knows that he’s fully capable of putting it on himself, but that would require removing his other hand from her own. Also, he selfishly wants to feel Nora’s smaller digits tickling his skin, and when she obliges with a gentle smile and grabs the ring from his opened palm, Harry tries to conceal the shudder shaking his body when she obeys his request.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry whispers into the small space between them when Nora’s fingers push the gold ring past his knuckle.

She just shrugs, looking up at him timidly. “I wanted to.”

While Harry’s eyes are focused on the newest addition to his growing jewelry collection, Nora decides to be brave and reaches up onto her tiptoes with the intention of planting a kiss on his cheek as a way of saying thank you without having to properly vocalize it. But, Harry notices everything she does, and when he watches her body shift towards him in his periphery, he lifts his head up at the last moment in question, causing Nora’s plump lips to land on the corner of his mouth.

The contact only lasts a measly two seconds, but it’s enough to cause them both to freeze. Nora’s eyes widen, and before she can let her body fall into his own, she springs back and places a generous two foot gap between them.

Harry’s not even sure what to think. He’s almost positive that he’s frozen to the pavement, his thick boots stuck in sludgy cement as he tries to bring them to move forward so that Nora doesn't feel so far away. But he can’t move—the neurons in his brain aren’t connecting to the muscles in his legs, and he has no fucking idea why.

Nora stares at him, trying her hardest to force her mouth to form the words “sorry.” But when she really stops to think about it, she finds that she isn’t sorry at all. The smallest feeling of his mouth on hers was enough to cause her body to zap with excitement, and when she looks up at him underneath the curtain of her eyelashes and find that his pupils are dilated to the fullest degree, she decides to forego her apology and leans in, pressing her lips to his with reckless abandon.

Instinctively, Harry’s arms wrap around her waist to support her body as their lips re-familiarize themselves with one another. The sigh he breathes into her mouth is nothing but relief—because ever since he left her dorm room three years ago back at Townbridge, all Harry’s been thinking about is feeling her lips on his again. And now that it’s finally happening, he feels as if he can’t breathe.

Nora’s hands clutch the lapels of his woolen jacket over his chest to bring him closer to her, because even though his body is flushed with hers, it still isn’t enough. Harry brings his right hand up to cup her jaw ever so delicately, his thumb pulling her chin down so that her jaw falls slack, allowing him to slip his tongue inside to meet her own. The moan that springs from the back of her throat almost causes Harry’s mouth to still, but when her fingertips wrap around the ends of his hair dusting his shoulder, tangling until she pulls at the roots on top of his head, he can’t help but reciprocate the sound.

When Harry’s neck starts to ache from leaning down to meet her lips, he trickles his palms from her temples to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her thick dark hair until they clasp together just above her neck, allowing him to tilt her head backward and kiss her properly. Nora hums inside his mouth, wrapping her arms around the middle of his back so that she can pull him closer to her in order to feel his heartbeat against her chest through all of their warm layers, his heart thrumming against her skin as if the fleshy organ was screaming at her own “I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!”

Eventually, they break apart, sucking in deep inhales of cool February air to try and quell the lightheadedness caused from their second first kiss. Harry rests his forehead on her own, his eyes shut tight as he tries to permanently ink that memory into the pink pillows of his brain. His warm hands are cupping her jaw in order to keep her as close to him as possible, and Nora can’t help but squeeze the fleshy parts of his arms, keeping their fronts pressed together so that the warmth that emanates from his skin continues to stay wrapped around her.

“Go to dinner with me,” Harry whispers against her skin once his eyes blink open, the fuzziness dissipating when he notices the pinkness of her swollen lips and the tinge of red coating the apples of her cheeks. He missed this. He missed her.

“When?” Nora asks, her voice hoarse from the lack of oxygen ripped from her airway.

“Right now, tonight, tomorrow. Don’t want to let you go just yet.” Nora leans in, her nose resting on his warm cheek as she giggles against the smooth skin. Harry brings his hand to rub soothing circles against her back, wondering if they could stay in this position forever.

Harry can feel her smile against his cheek, and when she moves her head to press two subsequent kisses against his ripe lips, he knows that he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley—it’s probably always been Nora Priestley—and she’s here wrapped up in him nodding against his skin at his outrageous request, and Harry’s never felt this complete in his entire life. It’s like flying and falling, searing warmth and bitter coldness, being too close but still not close enough—a paradoxical rush of adoration shooting to his heart with a loud cacophonous pang that sends his brain into overdrive.

They have dinner together that night, and the night after that, and if not for Harry’s evening lecture, they probably would have gone for a third consecutive date. He takes her to tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that serve the best food Nora’s ever tasted, and although a small part of her was expecting him to go all out and take her to outlandish posh eateries, Nora finds that Harry knows her much better than she originally thought, and he’s constantly full of surprises.

On the next Wednesday pub night, Harry and Nora show up together. Nobody says anything, but Nora can practically feel the scorching looks Niall and Piper are shooting at her from across the table warming her cheek. And after her third beer, just as the band starts to play their first song, Niall saunters over to her side and wraps a heavy arm around her shoulder, whispering excitedly into her ear, “Knew you were special, Rah.”

Harry's insides are buzzing, whirring to life with each sip of bitter beer that falls down his esophagus. The liquor seems to make Nora a bit looser, and once she’s developed a thin layer of drunkenness that causes her cheeks to flush and her guard to falter, Harry practically explodes when she brings her body to rest against his, her back leaning on his front as she allows his warmth to envelope her as they listen to the band playing on the far side of the room. He wraps his arm around her shoulder so that his right hand is splayed out against her collarbone, holding her close in a protective stance as she lets her head fall back on his shoulder comfortably.

After three songs, Nora finds that she’s had enough. Harry’s hand feels too hot pressed against her chest, his hair feels too silky tickling her exposed neck, his chin feels too heavy sitting atop the crown of her head. She wants more, finds that she suddenly needs more, and when she twirls around abruptly and finds that his green eyes are practically black, eagerly searching for her own, she doesn’t hesitate before whispering in his ear, “Can we get out of here?”

Harry’s pretty sure his pants have never felt tighter around his waist. He doesn’t even care about the unfinished pint in his hand, doesn’t even care to make the rounds and properly say goodbye to his mates, doesn’t even care when he hands Niall too much money to pay for their drinks that are absently left on the sticky high top table, doesn’t even care about the looks he receives when he slips his hand in Nora’s and drags her through the front door and into the Underground so that they can reach his flat before her confident streak runs out.

When they’re both standing in his loft bedroom, hands tangled in each other’s hair and lips pressed to warm skin and clothes strewn against hardwood flooring, Nora finds it easier to forget about all of her past hurt. Because his hands feel that good, and his mouth tastes that good, and his warm body looks that good. But when she backs away to pull off her sweater so that she’s left standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, she suddenly hesitates to move forward.

The memory hits her like a bullet to the chest. It’s of her, standing in her Townbridge dorm room wearing a sports bra and sleep shorts, her arms wrapped around herself protectively as she tries to stifle the rib-racking cries shaking through her body as she watched Harry disappear right in front of her face, leaving her alone to try and wrap her head around what he had done to her and what it all meant. Because he was her first real sexual experience, something that Nora didn’t necessarily place on a high pedestal, but still ultimately was a big deal for her. It took a lot of trust to allow Harry to take that from her after ten days of unassuming happiness, and just as quickly as he showed her a different side of herself, he simultaneously ripped it away when he left her alone and confused barely eight hours later in the early morning light.

It’s as if the memory is being broadcasted in Harry’s bedroom, Nora’s blue eyes the screen and her bruised heart the projector, because suddenly, her lips are trembling and her hands are shaking and her eyes are staring blankly at the wall over his left shoulder—and he knows right then and there that her walls are now ten times thicker, constructed with stronger material that will no longer allow him to seep through the cracks. Not without an explanation. Not without an apology.

“Nora—” Harry starts, taking a tentative step forward. The small motion of his feet approaching hers is enough to break Nora out of her daze, her head shaking violently as she takes three more steps back, reaching for her sweater and throwing it over her head without a second thought.

“Please, I—” Harry is panicking. He doesn’t want her to disappear, but he also doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wanted to talk to her without the cloudy sexual energy suffocating them, without her dreamy silhouette obstructing his vision, without her sudden desire to escape more prominent than her desire to stay and listen to him.

“I need a minute, we shouldn’t do this, not when—”

“—Just please listen to me. I can’t let you leave, not like this. Not when you’re finally here after all this time. And I’m not saying this because you’re standing half-naked in my bedroom, it’s just—fuck. I should have said this three years ago. I should have said it when I sent you a friend request on Facebook. I should have said it that first Wednesday pub night. I just got distracted and—”

“—Harry—”

“—I’m sorry, okay? I’m truly so fucking sorry.” Harry seems to have taken the breath trapped in Nora’s throat, because suddenly she’s staring at him wide-eyed and frozen in place, whereas Harry’s chest is erratically shifting up, down as he struggles to contain his uneven breathing pattern.

“I fucked up. I was a dumb, stupid kid who hurt you—and you didn’t deserve it. Not one second of it. I thought about what I did all the time in the aftermath, it fucking ate me alive, Nora. And I’m not saying that for you to pity me, because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t even be here giving me a second chance, because I don’t deserve it. I never deserved your kindness to begin with. You’re too good for me and I just, fuck. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to. I just want to be good enough for you. And I’m so sorry—”

Nora shushes him with a collision of her body into his, her arms wrapping around him tightly as she buries her head into the crook of his neck. Harry’s response is inherent; strong arms encapsulating her smaller body, wide palms spread out evenly along her upper back for support, warm cheek nestled into the velvety waves resting at the top of her head.

“It’s okay, Harry. I forgive you. You’re enough, you deserve kindness too,” Nora mutters into the skin of his neck like a mantra of self-love and acceptance. Because even though Harry nearly broke her heart and made her resent him, she never wanted him to feel hurt, too. Not when it’s self-imposed. Not when it can be dealt with in a different way.

Nora thinks the phrase “an eye for an eye” is ineffectual. Just because you hurt somebody else, does not mean the same fate should be bestowed upon you. Humans are constantly changing and evolving, and pain and acceptance are a part of the long and winding battle in figuring out who you are as a person. If Harry is finally realizing that now, all Nora can do is hug him tighter and forgive him. Because that’s what any decent person would do.

Without unlocking their tangled bodies, Nora slowly steps forward, causing Harry to shuffle backward, until they’re both lying horizontally on his king-sized bed. She turns them over so that his back is flat on the mattress, her leg hooking over his hip as she rests her head against his beating chest, rubbing soothing patterns against the warm skin until he finally calms down.

They spend that night talking for hours. Harry wants to know everything she’s done in their three-year absence, and Nora doesn’t hesitate to give him the details of her new life in New York City. She tells him about Ebony, her roommate-turned-best-friend who supports her without question, who she misses practically every waking moment she’s not with her. She tells him about Marcus, the boy she had more firsts with, who she never found herself loving completely, but still appreciated him for helping her grow up and feel new things. She tells him about the tattoo shop in Brooklyn she went to after her twentieth birthday where a girl with pink hair and purple eyes etched three identical birds on the back of her shoulder.

He doesn’t tell her about the drinking and drugs and blank-faced girls he wasted his time with for the first two years during their time apart, because he’s aware that she already knows—considering his Facebook page holds a track record of every Nadine and Scarlet he toyed around with to fill in the empty hole Nora unknowingly carved into his heart. He doesn’t tell her that hearing about Nora’s ex-boyfriend causes the green monster who has been dormant inside of him for years to suddenly wake up, his blood laced with envy as he thinks of how somebody else got to see her in a vulnerable position he stupidly took for granted.

Harry realizes that this is a bit unfair, considering Nora lived her life without thinking about how it would affect him. And if Nora is jealous of the girls he slept with two years ago, she never shows it. Because she’s much more rational than he is—the calmness to his angst, the mooring to his shipwreck, the comfort to his unease.

They talk until the inky sky turns into an aegean blue, signifying that dawn has begun to break. Nora muffles her yawn into Harry’s neck and he wraps his arm tighter around her body, bringing her against his chest as he closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of having her close again after so much time apart.

When Harry wakes up well into the afternoon, he can’t stop thinking about Nora’s body, considering she shed her sweater sometime in the middle of the morning when they were sleeping, leaving her in just her black bra and underwear as her warm skin suctioned to his own. He hasn’t felt this close to somebody in so long—probably ever, if he really stops to think about it—and before, when he was mindlessly fucking girls to cure the loneliness aching inside of his chest, he never cared about the act of intimacy surrounding sex. But now, with Nora’s body wrapped around his own and the swells of her breasts moving up and down with each languid sleepy breath she takes, the curve of her ass bending whenever she cuddles deeper into his chest, the stretch of her legs winding whenever she coils them around his sinewy hips—Harry feels like he’s in a fucking trance.

He never pushes it, but it’s practically all he can think about in the weeks that follow. He finds that when they’re together he always chooses a new part of her body to hyper-fixate on—whether it’s the angular cut of her jaw, the long arch of her neck, the thin layer of skin covered in gold necklaces on the top of her chest, the fleshy part of her hips that connect to her thighs—Harry feels completely and utterly famished.

Nora feels it, too. Feels that if she has to stand so close to him on Wednesday pub nights and feel the warmth of his body enveloping her own without him moving any closer, she’ll burst. Feels that if she has to observe the coiled strands of his long hair weave down his neck without her hands tangled at the root, she’ll explode. Feels that if his raspberry lips mouth her two-syllable name followed by his infamous smirk without her own swallowing the last vowel, she’ll shatter.

It finally happens as springtime infiltrates the streets of London, melting any remnants of snow and bringing forth longer stretches of sunlight on the horizon. Nora spent the week studying for a major exam in her Emerging Media Studies course, causing her to miss out on Sunday brunch and Wednesday pub night. Her absence hit Harry the hardest out of everybody, and when she walks out of her lecture hall Thursday night after she handed in her exam, she can’t help but catapult into Harry’s arms when she sees him waiting for her.

They drive to his flat and he cooks her a hearty pasta dish and when he suggests watching a movie tangled in his sheets afterward, Nora finds that she has no interest in absorbing the content on his television screen. She’s made Harry wait long enough, and it feels like the month after his birthday has been a continuous long stretch of unbearable foreplay that Nora can’t wait to act on.

Before Harry has even made it back to bed after setting up the film, Nora’s already pulled his borrowed sleep shirt over her head, leaving her in the matching navy blue lingerie set Piper encouraged her to purchase at Selfridges last week.

Nora’s never seen Harry move faster in his life at the first sight of her. She can barely make out his pupils darting from the exposed skin above the waistline of her underwear to the swells of her breasts uncovered by the lacy underwire bra before he’s jumping on the bed, her entire body shaking with the mattress as he plants searing kiss after searing kiss all over her flushed skin.

He dotes on her body, mumbling praises in between each suction of his lips as he works his way from the top of her forehead to the tips of her toes. “Christ, look at you Nora,” he whispers into the skin underneath her jawline, “All for me? How’d I get so lucky?” he mumbles into the tight skin between the valley of her breasts, pausing to dart his tongue underneath the lacy fabric covering her nipples, pulling a delicious moan from the back of her throat, “You’re fucking perfect,” he purrs into the thicker skin covering her upper thighs as he noses his way teasingly around the edges of her underwear, making her wiggle in want and need.

And when she finally allows him to slowly peel each piece from her body, leaving her bare in front of him as her dark hair fans against his charcoal-colored sheets, Harry’s almost positive he’s forgotten how to breathe. He’s never wanted somebody this badly before—needed somebody this badly before, and when Nora leans up on her elbows and urges him to come closer to her with a slow drag of her fingertip, he almost bursts at the sudden rush of his heart thrashing against the walls of his chest.

All because of her.

“I’m done for,” Harry whispers against her lips before slotting them together with fervor, gripping the skin at the back of her neck tightly to keep her close to him. Nora doesn’t mind, in fact, she absolutely loves his roughness—loves it so much that she can’t help but reciprocate when she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them both over so that their positions are switched and she can be the one to run her lips and teeth down the front of his body in domineering adoration.

Where everything with Marcus was simple and easy, Harry is the complete antithesis. He is everything new and exciting, complex and invigorating, compelling and beautiful. Nora didn’t think it was possible to feel this starved and fulfilled at the same time—but when Harry’s naked body is hovering over her own, his teeth sinking into the fleshy part of her shoulder blade, one hand gripping her ankle and the other holding her hip close to him, she finally feels fireworks burst underneath her eyelids when he enters her for the first time. Her skin feels as if it were bubbling, her heart pumping blood as if it were working in overdrive, and her brain fills with fluttering images of Harry’s chiseled jaw, his matted hair, his supple mouth, his hungry eyes.

It’s everything and more—Harry is everything and more, and when they’re spent and the white noise in Nora’s ears has finally subsided to a gentle hum, she can’t believe that she waited this long to experience this. She wonders if her first time was a dud, a faulty scenario in which her partner didn’t understand how to satisfy her properly. Or maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with Marcus at all. That the feeling of her heart exploding and stars bursting through her vision and fireworks cracking in the air above were solely caused by the boy lying beside her, his heart seemingly entangled with hers.

Nora wonders if it's fate or if she’s magnificently cursed for the rest of her life.

As March fades into April, Nora has never felt closer to another person before. It’s incredibly new—this feeling of freefalling off of a cliff into the rocky waters below with nothing but Harry’s strong hand holding hers to remind her that this is all new for him, too, and there’s nobody else he’d rather experience this with than with her.

Harry’s never been the best at giving himself completely over to another person, considering vulnerability is a difficult construct for his mind to wrap around. And when he lies awake at night while Nora sleeps soundly beside him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head rising and falling with the scattered breaths escaping his lungs, he wonders what’s holding him back. Wonders why it’s so easy for her to talk about family and the future and everything that falls in between—because for the first time ever, Nora is the one that’s completely sure of something in their relationship. Harry, on the other hand, is hesitant. Apprehensive. Scared.

Because it’s so much easier to hide certain aspects of his life from her. Harry has enough skeletons in his closet to fill an entire graveyard, and they all tend to orbit around his shitty relationship with his parents and his innate desire to fall apart whenever he succumbs to the inordinate amount of pressure his father places over his head.

Nora doesn’t deserve to see that. Nobody does. So Harry does what he thinks is right and hides this part of his life from her, lying straight through his teeth whenever she questions where in the world his parents are, and instead of them being in Hong Kong or Indonesia or Dubai, they’re just a forty-five minute drive away. But that’s far too close for Harry to manage, so refocusing her brain on something else is the better option.

Because while Nora was falling hard, giving Harry the directions to make it through the labyrinth to claim her heart, she figured he was doing the same. Letting her in unconditionally and trusting her with this new feeling. But, unbeknownst to Nora, he was shielding her from the life he’s always dreaded being a part of. She was just in too deep to fully realize it.

The first lie starts at the end of April. Harry doesn’t even realize he’s lying in the first place when it falls from his lips that he has to skip out on Wednesday pub night to stay on campus and prepare for a group presentation the following Monday, but once it’s out he can’t force it back into the depths of his being. So while Nora texts him that she misses him and things aren’t the same without him there, Harry’s pushing the lie deeper and deeper inside of him until he’s swallowed the lump whole and it rests heavily at the bottom of his stomach.

Because while his mates are drinking in Camden, Harry’s only eight kilometers away in Knightsbridge wearing a navy blue suit sipping gingerly at a glass of bourbon and initiating small talk with his father’s stuffy work friends. It’s some charity event his father had mentioned in the past, and although Harry’s mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Nora, he suddenly becomes alert when his father introduces him to the only other person that is relatively close to his age.

Harry remembers her from one of the events he was forced to attend during his internship at his father’s office. He doesn’t recall much from meeting her nearly a year ago, considering he was a bit of a dickhead and was more focused on plotting ways to dip out early without being caught to meet up with his mates than trying to mingle with other guests, but now—now that she’s standing in front of him wearing a pretty mauve dress with expensive strappy heels, hair perfectly in place as her almond-shaped eyes gaze into his own, Harry doesn’t hesitate to shake her hand properly.

Her name is Jacqueline Van-Doren, and although she’s the type of beautiful that people can’t help but gawk at, Harry finds that he’s subconsciously comparing her to Nora. Her eyes have more of a greyish tint to them, and while Nora’s sparkle whenever any trace of light reflects off of her irises, Jacqueline’s are more lackluster in comparison. Her cheekbones are higher than Nora’s, but they lack the subtle shade of pink that always appears whenever Nora’s in a close enough radius to Harry. And while she’s much taller, much more confident, much more put together than Nora and all her mumbling and stuttering and clumsiness—Harry finds that he would indubitably pick Nora over a girl like Jacqueline any day.

The second lie happens in the middle of May just as the temperature is rising and the trees are green and blooming. Harry had plans to take Nora on a day trip to Bath so she could tick off another destination on her travel list, but unknowingly, he double-booked himself as his father reminded him he had a familial obligation to attend that same day in the form of an elaborate wedding at The Savoy.

He tells Nora that he has to attend a networking dinner in Oxfordshire, and somehow the lies get easier and easier to tell the more he spews them. Harry’s grateful that Nora doesn’t fact-check his excuse with Niall, but then again, she has no reason to suspect anything, right?

Harry spends the entire reception sitting in the back of the room in his charcoal Louis Vuitton suit with a sick feeling settling inside of him. It grows stronger with each candied sip of whiskey that falls down his throat, and when his father approaches him with a familiar blonde-haired grey-eyed girl practically matching his ensemble, Harry tries his hardest not to laugh. Because his father obviously is not shy in trying to set the two of them up, and although Jacqueline is still undeniably gorgeous after four whiskey neats, it’s not what he wants. She’s not what he wants.

But the pressure of displeasing his father is too much to bear, so he kisses her cheek cordially and allows her to sit with him. They talk the rest of the night but Harry genuinely has no idea what the content was, and when his father tells the pair of them that they’re required to attend an intimate work dinner at the end of the week, Harry just nods and goes along with it.

As May reaches its end, Nora can barely think straight. Her time in London has been nothing but an absolute dream—a whirlwind of newfound friendships, acclimating to her second favorite city in the world, and falling in love with somebody she never thought she would find solid ground with. She’s never felt this way about anybody before—not with Connor, not with Marcus, not with anybody. Nora isn’t even sure if her heart can feel this way about someone ever again. Not after Harry.

She’s hyperaware that her time in London is coming to an end, and reluctantly, she doesn’t want to leave. Not when she’s decided that she’s in love with Harry. Not when he can give her a reason to stay.

Nora has never unexpectedly shown up at Harry’s place before, but after rewriting the conclusion to her final essay for the fourth time and it still not making any sense, she grabs her jacket and oyster card and makes her way to the Underground to head towards Hampstead Heath.

She doesn’t bother calling or texting to alert him that she’s on her way, because in her mad rush to leave her residence hall, Nora forgot to grab her phone that was charging on top of her duvet. Nora’s never been impulsive or brash before—but it’s Harry and she’s in love, and she needs to tell him.

The white townhouse and small iron-clad gate come into view before Nora’s even figured out the words to say to Harry when he opens his navy blue front door. She figures that when she sees his face she’ll finally figure out how to explain what her feelings are, but when his green eyes meet her blues in trepidation, Nora wonders if she made the wrong decision in showing up unannounced.

In the tense silence that follows, Nora pauses for a minute, taking in Harry’s crisp white button down shirt tucked into a sleek pair of slacks. He seems to have been in the process of finishing fastening them, considering Nora can still see the tops of his butterfly tattoo and the swallows underneath his collarbones almost perfectly.

“Nora? What’re you—did we have plans?” Harry’s cheeks are blushed and he’s fidgeting uncomfortably in his fancy brogues and for the first time in months, he looks like he doesn’t want to let her inside.

“No, I uh—” Nora’s confidence is crumbling, and she’s suddenly not sure if this was a good idea at all. Maybe being brash and impulsive is a thing protagonists only do in the movies. “I had to tell you something. But this obviously isn’t a good time, so…”

Before she can turn to leave with her tail tucked between her legs, something inside of Harry clicks into place. He quickly opens his door wider and lets her in, ignoring the warning bells ricocheting inside of his brain as his brain fights with his heart for control over the situation. His heart ultimately wins in the end, and once Nora takes her first few steps inside his home, Harry can feel his insides quiver with nerves.

Nora barely makes it past the foyer, standing just at the cusp of his living room when she notices the expensive blazer thrown over the back of his leather sofa, his crisp black wallet on the fireplace mantle, and the heavy cardstock with cursive script that seems to be an invitation of the utmost importance lying parallel on the surface.

Why didn’t he tell her he was going somewhere? Was he hiding things from her? Was he ashamed to bring her to his gaudy work events? Does she really look that unappealing on his arm? Why has this all of a sudden become too confusing for Nora when just minutes earlier, she was unquestionably sure that she was in love with him?

Harry’s playing with the links on his shiny wrist watch nervously, attaching it with fumbling hands around his inked skin when Nora finally decides to break the silence. “Where are you, uh, going?”

He looks up at her, a bewildered expression on his face, and suddenly, his mouth has gone bone dry. Nora grows more and more skittish with each quiet breath that passes between them, and she’s never felt more unsure about their relationship.

God, when did things get so awkward between them?

“My dad’s back in the country, and it’s just this stupid event he’s making me go to. I tried to get out if it, honest, but it didn’t work. So, uh, I didn’t think it was a big deal to mention it to you,” Harry says quietly, feeling his lungs begin to constrict in the most agonizing way.

This lie feels worse than all the others he’s told her, because for the first time, there’s a crack in his resolve. Harry knows then that he’s done something very wrong, and he immediately regrets it all when he notices the hurt expression clouding Nora’s vision.

Nora knows this, too, because his chest is moving up and down from the thundering beats of his heart inside of his chest, and his hands are shaking against the smooth material of his pants, and his eyes are blown out so wide that Nora can make out all of the different shades of green hidden inside. And when his tremulous pupils finally focus on her own, Nora can see that Harry looks completely panicked in front of her, and she isn’t quite sure what to think.

“Oh,” Nora lets out in a soft exhale. It sounds defeated and she’s not entirely sure why, because nothing has even happened between them yet.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why she feels so low all of a sudden. Because it’s  been months of almost something’s—of days spent exploring different parts of the city and nights spent exploring different parts of each other. All without a label. All without a conversation. And now, standing in the front room of Harry’s home with shaking hands and trembling lips, Nora doesn’t understand how nothing can be said.

When her blue eyes fall to the floor, Harry springs into action. He’s in full recovery mode, approaching her slowly until the tips of his brogues bump the white of her trainers. His hands find purchase on her shoulders, gently kneading the skin until she finally looks up at him.

“I’ll only be there for an hour. We can do something afterwards, yeah? Just, uh, stay,” he pauses suddenly, eyes wide when he realizes what he’s saying before swallowing deeply, squeezing her soft skin a bit harder. “Stay here while I’m gone. Please.”

“You want me to stay here?” Nora echoes, blinking once, twice, a winsome dumbfounded expression gracing her features.

Harry nods, moving his right hand from her shoulder upwards until his warm palm is cupping the underside of her jaw tenderly, his thumb offering soothing strokes against the pink skin covering her cheekbone.

“Yeah, I do.”

Nora’s doubts are finally subsided, because how can he not feel anything towards her if he’s allowing her into his space for the first time without supervision? He obviously trusts her, and he obviously needs her—and that’s all the confirmation she needs to quiet her racing head and settle her thumping heart.

Her small hands settle on Harry’s waist and he instinctively brings her closer, cupping her jaw with his other hand so that he can angle her head back gently and press his lips against her own. It’s soft and sweet and soothing, and how can he not feel the same way when he kisses her like this?

Before they can get too carried away, his doorbell buzzes and Nora giggles when she feels him groan against her lips, shaking his head softly and backing away, looking down at her with a childlike pout on his lips.

Nora can’t help but trace the protruding flesh with her thumb, causing Harry to shiver. He’s dreading this event even more now, because all he wants to do is drag Nora upstairs and lock her in his room and turn their clock off for just one night.

But the doorbell buzzes again, and he sighs, knowing he can’t do that.

“That’s the car. I’ve got to go,” Harry whispers, giving Nora one last kiss before shrugging his blazer on and grabbing his wallet, keys, and invitation in one fell swoop.

Nora nods, a bit breathless at the sight of him. Harry opens the door, and before he can fully retreat, he peeks his head over his shoulder, long hair tucked behind his ear as he gives her one last small smile.

“One hour. Don’t miss me too much.”

As if she doesn’t miss him instantly when he leaves her.

True to his word, Harry comes back an hour later with a slice of red velvet cake he nicked from the dessert table before sneaking out undetected. He finds Nora burrowed in the thick sheets of his bed wearing the same Rush band tee he wore earlier in the day, her eyes lifting from the movie on the screen to the green of his eyes.

“Hey you,” she says softly, sitting up taller on his bed so that her back is flushed with his headboard and the tops of her thighs are poking out from underneath his duvet.

“Hi,” Harry responds, toeing off his shoes and walking over to her languidly, “Got you a present.” He drops the takeout container on her lap, grinning when she squeals and dredges her pointer finger through the thick frosting.

“Mmm,” Nora sighs, licking her finger dry as she smirks mischievously at Harry, watching as he undresses mindlessly. He isn’t sure if she’s doing it intentionally or if she’s always been a secret seductress, but when she repeats the action and swirls her tongue along her sticky digit, Harry snatches the box from her lap and slides his arms around her waist, switching their positions effortlessly so that she’s on top of him as he falls easily back onto the mattress.

“Someone’s feeling cheeky,” Harry says against her lips, his nose bumping hers repeatedly as she giggles against his skin.

“Can’t help it. I missed you,” Nora explains, adjusting her knees so that her weight is evenly distributed along his lower half, her backside resting against his front as her hands twist in between the curls along the crown of his head.

“Yeah?” Harry coaxes, his fingertips sneaking underneath his shirt as he plays with the lace material covering the bottom of her underwear.

“Always.” Nora seals her response with a fiery kiss, bringing her lips to his and pressing her entire body against his searing torso. She wonders if it’ll always feel like this—white hot electrical current shooting up her veins, warming her entire body up with just one simple press of his lips to hers.

Once Harry starts nipping at the skin of her lower lip, Nora responds by grinding into his lower half, the thin material of their underwear leaving little to the imagination as they garner enough friction to cause Nora’s knickers to dampen and Harry’s briefs to tighten.

They kiss until they’ve reached their very last breath, and when their lips depart, Harry uses this time to throw his shirt off of Nora’s body, leaving her sitting against his lap in just a nude pair of lacy underwear that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

With his head resting back against his neck, Nora decides to attach her lips to the column of Harry’s throat, causing his entire body to shudder as a carnal moan rips through his throat and settles between them. Her fingers draw a tantalizing path down his chest and abdomen until they’ve settled along his waist, red lines marking the path Nora’s fingernails greedily traced.

Her small palm cups his growing length trapped inside the strained cotton material, rubbing and squeezing as her teeth bite into the sharp cut of his jaw. Harry hands grip the skin of her waist in anticipation, and once Nora’s decided that he’s had enough teasing, she rolls the band of his briefs down, freeing his length in the stifling air of his bedroom.

“Christ,” Harry whispers, his eyes shut tight as he breathes through the feeling of Nora’s bare hands on his newly uncovered skin. She shushes him with gentle kisses, lapping her tongue against his own once he’s finally calmed down a bit more and begun reciprocating her tenacity.

Before he can take control, Nora makes the decision for him as she slides her underwear down her legs, flinging the thin material against his floor. Harry’s eyes snap open as he takes in the sight of her naked against his lap, the moonlight flooding into his bedroom outlining the curve of her body, the shape of her breasts, the valley of her stomach, the stretch of her legs.

No matter how many times Harry’s seen her like this, he never fails to stop and appreciate her. Because he’s taken it for granted too many times in the past, and every time he sees her exposing herself to him in the most vulnerable way there is, he can’t help but feel his heart grow in his chest, hammering against his ribs as he marvels in the fact that Nora Priestley chose him.

“What?” Nora asks shakily, shrinking into herself when she realizes Harry’s been staring at her for a beat longer than necessary.

“Nothing,” Harry admits, bringing a hand up to her face and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re just beautiful.”

Nora responds with a smile, pressing her lips to his tightly. “I want you like this.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, his hands tightening against her waist as he watches her scoot up higher on his lap so that her core is lined up with his aching length.

Nora nods, her teeth sinking into the plushness of her lower lip as she wraps her arms around his neck. Before he can say another word, she begins teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, watching the way his eyes widen almost cartoonishly and the vein in his neck starts to pulse.

“Nora, fuck, baby, wait. I need—fuck. Need a condom,” Harry stutters, holding her tightly in his grasp as she hovers over his tip.

“It’s only been me, yeah?” Nora asks, the muscles in her thighs straining as she holds herself in the position over his length.

“What? Why would you ask me that? Of course it’s only you,” Harry says quickly, a look of bewilderment gracing his features.

“Then let’s not use one. I want to feel you like this,” Nora whispers, her hands holding his face tightly so that he has no choice but to stare into the blues of her eyes.

Harry feels his stomach bottom out, constantly amazed at the girl in front of him. “Are you sure? Have you ever done this?” he asks, disquietude lacing his every word.

Nora shakes her head. “Have you?”

“No,” he answers, much to Nora’s surprise. “I haven’t.”

“Well, Harry Styles,” she whispers, rubbing her palms over Harry’s hands that are gripping her waist, signalling that she wants him to loosen his hold, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Harry’s teeth widen at her quip, remembering the way she uttered those same exact words to him three years ago when he was experiencing another first with her. Before he can say anything back, Nora gives him one last kiss before sinking down on his length, causing his brain to forget every single thought rushing through his head other than the fact that he’s inside of her with no barrier between them, and it’s probably the closest he’s ever (and will ever) feel with another person.

They both seem to be in the same headspace, with the way Nora freezes on top of him, her throat pinching when she realizes she can feel every ridge and curve of his length from this position, and it’s only once he asks her his standard question of, “Are you okay?” when Nora starts to lift herself on her knees, before sinking back over him once more.

“Oh my god,” Harry exclaims, wrapping one arm around her lower back and the other gripping harshly at the back of her neck, holding her as tightly and as closely as possible so that he can feel every shudder of her body and every thump of her heart against his own.

Nora angles his head back so that she can crash her lips to his, swallowing his moans as she swivels her hips against his own, feeling his tip bump against the spongy spot inside of her walls that causes her toes to curl. When he expertly hits it for a third continuous time, Nora’s neck falls back as she cries out into the stuffy air.

Harry noses at the clammy skin of her neck before pressing his lips to the spot near her jaw, licking and sucking until she’s whimpering above him. “Feel so fuckin’ good,” Harry whispers against her skin, sinking his teeth deeper into her flesh when he feels her clench around him.

“I’m close,” Nora says through an exasperated breath, weaving her fingers through his long hair until she’s wrapped the strands around her wrist in a makeshift ponytail, pulling just enough to cause Harry to groan against her.

“Fuck, baby. Me too. Do that again,” he instructs, feeling himself lose control when Nora obeys his request.

Nora’s never been on top for this long before, and while her thighs are burning and her lungs are losing air the closer and closer she gets to her release, she’s never had sex feel this good before. The knot inside of her stomach is tightening with every thrust Harry meets her with, and when his right hand sneaks down between them and rubs at her swollen mound, it only takes three rotations until the knot is uncoiled and Nora’s careening towards her end.

She stills on top of him, trembling with the aftershocks as she comes down from the most intense orgasm she’s had yet. Her body doesn’t even feel like her own, with the way she’s vibrating all over and her skin is dampened and her hair is knotted. It’s only once Harry’s pushed her backward, hovering over her as she’s horizontal on his sheets, when the fuzziness finally dissipates from her vision. She’s thankful that she can finally see clearly, because when her blue eyes meet his, she watches as he slips out of her, pumping his length until white ribbons coat the skin underneath her belly button.

They’re both staring at each other with heaving chests and dotted irises, coming down slowly as they realize what had just transpired between them. When Harry finally catches his breath, he whispers, “Shit, I’m sorry I probably should have asked—”

“Shh,” Nora coos, always the one to calm his racing heart and wild thoughts. “It’s okay. That was amazing. You’re amazing. C’mere, please.”

He smiles before crashing his lips to hers, kissing her soft and slow, a thousand words spilling through their lips without their voices ever speaking them. They break away softly so that Harry can grab his discarded shirt from the floor to clean Nora’s stomach, his arm reaching for the article of clothing without getting up so that he can keep her underneath him for as long as humanly possible.

As he dotes on her ever so delicately, Nora’s convinced that he feels the same way. She argues over how to tell him in her head as he wipes at her stomach and in between her thighs, before throwing the shirt into his hamper across the room. She debates the wordage as he wraps his arms around her gently, heaving them up the bed until they’re tangled together underneath his sheets. And just when she’s about to say it, he mumbles against the skin of her neck in his throaty voice, “I wish time could stop and we could stay like this forever. Just you and me.”

Nora freezes. Because suddenly, her heart pangs with the startling realization that she’s leaving London in four days. Moments like these with Harry are dwindling away one by one, and she really needs him to give her a reason to stay.

She needs to hear him say it.

And just as she’s built up the courage to whisper her declaration out into the air, Harry’s soft snores whistle against her neck. So she pushes it down, and waits for another day.

Nora wakes up in the middle of the morning with a nervous knot lodged inside her throat. She’s not even sure what spurred this on—considering she fell asleep tucked underneath Harry’s arm feeling safe and warm, her head lulling against his chest as his sleepy breaths ruffled the brown strands of hair falling against her cheek. But now, at six forty-three in the morning, Nora feels completely unsettled.

Her skin feels hot but she’s shivering for some strange reason, and when she’s reminded of the weight of Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist, she suddenly feels weak under the heaviness of it. She doesn’t feel comfortable, and all at once she feels the urge to get out from under the stifling duvet and get some fresh air.

She sneaks away from Harry’s body, tip-toeing towards his bedroom door with nothing but her cardigan on from the night before. Just as she’s closing the door, Nora makes sure to peek at him one last time, smiling to herself when she watches him flop onto his stomach and clutch the pillow she was just using tighter into his grasp. Nora wonders if he sleeps like this when she’s not with him.

She wonders if he’ll sleep like this when she leaves in three days.

Sighing, Nora makes her way to the sliding door connected to his kitchen, plopping herself down on the brick steps of the tiny porch overlooking his back garden. With her thighs pressed to her chest and her chin resting on the oversized knitted material of her buttoned cardigan over her knees, she despondently watches the blues and oranges and yellows of the early morning sun paint a picture of this piece of London she’s grown to love almost as much as the sleeping boy upstairs.

Nora’s not sure how long she sits out in the cool June air contemplating what the uneasy feeling was that forced her out of bed, but it’s long enough for her to notice the sun rising with the rest of Harry’s neighborhood. Her stomach begins to grumble then, and the thought of making coffee and toast urges her legs to carry her back inside the flat and into the small kitchen.

Just as she’s distractedly buttering her toast, Nora feels two strong arms lock around her waist from behind. She jumps at the feeling of it, even though there’s no other person it could possibly be besides Harry. Nora’s not sure if it’s just a residual effect from this morning, but still, she leans into him when her pulse decides to go back to normal, and she can feel Harry’s nose bumping against the side of her neck.

“You’re up early,” Harry mutters in that raspy morning voice of his that never fails to make Nora’s thighs clench together. There’s just something about him in the mornings.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nora explains, her teeth ripping a small piece from the corner of her toast before bringing it over her left shoulder for Harry to try.

He hums in appreciation. “Don’t like when you’re not with me when I wake up,” he admits, tightening his arms around her as he swallows so that her backside is fully flushed with his.

“I know,” Nora whispers, the knot suddenly reappearing in her throat without warning. The half-eaten toast in her hand is no longer appetizing to her, and when she places it on a paper towel with trembling fingers, Nora comes to the conclusion that it’s now or never. She needs to tell him—because holding it hostage deep down inside of her is causing her to feel physically ill, and she’d rather face the consequences than always wonder what could be.

Harry notices her switch in demeanor almost instantly, and before Nora can even gather her bearings, he’s spinning her around, one opened palm cupping her jaw with his thumb rubbing her cheekbone delicately while the other tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he observes her closely.

“Everything alright?” he asks, nervously watching the way her eyes seem to focus on everything but his own, her hands seem to shake erratically against her sides, her lips seem even darker due to the incessant nibbling she’s done to them throughout the morning, and Harry suddenly wonders if she’s finally caught up to all of his lies.

Nora takes one last breath before bringing her eyes to his own, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Now Harry’s the one that’s panicking.

As if his brain is no longer controlling his body, his hands suddenly disappear from Nora’s face. He takes a tentative step back, leaving a cold space where his warm body was just flushed against her own. Nora watches as his skin turns an uncomfortable shade of pale, and as if they had completely swapped roles, Harry’s now the one who can’t seem to hold her gaze.

“Wait—what?” Harry unnecessarily asks. He mainly utters it as a placeholder, considering he’s let an awkward wave of silence wash over them both with his inability to say anything of importance.

Nora breathes through her nose, concerned. “I said, I think I’m in lo—”

“Why?”

Nora wonders if he’s joking.

“What do you mean, why?” Harry can feel her slowly losing her patience, her arms wrapping around herself slowly, creating a layer of armor that she’s used in the past to protect herself from his callous words.

“I mean—are you sure?”

“Are you serious?”

Sure, Harry knows that he cares for Nora with everything in his being. And sure, a part of him understands that when his heart speeds up and his chest tightens and his cheeks bloom pink whenever he’s around her, it’s all due to his feelings for her.

But even though that all stands true—Harry can’t help but be wary. Because how are you supposed to know how to love somebody when you’ve never properly been loved yourself?

His best times with Nora are always a dream-like trance Harry finds himself reliving over and over again. They’re always short glimpses of time, weeks or months with an expiration date looming over their heads because Harry can only allot himself momentary feelings of bliss and vulnerability before he realizes that his heart has the capacity to break in half if he continues on any further.

While Harry’s heart and mind battle with one another, Nora decides that she’s had enough. There’s only so many minutes she can stand in front of him watching as he silently stares at the linoleum flooring of his kitchen instead of explaining his reasoning to her. It’s only once she feels the pressure of tears welling at her waterline when she ends up slinking around him, gathering the rest of her clothes and belongings in record speed so that she can leave his home before the first tear falls.

Harry’s frozen in place. He’s still staring at the spot Nora once filled, hearing the sounds of her slipping her shoes on by the door and twisting his door knob, but none of it is actually registering in his clogged mind. He’s not sure why—he’s completely and utterly recalibrating the entire inner-workings of his head, body, and heart.

It’s only once he’s heard the navy blue door slam shut when he snaps out of his catatonic state, realizing then and there that even though he hasn’t figured out how to explain his warped outlook on love to her, he still owes it to her to acknowledge her declaration.

But he’s too late—he’s always too late when it comes to Nora Priestley. Because while he’s approached the iron-clad gate wearing just his black briefs, Nora’s already rounded the corner of his street, leaving a flurry of dark brown hair and tears staining the pavement in her path.

Harry knows that his immediate reaction should have been to chase after her, but instead, he decides to grab the first bottle of liquor he could grasp from his bar cart, slinking down onto his couch and bringing it to his lips without an ounce of food in his stomach.

This is where Niall finds him hours later, a nearly-emptied bottle of whiskey at his feet while Harry stares at the black screen of his television with blank eyes, still wearing his briefs from this morning. He’s replayed the conversation so many times in his brain that he can recite Nora’s staggered breathing patterns by heart, and Harry knows that Niall is privy to this because instead of yelling at him, he sneaks off into his bedroom and throws a clean set of clothes at his bare body.

“Up you get, Curly. Time to dilute all that whiskey with some greasy food.”

In hindsight, Niall probably shouldn’t have brought Harry to the pub down the road from his flat. But he couldn’t carry his deadweight any further, and he figured the only place that would be okay with serving somebody who was already drunk was the ancient barman that knows the two by name at this point.

“Where’s that pretty girlfriend you’re attached to?” Said barman asks the moment Harry and Niall fall into the creaky barstools. Before Niall can try and alleviate the situation, Harry’s already ordered a pint of Carlsberg and a shot of Jameson, ignoring Niall’s pleas of trying to urge a burger and chips down his liquor-ladened throat.

He’s rang Nora at least six times now, currently going for a seventh after Niall returned his stolen mobile when Harry refused to put something in his whiskey-sloshed stomach. He obliged, only because he really wanted to get a hold of her and apologize for being an absolute twat. But she’s ignoring him, and he knows deep down that she has every right to, because she trusted him with her feelings and all he did was shut her down in the worst way possible.

Harry’s not sure how Niall agreed to it, but after they’ve closed out and Harry’s capable of standing on his own two feet, they’ve somehow ended up outside of Nora and Piper’s residence hall. Harry knows that Piper has to let Niall in, so in his drunken convoluted mind, he comes up with the plan to sneak past them both and head up the stairs to beg for Nora’s forgiveness.

What he didn’t account for was Piper’s protectiveness over her crying friend upstairs.

“Harry, I can’t let you do that,” Piper says, closing the door a bit so that only her face is poking out from the glass paneling.

“Piper, please. I’ve got—’ve gotta talk to her. ‘S important.” He tries entering the building again but somehow Piper’s much smaller body blocks the entrance, her arms holding the door frame in order to keep Harry out. Niall sighs from behind her, conflicted. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Harry, you’re pissed. I can’t—”

“No! Piper, please. I need t’go upstairs. I’ve rang ‘er and texted ‘er and I know—I know her, Piper. Fuck, it’s—” he pauses, breathing in deeply and trying his hardest to straighten out the jumbled thoughts causing his entire body to shake. “It’s Nora. Please.”

Before Piper can close the door on her friend one last time, she feels Niall’s hand on the middle of her back, and she calms almost instantly.

“Let ‘im try, Pipes.”

With a final sigh, she opens the door and Harry sprints up the stairs, nearly tripping over himself as he tries to get to Nora’s door in one piece. He knows he’s drunk, knows he’s probably a mess, knows that she has every right to send him away—but he needs to talk to her or he’ll fucking explode.

He knocks about eight times on the wooden door before Nora appears behind it, eyes puffy and skin pale. Her hair is a knotted mess and her fringe is frizzy and Harry feels his chest crack in half when he realizes that he’s made her cry again.

“Harry—”

“You lov—” he hiccups loudly, causing his words to cut off the moment his body shakes abruptly. He pauses, tries to remember what he was going to say, before starting again, only to fail to pronounce the godforsaken word appropriately. “You lo’ me?”

He knows his mouth can barely utter the word, and his voice comes out a bit more squeaky than he would like, but he can’t help it. That word has always felt foreign coming out of his mouth, and he’s never understood the magnitude of its meaning. Not dead sober, and especially not after drinking the entire pub’s collection of whiskey.

Nora doesn’t say anything, but she does look into his glassy eyes and realizes that it’s from alcohol and not sadness. His hair is somehow knottier than hers and his part is amok, and she knows it’s because he ran his fingers through the tendrils one too many times. His cheeks are flushed, and before she can respond, his mouth is already opening.

“‘Cos I panicked. And ‘m sorry, but it’s just—nobody’s said that t’me before and properly meant it. Like my parents. They don’t lo—. Yeah. They don't. And me, I don’t even think I feel that way about m’self, either. ‘S just—it scares me, and I don’t know how to lo—”

“—No,” Nora says softly, interrupting Harry’s drunken monologue with a sad shake of her head.

Harry blinks once, twice, his blurry eyes trying to focus on her frame as the tears begin to bubble along her waterline. “No?” He’s confused, feels as if his life is completely off-kilter with the short utterance of a simple, two-lettered word.

“I don’t love you like this.”

Harry wonders if Nora can hear his heart begin to rip inside of his chest. “Nora—”

“You can barely even say it! Even when you’re piss drunk, you can hardly say the word love, let alone stick around long enough to hear somebody say it to you!” Her voice echoes through the small hallway of the sixth floor, and Harry stares back at her, flinching with each raise of her voice. “I can’t do this, Harry. I’d rather have you not say it sober than try and spit it out when you’re drunk. I just—I deserve better.”

“Nora please, I—you don’t understand—”

“—No I think I do. Quite clearly, actually.” Before Harry can try to force himself through the door one last time, Nora’s already begun to close it on him. “I think it’s best you go.”

“Nora! Please!” Harry calls out against the heavy wood, but it’s no use. She’s already flicked the lock, already sunk down to the floor with her back resting on the other side of the door, already begun muffling her sobs with trembling hands. And every time Harry bangs on the door with clenched fists and Nora can feel the wood shake, she just clenches her teeth on her bottom lip harder, praying with everything in her that Harry can’t hear her cry.

Harry’s not sure how long he’s stood there pounding on Nora’s door, repeating the word please enough times that it’s somehow lost its meaning. It’s only once he feels Niall’s hand on his back, ushering him out of the hallway and down the stairs, sticking him into the back of a cab when Harry feels the weight of his mistake rest heavy on his shoulders.

The only reason Harry gets any semblance of sleep that night is because he forces himself to swallow back five generous sips of whiskey before collapsing onto his mattress.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, his head isn’t the thing that hurts the most. Somehow, it’s his heart—and even though he’s suffering from the worst hangover he’s had in a very long time, it pales in comparison to the ache resonating through the inside of his chest.

But he can’t feel sorry for himself anymore. Because the longer he sits wallowing in his own self-induced misery, the more Nora drifts away from him. Feeling sorry for himself isn’t going to fix this. He needs to own up to his mistakes, find Nora, and beg for her forgiveness—because even though he doesn’t deserve her, he can’t make her feel horrible anymore.

Just as he’s rummaging through his wardrobe trying to find the cleanest shirt he owns, he hears his mobile ring for the third time that morning. When he looks over at the screen he realizes that it’s his father again, and although they aren’t very close, seeing him try to reach him a handful of times is enough to be worrisome. And just as he’s about to slip his shoes on, his father rings again. Harry begrudgingly answers, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Good to see you know how to answer your mobile,” his father says instead of a normal greeting, his voice filled with sarcasm. Harry almost hangs up the phone on him, his head filled with much more important things than dealing with another ribbing before noon.

“What’s going on? Did someone die?” Harry asks, flying down the staircase in order to locate his trainers that he remembered throwing across the floor in his drunken stupor last night.

“Very funny,” his father retorts, the sound of an unamused chuckle floating through the receiver. “Surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?” Harry asks, tying the final lace as he begins the search to locate his wallet and keys.

“Page Six. Lovely spread of you and Jacqueline leaving the work event from two evenings ago. That’ll definitely make for some good press surrounding our merger with the Van-Doren’s. Well done, son.”

Harry didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but somehow, after hearing his father congratulate him for being photographed with the girl he’s been trying painfully hard to set him up with, Harry feels as if everything around him is falling apart.

He doesn’t even respond to his father. Instead, he hangs up the call, typing his name in the Google image search bar. Sure enough, a picture of him and Jacqueline standing close enough to each other for it to be a story is covering his screen. Harry’s never felt more enraged, because he suddenly realizes that if his father has seen it, then Nora definitely has as well.

This can’t be happening to him.

She leaves tomorrow. He can’t let her go like this, not when he wants her to stay. Not when the words are practically at the tip of his tongue, ready to be shouted out into the sky. He’s ready to tell her.

He needs to tell her.

But before he can walk down his front steps and through the iron-clad gate, Niall is standing there blocking his path, a sullen look covering his face.

“Mate, she’s gone.”

*** A/N: I’m sorry times infinity. I know it must seem like I’m torturing you, but I promise I’m not! Everything will make sense in time, even though it’s a bit painful to read. My inbox is open for all complaints/theories/ill-wishes.

Sadly, the time has come that I no longer have completed chapters already written. I've tried to keep up, but real life got in the way. I have like barely half of the next part written, so I’m not entirely positive if it will be posted next Friday. I want to give you guys the best I can offer, and if it feels rushed I know it’ll be quite disappointing! I’m aiming to have it up by Friday, but if it isn't, I will surely keep you posted. Thanks again for sticking with me and this story, please be kind to each other and I’ll see you (hopefully) in one week!

taglist: @ilovegolden @stylishmuser @solllaris @ficnarry@thatnightin2008 @harryswinterberries @morethanamelodyy @coffee-doodle-doo@stepping-into-the-light @piawhat @sylcolt @burberryharold @sapphicspacecult666​ @adoremp3​ @beautifulletdownfics @thefangirlingbarista​ @iwantedmacmaddybutitstaken @veryplatoniccircunstances @live-at-the-forum@heslilac @kakayam @caramello-styles @ifheartscouldwrite @rubytersteege @mybm1998 @harrykingofcamp @cherryyharryy @15christyxoxo @harrys-cherrry​ @cherryruins​ @awomanindeniall@sing-me-a-song-harry @sunnybusiness @hhh33-3l​ @ashwathx@ficsthatmakemeswoon​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas@ihearthemcallingforyou  @niallgolden​ @pastequeharry @tinyfelthat @70s-harry@booksncoffee @somebridgesburn​ @millennial-teenybopper @sunfloweratheart @cherrygoldenn @for-fucks-sake-h​ @pastequeharry @justhereforlurking @mellamolayla @cosmictali @zcjt @grace-ful-gold @sunflowervolsimp@15christyxoxo @rosegoldsweetpea​ @hawwie​ @ishallreaditagainsometime​ 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #updates #fic: fade

[brockadoodles]

Gumbo, Football Sundays, and Christmas - q. hughes

AN: this was totally named something else before, but honestly I like this name better. So here’s holiday Quinn floof to celebrate the return of my main squeeze, the quinn to my brock, the oh so wonderful, @pettypetey​ If any of you are mean to her, its on sight, ily kyn <3

Word Count: 3759

Warnings: None :)

You carefully walked over to the couch where Quinn was sitting on his phone with two hot bowls in your hand. You cleared your throat to grab his attention, handing him the steaming bowl of your favorite homemade potato soup, something that his trainer would absolutely kill him for eating, yet he did anyway because you made it and he openly admitted that it was one of his favorite things. Quinn couldn’t cook to save his life, something that you had attempted to remedy when you became friends and found out that he got most of his meals from the rink or the Tanev family. But after one night where he spilled an entire pot of gumbo on your kitchen floor, you settled for doing the cooking or letting him pay for takeout whenever he came over, sparing your poor floor from another huge mess and your own sanity over wasting that much time on food only to not be able to eat it. 

You sat down on the couch next to him, your thigh pressed up against him due to the nature of how small your old Ikea couch was. You set your bowl down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, scrolling through the various options on TV until you spotted a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies listed on the Hallmark channel. 

“I’m absolutely not watching a Christmas movie with you, it’s not even thanksgiving yet,” Quinn frowned as you moved through the various options on the tv, each movie title becoming a worse holiday-related pun as you scrolled further into the depths of the Hallmark channel. 

You glared at him and for a moment you contemplated why you were even such good friends with someone who clearly had no sense of what Christmas joy really meant. Obviously, you knew that he didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you also knew that he knew how much comfort these movies brought you. You used to spend hours watching them in November and December with your dad as a child, and when you moved to Vancouver, that quickly became one of the things you could do that reminded you of home.   

“Quinn I will absolutely kick you out of my apartment,” you warned, queuing up one of the movies whose premise was likely about some small-town person who needed to save their business and the way that happens was through a Christmas miracle. It didn’t matter how similar or terribly low quality these movies were, you loved them and happily watched them consistently as early as September each year. Quinn should have considered himself lucky that you waited until November before putting one on with him there. 

“You would never,” he smirked at you, wrapping an arm swiftly around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Quinn was always affectionate with you, something that you had found yourself readily falling into. You would never admit it to him but Quinn was your favorite person, and as the months had progressed his affections have sparked daydreams in your head of what it would be like if he took it one step farther with you. 

The two of you sat in silence next to each other as the opening credits of the movie began to play as you enjoyed the warm soup. It was what you considered the perfect November evening, your favorite movies, your favorite meal, and your favorite person all in one sitting as the rain fell outside of your apartment. 

You pulled the dark green throw blanket over both of your bodies as the movie continued to play, Quinn rolling his eyes and audibly groaning at the cheesy dialogue that was happening on screen. 

“Shhhh, I’m trying to distract myself from you,” you whacked him in the chest, feeling his body vibrate softly as he laughed at you. He grabbed your hand, focusing on playing with your fingers lightly, sometimes threading his own through them. His actions were causing a flutter in your stomach and a blush to rise on your cheeks each time he held your hand in his, and the movie was offering no distraction from him. 

Quinn was a constant for you, a presence that was always there whether that meant in your mind and heart as you thought of him, or physically there on your couch watching Christmas movies with you just because you asked. He had been your friend since he started playing in Vancouver, the two of you frequently running into each other at a hole in the wall Chinese place near your apartment. Somehow the chance run-ins had become Sunday nights in his apartment where he always had your favorite fried rice and football queued up for you provided he didn’t have a game of his own. 

Quinn fussed around with your fingers and hand for the entirety of the movie, if someone were to ask him to summarize anything that had occurred over the last two hours that you were nestled into his chest, he simply couldn’t do it. He couldn’t focus on the movie, or the white noise of cars passing by outside and the rain steadily pouring down, all he could focus on was your hands and your breathing as you watched the movie. Quinn hadn’t admitted it to anyone, probably not even fully to himself yet just how attached he was to you. You were his favorite person, by far. His quiet demeanor never seemed to bother you, and you had the ability to calm him down yet challenge him when he needed it. You never made him feel like he was Quinn Hughes of the Vancouver Canucks, instead, he felt like just Quinn with you, a feeling he only ever experienced when he was back home with his family in Michigan. It might not have been obvious to him, but everyone else knew he was as in love with you as someone could be with a person they weren’t actually with. Even his mom asked about you frequently, smiling as he would tell her whatever mundane thing about you that he had thought of that day. You were the only person he willingly let this close to him, and people noticed. 

“What time is it?” You groaned, moving from his lap. Your back was slightly stiff, and you were kind of warm as you peeled the blanket from both of your bodies. The tv was turned off, and the sky outside was pitch black. Quinn slowly opened his eyes, a soft and sleepy smile on his face as he pulled you back into his chest. 

“Sleep time.” He hummed. You laughed softly and pressed your hands into his chest. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed, q.” 

A few weeks later, after American Thanksgiving had come and gone, you found yourself surrounded at a small table with some of the other young Canucks at a holiday charity event. Quinn had practically begged you to go with him to the fundraiser, complaining that he had no idea how to decorate gingerbread houses, and if you weren’t there to help him then Brock and Petey would never let him hear the end of how ugly he ultimately would turn out. You agreed pretty quickly, rolling your eyes at his concern and reassuring him that he shouldn’t feel bad even if his was the ugliest gingerbread house of the entire group.

Quinn was entirely out of his element as the kids tossed around various candies and made a mess at the table you were all sitting at together. His eyes were wide and he was quietly focussed on his own tragic house. You watched him try to concentrate on building a roof, struggling to hold in your laughter, and Brock and Elias relentlessly teased his efforts. 

“Look Quinn, mistletoe!” Quinn shot a look to Brock instantly at his words, his eyes shooting daggers into his friend as he held mistletoe up above the two of you. You sat there in shock, silently hoping that Brock would simply let this whole thing go without a fight so that you wouldn’t end up embarrassed and hurt. Unfortunately for you and him, the kids instantly jumped at the chance of forcing you to kiss, almost all of them egging it on and making kissy faces at the two of you.  

Quinn swore he was going to force Brock and Petey to block 50 of his shots next practice for how they were acting. It was bad enough that the kids were hounding him to kiss you, but he didn’t need it from his friends who knew about his long harbored crush on you. You took it all in stride though, a slight blush to your cheeks that Quinn found himself melting even moreover. It also didn’t help that you were there, wearing one so his jerseys, his name on your back. He wanted to kiss you, but the last thing he wanted was for you to think that it was all the accumulation of these pesky kids bullying him into it. 

Quinn tried to brush off the attempts at pushing the two of you together. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you, he did, but he wanted it to be under his own terms and a moment that was more special than at a fundraiser event with a bunch of children and Brock watching. He shook his head at Brock, mouthing for him to cut it out. Brock was having none of it though, knowing that a kiss was a long time coming between you and if Quinn wasn’t going to make the move quickly, then he was going to take advantage of the situation and attempt to get things moving between you. About every guy on the Canucks roster had about had enough of Quinn talking about how much he liked you without doing anything about it, and Brock saw the opportunity and took it. 

“Pucker up kids, there’s mistletoe now. You can’t break the Christmas law that is mistletoe,” Brock smirked, hanging the mistletoe above both of your heads. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Quinn wanted to smack the not so subtle smirk off of his face.

You grabbed his arm, turning to face him with a soft smile on your face. You almost felt bad for him, sensing how uncomfortable he was at the situation, but something about the way he was carrying himself had you hoping that maybe he did want to kiss you and that had you fluttering with excitement as you leaned in. Quinn just looked at you nervously, unable to react as you quickly grabbed his face, and softly pressed his lips to yours. The kids cheering in the background, and Elias and Brock smirking at the success of their efforts. It was almost too much, but he found himself grabbing your cheek and kissing you back, his heart beating so fast and loud he was sure that you would hear it. 

You smiled into the kiss, pulling back with a bright crimson shade present on your cheeks, a wide-eyed Quinn in front of you. For a moment you thought maybe you had messed everything up, maybe Quinn had absolutely no feelings for you and that’s why he was looking at you like he looked at most other people who he didn’t know. But it didn’t take Quinn long to smile and grab your hand, lacing your fingers together and going back to decorating the tragic gingerbread houses sitting in front of you, a soft smile present on his face the rest of the afternoon. 

Quinn has debatably taken your ugly Christmas sweater idea a bit too seriously, so seriously in fact that you were genuinely impressed when he came to pick you up in a dark green holiday sweater, complete with a reindeer and light up antlers on his chest as you opened your front door. You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you took him in. You found it sweet that he made the extra effort, knowing that you were in a bad mood and probably just wanted to cheer you up. You wordlessly grabbed your bag and locked your door, following Quinn quietly out to his car. 

The drive to Bo and Holly’s was quiet, Quinn focused on the dark roads as he drove. You watched out the window, looking at the shiny pavement that was slick with the steady rain that Vancouver knew for the majority of the winter. Things with Quinn had felt weird since you kissed him under the mistletoe, you couldn’t explain the shift because as much as you hoped the kiss would show him your feelings for him, he never brought it up. You supposed that you were partially to blame, you could have put your heart out there with him, but you also felt like you had already done that by kissing him those weeks ago, and him not saying anything only sank your heart further. So instead of dwelling on it, you tried to enjoy your time with him as usual, pushing your feelings to the side in hopes that in time they would evaporate and you would be okay just being his friend again. 

You fumbled around in your bag as he parked outside of the Horvat’s house, flicking his light-up sweater on with a soft smile as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. 

“Quinn wait.” You started. You reached out and grabbed his thigh softly, pulling your hand back quickly when you realized what you were doing, your nerves bubbling up into your chest. You pulled a small wrapped box from your bag, fiddling with it in your hands as he watched you carefully. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as you handed him the present. 

“Happy first day of Hanukkah.” You smiled. Quinn grinned at you in response, his heart softening at you remembering. Not that he thought you forgot, but you were after all parked outside of his captain’s house, dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, about to attend the annual Canucks Christmas party. So while he didn’t think you forgot, it meant a lot to him that you vocally remembered and thought of him enough to get a gift. 

Quinn carefully unwrapped the present and shook his head as he pulled the item from its box. He ran his hand over the keychain, the New Orleans Saints logo clear as day on the charm. 

“I should have known not to expect something serious.” He joked as he put the keychain on his keys, a small act that caused butterflies to rush into your stomach. 

“Yeah well, your taste in football sucks so I had to remind you who you should be cheering for.” You replied, smirking slightly at him. Quinn leaned over the center console, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek so quickly that you were sure you didn’t even have time to take one breath as he pulled away. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly parted at his outward display of affection, no sign of him thinking anything of it. You gulped a bit as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. Quinn didn’t say anything, instead, he smiled and climbed out of the car, waiting patiently for you to grab the punch you made and join him on the short walk to the front of the house, the moment between you quickly passing as you headed into the party. 

You walked into the home, smiling in awe at how beautiful the decorations were. Your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on the huge tree in the living room, covered with red and green ornaments and lights. The whole house smelled like fir, and it was warm and inviting as you starting noticing the various players and their families who were scattered throughout the room. 

Holly led you into their kitchen to help you get the punch set up for the rest of the guests. She took the large pitcher from your hands and set it on the counter. Quinn had been pulled another direction from you and was now talking with Elias in the living room as you were in the kitchen with Holly. You were a little nervous being alone with her, having only met her a handful of times at various events that you had gone to with Quinn. But she offered you a friendly smile and the first glass, which helped your nerves settle. 

“Ah, Mrs. Huggy! You’re here!” You heard from behind you, an audible gasp at the nickname escaping from your lips as Jake slid up behind you and hugged you. You quickly turned out of his grasp and shot him a glare, glancing past him in hopes that Quinn hadn’t heard his friend call you that. 

“Jake! Shut up!” You whispered harshly, whacking him lightly in the chest. He just laughed at you in return, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a now smirking Holly and a tint on your cheeks that you were hoping would go away before Quinn came back to find you. You took a long sip of your drink, resigning yourself to the fact that this night was probably going to be long, and you definitely needed the liquid courage to get yourself through it. 

About an hour and two drinking games later, you found yourself tipsy and less nervous around Quinn and your friends, them seemingly forgetting about your unrequited crush in favor of arguing who got to have him as their beer pong partner, something that Quinn was shockingly undefeated at. 

You walked into the kitchen, bypassing Brock who was leaning against the counter, typing away on his phone. He didn’t notice you as you walked by him and over toward the drinks that were on the counter, refilling yours and taking a moment to yourself. You didn’t notice that Quinn had followed you into the room, jumping slightly when you heard his voice coming from behind you. 

“Hey so remember when you kissed me?” You nearly choked on your drink, the contribution you had decided to bless the party with, a punch that only came out during the holidays, containing what you could only describe to people as 90% alcohol and a 10% chance of blacking out. You were only on your third cup, not near inebriated enough for this potential conversation with Quinn. The truth was that you of course remembered kissing him, the feeling of it had been cycling around your brain since the charity event last week, but he never brought it up with you, so you were forced to pack your feelings back up into a tightly taped box, hoping that one day you could pull said box out and give it to him properly. 

Quinn however had consumed almost four cups of your famous Christmas party punch, sending him well on his way passed tipsy and onto the train towards the loud drunk you rarely saw from him. He had wanted to kiss you again, a secret tucked deep in his chest that was bubbling up to the surface with the more drinks he had. He took in your appearance, your hair was down and you had a slight blush to your cheeks from your makeup, the Christmas sweater hanging from your body was stupid and endearing and all he could think about was tossing it onto the floor. 

“Mhm, yes I do remember something of that sorts happening, Quinn,” you said, smirking softly at him, a complete act to hide your growing nerves. Quinn smiled the widest drunk smile you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how cute he was. 

“Can I kiss you this time?” He asked, loud enough that Brock turned his head from where he was standing, a few feet away in the kitchen as he was on his phone. He raised his eyebrows at you, smirking a bit before turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you and Quinn to yourselves as your heart beat faster in your chest. You gulped back the rest of your drink, setting it down and stepping toward him. Quinn’s hands instinctively went to your waist, pulling you in closer with a lazy smile on his face and a soft expression in his eyes. 

“You gonna kiss me or what, Quinn?” Your heart was pounding so loudly, you were thankful for the chatter coming from the kitchen, someone yelling about winning what must have been that round of beer pong. Quinn smiled at you and it only made things worse, the moment feeling like it was hanging in time as you waited not so patiently for him to press his lips to yours again. You almost thought you were imagining the entire thing as he grabbed your cheek, leaning in and closing his eyes. As soon as his lips touched yours you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging softly on his dark hair. You smiled into the kiss, not caring who was watching because all that mattered was Quinn. 

Quinn pulled back and continued to hold you, a blush evident on both of your cheeks and smiles that were big and wide. You buried your head into his chest and he kissed your head, no words needing to be spoken between you, it was like you both knew exactly what the other person wanted to say. You knew how Quinn felt, and he knew how you felt, your hearts practically beating in each other’s ears as you shared a not so private moment in the kitchen, a cheesy Hallmark movie type ending that you loved. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, I really like you.” Quinn murmured, running his hand softly along your hip as he looked down for your reaction. You leaned up and kissed him once more, smiling into it and squeezing him gently. 

“I like you too, even if you hate Christmas movies and have terrible taste in football teams.” You said, earning a laugh out of your favorite person. The two of you spent the rest of the party stealing drunk kisses together, your minds fuzzy with the not new feelings but new ability to express them openly with each other, regardless of anyone else’s opinions or comments. Quinn was absolutely your favorite person, and you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to be with him in the way that you had wanted to for months, even with his stupid reindeer sweater on. 

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughe fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic

[anika-ann]

Stockings (S.R.)

Type:  Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3000

Summary: You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear.

It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.

A/N: No knowledge of Attached needed I think 😉 Feel free to read as a standalone, you’ll find it in my masterlist as both.

A/N 2: For @wonderlandmind4​ ‘s challenge. Congrats on your follower count and for coming up with this awesome challenge!

Prompt: “Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“ (bold in text)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before

Series masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.

Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.

But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which no one in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.

Gifts, obviously.

Baking, perhaps.

Decorations, absolutely.

Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.

Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.

Not that he would notice if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. Non-stop, it seemed. The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.

However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.

That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly together, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.

Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.

After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.

“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically feeling Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.

Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.

You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.

“She and Bucky hooked up again.”

“Mm.”

“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, almost as if he was actually listening to you.

“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”

“That’s nice.”

The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was so detached from life sometimes…

“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”

“Whatever you think—wait WHAT?!” he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.

Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.

You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”

You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”

“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”

You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.

“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. Duh. “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”

You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.

“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”

“Uh-huh. The basics. So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”

He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.

Only later it occurred to you just how nice you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, again, working.

Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.

With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.

“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you were, and perfectly innocent, which you were not.

That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.

“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.

“Thanks!”

You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.

The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.

You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.

So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, affected, and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. “What are you wearing?”

You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.

“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.

“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-- when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.

He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were not clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.

It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.

“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you hate me in stockings…”

“Babygirl…”

His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you did want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.

Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.

“Yes, Steve?”

“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I love stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s perfect.”

His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.

You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.

“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.

Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve needed to get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.

You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect everything that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.

You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.

Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.

You caught his sharp inhale when you accidentally dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.

You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.

He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.

So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.

Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.

“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.

Oh, sweet victory.

Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”

There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.

Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.

Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you loved it, and you might have been this close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.

And Steve hadn’t even started yet.

Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only a bit to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out.  

An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.

“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.

“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. “Is it teasing when you can just take what you want?”

He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.

“Downright naughty…”

His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.

“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”

You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot so close to your core.

“You could come down now, be a very good girl and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.

The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.

“You think that would work?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking everything I have.”

You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.

He grinned up at you – the show-off, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.

It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold--

His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.

He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.

“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”

You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.

“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”

“Damn right.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

The One Word (next in timeline)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.

Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*

#wonderland4seasonalwc #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #professor steve rogers #steve rogers x you #attached #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america au #modern au #professor au #holiday fic #writing challenge #a drop of lemons #stockings #attached: stockings #anika ann

[moonlight-prose]

Winter Lover

(pictures in header don’t belong to me.)

A/N: Have I finally come up with a prompt for one of our favorite Asgardians? YES! It’s technically still fall for me, but I figure some winter love will help put you darlings in a good mood.

I saw a picture @elfpunk​​ did of Loki that is in the header, and was inspired. You’ll find it here.  (Please let me know if you don’t want me to use it darling!!)

Tag lists are open and feedback is always welcome!!

Summary: Winter was your favorite season. The cold brought with it a warmth of hopefulness. However, this year that same warmth held a melancholy that was only due to memories of him.

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Modern!Loki x Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff (cause it’s me and I can’t write without angst)

Song: You Say I’m In Love - Bane’s World

(gif doesn’t belong to me. credit to it’s creator)

      Winter. A favorite season of yours. The cold came into your life as if it were an old friend you hadn’t seen in a while. It gave you the opportunity to wear clothing you could get lost in. Coats, scarves, the warmth of all of it made you content. Winter brought snow, holidays, joy, and you adored it for that and more. While it was cold, it came with its own feeling of warmth.

      A warm cup of hot chocolate was balanced in your hand as you trekked down the city streets. New York in winter would never cease to amaze you. It was already December and people were gearing up for the holidays. You would be joining them, but this winter your heart held the distinct feeling of melancholy. One year ago, you had a winter unlike any other. You fell in love. He’d come into your life when you were ready to give up.

      Only he never allowed you to give up. He never gave you a chance to focus on it, because he swept you off your feet. Taking you into a whirlwind romance. You could still feel him. His warmth, the love he felt for you, an overwhelming emotion you’d never get enough of.

      You couldn’t deny you missed him. The mornings spent wrapped in each other’s arms from the night before. The way he’d hold your hand tightly in his as you walked down the busy streets. All of him was yours and he’d remind you every day. You’d do the same for him. How he kissed you, held you on dark days, and purely loved you. There was nothing difficult about giving your heart to him.

      It felt as easy as taking a breath, but soon you’d have to let that breath go. Just as you had to let him go.

      He left your life just as he came into it. With a whirlwind of emotions. Never had you felt so broken before, but you’d known it wasn’t forever. That he wasn’t forever. He promised he loved you and always would, but how could he keep that promise if he wasn’t with you?

      Spring, Summer, Fall, they all came and went. Now as the new and hopeful winter dawned upon you, thoughts of him plagued you. Only they weren’t bad. They were akin to one remembering the memories of their life. Looking back on it fondly. You’d met him in a book shop and he had told you he was here for the winter, visiting his brother.

      The cup of hot chocolate warmed your hands as you headed towards that very same shop. Not in search of him, but to remember him. The bell chimed as you entered and began making your way a section, you’d probably grown too fond of. Mythology was one of your favorites and he’d taught you some through last winter. His parents thought it would be funny to name him and his siblings after Norse gods.

      You roamed the shelves for a small glimpse of him. A song you’d never heard before played in the background and you found yourself once more reminded of him. Winter would not be the same for you this year.

      Picking a random book, you began to make your way towards the table, unaware of anything around you and you hit a wall. Yet you saw the flash of a dark coat and knew it was a person. The hot chocolate spilled onto the floor and you mentally cursed. You’d been looking forward to drinking it.

      “I’m sorry,” you said trying to keep the book and your bag from falling onto the floor as well.

      Blue eyes. Ones that you knew better than your own. The same ones that showed up in your dreams. He stood before you, not looking any different. Yet you noticed the bun his long hair was in and the slight scruff on his face. Some things remained the same as always.

      “Loki,” you breathed out.

      He smiled and you felt as though you were launched back to last winter. The feeling of love from before slammed back into your body.

      “Hello Y/N,” he said softly.

      “You’re back?” You were sure this was a dream or perhaps a hallucination.

      He didn’t respond, instead gently taking the book from your hand. A small smile crossed his features at the genre. You watched him turn from you and head towards the cashier. He would always refuse when you offered to pay for things claiming he wanted to give you all the luxury you deserved.

      It happened quickly. Him paying for the book and leading you outside. Your brain still tried to process that he actually stood in front of you. After a moment of staring you gained the courage to say something.

      “You left,” you said, the pain clear in your voice.

      He met your gaze and you saw it. The sorrow he held, and heartache he clutched onto. It hurt him to keep hold of it, but he found it was the only way to remember you. To picture the way you loved him unlike anyone else in his life. Loki was no stranger to heartbreak, but with you it was unbearable.

      “I didn’t want to leave,” he said.

      You urged yourself not to cry. “So why did you?”

      He winced at the question. “My family needed me. Problems with my sister came up and as much as I wished to remain here with you, I couldn’t.”

      Words escaped you. He had wanted to stay. He didn’t leave because he no longer loved you. He left because he actually loved you more than he loved anyone. His words brought back the lightness in your heart that was absent for so long. The hole in your heart had begun to heal itself, but you needed the last bit of confirmation. Needed to know he was truly here for good.

      “I spilled your hot chocolate. Allow me to buy you a new one?” he asked.

      You nodded not trusting your voice. Walking beside him on the slightly busy New York street, you were reminded of how he’d grab your hand gently. Always claiming it was because he didn’t want to lose you. Now as his hand brushed lightly against yours, you longed for his touch. Yearned for him, all of him.

      Someone jostled you as they passed and you fell into Loki. His arm immediately wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, but even when you found balance, he never let go. Instead those blue eyes you adored met yours. Something shined in his. A feeling you knew well.

      Just as the cold came back, greeting you like an old friend, so did this feeling. Peeking its head out of its hiding place and welcoming you back into its warmth. Love. It spread through you until you felt the warmth of it down to your toes.

      “Y/N,” he murmured, his accent sending shivers down your spine.

      “Will you leave again?” you asked.

      You so badly wanted to give into this feeling of love, but you couldn’t if it meant he would once again take it away. The thought of feeling that broken again terrified you to your core. He held your heart in the palm of his hands and you wondered if he’d protect it or crush it as he did once before.

      He leaned his forehead against yours. “No, my love. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

      Pulling back slightly you stared up at him in shock. “You’ll stay with me?”

      His own smile arrived. “Of course. How could I leave the one who possesses my heart?”

      “I love you. I’ve always loved you,” you said softly watching his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips.

      He took in a sharp breath before pulling you closer and placing his lips against yours. Your heart clenched as he kissed you and that was all it took for you to melt against him. The feel of him. Hesitantly he asked for permission to kiss you deeper and you gave it without resistance. He had you in any way he wanted and that thought both drove you closer to madness and filled you with warmth.

      The man who gave you his heart last winter was finally kissing you again. He slowly and gently licked into your mouth, enjoying every sound you made for him. His cold hands gripped the back of your neck as he made you into an incoherent mess just from kissing you.

      Memories of you passed through his mind as he held you. He loathed letting go of you last winter. Of leaving you with his heart, when deep down he knew, he should remain there in your arms.

      Loki had entered your life just as winter had come around. And like an old friend returning he was back, for good. Your heart, your beloved, your winter lover.

Masterlist

Permanent Tag List:

@aaliyasaurus​​

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #modern!loki #loki oneshot #loki fic #loki imagine #loki drabble #winter lover #marvel #marvel fics #more angst than fluff #whoops

[leafs-lover]

I wish you were here

A/N: This was requested. I thought about making this a fluff piece, but had a change of heart and re-wrote half of it. I just have a thing for Freddie, and not going to apologize for it ;)

Also I am really bad at coming up with titles

Summary: After a stressful couple of weeks apart Fred surprises you.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, NSFW

“Hey babe” you mumble into the phone. You look to your clock on your bedside table 4:17 is illuminated on the screen.

“Hey how’s it going?” he asks as you rub your eyes open.

“Good, just lying in bed” you say yawning.

“You sound tired” he says through the phone.

“Yeah most people are at 4am” you joke.

“Oh shoot. I’m sorry babe I didn’t even realize. Why did you answer?”

“We have been pretty busy, haven’t had much time to chat” you explain.

Fred returned to Denmark almost 8 weeks ago and you weren’t able to go with him due to the pandemic. You don’t have enough vacation days left; you would only have a couple days in Denmark.

You had only started dating in January, and when the NHL paused in March Fred tried to return to Denmark but the borders had closed prior to the pause. When Auston offered for Fred to quarantine in Arizona, Fred asked your thoughts on it.

If he stayed you would have to quarantine together otherwise you wouldn’t get to see him at all. That would have meant after only being together for 7 weeks you would temporarily move into his condo, and spend every second together for who knew how long. Neither of you really wanted to do that, it would be a lot of pressure on a new relationship so he opted to go to Arizona.

You hadn’t talked about labels, and didn’t know what to expect. While he was gone Fred would facetime with you once or twice a week, and you exchanged texts almost daily. He constantly complained about Auston’s terrible taste in TV shows, you complained about your roommate’s terrible attempt at baking.

You didn’t anticipate being in contact with Fred that much, but he always carved time to talk with you, he even sent you flowers a couple times and ordered you dinner from your favourite restaurant. Neither of you thought it would be almost 3 months before Fred would return to Canada.

But when he finally did, you were the first person he saw. You had just over 3 weeks together before he had to enter the bubble, and you spent much of that time together. It was so nice to have Fred back, cuddled up on the couch relaxing with him. When you finally saw him you melted into his touch, and your relationship felt like it had been catapulted forward instead of back even with the time apart.

When he went into the bubble, you didn’t expect to see him again until September, you wanted to see him but you hoped it would be three months, but it ended up being less than three weeks. He carried so much of the strain of that loss on himself, and you tried to tell him it was a team effort. The weight isn’t his alone, but the media and a lot of the fans had a different opinion. Everyone was calling for him to be traded, if the disappointing end to the season wasn’t enough that didn’t help.

He spent a couple weeks back in Toronto, but you could tell he was defeated and needed to get out. He needed to get away from the media, the rumours and spend time relaxing with his family. Fred tried to fight you on it, he wanted to stay and spend time with you. Obviously you did too, but you knew he needed this.

When he left the NHL had hoped on a December start to the season, meaning Fred would be coming back in October or early November. But as the date for the season got pushed so did his return date. You had some late nights at work, and with the time change it made it hard to talk all the time, so when you had the opportunity you took it. Leading you to this 4am phone call on a Saturday morning.

“Go back to bed skat, we can talk later” Fred says into the phone.

“No Freddie, we barely talked this week. Now that I have you on the phone I don’t want to hang up” you whine causing Fred to laugh.

“Okay, but if you get too tired Kære let me know. I don’t have any plans today so we can talk later.”

”I’m just going to make some coffee” you say getting out of bed and heading to your kitchen. ”I only planned on getting some groceries later so I can take a nap later if i want.” You start scooping the beans into the coffee maker, opting for a large pot due to the time.

”Wish I was there for your nap” Fred says to you.

”Mmm same. You are perfect for napping with” you respond.

”Oh yeah, why’s that?”

”Because you are perfect for cuddling with. I just fit perfectly in your arms, and you are like a pillow and a blanket in one.”

Fred laughs into the phone “you just use me for my body eh?”

“Well can you blame me?” you joke walking back to your bed with your mug in hand. “No I don’t actually, I mean it’s definitely nice –“

“Nice? My body is nice? That’s what you use to describe a haircut” he jokes.

“Obviously it’s much better than nice. I just meant it’s nice that you have that body, but I wouldn’t care if you didn’t. That’s not why I’m with you though.”

“Obviously not if you just think it’s nice” he mumbles jokingly. “How was your week?”

“It was so long, I had to stay late almost every night, and there was 3 nights I didn’t leave until after 9. My boss actually wanted me to work today but I had to say no. I felt like I was getting sick from lack of sleep, so it’s nice to have the weekend off.”

“You work so hard you deserve the time off” he says to you.

“Yeah, I have a couple vacation days left, maybe I’ll take a long weekend or something.”

“Yeah you should do that, don’t want to get run down working so much” Fred replies.

“But what would I do? I wouldn’t have enough days to fly to another province. And parts of Ontario are shutting down” you explain.

“Have a staycation, I’m sure a couple days doing nothing would be nice” he replies.

“Yeah I guess” you say.

“So how are my plants doing, kill them yet?”

“Nope, they are still alive, but I should get over there today to water them” you respond.

“When you say alive, do you mean alive and thriving or clinging to life?”

“Uhh, somewhere in the middle” you say causing Fred to laugh.

You continue to talk for another hour; you curl up in your bed wrapped tightly under your duvet. You can feel your eyes getting heavy, but you try to stay awake to talk to him. You are unsuccessful and end up dozing off.

When you return to work on Monday you talked to your boss who approved for you to take Friday and Monday off work, giving you a four day weekend. You are excited for your days off, but you have to get to end of day Thursday. Your week is filled with multiple zoom calls and long days, you are actually surprised your boss is okay with you taking time off.

When Wednesday comes you are completely drained. You had multiple meetings, angry clients and have to finish a project before you take off for the weekend. You were so busy you didn’t even notice you hadn’t had lunch until it was almost 3.

It’s almost 9pm when you walk through your door with some papers and dinner in hand when you hear your phone ring. Your apartment is dark and empty, your roommate away at her parents. You drop everything on your table, answering your phone as you head to your room to change.

“Hello?” you say not even looking at the caller-id, turning on your bedside lamp.

“Hi min kære, how are you?”

“Hey Freddie” you put him on speaker phone to change out of your work clothes. “I’m good, got home not too long ago.”

“Another late day eh?” he asks.

“Yeah I was trying to get my project done before my holidays tomorrow” you explain.

“Finish it?” he asks as you move to the kitchen to start eating dinner.

“Almost, should only take a couple hours tomorrow.” You look to your stove and see the time 9:09 illuminated on the screen. “Fred why are you calling so late; it’s like 3am there.”

“We haven’t talked since the weekend, and you haven’t sent many texts the past couple days” he says lightly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy with work. I’ve been having late days and have basically gone straight to bed. I also didn’t want to call you so late, I know you had a golfing trip one day” you begin to explain.

“Oh I know babe, you don’t have to explain. I just thought you could use a pick me up” Fred says to you.

“Honestly I would love one. My week has been brutal and it’s only Wednesday. Can’t wait for tomorrow” you say sitting at your table. You didn’t realize how stressed you had been until you sat down and thought about the week. The angry clients and long hours have really taken a toll on you. Stopping to think about things brings a lump to your throat, as you feel your eyes begin to well up.

“(Y/N) you there?” you hear through the phone. You zoned out trying to not cry, you thought you could wait until you got off the phone with Fred to break down. You were wrong, and now you are trying to stifle your tears so Fred doesn’t hear you, but are unsuccessful.

“Skat, what’s wrong?” he asks hearing your quiet sobs through the phone.

“I don’t know” you cry into the phone. “I don’t think I realized how stressed I am, and tired. Just everything. It’s a lot.”

You move to your bed and crawl under your duvet, wrapping yourself tightly into a cocoon. Fred stays on the other end; he doesn’t say anything for a while, letting you cry in silence. After a couple minutes your eyes begin to get heavy, as your sobs have stopped.

“I wish you were here” you say lightly.

“Me too kære” he says. He stays on the line while you lay in bed, not hanging up until he hears your soft breaths through the phone.        

“You should go” your boss says poking her head in your office at 3pm. “Start your weekend a couple hours earlier” she says smiling at you.

“You sure? I don’t want –“

“(Y/N) this place won’t fall apart without you, enjoy your time off.” With that your boss walks away, you shut down your computer and grab your jacket. You reach to grab your phone and see the blinking light. You unlock it to a text from Freddie.

F: Don’t forget to water my plants

Y/N: I watered them Monday…

F: That’s 3 days, you trying to kill them? ;)

You laugh at his message. Instead of responding you decide to go to his condo and send him a picture of you watering his plants. You jump in your car and head to his place. You park in the underground lot and make your way to the elevator. You walk down his hall and unlock his door when you hear music playing in the kitchen.

You don’t remember even listening to music when you were last here. Did someone break in? But who breaks in and plays music? You set your bag down and look around not noticing that anything missing or broken.  You walk through the living room and hear clattering in the kitchen and panic sets in someone is in here.

If you weren’t so panicked you would have noticed the bag in the living room, and the pair of shoes by the front door. You hear footsteps in the kitchen and turn around to run and hide when you feel hands on your hips.

They spin you around and pull you in tight to their chest and wrap their arms around your back. You go to push yourself off the person when you smell the familiar cologne.

“You’re off early” he mumbles kissing your head.

“Fred?” you whisper in disbelief, looking up at the person in front of you.

Your eyes meet his golden brown eyes, and red hair. You bring your hands up and stroke his beard “what are you doing here?”

Instead of answering you he smiles and kisses you. Your hand tangles into his hair when he pulls back slightly “I missed you” he mumbles against your lips.

“I missed you too” you say smiling. Without warning you jump, Fred catches you and carries you into the kitchen setting you on the counter.

“Can’t believe you’re here” you say pulling him to you for a kiss.

“I know, I didn’t know when I was going to come back but after last night I knew I had to come see you. Hearing you cry broke my heart, but the worst part was not being able to do anything about it.” He brushes a piece of your hair behind you ear “I booked a flight right after you fell asleep.”

He leans in to place a soft kiss on your lips, you snake your hands into his hair, stroking his beard on the way. You pull him closer, locking him in for a passionate kiss. You don’t want to ever be apart from him again, and you groan slightly when Fred pulls away from you.

“I wasn’t expecting you for a little bit longer. I wanted to have dinner ready when you got here to try and salvage the life from my plants” Fred jokes looking over at his wilting plant on his table.

You laugh “yeah sorry about that. I was doing a good job at it, then work got crazy and I didn’t get over here as often as I’d like” you explain to him.

Fred kisses your neck “its fine, I didn’t expect them to be alive” he mumbles.

“Rude” you say turning your neck to allow him more access as he peppers kisses. Fred laughs before walking away from you. He walks over to the cupboard and pulls out two wine glasses and pours you each a glass.

He walks back and hands you a glass, he puts his other hand beside you on the counter.

“When did you get in?” you ask.

“About 2 hours ago” he replies kissing your cheek. “8 weeks is too long to be away from you.” You take a sip from your wine and turn your neck to allow him more access.

Fred runs a hand up your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “We’ve gone longer than that Fred” you whisper.

“Yeah because the border was closed” he whispers kissing your collarbone.

“Wait it’s still closed, how did you get in?” you ask pulling away to look at him.

“I have a Visa to play on the Leafs, it allowed me back in. Should have come back sooner” he mumbles kissing down your neck again. His hands lift your legs; he places his hands under them pulling you closer to him.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask running your hand up and down his biceps as Fred sucks on your neck.

“I’m a stupid man” he mumbles his hands stroking up and down your thighs, nipping on your neck. You moan lightly, placing your wine glass on the counter. Fred moves his hands to the back of your thigh and hoists you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you down the hall to his bedroom.

He kicks his bedroom door open and reaches to the wall to turn on the light. He gently places you on the bed, his mouth attaches to yours as he hovers over top of you. Your hands gently rake through his beard, as his tongue swirls in your mouth. His hand slides up your shirt gently, his thumb pressing circles onto the skin of your stomach.

Fred grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head; he sits up on his knees and removes your pants from you leaving you in your underwear.

“This is nice” Fred says taking in your matching red set, his finger lightly grazes the fabric.

“It’s new” you respond “thought of you when I bought it.”

Fred grins, stroking a finger over your clothed core. He quirks an eyebrow at you when he feels the wetness that has accumulated “it’s been a while” you say smiling at him.

“Let me fix that” he says pulling your underwear down your legs. He lies on his stomach, hooking your legs over his shoulders. He stares into your glistening pussy for a minute; his beard rubs against your thighs his breath makes you quiver.

He finally attaches his tongue to you, licking up your juices. You moan at the contact, his tongue is still dancing outside your folds. He groans at the taste of you, before he pushes his tongue inside you. You throw your head back into the pillow as his tongue slips inside your walls.

He brings his hand up to your clit and begins to press circles into it, as his tongue slowly licks the inside of your walls. Your hands slide down to his shoulder and you squeeze them firmly as he keeps fucking his tongue in and out of you.

“Freddie” you moan as his tongue continues to press deep inside you.

You grip his shoulder and attempt to pull him up to you. You feel Fred chuckle against you, but he doesn’t stop, pressing his thumb harder into your clit.

“Babe” you groan pulling harder on his shirt “I need you.”

Fred pulls back slightly staring at you with eyes dark from lust “you have me smuk” he chuckles. He attaches his lips to your clit and sucks on it, a fuck falls from your lips. Your legs begin to squirm slightly at the feeling.

“Fred…Fred…Fuck…I” you can’t form a coherent thought as he slips two fingers inside you, sucking on your sensitive bud.

His fingers begin to pump in and out of you as he pulls his mouth from you and begins sucking on your hip. He alternates between sucking and biting on your hip. Your hip arches off the bed as he continues to pump his fingers inside you.

“This what you want babe” he asks bringing his other hand to your bra, massaging your breast.

You bring a hand down to his wrist and clamp it. He stops moving his wrist and looks into your eyes.

“I need you Fred, I can’t wait” you say panting. Fred grins and slips his fingers out of you, and quickly pulls his shirt over his head. You reach up and grip his neck pulling him down to you. You lock lips with him, your hand slides up and down his firm bicep. Fred slides a hand under your back and unclasps your bra, freeing your breasts.

His firm shirtless body is pressed against you; you can feel his erection straining through the fabric of his clothes. You palm over his pants lightly before sliding your hand around to his back. His mouth leaves you and slides down to your breast and begins sucking on it, he brings a hand up and starts rolling your other nipple through his fingers, pinching it slightly. Your hands slide down his back and reach his sweat pants; you begin to push them down his large thighs.

Fred pulls away and pushes his pants and boxers down his legs and onto the floor. He falls on top of you and returns his mouth to yours; you roll and push him onto his back. You straddle him and begin grinding against his hard cock, desperate to have him inside you.

You hear Fred mumble in Danish as you continue to rock your hips against him. You fall forward kissing Fred, his hand tangles into your hair locking you in a passionate kiss. You reach over to the side table and pull a condom out.

You pull back and tear the foil, sliding it onto his hard member. You give him a few strokes before you rise up and line him up with your entrance. Fred brings his hands to your hips; you slowly start to drop down on him.

“Fuck” you mumble at the feeling of Fred inside of you, your hand goes onto his abs and you brace yourself. Fred is longer than any man you have been with, you had started to get used to his size but then he left to go to Denmark. You know Fred will hit areas nobody has ever hit before, but you just need to adjust.

“You okay smuk?” Fred asks looking up at you.

You keep dropping yourself down on him “yeah” you whine “just been a bit.”

He chuckles pulling your head down to his. You moan at the change of angle before Fred kisses you lightly.

“Don’t worry, take your time. I’m going to get you used to it soon” he smirks kissing you.

You haven’t taken all of him but you rise up and drop down on him. You moan into the kiss, Fred’s hand holding you to him, his other hand rests on your hip. You pull away from the kiss, Fred sucks on your bottom lip as you rise up and drop back down. Fred bottoms out in you, your ass hits against his thighs as you thrust on him.

“Ahh” you moan feeling him hit the deep spot inside you. Fred is still under you allowing you time to set the pace and get comfortable with him. You continue slowly thrusting on him, pushing yourself up. Your hand returns to his abs as you increase the pace.

Fred snaps his hips and pushes in you, as you drop onto him. His hands are on your hip, gripping you tightly as he helps guide you, keeping the slow pace. Your head falls back as you thrust on him; Fred slowly increases the pace under you.

You push into his stomach as your pace increases, rocking your hips against him. You bounce on top of Fred, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. He brings a hand up to your breast, cupping it as you ride him. He rolls your nipple through his fingers, as your nails dig into his firm stomach muscles. Your hand slides down his treasure line, pressing hard into his groin as you feel your high approaching.

“You gonna cum baby?” Fred asks noticing you are chasing your high. He squeezes your breast hard, pinching your nipple in the process. You hum in response unable to form words. Fred releases your breast and slides his hand down to your clit to press circles into it.

“Yeah, cum on me baby. I want to feel you, feel you’re cum drip down me” he says pressing harder into your sensitive bud. His hips snap and the pace is fast, you are a mess on top of him. Sweat is dripping down Fred’s stomach; you can feel it under your hand.

“Fuck Fred” you scream out, your orgasm is close. With every thrust Fred his your g-spot, your skin flapping has filled the room, followed by occasional curse words. You notice Fred becoming erratic under you as you continue bouncing on him.

Your orgasm crashes over you, the most intense one you have had in a while. You clench around him, your walls tighten, and you feel it in your stomach. Your eyes roll back into your head as Fred continues to thrust inside of you. Your juices dripping down his cock.

He strains to keep going, allowing you to finish your orgasm. As you finally come around you feel Fred still under you. You collapse onto his chest, his arms wrap around you. You lie on him, both your breaths slowly return to normal.

A couple minutes later Fred rolls to be on top of you, he kisses you briefly before heading to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He pulls on his boxers and throws a t-shirt to you. You smile and pull it over your head; Fred climbs into bed and pulls you into his arms.

“I was going to make you dinner, but I think I’m too tired now” Fred jokes, stroking up and down your arm. “You okay with ordering in?”

You look up and into his golden brown eyes “sounds perfect” you respond. Fred leans down and kisses you, wrapping you tightly into his arms.

“So you should spend your long weekend here with me” Fred mumbles against your lips.

You smile and stroke his beard “I don’t plan on leaving; I want to spend as much time with you as possible. When are you heading back to Denmark?” you ask lightly, not really wanting to know the answer.

“I’m not” Fred replies. You look directly into his eyes “not unless you come with me” he says lightly kissing you again.   

#Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #Fred Andersen Fic #toronto maple leafs #Frederik Andersen #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs smut #nhl fic #nhl snut #carolina hurricanes

[sweetchup]

Hot Cocoa Mix

Type: Kurapika x reader

Prompt: Jour de la Lumière givrée (Frosted Light Day) — A popular Winter Holiday commonly celebrated in the Yorbia Continent and the republic of Padokea. On the day of December 16, some people will go shopping for a gift at local shops to give to family members and/or lovers while others will prepare their snowflake lanterns. Such festivities will continue until 11:05 when strings of lights placed around the city or town will light up and people will begin to release their lanterns into the sky; creating a beautiful sea of lights.

Author Note: I hope you guys enjoy! I’m sorry this took so long, for so reason I just forgot how to write Kurapika’s character like it was insane. I had to rewatch the whole Yorknew Arc just to get a single idea.

(Prompts/Rules) (Holiday Masterlist)

The winter wind howled on from outside. Throwing around the snow that was falling from the sky with it, creating a painful whiplash to whoever crossed its path. Though that was the last thing on your mind at the moment for you could not hear the weather outside nor was aware of it as it was being drowned out by the loud chattering of people. Well, more like a swarm of people, who were interacting with each other throughout the tightly packed and crowded mall.

A clear sign that it was now the holiday season. More specifically, That today was officially December 16 and Jour de la Lumière, or Frosted Lights day, was upon you. Due to this many people, including yourself, were trying to buy lanterns or get a gift to give to family members.

“Oh I want this one! And that one as well!” Neon shouts out as she continues to pull out sweaters and throws them onto the pile of clothes in your hands. As people stare on and whisper to each other, quite confused at your strange group, You wondered if Neon truly even knew that she was supposed to be trying to get a gift for her father instead of herself.

“Miss Neon-n, aren’t we supposed to be finding a gift for your father? Eliza asks, worried about your well-being as well as how much the young girl was spending.

“Oh yeah… Well, I’ll just pay for these and then we can go find a gift for daddy.” Neon says happily, as she gives you her credit card and skips away with Eliza following in tow. Before leaving, Eliza gives you an apologetic look but you only shake your head. There was nothing for her to apologize for, it was your job as a bodyguard to take care of tasks such as this one.

Once the girl is reassured, you stagger over to go wait in line while balancing the large pile of clothes in your hands. Thankfully this line wasn’t as long as the other stores you have visited, so you should be able to catch up to the rest of the group rather fast.

As you wait in line, you let out a sigh while you ponder for a little. You wondered why you just felt so odd. Like as if you were kind of sad or…. gloomy? It was Frosted Lights Day, your most favorite times of the year, so there should be no reason for you to be feeling this way.

“Honey, I think you made a perfect lantern,” A young gentleman's voice says, catching your attention. Looking over, you see the man with an arm wrapped around another young woman. They both were in front of a vendor selling Make-your-own lanterns, the lady painting one herself. They must be a couple, you concluded to yourself as you continued to watch them.

The girl giggles happily to her boyfriend.

“You think so? I messed up the snowflake design though…” She admits, rather embarrassed at herself. The boyfriend laughs and kisses the girl’s temple.

“I think it’s perfect! Come on, let’s go pay for it.”

As the two pay for the lantern, you can’t help but realize your heart feels rather heavy now. Was that what was making you feel down? Because you couldn’t celebrate the Holidays with your own boyfriend, Kurapika?

You quickly took your eyes off of the couple, you were being ridiculous. It wasn’t like Kurapika was gone or anything, you would see him tonight like almost every night. You shouldn’t be feeling down just because Kurapika doesn’t celebrate the Holidays. It wasn’t his fault he grew up in a tropical climate and his people do not have winter-esk holidays.

You let out a groan as you start to feel even more gloomy than before. Why did Frosted Lights Day have to be your favorite holiday?

“Miss!” You are startled as you hear a voice yell in front of you, “It’s your turn to pay.”

You gulp, embarrassed you had spaced out and missed the fact the cashier had been calling your name for a while. Giving an apologetic bow, you walk up to her counter.

“S-sorry about that. I was a little spaced out.”

“I could see that.” The cashier mumbles out as she begins to ring up the items. You clearly heard the rude response but chose to ignore it. There wasn’t any point in starting a fight in a clothing store after all.

Originally you were going to go back to observing the area around you but you feel your phone buzz suddenly in your backpocket. Taking it out and opening it up, you see you have a message from Melody.

‘Miss Neon would like to pick up a cake from the bakery. It’s closer to your location do you think you could pick one up?’

Typing back a quick response in confirmation, you quickly put your phone back away and bring your attention back up to the cashier. You didn’t want to come off as rude or impatient for having your phone out after all.

After punching in the credit card when the cashier tells you the amount needed, you take the bags of clothes and leave the store. As you find a map of the mall nearby, you hoped Melody was referring to the cake shop you saw when you entered the mall. If not then you would have to deal with one of Miss Neon’s “episodes” for bringing her the wrong cake.

Swiftly moving around other crowds of people as you get to your destination, you notice something in the corner of your eye. Looking closer you see near another store stood a hunched over elderly lady seeming to have dropped some of her stuff. People walked by her but it seemed none were trying to stop and help her.

Letting out a sigh, disappointed by other people’s selfishness, you quickly make your way over to go help the elderly lady.

“Oh deary, thank you very much. You didn’t have to help little old me.” She tells you as you begin to pick up the dropped items for her.

“It’s not a problem,” You tell her, give her a small smile as you place the items back into the bag. Though as you were picking some of the items up you would pause for a moment to make sure your eyes weren’t tricking you. Some of them were quite peculiar. Usually gifts that were given or treats that were made for Frosted Lights Day were decorated with a winter theme in mind but this lady had more of a spring theme going on. Cookies and pastries decorated with flowers. Bright yellows, greens and orange colored wrapped gifts. It was far from the usual traditional way of doing things.

As if sensing your curiosity the elder in front of you begins to explain,

“Odd choice huh? Well, ever since I was a child I never liked the winter. Especially the cold weather and snow that came with the season. I much, much preferred the spring. The blooms of colors that came with the buds of flowers that grew. The many scents that you could come across. Just everything about spring was so perfect.”

You stopped picking up the last item to look up at the lady. Amazed at how happy and carefree she looked as she explained her love of spring.

“Though, my friends and family loved winter, especially the holidays that came with it. So, I just added my own signature twist to it.”

“As if it’s your own tradition…” You mumble out almost as if you are in like a daze as a thought comes to you. Finally putting the last item away, you hand the bag back to the lady as you stand up, “Thank you, Miss.”

The elderly lady didn’t understand why at first you had thanked her but when she looked at your eyes, without any words, she suddenly understood. When she had first met you, she saw an anxious storm brewing in you, with your eyes dark and a light sheen over them. But now, the storm was gone and your eyes were bright and shined like stars.

“Your welcome.” The elder mumbles out, giving you a small wave as you leave to travel further into the mall.

—.—.—.—.—

Kurapika lets out a heavy sigh as he punches in his floor number and leans against the wall of the elevator. He was utterly exhausted, taking care of the business in the place of Mr Nostrade was really tough. Though, Kurapika knew it would all be worth it.

As the elevator doors open on his floor, he clutches tighter onto the box in his hands. To anyone else walking by the package would look like a gift given for the holidays. But it was anything but that. For a pair of scarlet eyes laid in the box. Kurapika’s recent item he had obtained from his hard work.

As Kurapika continues to walk down the hall, he tries not to allow his anger cloud his judgement. Though he couldn’t help but feel an itching, almost burning, feeling come over his eyes as he recalls the events from earlier today. Those slimy bastards, Kurapika thinks to himself as their laughter and carefree manner echoes throughout his head. How dare they treat these eyes —the eyes of his brethren— as if they were just some sort of item to decorate their shelves. Some sort of useless toy…

“Kurapika,” The soft touch of your hand touching his cheek and your calm voice brings him out of his thoughts. As he slowly comes out of his trance, he realizes he had already gotten back home.

“(Y-y/n)...” Kurapika mumbles out, still slightly dazed. Even though no words are spoken between you two, you can tell what exact “item” was in the box he was holding. Especially at the fact his knuckles were white from clutching it so harshly.

In a slow manner, you lightly lean over and allow your noses to rest against each other. This Eskimo kiss type of act always had a calming effect on Kurapika, “Come downstairs when you are ready, okay?”

With that, you allow Kurapika to make his way upstairs to do his thing. You knew not to interrupt or press into him when it came to something like that.

In the meantime, you decided to finish up the activity you had planned for tonight. You just hoped Kurapika was up for it.

“Ah,” The sudden voice startled you. Turning around, you are surprised that Kurapika is already back down stairs. Usually, it takes him a while to calm himself when he finds a pair of scarlet eyes. Especially if he wants to find a safe place for it, “(y/n), what is all of this?”

A dash of heat comes to your face as you feel yourself slightly become embarrassed.

“W-well it is Frosted Lights Day and I know you never grew up with exactly ‘Winter’ and my holidays. But, I still thought we should celebrate in our own way.” You explain to Kurapika as you watch him make his way to the coffee table and grab the flowers and colorful paints you have placed out.

You can’t help but feel nervous as you wait for Kurapika to respond. Just waiting for a single word, anything at all.

“These are to decorate the lanterns right?” Kurapika mumbles out, breaking the silence as he picks up a white lantern nearby.

“Y-yes. It’s a tradition to make them.”

“Then, let’s do it,” Kurapika states as he gives you a smile, allowing all your worries to disappear.

Shuffling over to make room for you, You sit down next to Kurapika on the soft carpet decorating the floor. As you two begin to decorate the white paper lanterns you bought, you two converse about your day. You tell him about how guarding Neon at the mall went. While he slowly, almost hesitantly, tells you about his meetings today. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, you knew he would trust you with his life, but you knew it was still hard for him to open up to people about his vulnerable side.

“I see…” You say out loud once Kurapika finishes explaining. At this point in time, you were resting your head on his shoulder. In a slight way to comfort him while he was telling his story, “I’m sorry Kurapika. I wish people weren’t heartless, money grubbing bastards.”

Kurapika laughs, almost sarcastically in a way, before kissing your forehead. “I wish for that too. But soon I won’t have to deal with that anymore.”

“Oh yeah, your new job is coming up right?” You mumble, almost to yourself in a way. It was some sort of bodyguard job for an emperor if you were remembering it correctly.

“Yeah—“ Kurapika is cut off by a loud bell ringing out.

“Ah, it’s already time?” You shout out surprised as you take a look at the clock. It truly was already 11:05, you two must have been talking for a while.

As both of you make your way outside, with Kurapika helping you get to your feet, you gasp as you see the sea of blue and white lanterns. Even with the cold pricking at your skin, you can’t help but feel a happy warm-like glee fill you to the core.

“So pretty,”

“Yeah it is…” Kurapika states, almost breathless and amazed at what was in front of him. He had seen the lanterns a couple of times while he was exploring after the Kurta Massacre but always from afar, almost hard to make out the shapes. Never up close. Never like this.

After a little bit more of watching the lanterns go by, you feel Kurapika tap you from behind. Turning around, you see he has already lit both of your lanterns. “Ready?”

“Yeah..” You whisper out, breathless out how handsome your boyfriend looked in the soft warm glow of the lanterns you two had made. Taking your lantern, you two stand next to each other ready to send them off. “On the count of three, okay?”

“1…”

“2….”

“3..—“

“Ah. Wait.” Kurapika suddenly says, quickly searching for something in his pocket. Thankfully even though he caught you off guard, you are able to stop yourself from letting the lantern go. Confused, you look at your boyfriend as he finally finds the item out he was looking for.

“A string?” You questioned confused as your boyfriend grabs the lantern from you. Though, you soon realize what he was doing and can’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“Yeah, I don’t want them to get separated after all,” Kurapika explains as he ties the lanterns together, each with a bit of space in between so they don’t bump into each other when they float away. As Kurapika gives your lantern back to you, you can’t help but feel extra jittery now. “Ready, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah…” You whisper out, finally allowing both of your lanterns to slowly float up into the sky to join the others. In the sea of blues and whites, the warm orange glow from your colorful lanterns stick out like a sore thumb.

After the lanterns start to make their way higher into the sky, you quickly close your eyes and begin to make a wish to yourself. Though as soon as you are about to wish for something you feel something caressing your cheek. It took you a moment but you soon realize it was Kurapika’s warm calloused hand.

Quickly, almost worried you would open your eyes too soon, a pair of soft lips mold against yours. It’s hesitant at first giving you slight pecks but once Kurapika gains more confidence as he goes on, he dives in further to give you something more passionate.

It’s as if the world has stopped when you two slowly pull away from the kiss. It’s peaceful, quiet and as if nothing could ruin this moment.

Kurapika flashes you a rare smile and he rests his arm around your waist when you slowly open your eyes. Even though he ruined your chance to make a wish, you didn’t care in the slightest and press further into his touch by resting your head on his chest and draping your arms loosely over his shoulder. Softly, you two begin to hear some jazz music playing from a band down on the street below. Leaning in to rest his head against yours, Kurapika begins to slowly sway you two back and forth. There wasn’t any reason behind the actions, you weren’t even sure Kurapika knew how to dance correctly. But, all that you two knew was it just felt… right…

Taking in each other’s presence as the aroma of hot chocolate fills the air from somewhere, you can’t help but feel at peace. Especially as you watch your two lanterns float off into the horizon.

Never, ever, floating two far away from the other…

#kurapika #Kurapika Kurta #kurapika x reader #hxh #Hunter X Hunter

[deja-you]

Girl can you please write either a Laf or Jefferson fix based off of Tis the Damn season?!?! Miss Swift has me all in my feelings 🥰😭

drabble masterlist

this took me a while to get around to, but this is definitely one of my favorite drabbles :)

You distinctly remember Thomas saying it’s never too late, but you can’t imagine he still means it.

The last time you saw him – it hurts to think about the last time – was years ago. It was only a few days after his graduation party, you remembered this because there were still photos of Thomas covering the walls in his family’s home and confetti was still tucked into the corners. You kept a small piece of green and gold confetti tucked away in your heart.

His room was a safe haven from the hurricane that was graduation, moving trucks, and you. For a minute, it was your safe haven. You felt out of place in his bedroom, where, when the shelves were filled, books spilled out onto the hardwood floors. Where signed baseballs sat like trophies on the desk. Where a radio always played upbeat songs.

Everything was so damn americana.

You realize that the fact that you felt out of place was part of the appeal. There was a part of you that was ignited when he moved around the furniture so the two of you could dance. An addictive part of your personality that adored the fact that he would rearrange his nostalgic world for you (the knowledge that he would do anything for you made you glow a little brighter, and he liked seeing you glow).

You’re older now, but you don’t think you were any smarter than you were at eighteen. While you’re aware that everything has changed, it’s becoming increasingly more apparent that nothing has changed. Your childhood home hasn’t changed much (although your mom is excited to show you her new dishwasher). Even though you’ve flown across the country to be where you are now – you can’t really call it home anymore – it hardly takes you any time to adjust back to your old habits.

Grocery shopping. You can’t remember the last time you bought your own groceries, but you figure it’s a small enough town that you won’t be swarmed by adoring fans. Maybe just classmates who never spoke to you in high school pretending to be your best friend, but you could live with that.

It’s an in-and-out trip. You’ve been given a short list, and unsalted butter and whole milk aren’t exactly difficult groceries to find. You keep your hood on and go through self-checkout. You can’t tell if you hate or love just how mundane this activity is for you, but you’re at least aware it’s a change of pace. You have a plastic bag of groceries in hand and are nearly back to your car when you spot it.

The very same car that drove you home from Friday night football games parked in the lot, mud staining the tires. You’re reminded again that nothing has changed when your pulse quickens by just a few beats (but it’s enough for you to know that you’re not over it, never will be, really). You can’t hear the engine running and there’s no one in the front seat, so you breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t run into him today.

“Hey, I like your flannel.”

Of course fate (if that’s what you’re going to call it) won’t let you off that easy. You could pretend you hadn’t heard him and sprint to your car, that was always an option. But it wouldn’t be a good look, and your heart desperately wanted to see him again.

“I’m sure you would,” you turn to face him, grocery bag swinging violently in your hand, “you picked it out for me.”

He looks absolutely brilliant. Your closet is exclusively an eternal summer collection due to the unrelenting L.A. sun; you don’t even know how to wear winter. Your best attempt was a flannel from high school. But Thomas. He may very well be the definition of December, because you are convinced the midnight thread of his sweater was invented with his very being in mind. Somehow his smile is fresh like April and his eyes are warm like July, and – damn, he’s all twelve months, isn’t he?

Thomas is much more beautiful than you could have remembered, and you’re drowning in the familiarity of it all. You feel like less of yourself, like you could be absorbed by his presence just by being near him. You’re reminded why you left and you’re reminded why it was so hard to leave. You still haven’t decided if you had made the right choice.

“I nearly forgot you were back in town,” he says, and you don’t believe him. You’ve thought about him every time you thought about coming home. It would be rude of him not to return the same courtesy to you.

“Your mom told me you were coming back for the holidays,” Thomas adds on, feeling the need for an explanation.

You cock your head to the side slightly. There are dozens of questions that you want to ask him, but you don’t. “You talked to my mom?”

It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. It’s a stupid question, but you can’t help but wonder how often they talk about you.

“Last week at church,” he replies.

You nod once finding the answer less than satisfactory. He’s really made this town his home, and you don’t know if you’re relieved or feeling remorseful at the thought that that could have been you.

“I’m not really here for the holidays,” you say. It’s not an important fact, but maybe he cares. You hope he cares. “Just for the weekend. I’m headed back to L.A. on Monday.”

You wait for emotions to flash over his face, but he just gives you a friendly smile. It hurts worse than a fucking knife.

“Too bad. I’m sure the town wishes you’d stay longer,” he says.

You’re not sure if he means it. You’re not sure what he means by it. Does he wish you’d stay longer? Or was it his passive aggressive way of wishing you had never come back by hiding bitter resentment behind kind words? You decide against the last part. You wouldn’t put it past Thomas to wield his words like weapons, but he would never do that with you.

“Maybe I’ll stay longer when I’m not so busy.” You shrug and shift the bag of groceries from one hand to the other.

He laughs, not in a scornful way, mostly it’s disbelief. “I highly doubt that.”

You don’t even have to ask him what he means by that; the both of you are  well-versed in your habits of leaving. The two of you exchange a few more pleasantries before saying goodbye. Thomas says something along the lines of I hope to see you around, and you’re left wondering once again if he means any of it.

Thomas has the same phone number from high school. You’re not surprised, he’s always been a traditionalist, and from your experience, you know he’s never taken well to change.

You’re only home for the weekend, so you don’t have time to play the who’s-going-to-contact-who-first game. You call him, and an hour later you’re meeting him in the parking lot in front of your old school. You’ve told your mom you’re meeting up with an old friend (it’s not exactly a lie) and she’s glad that you’re reconnecting with your high school friends. You don’t care to elaborate any more on the subject.

Thomas holds the passenger-side door open for you, and you climb into his car just like you’ve done hundreds of times before. You’ve probably spent hours and hours wasting your time just thinking about him, so now that he’s right in front of you, neither of you want to waste any more time. You fall into easy conversation as if nothing has changed (nothing is the same anymore, both of you know this), careful not to address the elephant in the small town.

The two of you spend hours talking, and it easily turns into an entire day. You talk about everything until there’s nothing left to talk about, and then both of you are content to use your mouths for the things between you that can’t be said.

He has a house now that’s very much him. Thomas’s bedroom in his new house has furniture you’re unaccustomed to, but the space itself is a memory. They may be new titles, but there are still books overflowing onto the floor. You’re not even surprised. In fact, you find it all very comforting.

His touch on your skin is familiar, and you relive every moment with him from the first to the last (even though that part still stings). Thomas is your past and your present, and you don’t even dare to think about your future when he’s got his arms wrapped around your torso. Nothing feels like home the way he does.

You’ve nearly spent half the day in his touch, something you must’ve done plenty of times before. You want him to ask you to stay, and not just for another hour and not just for another day and not just for another month and not just for another year. But you know he won’t, because he doesn’t think you want him to (you want him to). Thomas doesn’t ask you to stay because he doesn’t think you’ll forgive him if he asks this of you.

As if forgiveness is something we choose to do.

When you finally detangle your limbs from his, you find your discarded sweatshirt quickly in an attempt to replace his warmth with something artificial. It doesn’t work. It’s not really fair that you get to be the one who leaves him twice, but you don’t exactly feel like you’ve won anything.

It should be better than this, you think to yourself. But you know the heart that’s really breaking is your own.

#Kitty's drabbles #i could write thom angst all day #happy late christmas lol #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

“It’s supposed to snow today!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Here’s a little present from me to you! So thankful you are all on this writing journey with me! 

December 1

“It’s supposed to snow today!” Race exclaimed as he bounced on the bed, successfully waking Spot up. 

Throwing the blanket off his head, Spot cracked an eye open at Race. “And?”

“I’m just telling you that it’s supposed to snow today.” Race settled against the headboard, stretching his legs out, ankles crossed, looking fondly at his husband. “What do you want to do?” 

Spot rolled over to his back, arm thrown over his eyes. “Considering I was asleep five minutes ago, I haven’t really thought about it. But I’m guessing you have?” 

“I’m thinking firstly we should make some breakfast. Then we can spend the day in the park with the dogs and tonight we can do a family drive to look at Christmas lights.” Race shrugged his shoulders. “But detours can happen if we want them to. Just a rough outline.” 

Freeing his arms from the comforter, Spot held them open so Race could snuggle into them. “Come cuddle with me before we have to face the world. What time is it anyways?” 

Snuggling into Spot’s embrace, Race sighed. “Uhhhh  . . . . you don’t want to know?” 

Lifting his head, Spot caught a glance at the time and groaned. “Why am I awake at 7:30 in the morning, Racetrack?” 

“At least I didn’t wake you up at 5:30 when I initially got up.” Race looked up at him sheepishly before catching Spot’s lips in a good morning kiss. “Besides, I had to share my excitement with someone.” 

Spot gave him a look, sighing. “You could’ve shared it with Bales and Baxter.” 

Bailey or Bales was an Australian Shepherd, their first fur child. She was a little over 3 years and Race and Spot’s baby girl. Baxter, is a 14 month old Dalmatian is a hyper little thing but gets along great with Bales. 

“I did, I told them with all the excitement that snow was coming.” Race’s eyes went wide as he told Spot his story. “But they just rolled over and went back to sleep. They’re just like their dad, less than enthused.” 

Spot pressed a kiss to Race’s head, sighing. “I’m sorry I’m not very enthusiastic but in my defense I’m still half asleep. But I swear I’m excited for the day ahead of us.” 

Race hummed, putting his head on Spot’s shoulder, relaxing as he listened to Spot’s heartbeat. Silence hung in the air as the two relaxed, the warmth of each other comfortable.  

Several hours had passed before they pulled themselves out of bed, getting dressed, opting to get breakfast out of the house due to lateness of the morning. Leashing up the dogs, they grabbed their coats and headed out into the streets of NYC. Spot laced his fingers with Race’s as they walked along the busy street. 

Tugging him to a stop, Race pointed to a cafe to the left of them. Spot nodded, handing him the leashes. “What do you want?” 

“Coffee and a pastry - surprise me.” Race gave him a look, accepting the leashes, watching him disappear inside the cafe. 

Leaning against the brick building, he looked at the dogs before pulling out his cell phone. He flipped through his social media channels, smiling at a picture Jack had posted of his daughter, twirling like her uncle Race. Double tapping he liked it before posting a comment “good twirls ballerina.” 

Locking his phone, he slipped it back into his back pocket as Spot swept out the door, holding two cups and a bag. Race took the top mug that has his name scrawled against the side before taking a sip, sighing in contentment. “How about we find a bench and eat the goodies?” 

Spot nodded, leading the way as Race juggled the cup and the two dogs as they found a bench in the dog park. Unleashing Bales and Baxter, Spot and Race watched as they ran around the enclosed space. Handing over a pastry to Race, Spot relaxed against the bench, eating his own. 

They were both in their own worlds as they finished their pastries before Race turned and grinned at Spot. “How has your week been? You got home later than normal last night.” 

“It’s been busy.” Spot sighed, taking a sip of his drink. “The weekend couldn’t have come soon enough and I’m thankful that it’s Christmas next week. It’ll be nice to have some time off to hang out with you.” 

Race nodded. “Anything in particular that’s pressing at work?” 

“Just some new cases coming up.” Spot shrugged. “You’d think with the holidays coming up that it’ll get quiet in the District Attorney’s office but the courts don’t close down due to the Christmas holiday.” 

Race chuckles. “Crime doesn’t stop, unfortunately.” 

“Job security, I guess.” Spot chuckled. “How was your week?” 

Race sighed, throwing his head back onto the back of the bench. “I thought it would calm down with the dance recital last weekend but we had Holiday parties this week so it was just mayhem. I’m glad that the last dance classes were yesterday and I’m free until the beginning of January.” 

“What are you going to do with your time?” Spot sipped, pulling a ball out of his pocket for Baxter as Bales came and laid beside Race. 

Throwing the ball, he smiled watching Baxter chase the ball, bringing it back to Spot. “Honestly, I have no plans, maybe trying to sleep in a couple of days. Thank goodness we finished all the Christmas shopping last weekend so we’re all set there. I just have to wrap everything.” 

The game of fetch continued as Baxter retrieved the ball Spot kept throwing for him. A soft smile crossed Race’s face as he watched Spot talk with Baxter. “Shall we continue on our journey?” 

Gathering up their trash, they headed out of the dog park and continued walking uptown. They were bumping against one another as they encountered more people in a hurry to get wherever they needed to get to. “Why do people wait until the Saturday before Christmas to do all their shopping?” 

“Because they’re too busy doing who knows what. It’s not like Christmas is a constantly changing day every year.” Spot shrugged. “Do you have a destination in mind?” 

“Just wandering . . . unless you have a place in mind?” Race looked over at him, grimacing as a lady slammed into his shoulder. 

Spot grimace at the painful look on Race’s face. “Let’s head to the park - get out of the mayhem.” 

Steering them towards one of the many parks in the city, Race laced his fingers with Spot’s just as light snow began to fall. “There’s something magical about this time of year in the city.”

“You say that almost every year.” Spot squeezed Race’s hand, grinning. “But you’re right. There’s so much cheer and happiness. Not to mention the falling snow. It turns the city into a magic wonderland.” 

Race chuckled. “Yous a sap, Spottie. But I promise, I’ll never reveal that side of you.” 

“I’m only a sap because I married one.” Spot raised an eyebrow. “You know, you’re the one that curls up on the couch just to watch all those Hallmark movies.” 

His eyes went wide. “Last time I watched one, if I remember correctly, you were the one that was heavily vested in the lives of Olivia and Jeremy. You wanted to see what happened to them, even though you correctly predicted them falling in love and saving the Christmas pageant.” 

“True. But I only watch them because you cuddle with me.” Spot gave him a look with a silly grin before leaning forward and capturing his lips in a kiss. “I will always watch them with you, simply because that’s when you’re the most cuddly.” 

Race laughed, kissing him once more. “Sounds like a plan.” 

They continued walking with no real destination in mind, hand in hand, as the snow fell around them. Race looked over at Spot with a grin. He was happiest he had been in a long time and it was all due to the man standing to his left. Squeezing Spot’s hand, Spot looked over at him, concerned by the weird look on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“For the first time in a long time, nothing. Just thankful that we’re married and I found my soulmate.” Race shrugged, grinning. “I just really, really love you, Sean.” 

Spot smiled, stopping in the middle of the path, pulling Race into his arms as the dogs wrapped their leashes around their legs. “Well it’s a good thing that I really, really love you, Anthony.”

Hope you enjoyed that! Feedback would be fantastic!  Thank you @wide-eyed--wonderer for sending that in! 

#Newsies Fan Fiction #Writing #Ask #Newsies #wide-eyed- - wonderer #newsies drabble #Christmas Drabble #Spot Conlon #Racetrack Higgins