#but it just seems like i am constantly out of the loop. everyone i live with is in a relationship w each other and i am just here

[d1xonss]

so ours babys a lil insecure bc of reader and his lil age gap he vents it to rick a little and since shes such a social butterfly literally talking and befriending everyone he gets upset and starts to think lowly of himself like theres younger men men who arent busy leading the community so they can spend all their time and affection on her blah blah he gets these crazy thoughts and she comforts him eases all his worries ):

Forever

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.1k

AN ~ Aww sad:(( but we love Reader comforting Daryl, it's one of my favorite things to write. And an age gap too?? I love it. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re ridiculous.” Rick spoke with a scoff.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man, not necessarily because of what he had claimed, but because it almost seemed like he hadn’t listened to him at all.

He already felt a little ashamed going to his friend in the first place to talk about how he was feeling, something the man rarely ever did. But that alone showed how desperate he seemed to be for any kind of advice, willing to put himself out there to express what had been going through his mind recently in hopes of some sort of reassurance.

He didn’t really know what had been going on with him recently, but ever since the group had made it to Alexandria, his insecurities slowly began to eat him alive. He started to take note of his appearance a little more, now that they actually had mirrors in the houses provided for them, seeing for himself how much older and tired he really was. It shouldn’t have bugged him as much as it did, but yet, it seemed to be all he thought about. And that constant loop of thoughts only traveled to another, thinking about how much living on the road seemed to age him, while the woman he was madly in love with stayed so young and beautiful.

She was absolutely perfect, not a single flaw, while he on the other hand had countless ones that he couldn’t seem to just get over and ignore. But that wasn’t the only aspect about her that seemed to cloud over his mind. She was quite the extrovert, making friends everywhere she turned as she was constantly radiating such a good and friendly energy. It even drew him in towards her from the start, falling victim to her charming personality. Though it wasn’t her kindness that made him a little more self conscious than before; it was the fact that a few younger men had obviously taken a liking to her natural sweetness ever since they moved here.

Now he knew that she would never cheat on him, the thought never even crossed her mind, but that still didn’t stop his jealousy from bubbling over to a point of no return. Wanting to beat the shit out of any guy who looked at her for just a little too long. He wasn’t blind by any means, and some of them had a hard time hiding the sneaky glances they were taking at his woman whilst she was just in her own little world.

Though the longer he seemed to stew over it for the months and months they had lived there, it made him start to wonder if maybe she would be better off with someone else. Someone a bit younger, more energetic, more outgoing. Someone that matched her personality better than he did. It was no secret that they were polar opposites, but he always imagined that they completed each other in a way, not even thinking twice about it. However, now that he had all the time in the world to think, it slowly started to consume him, thinking more about how he didn’t deserve her at all. But hell, maybe no one deserved her. 

The man then seemed to snap out of his thoughts, scoffing toward Rick who was looking at him with a small smile, “Man, m’ bein serious.” he grumbled.

“So am I.” Rick shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he tilted his head a bit at him, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about man. You two are always attached at the hip, she loves you…I think you might just be in your own head about it.”

He sighed heavily as he thought to himself for another moment, his thumbnail in his mouth as he contemplated why he was confiding in Rick in the first place. At this point he had it in his head that the man was just telling him what he wanted to hear. “I dunno…” he eventually muttered in response.

Rick only shook his head, “You shouldn’t be so focused on this. You’ve always known how nice she is, everyone loves her-”

“Man, that ain’t the problem. I already told ya that.” Daryl interrupted with irritation in his voice.

“I know…I know.” he assured, “I guess I just don’t see the connection of how you came up with the idea that she suddenly deserves someone “better.”

The archer shook his head with a light scoff, “Seein her talkin with those guys…something kinda just clicked that she should be with someone more fit for her…” he trailed off for a moment, before pathetically shrugging his shoulders again, “I dunno.”

Rick honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Although, he could, he knew that Daryl sometimes got like this, thinking he didn’t deserve the things that he was given. But he never thought he would be standing here listening to him speak about how you would be better off with someone else. Anyone who even caught a glimpse of the two of you could easily see how in love you were with each other. He swore the sight could potentially make someone sick.

The man then cleared his throat, “Well…if you want to know what I think, I say you should talk to her.”

“Talk to her?”

Rick couldn’t help but laugh at how baffled he looked at the suggestion, “Yeah, talk to her. Besides, I think she’ll have a better chance at reassuring you about this than I will, she seems more fit for the role.” he joked.

But Daryl on the other hand scoffed, not exactly loving the idea, “This shit’s already embarrassing, why would I wanna bring it up to her? Didn’t even really wanna bring it up to you.”

“Thanks.” Rick said dryly before stepping closer to slap a hand on the man’s shoulder, “But just trust me on this, alright? You need to tell her how you’ve been feeling. Because if I know you at all, I know you want to keep this bottled up. But that’ll just make it worse and you know it.”

He was right. As much as Daryl hated to acknowledge it, he knew deep down he was right.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to put it off every chance he got, pushing it into the back of his mind as he always seemed to do in hopes that it would just go away. Though he knew it wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to want to think about it right now.

He went home later that night utterly defeated and clueless on how to even approach the topic in the first place. When the time dreadfully came around, how would he even bring it up? He was never good with words, especially when it came to something about how he was feeling. It was all just stupid and complicated in his mind, not knowing how to actually piece together the things he wanted her to know. But he knew he had to try.

The front door opened and shut with a small creak as he entered the house, kicking his dirty boots off to the side before he softly called out your name. But all was quiet, not a single sound of your voice calling back to him, to which he only assumed you were still out somewhere in the community. It wasn’t often you stayed out this late, but he silently knew that if someone needed the extra help, you would do it in a heartbeat.

The older man sighed deeply to himself before trudging up the stairs, wanting to get out of the filthy clothes he was trapped in before settling for the night, waiting for you to come home. He couldn’t ever really fall asleep without you there. He didn’t know if it was because he would always worry too much if you weren’t right beside him, or if he just physically needed your touch to relax, but it had to be somewhere in that ballpark. Perhaps both…definitely both.

He entered your shared bedroom with a tired huff, beginning to undo the buttons on his vest before folding it sloppily and setting it off to the side on the dresser. His hands then moved to peel off his dirty shirt that stuck to every part of his tanned skin, raising it over his head before throwing it in the hamper across the room to be washed. He ran his hands through his hair to get it out of his face as he crossed the space to get himself another pair of pants to sleep in, when suddenly his movements stopped short.

The tall, full length mirror that sat off in the corner quickly caught his attention as he saw just a brief glimpse of his reflection dancing behind the glass. He blinked a few times as he knew he shouldn’t look too close, knowing it was only going to add fuel to the already ongoing fire. But a part of him couldn’t help it, seeing as it was too late now that he had taken notice of a few new flaws he hadn’t spotted before. It was like some kind of sinkhole that he couldn’t escape from, looking over the things he hated the most about himself over and over again.

He slowly stepped closer toward the object even though he knew he shouldn’t, seeing himself a little more up close as the moonlight poured through the window just above him to illuminate his figure. His eyes scanned everything he could make out in the slight darkness, seeing the wrinkles that were now more prominent on his forehead. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes from the exhaustion and stress that had been weighing on him constantly. And seeing the scars that littered over his entire body.

“Daryl?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your soft voice from behind him, spinning around to see you standing in the doorway. Your eyes widened a little in surprise. Never had you recalled a single time where you had been able to catch him off guard, accidently sneak up on him enough to make his heart skip. He had always been aware of his surroundings, the man had the instincts of a goddamn cat. So to say you were surprised when he hovered about five feet in the air at your presence, would be an understatement.

You raised an eyebrow at him in slight concern, “You okay?” you asked softly as you approached him with hesitance.

Daryl’s stomach had plummeted to his ass, a heat rising in his cheeks from embarrassment as you caught him staring down at himself for a bit longer than usual. He swallowed thickly as he saw you walking further into the room, nodding a bit quickly, “Yeah…m’ fine.”

Though the way he spoke was far from convincing, his voice coming out a bit higher than usual, and the reassuring smile he tried to send your way being a little too forced for you not to realize. Your eyes narrowed toward him in slight suspicion as you came to stand right in front of him, taking in his appearance. There was something that was clearly circling his mind, you had noticed for far longer than he thought you did. But you always knew when there was something off about him.

You gently reached out to grab one of his hands in your own, “Come on…don’t lie to me.” 

He sighed softly, knowing that he should just bite the bullet and tell you, but he couldn’t bring himself to just yet. “Just…just had a rough day. That’s all.” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” you said with a slight shake of your head, watching as he furrowed his brows a little in question. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now, you really didn’t think I was going to notice?”

His eyes widened. Shit. 

A small smirk formed on your lips as you clearly saw that you had caught him in a little white lie. It was written all over his face. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, “I’m not upset…I just want you to talk to me.”

He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, especially after Rick gave him that little wake up call earlier to just rip the bandage off. But he hoped he could put it off for at least a few more days, wanting a little more time to prepare the things he wanted to express to you honestly. Though he could tell just by the way you were looking up at him, that you wanted answers, and he couldn’t just ignore what was standing right before him.

He sighed softly as he looked at the ground for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, “Alright…” he started, not even knowing where to take this. “Look…maybe…maybe this ain’t workin.” he blurted without thinking.

Your eyes widened a little, “What?” 

Daryl’s eyes then grew as well realizing just how bad that sounded, quickly shaking his head, “No, no, I- I mean…that ain’t how I meant for it to sound at all.” he reassured, before taking another moment to collect his racing thoughts. “I’ve been…thinkin recently and…I ain’t gettin any younger. Hell, I feel like I aged five extra years just from bein out on the damn road for so long.”

You nodded along slowly, not really seeing where this was heading, “So?”

He sighed softly, “So…I’ve been thinkin bout how…maybe…ya deserve to be with someone a little more fit for ya. Someone younger than me…someone who can give ya what I can’t.” he spoke almost regrettably, like he dreaded even saying those words out loud in the first place.

The truth was, he never wanted to let you go, that was a knowing fact that didn’t need to be proved. But at the same time, he didn’t want to hold you back from a chance at a better life. One that you so clearly deserved.

But your expression seemed to soften drastically, now hearing his explanation out loud, it all seemed to click in your head. Why he had been acting off for the longest time, it was because he was just thinking too much about something that meant absolutely nothing. When you first noticed his odd behavior, you automatically assumed you had done something wrong without realizing. But now hearing it out loud, hearing how hurt he sounded, all you wanted to do was hold him and never let him go. Wanting to reassure him for the rest of your lives if you had to that he was truly the only man you would ever want.

A small huff passed through your lips, “Sweetie…that’s what this is about?”

Daryl shrugged a little in response, “Well…yeah. I’ve seen ya makin friends with a lot of the people round here…it just crossed my mind that…maybe-”

“Stop.” you said gently as you moved even closer to him, reaching up to give his arms a gentle squeeze, “Don’t say another word.”

His gaze softened as he stared down at you, regret filling him completely as he saw just how his words had affected you.

“I love you…so much.” you whispered as your gripped his arms a little tighter, “I’m not looking at anyone else…I don’t want anyone else. No one else on this whole damn planet would be a better fit for me than you. I don’t need some younger guy. I’m not even friends with them, they only come talk to me if they have a question about something. And most of them aren’t very bright.” you said bluntly, earning a small chuckle from him. “I just wish you had told me about this sooner.”

He bit his lip a bit shamefully, “I know…m’ sorry. I just thought…ya might be better off-”

“I won’t.” you insisted, “You’re all I will ever need…you hear me?”

A small smile grew on his face upon hearing that, knowing that you meant every word. Though there was still another thing hovering over his mind. “Even though m’ an old man?” he asked half heartedly, though a part of him was still serious.

You rolled your eyes a bit, “Just because you’re older than me doesn’t make you an old man.” you laughed softly, “But if that’s something you’re really worried about…I promise to stick around even when you’re eighty.” you winked.

His lip quirked up a bit in amusement as he reached out to place his hands on your hips, gently tugging you closer, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

You then felt his thumbs start to rub soothingly along your hip bones, still a little unsure if this was truly what you wanted. To be with someone like him. “Ya promise?” he eventually asked.

You tilted your head a bit at him, “Come on…what do I have to do to convince you that I want this forever?”

The man was silent for a long moment as he thought to himself, absentmindedly still running his thumbs along your hips as he stared down at you. The truth was he didn’t really need anymore convincing than what you had already told him. Just by the small bit of reassurance you provided, he felt as though he was lighter, a weight being lifted from his shoulders knowing you were his. But still, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect time to make it even more official.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, not expecting him to be so blunt let alone say those words to you at all. He never really struck you as someone who would want to get married at a time like this, but it’s not like you minded. As long as you were with him, that’s all that truly mattered to you.

Only now it felt as if the wind was knocked out of you, hearing him utter those words so clearly as if he meant it with his entire being. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit nervously, “Don’t joke about that, cause you know I will.”

He smiled down at you, shaking his head softly, “M’ serious.” he assured, raising one of his hands to run his thumb along your cheek, “Marry me.”

A lump began to form in your throat as you felt yourself get a little more emotional seeing how real this was becoming. Seeing how serious he was. He really wanted this.

“Okay.” you whispered with a small nod of your head.

His smile only grew, “Okay?”

You nodded a bit more frantically as a large smile broke out onto your face, “Yes…yes I’ll marry you.”

He chuckled, pure relief and happiness filling him completely as he picked you up in his arms, spinning you around lightly as you squealed in surprise. Though he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to seal the deal as he gently set you back down on your feet, kissing you deeply as he felt you hum into his mouth. A part of him almost couldn’t believe that you had agreed, wanting to truly be with him forever. But then again, with the way you looked at him, with the way you said yes with little to no hesitation at all, he knew. You were his forever.

~ Thanks for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x original character #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader

[worstutfanonthingpoll]

Hey babygirls, poll is on hiatus because I just got back from italy and i am so so so so so so so so so so very very tired.

Instead, have a list of all my Undertale Aus!

Fishdings

TECtale

Underswitch

Doki Doki Monster Club

Underflame

Blankstatale

Fishdings

If you don't know this one by now you have not been here long. Here's the link to the account:

TECtale

So you know the early fanon version of undertale? Evil Chara, OP Sans, UWU Papyrus? Yeah, that's kind of what it is.

Basically, Sans (a genius scientist, ofc) and Frisk (a nineteen year old girl and his gf) decide to banish The Evil Chara (TEC) to another universe. They succeed, but TEC resets the timeline as they do it.

TEC ends up in the canon UT universe, where she (gender up to interpretation) is reduced to an angry narrator. Like that one "what do you want" "souls of the unliving" "a bagel" "nooo" meme. She is still convinced she's making you kill everyone, and even if you only kill a single Froggit she will remain convinced it's bc she's controlling you. At the end of the pacifst run, you get this dialogue:

(Art by worst ut canon)

Meanwhile, Canon Chara was sent to the fanon universe. It is literally Hell. Their mother is hypersexualised, their brother is a tsundere, the child they follow around and narrate about how has boobs, and worst of all said child is convinced they're making her kill everyone!

Once Frisk gets to Snowdin (after killing everyone in the ruins) she warps off to Sans' house with the man himself, leaving Chara to explore the underground on their own. Strangely enough, the world seems to be... glitching out? Monsters will talk about how their heads feel foggy or how they don't even know why they hate Sans so much and then glitch into a loop of "I hate Sans I hate Sans I hate Sans"

Is it something to do with those garbage noises that seem to constantly be playing with the music? Hopefully Chara can find out... before it's too late.

Underswitch

Literally just a common or garden roleswap, nothing special. Swaps are as follows:

Toriel ~ Gaster (a white fire elemental here)

Asgore ~ Grillby

Sans ~ Napstablook

Papyrus ~ Alphys ~ Mad Mew Mew (three way swap)

Undyne ~ Mettaton

Frisk ~ Human from the first image in the prologue

Chara ~ That one alt design

Monster Kid ~ Heats Flamesman

Asriel ~ Fuku Fire

Burgerpants ~ So Sorry

All the Blooks are cat people and cousins.

Papyton real, is the date storyline.

Alphys was Timid Dummy, and then Rar Rar Scratchy Clawy, a violent anime dinosaur sk8er.

Metta is captain of the royal guard and has a ponytail. Maddy wants to join but he fears she will kill everyone accidentally due to her incredible violence.

Undyne has several violent tv shows and movies. You shoot her legs off first and she's like "who needs legs... with arms like these?!" and starts suplexing shit.

Napsta makes sick beats and has anxiety, but is great at pretending they don't. They are incredibly popular. They still live in constant fear.

Sans records stupid jokes and never lets people hear em. He and the other ghosts aren't related.

Speaking of that last point, Alphys and Undyne are exes. Undyne abandoned her and Sans for the Hollywood dream. They probably get back together post pacifist.

Heats Flamesman is a child. He likes Metta because everyone knows his name. He aspires to be like that some day.

Monster Kid wants you to believe in them. If you don't they will be traumatised. If you do, they will be so shocked you did, they will be traumatised anyway.

Doki Doki Monster Club

Co created with my good friends @sans-au-war-ii and @bestfictionaldivorce.

The girls (™) are:

So-Sorryori

Grillbyuri

Natsundyne

Mewnica

It's pretty damn obviously who's who. The only thing of relevance I can think of to mention is that Grillbyuri is obsessed with water (not knives) and instead of stabbing himself he pours water on himself. Instead of watching his corpse decay for three days, you watch him slowly evaporate over three days.

And everyone wears a skirt.

Art by sans au war!

Underflame

Epic Au where Frisk gets blasted by Toriel's fire magic and their soul's like "not today satan" and turns upside-down and Frisk becomes a fire monster.

Sansby real, and they adopt Frisk. They call them Dad and Also Dad. Fuku is their cousin now, and Heats Flamesman is their weird tiny uncle.

Anyway, worst ut canon wrote this oneshot for it read it right now pls

Blankstatale

First off, Blankstablook is an oc of mine of sorts. They're the ghost possessing the ruins dummy and they live there to avoid the sheer chaos that comes from living in the same vicinity of its cousins.

Anyway, resets don't exist and the player is the opposite of an alpha gamer and gets wiped out by the first Froggit they encounter after Toriel skedaddles. Blanksta feels bad for them (and for Toriel, she'll only blame herself) and so decides to possess them.

It ties the soul around their neck with Frisk's bandages, and proceeds. They do an awful job at pretending to be an alive child. It floats two feet off the ground the whole time, while the soul flails around trying to kill.

They also just generally act like an eldrich abomination and freak the shit out of everyone. Except their cousins. Who are just like "man, classic Blanksta"

Oh yeah and being a ghost they can't take damage which makes fights both very interesting and incredibly hilarious.

Heres Blanksta!Frisk:

(Art by me for once lol)

Yeah that's it really. Feel free to ask about any of the Aus in my askbox! Also I will take drawing prompts for them, as long as they're sfw :)

#undertale aus #worst ut fanon thing poll #undertale au art #undertale #fishdings #TECtale #underswitch #doki doki monster club #ddmc #underflame #blankstatale

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

the weird Yuuniverse concept tuu(?)

🐱

So I'm debating whether or not to make it another great 7 Yuu or not, but basically,

Yuu if following the plot of NRC and stuff blah blah blah. They eventually however meet someone in the Mirror, Yuuya (the first Canon yuu). Yuuya seeks to guide Yuu and help them along their journey through twst. As stuff unfolds, Yuuya tells them the truth. They are in a time loop that will either end in Death or Failure, usually both. Yuuya tells them of the past Yuus, Yuuken, Yuuka and how they succumbed to their demises against the overblots and such.

Yuuya was one of the first Yuus, and they were one of the few that actually defeated malleus, sort of, they are one of the few yuus that can reset the loop. After each painful death Yuuya started losing it

They've saved everyone, they hurt everyone, they read every book and burned them, they fell in love, they destroyed. For every loop they brought peace there was one wrought with death. But even when they finally got the best possible ending, they lost. They don't remember how though, in fact whatever they went through was so horrible they begged the very first Yuu to exist to delete their memory of their death along with wiping everyones memory of them.

There in only one other Yuu that had the ability to manipulate timelines, Tuu. And they too fell into the murderous experimentation that is looping

They were the very first Yuu to ever exist. They have died to everything and had to constantly relive their deaths to perfect their times lines

They beat the blots when they were the most powerful- the beginning of the timeline, as they absorbed the excess blot/hatred off of them throughout their loops, leaving everyone with the more tame Blots of the canon.

This however made them into a monster of sorts, and stripped away everything from them. After all they came to TWST when they were a child, but they kept aging through each loop. It took away everything from them, their body as it was now made of ink, their life, their friends. Everything. They gave everyone a good ending, and get couldnt get one themselves.

And even in the end it was for nothing, because it looped again and chose another Yuu instead since there was nothing left of the original.

However not every Yuu can loop, only a select few, the main character Yuu being one of them

As Yuuya says they are rooting for them; saying they hope they free everyone, Tuu reminds them to reconsider

If you stop it then what? The students have lost years of their lives already. It doesn't bring back any of the Yuus that died for nothing, it just damns them into oblivion, breaking the loop now just created another one.

But our Yuu has power. Why not use that to bring back the others? To reign Supreme over twisted wonderland

Yuu doesn't get it, they say they are stopping the loop, they want to go home! Plus it's not like their friends will remember them anyways since they forgot all of the previous yuus, they made peace with that long ago!

"Home? Tell me Yuu, where is home?" Yuu panics as the realize all of their memories of the past seem blank, they cannot seem to even remember a blink of their childhood as it was blurry.

"I am telling you this now not because I care, but because you have done this before. We have had this conversation many times. Every time you say you can change the future it leads you right back here to us, isn't that right Yuuya?"

Yuuya frowns and nods

"Wait I've been looping this entire time without remembering and you never told me?!"

The original yuu let's out a hoarse laugh. "Yes. You see why I say instead to destroy the world entirely rather than keep up this damn horror story? You would rather let the Yuus here rot and wallow in misery than end their suffering"

"I don't like how angry you are. You're just saying that because you're upset about your ending! I'm trying to make my own!"

"Oh yuu, I already know how your ending goes" the original yuu seems to pause, and the ink that consumes their body pulls back as Yuu sees their own face reflected back at them.

"No..."

"Yuu, you become me. I have had this conversation with you, with myself, hundreds of times now, no matter what we do, it always results in me. Don't you get it? Your memories are blank because you never had a life, a childhood. You've been stuck in this loop trying to save yourself over and over. They took everything from us. Our life, our home, our family, our body!" Tuu gestures the ink that consumes them. "I saved everyone! Turned them into their best selves, they turned us into this! Left us to rot! Look at us! Do you seriously want to continue living like this?"

#yuuniverse #not writing #not requests #🐱 anon #tuu

[roseandgold137]

Sorry there are so many but i am sooo curious 👀👀👀

For the fanfic writer emoji asks:

😅🤡😈✍️🎢🎶⛔🌞❌🧐🏆📈🦅👀💞🧠(<- for Tim)🤩🤲🎉⌛🤯

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

hmmm none come to mind immediately bc I mean I’m pretty chill with everything I’ve made existing, but I suppose if I were to write Meet the Family again I’d definitely change a few bits that kinda make me :/ now lol

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

“… Janet had money. And Helena’s birthday was soon… though a summer home seemed a bit extreme. Perhaps just a holiday would be enough.”

every so often I think of this line again and realise I’ll never actually live up to it

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

hmmm if nothing else I think I do plan to be lmao

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

not in the slightest everyone is just lucky if I even give it a second look before posting, that’s why I have to constantly go back and fix misspellings bc I never double check 😅

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Definitely Every Good Gold Digger, I mean it has the most going on (pretty sure it makes up over half of my total word count on ao3) and if you actually stop to consider the premise it’s literally two people that never meet in canon going through the most frustrating speed dating slow burn I can create while also being interspersed with random time jumps so I can tell a story that takes place over several years. So I’d say the rest is pretty tame haha

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Not often actually bc most of my writing actually happens in classes where my background sound is the teacher I should be listening to lol

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

Wire Bird was supposed to get a chapter two but it was frustrating me to no end so I just abandoned it

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

No, just whenever I have the time and motivation I suppose

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Bad parents Jack and Janet drake my beloathed. I can’t even read it without having a physical reaction like literally I get completely thrown out of the story and just need to like cool off 😭 drake defender til I die

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

I start writing and then the research happens on the go 💪💪 I didn’t even know Brassempouy existed before chapter three of EGGD

🏆 What's your most popular fic? 

Based on hits, Every Good Gold Digger. Based on kudos, Meet the Family. But considering EGGD has far more subscriptions by far and also it’s definitely the one I’m more well known for so I’m going to give it the crown

📈 How many fics do you have?

On ao3, 24, and then there’s another from an ask I’ve been meaning to upload, and then there’s various half-finished wips that may or may not turn into anything lol

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

TECHNICALLY some of them have had outlines but very few of them remain true to them so mostly I make it up so long as I have the main story beats in mind

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

still working on the dick kidnapping one, so far he’s on patrol with Bruce and living his best reckless life. In version one anyways. Version two has him already caught and he is a significantly grumpier teen lmao we’ll see which version wins out

💞 Who's your comfort character?

Probably Tim or Janet I’m very partial to them, though Bart definitely appears as my art blorbo he’s everywhere in my sketchbooks so I suppose the three of them. I’m not very good at narrowing things down

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (Tim)

Ooooo. You know considering how often I think about him this question should probably be far easier but alas. He’s a total mama’s boy, but that’s basically canon, so I won’t count that. I think he ate crayons as a kid, but that’s not a favourite headcanon. I like to imagine him as an animal lover, because I genuinely can’t really imagine someone not like that, so I suppose that would be my favourite, bc it’s the trait I always give him even if I never say it

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write? 

Tim definitely I never stop thinking about him which makes the whole process very streamlined

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

of course I would

“ “We didn’t do much golf, to be honest,” Jack murmured, dropping his head into his hands suddenly. “Janet. Janny. I made out with Bruce Wayne in the golf range bathrooms.” He peeked at her through his fingers. “Stop laughing at me.” ”

I’m just going to leave you all with that 👍👍

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

When I link it to here and everyone gets excited in the notes 💪💪💪 those first five minutes after posting is like ambrosia to me

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

It varies so widely, some chapters get done in a matter of hours meanwhile I’m on like two weeks for this one lmao

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

I mean before I would have said romance but I actually think I’m doing pretty well at it, so maybe action honestly? My strength is definitely slice of life and fluff so sometimes I feel like my action can feel a bit off pace yknow

Thank you so much for the ask <3 it was very fun going through them all :)

#ask game #I won’t clog any tags with this

[satancopilotsmytardis]

🌈☯️

I need you to know what a profound impact your fics have had on my life. They helped pull me out of a troubling mindset and were the driving force behind me picking up writing again and genuinely makes me feel understood and acknowledged dispite have nothing to do with me, I'm not fighting a war I have only a third of a chance at winning against superpowered child soldiers. But the the scale you bring your stories down to the focus on the internal aspects, the self understanding (and lack of sometimes) present in every situation and the way the characters relationships effect each other... Ugh your fics are both killing me and giving me new life. So thank you.

Oh man, wow. I really don't know what to say, I'm so glad that you're getting so much out of my silly little stories. I'm also so happy to hear that you've started working on your own! I personally think that the act of creating something (anything) is such a great way to examine the self and one's relationship with the rest of the world, I hope that doing so can keep helping you the way it seems like it already has! Thank you so, so much for always having a kind word for my stories, it always encourages me to keep creating more!

🌈 Is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

Ha ha, you all know by now that I am really actively still struggling with Shattered and have been for a few months now. I think I've determined that I just absolutely fucking hate writing in chaptered segments. Something about breaking things into chapters ruins my brain and flow of writing because I also struggled constantly with Playing Favorites and that's a multi-chap too.

☯️ how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

Oof, fucking coming for my kneecaps with a serious question that I don't have a strong answer for. I'm going to be honest, I haven't been active in fandom spaces for many years because while interacting in fandom spaces can be really encouraging and create a wonderful community, it can be really toxic too, which I don't think is a controversial take. I don't think I have room to talk on this subject because I am a person who isn't social and who experiences social anxiety. I'm very sensitive and just a bad experience or two is enough to poison an entire thing that I liked and make me give up on it, so I really avoid going into bigger and more generalized fandom spaces. I live by the rule of creating my one little tiny corner and then making everything in it work for me, and if other people see it and like it then they can come and hang out and we can all have a nice chill time, but if I see something I don't like, then I'm very liberal with my block button and policing my own internet experience. This blog is the little corner I've made recently! So far everyone who has joined me here as been so sweet, kind, and encouraging and that has been so good! It makes me want to make even more things and then I get so excited because the things I've made have apparently inspired other people to make their own things too! That feedback loop of inspiration and encouragement is definitely the best and most healthy thing that can come out of fandom experiences to me!

#tanco speaks #writer asks #asks #ask

[wahbegan]

I think I’m truly beginning to fully understand the term recovering addict. It synergizes nicely with my pet “addictive personality is a legit personality disorder” theory, actually.

In less than a month, I will have been clean and sober for two years. Yet, what have I accomplished in that time? Much more than I would have...but so much less than what I would have hoped.

Because the thought patterns and emotions and behaviors that led me to the bottle aren’t gone. This is why there is no such thing as a recovered addict, just an addict managing their symptoms.

And it’s very hard, and very frustrating in the social media age. In a world full of not just sex and drugs but porn and video games and a dozen social media platforms (all of them, as i said, shamelessly peddling their shit to be addictive), there’s a new poison around every corner.

A milder poison, a lesser evil, but still they inhibit growth on my part.

Well, to be clear, I inhibit growth on my part, but every minute of our lives is hyper-saturated with business models deliberately designed to enable people like me. It’s so fucking easy.

Walt Whitman rather famously said he contradicted himself because he contained multitudes. To him it was a liberating moment of self-realization, feeling that way.

But my multitudes desire to kill one another off. I am a man at war with myself. I can feel the parts of myself I cherish atrophying, I can feel my behavior driving away those most beloved to me, those people I had hoped would save me even as I realize that assigning them that status as my savior is what is driving them away. 

I can see it all, the bad path, right in front of me, and it is so fucking easy. So easy to just let myself fall into this loop, round and around, and be content in my misery because it’s what I know best and in a fucked up way, it is safe and comforting.

But I can see the good path, too. I can see the good in myself. I keep telling myself I just need more time, but that’s not it. I need more courage, more strength. I thought just kicking was going to be enough. It’s not.

The scary thing is, it’s never going to be enough. Maybe...maybe the way I’m wired, I’m intrinsically a bad person if I look away and stop thinking about it. Maybe that’s who I am in the dark. but it’s not who I want to be.

So here we are, at this crossroads, of me realizing: it seems effortless for some people, being a good and admirable person. Maybe that’s an illusion, I don’t know. But for me, it’s going to be work. Constant, hard, often unrewarding work. Maybe that’s how it is for everyone, maybe what’s been keeping me emotionally stunted and immature has been failure to recognize that simple fact.

It is going to be harder for me than most, though. Most people aren’t addicts. And....I am. I always will be, no matter how much clean time I have. I wish I could make more amends, the two people I hurt the worst when I was fucked up were the two I couldn’t make amends to. Don’t blame ‘em, but...there I go again, though. Living in the past. Constantly punishing myself like it will undo what you did. I can’t undo it. I need to learn to live with it.

It all sounds simple, laid out like that, but I just....I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do it.

[sunflowersandscreams]

i hope ur doing ok

Written for @solangeloweek ​ Day 3: WIP dump

this is a deleted scene from my christmas fic! this is only a short scene i wrote before i had to scrap the little plotline due to lack of space. I regret not developing Nico’s and (especially) Will’s relationships with their families more, and barely mentioning will’s life at all lmao. this is mostly unedited and not super developed so enjoy this little wip :) I won’t be continuing or adding onto this obv bc it's a deleted scene.

read on ao3

context and the actual fic are under the cut:

title from a text my friend sent me while i was having a breakdown everyone say thank u lori’s friend

supposed to take place end of chapter 6/start of chapter 7

CONTEXT: Kayla, Austin, Solía (my OC haha), and Gracie are his half-siblings by Apollo. Michael and Lee were Will’s older brothers that were killed in an accident (I never figured out how, just some sort of violent incident). in the fic Will was super run down and exhausted and he and Nico were gonna go on a whole shopping trip for his siblings’ christmas presents. at the end he collapses and breaks down and he and nico connect about their dead siblings. anyway it never got included but it was a cool plotline that i kinda wish i'd kept. but writing is an eternal process and i am constantly improving so! things to think about for my next multichap :))

The day was mostly warm so far. Nico liked it; sure, he tended to dress in tight, black clothes all the time, but a little bit of sun could do him some good. Sometimes winter just got too cold for him, so Nico relished the moments of warmth when he could.

Someone knocked on the door. By the specific force, speed, and rhythm of the knocking, Nico could figure out who it was and that he should be quick. He scurried to the door and unlocked it, finding Will hovering on the doorstep panicking.

“Nico!” Will cried, hands shaking just slightly. “Are you free right now?”

“For the next few hours, yeah,” Nico replied, frowning. “Is everything…?”

“Are you good at buying Christmas gifts for people?”

“Am I what?” Nico was thrown for a loop. He hadn’t expected Will to ask this.

“Christmas is in, like, a week, and I haven’t gotten anything for my siblings, and I need to ship the gifts because they live elsewhere, and I’m panicking, so… what do I do?” Will looked to be in despair. “Please, you’re my last hope.”

“I… okay,” Nico said, already pulling Will inside. “First, a plan.”

Nico made Will sit down at his kitchen table and write a list of his siblings’ interests, possible gifts for them, and where they could go together to buy something. By the time Nico was ready to leave, Will had completed a list.

Nico ran his finger down the page, counting the number of people. “Kayla… Austin… Gracie… Solía… Lee and Michael?” Nico stopped, coming to a couple of names that haven’t come up in conversation between him and Will before. There was only one bullet point under each of their names; Michael’s said a replacement figurine and Lee’s said leather bracelet.

“Oh,” Will stopped. “I… I didn’t- I didn’t need to put them on there, I’ve already got their gifts.”

Nico tilted his head at Will, who still wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “…Okay. Well, we can focus on the other four. It looks like we could get this all at the local shopping center, so should we head there?”

“That sounds good.” Will swallowed, looking like he was biting his tongue. He released some tension, and his posture melted back into something more relaxed. “Yeah. I, um, just realized I have something else I need to do today. Can we go tomorrow?”

Will looked uncertain of himself, which… it wasn’t unusual for when Nico had first met him, but Will’s confidence had seemed to be growing. Nico just hoped he was okay. “Yeah, that’s totally fine. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Will smiled brightly, running a hand through his hair. “Totally. Just tired. I should go take care of the something else, so, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nico responded automatically, still puzzled by Will’s slightly volatile behaviour. He didn’t know what Will was upset by, but he knew Will would come to him when (if) he was ready.

Will got up, almost tripping over his own feet. Nico left the house keys and wallet he’d collected in preparation for their outing on the table, letting Will out the door.

Before he left, Nico caught Will’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug. “I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I hope you’re okay. Or that you’re going to be.” Nico released Will with one final squeeze.

Somehow, Will looked more shaken than before. “Uh. Thanks. Th-thank you.”

Nico watched with a crease in his forehead as Will stumbled back to his own house. Something was obviously troubling Will, but he didn’t know what, and it worried him.

#lori writes #solangelo week #solangelo week 2022 #solangeloweek2022

[bloodytoxicnigntmare]

The Hallucinations I Experience (trigger warning: mention of rape, talks about relationship abuse, things that might trigger someone else's hallucinations, talk of my handler) Uncensored

I am unaware if these hallucinations happen because of my BPD or because of DID and flashbacks being combined with the feeling of not being fully present but these are the hallucinations I experience in my life

a shadow man that I called Dex that seemed to be there all the time since I was a child. He would appear whenever I was feeling lonely or when I was alone in my house while my family was off doing things. Recently he has been appearing more randomly in my house and out of my house

when with our ex we have been abused, manipulated and threatened a bunch of things. Whenever I was away from him I would always hear his words and the aggression behind it as if I was still standing next to him

"I want to feel your tiny little cunt on my dick"

again with my ex, he would allow his friends to touch me and allow them to say horrendous things about me. I would always be scared whenever I would be around them and being away from them didn't help much either. I would still hear them say the things they wanted to do to me

when I was in the 7th grade all the way up to 9th grade, I made this "friend" on kik. but it took a dark turn when they started saying things like "i am coming to get you pregnant" and "I will make you bleed with how much force I use".

the same friend on kik had infiltrated a lot of my life and made it seem like I could hear their voice behind me or just feel their presence in the room around me. it was stressful when our relationship got more dangerous with they way they would talk to me

"I'll have my dog fuck you on my couch"

The sounds of someone screaming while they are getting hurt or killed hurts. It sounds like something you would hear in a movie but 10 times worse

I would be getting spells of blood randomly. I would panic which seems to only make the smell worse. I would panic because I usually don't know if there is blood somewhere around or if I was the one who was bleeding from somewhere but that was never the case

I would hear a knife scraping on a wall but I would be alone

phone ringing, alarm ringing, car ringing, car horns

i would hear random crying from babies or adults. It usually happens at night when I am in the kitchen enjoying the alone time without having to deal with being yelled at. everyone would be asleep but someone would be crying

hearing animals cries for help

hearing my pets talk to me/call out for me

hearing someone call out to me by deadname, which only abusers know

feeling someone breathe down my neck constantly whenever I am doing something important

listening to the voice of my parents constantly tell me I won't amount to anything in my life

feeling someone follow me extremely close

feeling someone staring at me everywhere I go

"i'm right behind you'

feeling my handler's presence even when they are dead/not living in the same state as me

hearing text notifications and then laughter following right after it

when i was younger, i had been extremely scared which I have found out only made the hallucinations a lot worse. I would hear a bunch of people laugh at me and when i would become more stress or scared they would only get louder and seem to multiple and come from all around me

feeling like bugs are crawling over my body at random times of the day

feeling someone scratching my arm. not just any type of scratch, like a deep scratch that would leave a mark for days on end

listening to my ex's angry outlash like it was a recording that I have in my head on loop, stressing me out because I was the target of the outlash

I know a lot of it is paranoia based but this is still something I don't know the cause of. some people have told me that I am crazy for experiencing these things, but when I had spoken to someone in the medical field they have told me it was natural especially when I have some underlying mental disorder or if schizophrenia runs in my family. but i know it isn't schizophrenia because I don't fit the diagnostic of it so it could just be hallucinations or due to bpd or paranoia or DID

#borderline personality disorder #hc did #hc did system #hcdid #narcissistic personality disorder #physical abuse #sa #trauma #traumagenic system #traumagenic #hallucinations #actually hallucinating #hallucination experience #bloodytoxicnightmare #posted on instagram #actually borderline #actually traumagenic #actually autistic #actually bpd #actually did #actually mentally ill #actually ramcoa #ramcoa survivor #ramcoa #ramcoa system

[heiluceen]

Listen.

I don't want to hate you, I feel like I've never been able to have a real adult conversation with you because you try to lie or manipulate the situation even when it's just you and I; I know what you've said and done to me, physically and mentally.

You were never a motherly figure to me, you never learned what I actually liked and wanted out of life; you only gave me things you were unsatisfied with yourself or that you wanted for yourself knowing I'd probably not want it and end up giving it to you, because everything was what you liked so you'd just say "if you don't want it ill take it". Like how about return it and actually try and understand what I like or do something I want to do with me, not just try and buy me with things you would want? I don't have to be exactly what you want me to be, and that's all you've ever tried to force onto me. I am my own person, you don't get to dictate what I want or like out of everything in this world. I want to be treated with respect, not like a person that has to be under your command because you birthed me. I've seen what it's like to truly love and value someone for who they are; and what they choose to offer, not what they could offer me out of myselfish wants like you. People have their own wants, needs, personalities and loving someone dosent mean forcing what you love onto them; but, loving them for what they already love and grow to love even if it's not what you expected. You've talked poorly about me when I don't treat you how you haven't deserved to be treated, but then brag to others about my accomplishments like you raised me while the accomplishments I've made have been a product of me despite you; not, because of you. You always treated me like I was owned by you not like you wanted to help me become my own person, like a mother should. You pretend like you've never done anything bad instead of just owning the things you've done, apologizing, and trying to grow you were stuck in a loop pretending to be the best mother in the world; while making me want to die more and more because I couldn't have any control of my life, a life I never would of asked to be born into but you never cared because it was always about what you wanted and not what you could help with. Relationships are give and take but all you ever could do is take, you could never give; so people stopped giving which is why you ended up on the streets, because you couldn't swallow your pride and realize it isn't all about you. You need to see this as a wake up call and figure out who you actually are and not what you think the world wants you to be. You don't have to be perfect to everyone, it's okay to have flaws and not be the coolest person around; as long as you enjoy the things you like and let others enjoy the things they like you can live in peace, but you constantly judge others to seem like you shouldn't be judged for the same things you are doing as well because someone else may judge you. The trauma of having a mother like you caused me so much damage to my want to please others or help others before myself, and I'm finally at the point of now knowing how and when to kick leachers out; not just letting them suck me dry, like you taught me I should with you. I am my own person with my own wants and needs and I know who I am while you dont, and I'm a good person who let's everyone be who they need to be and don't try and force anyone to be anything they aren't out of the benefit of myself; because I actually know how to love and cherrish people, not try and coerce them into my life and how they view me. I've tried multiple times to give you another chance and instead of trying to get to know me you automatically act like you know everything about me, that you know what's right for everyone, but you could never just treat me like you were meeting me which is why I never stayed. You never tried meeting me, actually knowing me, just wanted me to pretend to be what you wanted and I'm no doll. I'm not perfect and I don't pretend to be. I can admit my flaws and admit I'm working on them because I am human and we all have flaws we just have to acknowledge them so we can work on them and move on. I hope you get to that point, you need to work on it and move on.

#lifestyle #adventure #travel #artistlife #journal #mental health #blog #creative writing #writing

[chiyohlecter]

imma go on a little andy murray tangent under the cut, cuz i just gotta let it out somewhere, but it will probably be long

been thinking about andy murray since his latest loss the de minaur, like so fascinating the psychology of a champion...

cuz we can see how fucking pissed he is after these losses and i know that it's kind of a miracle he can even play etc, but you have got to wonder what it is that keeps him going?

like there doesn't seem to be any improvement and you would think that after having been where he's been, multiple gs winner, world no.1, decent records against the greatest players who ever played the game etc it must be frustrating going out there and living with a 0-6 h2h against the de minaurs of the world

like don't get me wrong demon is a really decent player deservedly top 15 in the race - one of my little pushers, you know i love me some proper pushers, anyways -, but he is not the level of player that an andy murray would have lost to in say 2012 and of course the body's gonna decline as it has for everyone in his amazing generation, but then if i were andy murray and i saw what djokovic did to de minaur at the ao this year, like crushed him into smooth powder, literally looked like a club player, then i would say to myself i used to compete with this guy for grand slams and now i'm 0-6 against someone he crushed like a bug?

does he really have just such a strong belief that he will be consistently back to his top level? or does he just do it for the love of the game? - cuz if the second one he doesn't look it, but then again when he's not playing he's always tweeting about some tennis match, like he clearly enjoys at least watching - either way it's crazy to have such determination to keep going

cuz on the other hand he's clearly not doing it to make ends meet and he's got like 70 kids (or 4? either 4 or 70 idk), like it's not the most sound decision clearly, especially as i said he loves commenting on matches on twitter and i know if he were available 352654673 broadcasters would be clammoring after him to have him as commentator/pundit, i know if i were him i'd be commentating for the beeb at this point

because there also seems to be a refusal to change the way he plays, like he's doing the same thing he was doing in his prime, but with a body that's more worn, with reflexes that are declined, and it's a type of tennis that is not easy on the body, you'd think if you were already hurting there would be a willingness to change, but there doesn't seem to be, which just makes it seem even more like simple stubbornness and unwillingness to accept that he is not what he used to be

what i'm getting at is i am constantly stuck in a loop of "wow it's so impressive that he's fighting like this at all" and "is this really worth doing, putting mind and body through all that strain, when you have a family at home that you can feed regardless", like impressed and annoyed at the same time

in the end it's his life... it just did not seem right to me who grew up with the both of them being the best of the best that andy murray won a challenger on the same day that novak djokovic won a grand slam... clearly andy is the tennis champion out of the two of us for a reason, because if that were me that would have hurt my ego so much i'd have retired on the spot... so yeah i guess psychology of a champion/professional

[emptifylie]

i hate when everything doesn’t work out. i get this feeling like no matter what i do it’ll workout my way. that even though i skipped most my classes everyday i would somehow not get summer school or if i dated that guy everyone in the school warned me not to date, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. when i starve i feel like nothing can ever get in my way. but then i eat again and it’s like im stuck in the same loop again that i can’t get out of. the day after i eat again i wake up early to spend hours at the gym trying to make it right. i get home and i fast for a few days and then i eat again and no matter how little i eat it’ll always set me back a few days of progress because of how shitty my metabolism got. i want to feel invincible again lol. one of the biggest things i miss about being actually skinny was how nothing else seemed to really compare. i hadn’t done much drugs at the time, didn’t have a big social life or anything like that, i had nothing else going for me besides the fact that i was beautiful. and even though that sounds lonely it felt so good to know that no matter what happens, at least i knew i was at my full potential. i had more self control than anyone i’ve ever met, i could starve for weeks and i survived and even in the hospital things went my way. now that i’m weight restored and no matter what i do i fall into a cycle where i can’t stop eating every few days, it feels like i’m never gonna get it back. i want to feel weightless. i miss being thin so badly. once i finally got to taste what it feels like to be the skinniest in a room, prettiest in a room, not feeling that is torture. i feel like i’ve been fucking robbed. i worked so hard for this. my fucking life is gone. that sounds silly but i will never be able to go back to fucking normal with this pit in my stomach constantly reminding me that i don’t look as good as i used to. i will always be fatter than myself at my thinnest and i cannot live like that. i need to get my control back. i am not settling for less than i deserve, im not working this hard to have mediocre results. i have to work harder i guess. it just sucks because it’s already hard. fasting for 5-6 days a week only to have one meal set me back 3 days of progress. i’m gonna fast for the rest of the week. i need to promise myself i’ll be thin soon. i can’t live not at my full potential anymore

[scarlethallow160]

why tf do one bedroom apartments have to be so expensive (this is a huge vent dump pls avert your gazes)

my roommate keeps inviting people to our apartment without fucking telling me (or waiting til the LAST possible second to do so) even tho i’ve said time and time again i hate when people do that especially cuz he has a bad habit of doing that when we have plans where he just invites other people (esp people i barely know or dont know at all) without telling me or anyone else that was already involved. its even more aggravating cuz when this is brought up he acts like he makes sure to avoid this and he fucking doesnt like when i lived with an old friend and an ex-friend, him and our other friend invited someone to our place (so they invited a stranger to a place they did not live at) and none of them fucking told me until i was literally about to walk inside after work and like am i crazy or do people not see how rude that is?? like dawg thats my fucking home U GOTTA TELL ME WHEN PEOPLE THAT DO NOT LIVE THERE ARE GOING TO BE THERE

and if ur going to force me to interact with strangers have the decency to introduce us???? once we went to meet with some friends (not rly but i’d met them before) and ig one of their sisters was there and they just. didnt introduce us to each other? and we were on opposite ends of the table so its not like we could really interact either? and they did this when we got invited to another friends bday thing where someone i’d never been introduced to was there and they didnt fuckin introduce us and i was anxious cuz i was sitting across from her and finally had to be like “oh hi are u x? i’m so-and-so” like jesus christ is this not common sense for people? why are yall okay with forcing complete strangers to hangout

and with work today i was so overstimulated and got more and more aggravated by this cuz like i dont want to have to move every year and one bedrooms are so expensive rn but im so fucking tired of going thru this. not to mention we dont have a ceiling fan in our living room so he turns down the ac rly low when people are over so it jacks up our ac bill so it makes me even More anxious cuz him inviting people over = social anxiety for me and general anxiousness knowing our bill is going to be higher

i was so aggravated by this i ended up skipping out on plans we had today cuz my roommate also talks about himself. a lot. and we were out with friends like yesterday night or smthing and he kept going on and on about some guys he’s talking to on a dating app and i knew that would just make me angrier and idk it kinda sucked that one of my other friends involved thought i felt i was rly close with didnt seem to gaf either that i abruptly dropped out and theres obviously something wrong with me mental health-wise cuz i have this really bizarre self-sabotaging tendency when my mood severely dips where i convince myself no one cares or everyone hates me and think of this dark scenarios and just kind of start spiraling

and with my anger issues i go thru this weird loop of understanding a lot of my emotional/temperamental and communication issues stems from my fucked up family cuz my mom is super vain/self-absorbed and never thinks she can be wrong and basically my sisters are the same so i keep things bottled up and end up getting REALLY angry with no healthy outlet until i reach a breaking point and im just not great with communicating how i rly feel either cuz talking to my family was like talking to a brick wall and my older sister would literally cut me off constantly telling me to shut up so i rarely communicate things beyond like....joking around and stuff so i tend to vent/trauma dump into the void on social media lmfao which is obviously not healthy at all either but like......yeah it also sucks when i start spiraling and thinking back on this shit that i’ll never get closure from the longterm issues i developed from my family cuz now they want to act like we’re this tight-knit super close family that always got along and even if i were to ever bring this shit up they’d just point fingers or deny doing anything wrong.

 idk like its nice having a group of friends i can hangout with and stuff irl but also i feel like i cant ever really talk to them about anything like this that im going thru cuz i also feel super uncomfortable thinking i might be making things about myself (and honestly i do hate when people trauma-dump on me completely out of nowhere so i also want to avoid doing that)

also whats stopping me about addressing these issues with my roommate is cuz he has a tendency to victimize himself and thinking hes just being attacked? like he’s also super self-deprecating All the time which is also extremely exhausting to deal with constantly and it pisses me off that with our other friend/my old roommate, my current roommate kisses his ass and listened to him when he told him these issues of him being too self-deprecating etc. but ik if anyone else did he would just feel sorry for himself

im tired of this

#this post is a mess pls no one look at it #i needed to Express myself from certain prying eyes

[mbti-notes]

1/2 Hello. INFJ in her 20s. My issue is I lack general knowledge. I’m trying to work on closing these gaps of knowledge that I’m supposed to have and which often prevent me from relating to other people + contributing to conversations. They have become a deep source of shame and exacerbate my social anxiety. I’ve always been detached and kept to myself and my own limited interests but have recently realized I desperately need to change.

[con't: However, I know I’ve lost a lot of time and feel restless to catch up. I’m very sensitive to perceived judgement and criticism in relation to the stuff I don’t know, so I have become particularly terrible at navigating social interactions. Can you give me some tips on coping with the fact that I’m behind everyone else? My confidence and motivation constantly waver because I keep getting bogged down by shame.]

Questions for Reflection: On what basis do you believe that people will only like you if you "know things"? Why do you believe that a person who doesn't have general knowledge is a "bad" person and should therefore feel ashamed of themselves? To feel ashamed is to believe that you have committed a moral wrong and deserve punishment, so is punishment what you believe you deserve? Is your idea of a fulfilling relationship one where people always compete to show off their knowledge? Do you realize that staking your self-worth on your intellect is a symptom of Ti loop?

Ignorance is just a simple fact of not knowing, and it is remedied through the simple act of learning. For example: read more, watch news and documentaries, take some classes, listen to lectures, speak to experts, etc. At no point is shame relevant to learning if you're learning purely for the sake of personal growth and edification.

Shame only enters the picture when you start comparing yourself to others and fear being judged as inferior (misuse of Fe). You say your issue is lack of general knowledge, but that is incorrect just based on your own words: "I keep getting bogged down by shame". When you misidentify the problem or don't prioritize problems in the correct order, you choose the wrong solutions, and you aren't likely to get the results you hoped for.

Whatever it is you want to improve about yourself, it should come from a place of love and wanting to live your life well, i.e., it should be something YOU genuinely need or want for yourself. But if the main/only reason you want to improve something is because you think it makes you more "worthy" in the eyes of OTHERS, then the real motivation is self-loathing. Trying to cover up self-loathing eventually backfires. This is why I often warn people about checking their intentions before they attempt function development.

It seems your ego development isn't far along enough to support function development. You haven't yet learned that "approval" does not equal "love". There are mean and judgmental people out there and you can't always avoid them. The strategy you've (unconsciously) adopted for dealing with them is "if you can't beat them, join them", i.e., to believe their judgments about you and change yourself into what they want, in hopes that they'll stop being mean and judgmental toward you.

Unfortunately, the price you pay for seeking approval is to always be vulnerable to disapproval. When you're a child, it is indeed a problem to constantly encounter mean and judgmental people because you aren't equipped to understand their behavior, so you take it too much to heart. However, when you reach adulthood, you have the capacity to reflect and make better sense of things. In terms of personal growth, it is counterproductive to keep making yourself into a victim of other people's judgments over and over again.

As an adult, the problem lies in your choices. You are the one continuing the old strategy of seeking approval. Thus, you have now become the one who is the most mean and judgmental of yourself. People's judgments will always trigger you as long as they amplify all the negative judgments you already have about yourself. You perceive feedback/criticism as a form of punishment because you believe you deserve punishment. You believe there is something "wrong" with you that needs to "change", "improve", or be "eliminated" in order for people to like you, so you punish yourself accordingly.

When you are primarily motivated by shame, your perception and judgment is heavily compromised by projection. Shame primes you to detect threats even when none exist, so you don't possess an accurate picture of others and how they see you. Shame is really a reflection of your own inner struggle to accept, like, and love yourself. It is this inner struggle that stops you from being fully present in social interactions and a full contributor in relationships. Your attention and focus is always too busy with fear of shame or thoughts about how to mitigate shame.

You always have a choice about how to respond to your emotions. Do you take responsibility for generating your emotions or blame others for causing them? Do you view emotions as your friend or as the enemy? When the emotion of shame gets triggered, your habit is to take it as objective confirmation of your subjective negative self-appraisals, and then replay the vicious cycle of trying to eliminate the shame via eliminating what you hate about yourself, only to fail and then hate yourself even more.

But you could, instead, listen to the shame compassionately, be curious about what it really means, and take it as a golden opportunity to deeply examine why you have such trouble accepting, liking, and loving yourself. After all, how would you show others what is likable/lovable about you when even you aren't able to see it, let alone express it? Healthy Fe should encourage emotional intelligence and empathy, not judgmentalness.

Shame is good and necessary for helping you be a moral person, to know when you've done something wrong and need to change or atone. But toxic shame means that your moral beliefs about right/wrong are heavily distorted, usually due to having internalized the faulty beliefs of people that used shame against you in the past, particularly during childhood. Toxic shame leads people to be excessively negative and harsh when appraising themselves, which produces problems with low self-esteem and low self-worth. Toxic shame is a major contributing factor to social anxiety.

Perhaps you should work with a therapist to discover and resolve the root of the shame (from your past). Learning to shame yourself during childhood might've served a useful purpose of obtaining approval and avoiding disapproval from authority figures who wielded control over your well-being. But now you're discovering that it doesn't really work because it keeps you in child mentality and even destroys your self-esteem, so is it still necessary to keep doing it as an adult? Are there better ways to establish good self-esteem? Adults have the power to ensure their own well-being.

In a normal and healthy relationship, what most people want is for someone to take an interest and share experiences with them. Whatever you don't know about their interests you could easily learn from them or from sources they provide. Therefore, all that is required of you is to express curiosity and empathy, two things you were born knowing how to do. Unfortunately, that knowledge has since been buried under the shame, so it's up to you to dig it back out.

#infj #infj relationships #auxiliary fe #ti loop #shame #social anxiety #social comparison #social skills #self worth #self loathing #ask

[hollandorks]

ohhh those vacations all sound so lovely! and WHEW the whole family?? those vacations are always so chaotic, so i’m hoping it was still wonderful! same with the family reunion, overwhelming but i’m still hoping you had a great time!! and 12 YEARS????!! i could be wrong, but i feel like i remember you saying the proposal in motn was inspired by your own proposal.

your annual trip with your mom, aunt, and grandparents sounds so special. is it the same spot every year or do you switch it up? do u guys have traditions you try to adhere to while on the vacation? and are you an only child?? i’ve got 4 brothers and no sisters so finding out people are only children always throws me off HAHAH

and yessss okay i do remember the office!! and how your mom is like everyone’s mom in the office. and what’s the specialty medication thing like? i’ve always felt like admin work like that seemed difficult (especially with all the insurance information) but i’m sure it gets repetitive and you end up remembering it all. those programs seem so daunting to me 😭😭

and i really am looking forward to reading it. i have weird commitment issues with starting a form of media so 16+ chapters of in depth fic seems so scary right now LOL but i know it’s gonna be so worth it when i put my big girl pants on and finally do read it! i thought about it a lot over the summer especially.

and nooo not the wisdom teeth! i got mine out last fall. i only had them on the bottom, so i didn’t get the whooooole thing, but i missed a lab practicum for one of my classes and i emailed my prof a photo of me post surgery as proof that i couldn’t make it because i forgot to get a doctor’s note 😭 it really wasn’t that bad! all i remember was saying how sleepy i felt and they said i could take a nap, and then i woke up LOL

the pain & aftercare was also manageable. get warm packs for your face!! they were LIFESAVING!! i used a cloth headband (the ones that are a full loop) to keep the packs against my cheeks and it was always such a relief (and then you look funny.) wishing you the best with your procedure! (i also had leftover codeine pills for pain and one time i accidentally took codeine instead of my sleeping pill the night before a big exam. fun little college things.)

Yeah me and my husband are high school sweethearts!! Which sounds so odd to me still but we've been together since we were 14! And yes the proposal was inspired by my own just because it feels very Bruce!! We were hanging out and had had a good night just doing nothing etc and I jokingly said "will you marry me?" while he was cleaning some stuff and he said something like "really?" and I said yes, then he turned around with a ring?? I said "are you serious?!" probably 90 times 😂

3 vacations was fun but also exhausting tbh 😂 the first one with my husband's family was great but there was some weird family drama?? Which is so odd because they are not like that 😂 But it was fine. The family reunion was fun too! I have a brother but he lives in Alaska so I don't see him much but he came down for that week!!

We don't really have traditions for our yearly trip but we do go to the same island every year! Our family has been going to that area since my mom and her sisters were kids! So like....forever 😂

Anything dealing with insurance is dumb as fuck because American healthcare is a scam 😤 and they change stuff constantly to try and weasel out of having to pay for these medications! It's just a lot of paperwork, being on hold, and finding out the right phone number to call really.

Lol sending a picture of yourself post surgery I love it 😂 I'm honestly kind of anxious?? Not about the actual surgery but the recovery. I had my gallbladder removed in 2017 and the recovery was a terrible terrible time and I'm just thinking like....mouth pain is so much worse for some reason to me?? But whatever it has to be done! But then I can get my teeth straightened after that!

Definitely going to save that tip thanks!! How long did it take you before you could eat normally again? Also fhalkdjfkakjdg not accidentally taking the codeine!!! Yikes!

#asks #rosie 🌹

[whoaskedgottem]

My take on Deltarune and its connection to Undertale.

i am a funny man. i make funny pictures. but sometimes, i'm not so funny, and i make theories and fanfiction fuel instead. this is gonna be a long read, okay?

I've seen multiple ideas flying around on the significance of the Undertale/Deltarune parallels and what they mean for the story, and how these two games connect together. I'll do my best to present something new to the table, while organizing disparate factoids and thoughts into a well-formatted outline for the timeline of what could've been a kick-ass fanfiction or fan comic if I actually had the drive to be a Real Artist.

Please note that I don't think this is really a proper 'theory' or 'prediction' as much as it is what I would do if I had to write the rest of Deltarune, with what Toby Fox has already made.

That [sweet, sweet] [Freedom Sauce.]

Let's start with a quick recap so I can give you a little concept I haven't seen anyone bring up yet.

Deltarune has a pretty heavy handed approach to communicate its themes. Toby Fox has come out and said that it'll only have one ending, throughout Chapter 1 you're constantly reminded of a very central concept to the story:

"Your choices don't matter."

In fact, throughout that first chapter, the game's mechanics reflect this at nearly every step of the way. Your vessel is discarded, your choices are constantly disregarded or skipped over by the characters in fake-out sequences, the game's entire battle system and ending hinges on the fact that no matter whether you spared your enemies or not, it all still ends in much the same way, with only minor changes to show for it.

No one really missed this. Every single person discussing the themes and significance of Deltarune has brought this up before. Boring, I know. Stay with me.

Chapter 2 expands on this concept in an unexpected way. The game actually opens up. A lot. We're given plenty of chances to make choices that do matter. Mechanically, battles matter again. If you spare enemies, you can turn them into friends and bring them to your own town. If you don't, they'll be gone forever. If you're particularly chilly, you can make some [Frozen Chicken] with your [Hochi Mama.] More interestingly, though, we're introduced (well, we're shown that it's actually important and not just crazy rambling, because we had seen it in Chapter 1 with snippets of Jevil's dialogue that seemed like madman ramblings at the time,) to the concept of freedom.

The resident trashman, tiny awful gremlin, trade deal extraordinaire, needs no introduction. Nor do his themes of seeking freedom. We don't have to touch on this much just yet, but keep this idea in your mind that, thanks to Spamton, we now have a very defined idea of what the Tumblr Sexymen of each chapter in Deltarune have in common with each other.

Arcane, mysterious knowledge of their own existence, and their (lack of) freedom.

Now. Let's recall back to Undertale, because this talk of Freedom and being trapped remind me of something.

The Delta Rune in Undertale is said to be long lost imagery for an ancient Prophecy in which an angel will descend from the surface and bring freedom to the monsters.

We can start drawing parallels in Undertale and Deltarune's themes now. Or rather, name an overarching concept that's being explored in both games. The characters in both games are trapped in their own sets of boundaries. Whether that be imposed by the player, humanity's barrier, the knowledge of their limited existence in a game, a time loop, monsterkind's king's plan, or the closed doors and cut-off internet of a town, everyone is trapped in one way or another.

And everyone wants some freedom.

"hey. i know the feeling, buddo."

Let's move on. The games can be thematically connected, but that's lame. We're looking for some answer to what the hell's going on. We know the obvious things, like this being a 'parallel story,' an AU of sorts, separate from Undertale. We know the characters in Deltarune seem to lead separate lives, not having much knowledge of certain things we'd take from granted in Undertale. And despite broad strokes still being there-- their personalities are still left mostly the same, nobody seems to be exactly the same in this world.

Well, almost nobody. We don't have to get into how Sans doesn't seem to fit in with everything else in the game, everyone's already walked that path already. We also don't need to analyze too deep into his dialogue in Undertale, so let's paste it in for the sake of really good looking formatting.

Yeah, we've all seen it a million times. Sans seems to come from somewhere else, his circumstances in the Underground being something he wanted to escape from to go back to that "somewhere (or 'sometime,') else," and the world of Deltarune seems to be the most likely answer to that whole mystery.

So, mystery solved, right? Sans Undertale is ACTUALLY Sans Deltarune, and we're looking at the alternate timeline from which Sans came from, with a whole new storyline to give us context to this new world. A prequel of sorts, while still being separate.

I'm not sure about that.

The man who speaks in hands.

The presence of Gaster is obviously the biggest piece in this whole puzzle, and ignoring it would be foolish. I'm going to assume everyone's already poured as many hours as I did theorizing and reading up on as much about the bastard goop man as I have, so let's skip over defining who he is, his connection to Jevil and Spamton, his possible second identity gig as a Knight, and get to the heart of the matter.

I believe that the 'timeline' for these games is a little trickier than what someone might think at first, and far more connected than what Toby Fox lets on; while still most definitely being able to be seen as two separate worlds.

Deltarune is both the prequel and the sequel to Undertale.

The world of Deltarune, with its prophecies and characters and story is, chronologically, the prequel. After all, Sans (and Papyrus?) needs to have come from it, and for lack of a better option for his mysterious origin, the world of Deltarune is the best fit for said origin.

That said, that doesn't make sense with what we see in the game. His store is very clearly Grillby's, scribbled over. His house is very clearly the one from Snowdin. It doesn't look like he came from here. In fact, it looks like it's the other way around. And, although this doesn't prove anything, he's the only one that has just moved into town in the game, in a small community in which most people know each other.

Funny how we, the players, just got there too.

Now, I get that it sounds like some weird Schrodinger's Sequel conundrum when I put it like this, so let's revisit some previous dialogue and try to make sense of the whole thing.

HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN.

It's important that we fully understand that Gaster seems to know of our presence and contact us directly. Whenever a new Deltarune chapter comes out, it's Gaster that hijacks the Twitter account, and Gaster that links us to the file to connect into the game. The very SOUL we control in the game only appears once we 'establish a connection' with him at the start of the entire game.

The reason why is it's important, is that once we establish that he's responsible for our presence in this world, we can look into Gaster's tweets to see a very specific line that I need to highlight for the timeline to make sense.

This is the closest thing we have to Gaster's motivations in the entire narrative. This single tweet.

Creating a new future.

It sounds like a slogan, but mind the wording. A 'new' future. Obviously pedantic to write down, but that implies the existence of an old future. Or would that be the past?

What exactly is the future we're trying to create in Deltarune? why a new one? did something go wrong?

Speaking of which, why did Sans get stuck in Undertale's situation?something must have driven him out to get him stuck there, wishing to go back.

What if the original world of Deltarune fell prey to The Roaring?

Even in Ralsei's prophecy, The Roaring does happen. The Earth draws her final breath. Only after it do the 'three heroes' show up to save the day.

How about this: Gaster's motivation is creating a new future in which The Roaring doesn't destroy the world for good.

Entry Number 17.

(Or, how I ran out of image slots for this post and learned to write the rest of this out.)

It's a cool motivation, but there's a problem with it.

If he wanted to do that, then it'd be awkward that he's simultaneously the Knight. Why would he go around opening fountains, potentially causing The Roaring, if he wanted to prevent it?

This is where it gets a little weird. I'm relatively confident of everything up until this point being... fairly natural or obvious to follow a plot thread on without straying too far from what might feasibly happen in the game. Gaster's plans and motivations are a complete mystery, and most likely key to the entire game's unreleased story. To be honest, I've no idea.

I can make a guess, though. Take it as less of a prediction or theory and more of a fanfiction. What I would do with this as a writer if Deltarune was a writing prompt.

DARK. DARKER. YET DARKER. THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING. THE SHADOWS CUTTING DEEPER. PHOTON READINGS: NEGATIVE. THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT. SEEMS. VERY. VERY. INTERESTING.

WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK?

Gaster exists as a character in the world of Deltarune, and came to Undertale along with Sans and Papyrus. In the 'original' timeline, he experimented with the Dark World, opening fountains left and right in some arcane research he was conducting. My best guess is that, as a clueless Lightner who'd only just now discovered the Dark World and its properties, Gaster became the Knight without knowing the full extent of what his actions were doing. He told different people about his knowledge of the Lightner world in which they were toys in a game, and carelessly created fountains everywhere he found interesting. This eventually catches up with him, and the world is then enveloped in Darkness, causing The Roaring. Three heroes stand up to the catastrophe, but they either fail, or their fate is left unanswered. They seem to have been important, so Sans (or Gaster) keeps a note of them. A reminder for some other time, where maybe they can help.

This is when him and the others escape to (or the Darkness creates the world of--) Undertale. We learn through Queen in Chapter 2 that the power that allows Lightners to open Dark Fountains is Determination. The DT Extraction machine's blueprints and the mysterious machine in Sans' basement were designed to investigate and extract Determination from humans so as to find out the mechanics of the Darkness, Determination, and quite possibly find a way to return to their previous lives. In the process, they discover the timeline anomalies and other mechanics of Undertale. Whether the CORE was related to this or just another creation made by Gaster in his time in Undertale, which machine he fell into, and what follows is up in the air and more in the realm of Undertale theories than anything else.

Deltarune, the game we play today, is Gaster's recreation of this world after spending years spread across Undertale's code and in whatever meta-space Toby Fox has created in which the guy can post tweets and speak with the players. A world in which Kris, one of the three heroes, is controlled by the player. An attempt at creating a new future in which The Roaring is stopped with our help, reversing the mess that Gaster once made. Even if Kris has no idea what's happening, and is terrified at this weird presence suddenly possessing them and taking their free will from them.

Also I guess Sans got carried over to... like... oversee this whole thing and make sure the kids don't get lost eating chalk or stuck in a fridge somewhere.

Bonus Meme:

There's also a fun idea to play with that could be the fact that Gaster's actions as the Knight, despite being counter-intuitive, actually help us achieve the best ending. Even messing with Jevil and Spamton, teaching them of the game mechanics and instilling the concept of freedom in their minds, could be argued to be all for the goal of giving us powerful Darkners to get Shadow Crystals from. Whatever is made from them could be the key to defeating the Ultimate Enemy. Or he could just not be the Knight at all.

Also, the idea that Undertale is what could become of the world of Deltarune if it were to be shrouded in Darkness is quite a fun idea for me as well. A fantastical version of the world in which all the bits and pieces of the 'real world' of Deltarune get turned into a whole ass indie game darling hit from 2015.

#deltarune #undertale #sans #spamton #gaster #dr gaster #gerson #theory #deltarune theory #deltarune fanfiction #i can't make up my mind about which one of these two this whole ass thing is... #deltarune spoilers #deltarune chapter 2 spoilers #undertale spoilers

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry.  Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

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