#harry styles snowy weather | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bharatiya-naari-sab-pe-bhaari · 2 years

Text

After twenty years: Severitus Edition

Harry Potter exited from the floo and dusted the soot off his muggle style beige cardigan and white t shirt. He shook his stock of messy thick raven hair like a bedraggled dog spraying the soot stuck in his locks all over the hearth and the walls. He heard one of the portraits make a disapproving noise which for some reason brought a small grin on his handsome face.

The past years have been somewhat kind to Harry. Even with the lifestyle of a reckless auror he still looked a decade younger than his fifty years. Pulling his cardigan off from his well shaped shoulders he slowly advanced further into the ornately styled yet somehow practically sparse room.

With the exception of the massive floor to ceiling bookcases built into almost three huge walls of the massive room, there was none of the curious antiquities spread around it like it had been once during the former Headmaster's time. Harry descended down the spiral staircase to reach the lower level, his shoes making gentle thudding sounds as he was almost deferentially quiet.

The evening sun was peeping from the edge of the horizon splaying its dying vermillion rays to paint the dark mahogany interior a brilliant golden auburn.

*pic credits to artist and pinterest*

Harry spotted him as soon as he reached the last step. And the sight threatened to tear something pleasant in his heart. Had someone told him that one day he would feel such emotion for him, he would have been in splits before sending the man to St. Mungo's.

The huge desk he passed had scrolls and papers strewn like confetti, books opened at particular places, quills half dipped in ink drying at the chilly autumn air and a few framed photos. One had him in his auror uniform, a mere recruit, freshly out of school. The other had the late deputy headmistress smiling suavely at the camera like she is privy to an inside joke. Another one of a beautiful woman in her seventies, still having the vigour of youth on her gracefully lined face, sapphire eyes twinkling in mirth, a shocking thick lock of silver in her otherwise black hair. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see the love shining in the depths of her brilliant pupils. The other photo had his heart, three children of various heights and ages, two boys and a girl giggling madly at the camera with a pretty red haired woman laughing, standing behind them.

The kaleidoscope of memories welcomed the Head of the Auror Dept. in the Headmaster's office as said man's eyes fell on the somnambulant Headmaster once again.

He neared the man seated on the armchair and could see the steady rise and fall of the lean chest against the velvet black of his buttoned robes and saw Fawkes perched on his shoulder, curled into himself as deep in sleep as the man himself, his once midnight black hair turned a snowy white splayed across his sallow face, he felt a sudden blooming burst of affection swell inside his chest with a violent pang.

He kneeled in front of the sleeping man and took one of the weathered yet somehow surprisingly elegant hand enclosing it inside his own warm palms. He rubbed it slightly hoping to transfer some of his warmth to him wincing at the icy temperature of the bony fingers. Yet the man remained blissfully asleep.

Time had healed the vicious wounds etched on his pale throat and neck leaving only the scars as cruel testimony to a monster's madness, forever cursed to haunt people as a reminder of those terrifying times.

Harry closed his eyes suddenly hearing the long lost echos of agonized screams, of venomous fangs ripping into tender flesh and red snake like eyes. He snapped his eyes open before the hysteria could grip him further and opted instead to rest his forehead against the clothed thigh in front.

The immediate smell of potions, tobacco, something spicy and smoky assailed Harry's senses latching its familiar bitter sweet jaws into his beating heart. It seemed the fragrance was enough to calm the raging storm which had been wrecking havoc inside his soul from a few days.

He knew this smell intimately and would recognize it like an infant does of their parents.

A smell housing a multitude of aromas.

It was the smell of lazy summer afternoons spent in front of boiling cauldrons.

It was the smell of snow draped winters curled inside old knitted blankets.

It was the smell of old books with yellowed pages resting inside the school library.

It was the smell of the winding and stone cold corridors of a Scottish castle.

It was petrichor, the smell of the earth after thunderstorms.

It was the smell of bacon and eggs, bread marmalade, blueberry pancakes and dark chocolate on toasted marshmallows.

It was.... probably how love smelled.

The sun had long gone, the crescent orb of the moon now taking the duty of throwing light all around, dispelling the darkness which could scare the numerous students of the hallowed school grounds.

Suddenly he felt fingers threading his hair softly in a soothing familiar pattern. For some reason his eyes started burning and he had to breathe a few times to bring himself back in control.

"How was the meeting?"

The silky baritone filled the empty silence comfortingly and the younger man looked up from his hiding place slowly to meet a pair of obsidian black. The characteristic coldness had receded long back to get replaced with a beautiful lukewarm fondness instead.

"Fine. Took some time to convince Shaklebolt. But Remus helped me."

"Hmph! The wolf does have a bit of sense after all..."

"Oh let go of that already sir! Its been what...? Almost sixty five years?"

He said nothing but Harry knew all his tells. The slight way that cupid's bow quirked up, the blink it and you miss it sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes, the almost negligible twitch of his left cheek. The Headmaster would never be an openly emotional man but Harry didn't mind it. He loved him that way he was.

Severe, caustic, serious, emotionally constipated and everything.

Oh he would take him over anyone and everyone...

"What are you doing there Potter... you'll hurt your knees. Get up."

His voice was mildly chiding but the amusement in his eyes dispelled any notion of displeasure. Harry just shrugged and repositioned himself to sit cross legged on the floor again an folded his hands over his former teacher's knees.

"I am very comfortable here."

"Idiot child."

Harry smirked smugly at the tone which bellied the man's true intentions. Only the Headmaster could make the sweetest of compliments sound acerbic and the vilest of insults affectionate.

Despite his legs protesting Harry didn't get up. This was the only place he could be himself. Here, by this man's side he would always be Harry Potter, the idiot teen who couldn't stop getting into deadly situations; Who was terrible at potions, terrific at Quidditch, had horrible night terrors, loved marshmallows in his hot chocolate, couldn't bear loud music and cried watching the Lion King. Harry's powers had started exponentially increasing since Voldemort's defeat and death and as hardworking as he was, he had cut himself quite a niche at the Wizarding world. As if he needed any more fame. Sometimes, all the hero worshipping got on his nerves and he feared all the victories would go to his head.

It was good to remember that there still was a living man who could freeze the Great Killer of Voldemort and Award winning Auror Head with a single look and could in all probability despite his age, wipe the floor with his face in a duel, fair or otherwise notwithstanding. The man's long fingers entangled in the younger man's unruly curls again and gently began to untangle the knots. The Boy who lived twice who had now become a man closed his eyes again and put his chin on his folded hands which were resting on the older man's thighs.

"How are the rug rats?"

Harry stiffened and instantly regretted it as the wonderful motion of those loving fingers halted in tandem. His voice was concerned the next time he spoke. So concerned that Harry wanted to burst.

"Harry...? What happened ?"

"I am sorry."

"huh..?"

Harry found himself choking back the sudden bile rising in his throat. He became aware of the Slytherin's hand on his back next, rubbing circles.

"I am so sorry."

He said again and a frown formed in the other's severe brows.

"Why are you apologizing? I don't under.."

"I am sorry for all the times you had to worry about me. For all the times I disregarded my safety and ran headfast into certain danger without giving a second thought about the people I was leaving behind. I am sorry for all the pain and the heartbreak I have caused you. All the times I have..... argued with you about the same. I understand now.... how much that hurts."

There was silence for some moments after which Harry felt a warm palm on his cheek and only then did he realise that he had tears on his face. The tears he had been long since trying to swallow. From the moment he had entered the office. The fingers brushed gently over the tears and cradled his face almost tenderly.

"Oh Harry... It's James isn't it?"

Harry nodded slightly. His eldest born had received his recklessness and his mother's feistiness along with a newly evolved trait for suicidal tendencies. From the time he had joined the Auror service and had been working under his father, they had had regular spats. All over his safety. Or rather, its lack thereof. Harry had been slowly being hysteric with tension when just this morning they received news that James had been admitted to St. Mungo's with a severe head injury.

"He was wounded. In the head. We sat there for fourteen hours till he gained consciousness. Ginny was.... inconsolable. I was trying my level best not to loose control but... my son! Oh my God! I can't even begin to reiterate what I had gone through those fourteen hours. That has to be the worst experience of my life."

The Potion's Master had started stroking his hair again even as his eyes never left the emerald green one's of his own.

"And he woke up. Ginny cried a lot. Albus and Lily were.. very brave. I didn't know whether I should be mad or relieved. He was making light of the situation and I... kinda lost it. We... argued a bit. And he... said something in the heat of the moment."

"Stop being a helicopter dad! I am not a child anymore and you do not have to worry about me like I am some delinquent toddler. Merlin! What a control freak you are!"

Another time, another set of people in the same situation. Later when Harry had looked at the bathroom mirror he remembers the distinct feeling of something wringing his heart as the reflection staring back at him had been a copy of that of his guardian.

History does repeat itself and Karma he thought does kick like a bitch!

Harry could hear Fawkes making small unintelligible noises as he contently picked on the shell of the Headmaster's pale ear and his snow white hair affectionately. The older man brushed the bangs off his ward's forehead softly. Harry couldn't look him in the eye. Too ashamed of himself.

Yet he was gently coaxed into tilting his head and found his breath getting arrested at the love he was clearly seeing on the fine lines of that striking and beloved face.

"Do you hate James, Harry? For what he unwittingly spoke?"

"Merlin no! What even brought that...."

"Then how can you think the same of me?"

"I..."

"It is all the hot blooded pride speaking. You scolded him in front of his younger siblings, probably even his boss and colleagues. That must have stung his ego. He regretted it the moment he spoke."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because so did you as well."

Such a simple answer to a complicated problem. Yet a burden every father bears. How could he have been so naïve?

"Do not think too much. He is young. Prone to error, quick to lash out. Experience will mellow him."

"As it did me?"

"Did you mellow down Harry?"

"I didn't?"

"Last I heard, you broke down the door of Silvas Dmitri, the head of that neo Death Eater cult with no backup or wand."

"Point taken."

Harry grinned and to his utter delight found the Headmaster smiling as well. The clock chimed and Harry was reminded of the God awful social event Malfoy had tricked him into accompanying with him. He groaned mentally as his limbs refused to comply with his brain. He didn't want to get up from here.

He wished he could stay here instead. Just sit in silence, maybe read a book, hear the other man breathe steadily. Ignore the obvious signs of a decaying body and the harsh evidence of mortality. Only pretend for a while that all is well with his world.

Be a child again.

Wishful thinking. He seemed to be doing this quite a lot nowadays.

"How is Liz?"

He asked instead preparing to get up and kneeled again from his cross legged position. The former DADA Professor sighed in what could safely be called fond exasperation.

"What else? Off to some Circe forsaken exotic location for a top secret mission with a level thirty seven classification."

He grumbled and Harry burst out laughing for the first time that day and felt immensely grateful for the same. He missed laughing. He missed how the older man's gaze softened hearing his booming laughter.

"Oh! Liz is a God sent. Only she has the ability to bypass you neatly and live to tell the tale."

"Privileges to all wives, I am told."

"Certainly. Now I will be leaving before Draco Malfoy throws a fit. I will see you on Monday at dinner."

The man grumbled and Harry narrowed his eyes at him. He knew what exactly he was trying to do.

"I will see you on Monday at dinner sir."

He said in a no nonsense tone that clearly stated that any other opinion will not be considered. The Headmaster glared at the younger man and closed his eyes when that didn't affect him at all. He grumbled a bit and turned his face sideways to get a more comfortable sleeping position.

"Sir.."

"Oh alright you bastard. I will be there. Tell Ginny to make the chocolate treacle tart for desert."

Harry smiled feeling the familiar warmth pool inside his chest. He picked up those alabaster white fingers from his lap and pressed his lips to each of the hand gently. The man had his eyes closed still and his breathing had evened out again. Fawkes had relocated to the other shoulder and curled up again hoping to join his current wizard into Morpheus's domain.

Harry got up wincing feeling his age for the first time in several months and trudged towards the bedroom to scourge for a blanket. He found a multicoloured knitted one which definitely belonged to Albus Dumbledore and wrapped it softly around the reedy limp form of the current Headmaster. He spelled the fireplace to start and soon the room had forgone its biting chilliness.

He then turned towards the sleeping man and bent down over him. A single lock of his silver mane fell over his cheek obscuring his face partly. Harry lifted it off with great care and an involuntary reverence. He stared at the face of the most powerful wizard alive of this century and gently kissed on the mussed hair over his temple inhaling the comforting fragrance of sandalwood and Earl grey.

"Sleep well dad. I love you."

Harry Potter exited the room with as much silence as he could muster completely missing the gentle smile stretched on Severus Snape's sleep drunk face.

Fawkes chirped and nuzzled into his hair as the only sound remaining became the crackling of the fire and the even breaths of the Headmaster.

#severitus #severus snape #harry potter fandom #snape fandom #prosnape #pro severus snape #snape love #headcanon #severus snape fic #harry potter #future fic #au #Sev is Harry's dad/guardian #father son #love #i love severitus #maybe thats why I keep writing this shit

126 notes · View notes

havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

Text

in which harry is the right person at the wrong time.

a/n: hi lovelies! here is my christmas fic for @goldenbluesuit ‘s xmas challenge! i chose the song ‘baby, it’s cold outside’ and it’s my FAVORITE xmas song, so i’ve included bits and pieces of the song throughout the story! hope you all like it, and happy holidays! pls rb and send feedback bc they’re very helpful :)

WORD COUNT: 9.6k of ex lovers to lovers, teacher!harry x lawstudent!yn filled with slight angst, missing someone dearly, and fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

17 December 2020

A chilly and snowy night was upon you as you took a shot of hard liquor. The face of disgust appeared on your face as the liquid slowly went down your throat after you hammered the shot of tequila.

Normally, you wouldn’t pregame when you were going to your friend, Addie’s, house where you would drink some more, but you needed to shake off your nerves that you felt at the moment. You took a deep breath after taking your second shot and you had physically felt yourself starting to relax.

Rolling your head to stretch your neck out, you decided it was time to leave since it was nearing seven in the evening. You called yourself an Uber because of the alcohol in your system and you were planning to sleep over Addie’s place since she said she would bring you back in the morning before you had to go to work.

You waited for your Uber by the front door while you looked in the mirror, putting your black beanie onto your head. You were bundled up in a black university sweater, a camel color coat over, along with tan lounge pants and a pair of black boots. Once you got a notification that your Uber driver, Jason, was in front of your house, you grabbed your overnight bag and headed out the door.

You placed the hood of your sweater over your beanie so you got more warmth since it was quite cold. You were never one for the cold weather, which is unfortunate since you lived in London. You cherished the days where it was sunny and warm; the sun bright and warm as you laid on the grass in complete content.

You missed those days. You missed the days where you didn’t worry about a singular thing.

Looking out the window, on your way to your destination, you watched the snow slightly fall, hitting and building up on the ground while the pedestrians walked through the streets, bundled up in thick layers of clothing. Some people were with others, walking hand in hand or hugging each other through the cold. Even though it was freezing cold outside, there were smiles on their faces because the hold of one another was enough. They could get through the worst snowfall, but if they were in each other’s arms, it wouldn't matter; they could get through anything.

The cold had reminded you that you were missing a pair of strong arms that should’ve been around you through this season, but you were completely frozen—left out in the cold to warm yourself up.

You sighed and the car stopped in front of Addie’s place. You thanked your driver, wishing him a ‘Happy Holidays’ before you got out and buzzed your best friend’s apartment onto the buzzer system; hearing one back, you entered the complex while brushing your shoes onto the floor mat, so you wouldn’t slip while going up the stairs.

You were grateful the building was warm, and you’re sure Addie would crank up the heat for you since you would always complain how ‘bloody cold’ it is all the time.

Once you opened the door, you were met with your entire friend group who were all lounging around in the living area. They all faced the door once you walked in, seeing who the last friend to arrive. Greetings were sent towards you, Addie and Nic got up from their spots on the couch that they’re going to lose because behind them, Elijah and Niall were getting up from their spots on the floor to steal it.

“Hey! There you are! We were all waiting for you,” Addie said, giving you a hug.

Nic went in for a hug before she pulled back and looked at you suspiciously. You looked at her confusingly, wondering why she was looking at you the way she was before she said, “Did you party before you came here?” You furrowed your brows until you remembered that she probably smelt the alcohol that you took before you left.

“Oh, uh, just took a couple of shots before I came here.” The two girls understood quite well, thankfully.

“No worries! Come join,” Addie welcomed you in. The two went back to the living area, only to see that their spots were taken, so they grabbed the two boys’ arms, yanking them out of their seats. You chuckled as you walked to Addie’s room to put all of your belongings.

Once you did that, you exited her room the same time the bathroom door opened across her room. The person in front of you was the reason why you were so anxious before you left; why you needed to relax for a bit and mentally prepare yourself before going to Addie’s place.

The person in front of you was Harry Styles.

The person who had your heart.

The person you were deeply in love with still.

The person who was your ex boyfriend.

“Hi,” he said surprisingly, smiling a bit.

“Hi, Harry,” you replied, inching towards him as he met you halfway. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you did the same around his waist, resting your cheek onto his chest. The hug was warm and comforting, like it always was, and you looked forward to these kinds of hugs every time you saw him. But your heart ached every single time.

Pulling away, you gave him a small smile before you two walked out of the hallway and to where your friends were. There was laughter between the two girls and guys as Niall was telling them a joke. Nic was the one who saw you and Harry first, and her laughter died down. She looked at you concerningly, giving you those eyes as if they were asking if you were okay, and you nodded your head to reassure her. You and Harry join the group; you sat on the loveseat on one side of the rectangle wooden table, while Harry sat on the floor on the other side.

You tried joining in on the conversation and laughter, but you couldn’t help but take sneaky glances back to Harry, only to find him getting glances at you as well.

It was hard to focus on anything your friends were saying when Harry was in the same room, but you realized it was also difficult when he wasn’t in the same room because then you were wondering where he was.

It wasn’t easy being friends with Harry after the breakup, good friends, especially; and it pained you to actually act normal around him when all you wanted to do was scream, cry, and have him comfort you. But you did your very best to maintain a cool, calm, and collected mood whenever you’re around him, although inside, your heart was racing and everything you said seemed incoherent.

You tried your best to avoid him after you two split, and he did as well, but being part of the same friend group just didn’t go well with your wishes. You two had to suck it up and be normal around each other.

Being with Harry was possibly the best eight months of your life. To some, it’s not the longest amount of time, but he was one of a kind; you couldn’t find anyone out there like him--not like you were looking anyways. It genuinely felt like you’ve been together for years, and when you two were celebrating your six month anniversary, your friends had questioned you saying ‘It’s only been six months?!’

Your relationship with Harry was all things blissful. It was pure happiness and love, and you wouldn’t want it with anyone else. You two rarely got into fights, and if you did, it was most likely a petty and annoyed argument that would have you two back in each other’s arms only twenty minutes after. He was your fresh breath of air that made you laugh and orgasm…multiple times.

It was all smiles and laughs until it wasn’t.

You two had gotten together the second semester of senior year. Meeting at the library because you couldn’t reach a book, it didn’t take long for you both to get together. You had known him for two weeks until he asked you out on a date where he kissed you for the first time. The dates and kisses continued on for six months until you mutually decided to call it quits.

It wasn’t an easy decision, but considering that Harry was going to a different school that was in a different country for his master’s degree in education for the fall semester, and you were also in the midst of your career; interning at a law firm didn’t quite clear up your schedule, only making you busier by the hour. There was barely any time for the two of you to spend time with each other with how busy and hectic your lives were, so there would most likely be no calls coming in or distant texts that were sent out to make it seem like the void had disappeared.

Like two mature adults, you and Harry called it quits after the summer. He moved away to get his master’s and you kept yourself busy at the law firm. It wasn’t easy--still isn’t easy, but it was for the best. The both of you needed to focus on your careers and yourself before you two were ready enough to get back together. That’s if Harry wanted to get back together anyways.

Of course you wanted to get back together with him, but you didn’t know where he stood on that, or if he was even seeing someone. Throughout the two years that he was away, you only saw him during summer and winter breaks, so he could possibly be seeing someone whenever he goes back to school. But now that he had moved back again, your mind was spiraling because now you got to see him more.

Finally, you broke out of your trance, once again thinking about Harry, you saw him looking at you. The both of you completely tuned out to the conversation and laughter coming from your friends. You held your wine glass up, Harry doing the same while smirking before you both sipped your drinks, hoping the sweet wine would relax your bodies.

Nic was picking out a small paper out of the Santa hat Addie was holding. She took a quick peek at it before, smirking to herself before Addie moved over to you for your turn. As you chose your Secret Santa, you hoped it was a good one. It’s not like you didn’t love your friends, some of them were picky, and by some, you mean Nic.

You looked at the piece of paper, smiling before shoving it into your pocket. Addie moved onto Harry who was the last one to choose, and you watched him as he looked at the paper like it was a poker hand. He raised his brows, smirking before he looked up and started to fold the paper. Your eyes looked down at his polished hands, noticing that he still wears the same rings as he did when you first met him. Your favorites were his initial, thinking how incredibly sexy and alluring they looked on him as he walked around confidently. You’ve stolen them multiple times as well, even if they were too big on you, but the thought of walking around with Harry’s name on you just seemed so enticing.

Niall’s laughter brought you out of your sensual thoughts about Harry’s hands and you realized you were caught staring, and Harry knew exactly what you were looking at with the amount of times he’s caught you staring and fantasizing about his hands. Plus, you openly told him that you had a thing for his hands.

A smug smile was seen from Harry, so you took your attention away from him and towards your friends.

“So, what do we say? $50 limit?” Nic suggested, and Elijah rolled his eyes.

“Why are you trying to make me broke? You know I have a huge family, like, 15 cousins!” Elijah debates.

Nic gasped dramatically. “I’m offended you don’t consider us family, Eli!” Elijah playfully rolls his eyes again, turning his head to the side as he smiled into his shoulder, blushing a bit.

You chuckled at their playful banter. You’re a bit surprised they hadn’t gotten together yet because ever since you met them, you could practically feel the tension between them. They were just too stubborn to admit that they liked each other.

“Okay, how about we make it maximum $30?” Harry pitched in. Your eyes had immediately averted to him, and it was like he captured you just by the sound of his voice. “We have exactly six days to get our gifts,” he added. Your friend group has always been one for procrastinating. Everyone is so busy these days that it gets harder to plan hangouts where the entire group could go, but you were all family, so if the gatherings were at three in the morning, everyone would be there.

The group agreed, telling him that was a solid number. You caught Harry’s eye and he softly smiled at you. Giving him one back, you suddenly felt nervous as he smiled, so you chugged the rest of your wine and walked to the kitchen to open a new bottle to bring to the living area.

The bottle made a loud pop sound, which earned an in sync ‘Woo!’ from the group as it was a tradition you all created whenever a new bottle of wine was being opened. Smiling to yourself, you poured yourself a glass before downing it. As you were doing so, Harry walked into the kitchen with his own glass in his hand.

“Hogging all the wine, aren’t you, Y/N?” He teased to clear the awkward and anxious tension between you two, and luckily, you stifled out a giggle.

“You know me and my wine.” You refilled his empty glass while taking a sip of yours. Once you fill it halfway, he clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. His lips meeting the sweet but bitter taste of red wine that you so wished was your lips. The way he curled his lips into his mouth and licking his lips, tasting the flavor had you daydreaming such sultry things about his lips.

You cleared your throat, breaking yourself out of your gaze. “How are you, H? How’s work?”

Harry’s cheeks warmed up at the simple nickname. “I’m doing good, yeah. Work is good. The school is great.” This was Harry’s first semester teaching, and he absolutely loved it. He loved being in the classroom setting, interacting and making sure his students understood the material. He wanted to teach elementary kids, but that would require knowing various subjects when he wanted to focus more on ninth grade English.

“I’m happy for you,” you confessed. You were happy for him, but you wanted to be happy with him. “I know you’re a great teacher, and your students must love you.” You bumped him with your hip gently.

“They’re great. A couple of them have this weird crush on me for some reason.”

“I mean how could they not.” You realized you said that out loud, and you’re fully blaming the alcohol and the few glasses of wine that you already had, leaving you with a rosy cheek tint glow. Harry didn’t say anything but smug as he continued to sip on his drink. You slipped past him to join your friends, and Harry followed. Addie gave you a knowing look, hoping to communicate with just her eyes as she saw you and Harry walk out of the kitchen together, and you simply nodded, gesturing that you were okay.

The rest of the night went by quite fun as the boys helped Addie hang up the rest of her decorations while scoffing and rolling her eyes because they weren’t cooperating. You and Nic were sitting on the floor watching and laughed, pouring yourselves more glasses of wine. Your heart skipped a few beats as you watched Harry the entire time, laughing and smiling, and sometimes looking over at you just to get a simple glance at your face to suffice his heart from the heartache of not being able to hold or kiss you.

You’ve always liked shopping alone. Shopping with Nic and Addie could be stressful, no matter how much you loved them. You would only go to the shoppes with them if you weren’t looking for anything to buy, but since you were Christmas shopping and the stores were getting busier counting down to Christmas day, you had passed on their invitation to shop with them. There was nobody bugging or nagging you, causing you to get distracted; just you, a basketful of snacks, and Christmas music playing through your headphones.

You couldn’t wait to give your Secret Santa gift because you’ve put a lot of thought into it ever since you found out who your receiver was. You’ve been doing Secret Santa with your friends since the third year of college. At first, your friends group was only you, Nic, Addie, and Niall—you’ve known Niall since you were sixteen, and you met the girls your first year of uni—until Nic met Elijah during the second semester of junior year, who was quickly accepted, and then you met Harry.

You’ve all become a close knit of friends, and each and every single one of you have met other people, but there was nothing like this group. With bonding and connecting so well, all you needed was each other, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

As you were looking at the collection of whiskey, you felt a body brush passed you, slightly bumping into you as they tried getting through the narrow aisle. You jolted forward a tad bit, making you take a step forward to let the person behind you pass through.

“So sorry,” the familiar voice said. The music playing through your headphones was not even halfway up since you still wanted to be aware of your surroundings, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

Turning around to look at the person behind you, sure enough, it was the one and only.

“Harry?” You called out, taking out your headphones. He turned around, and once he saw you, he immediately smiled.

“H-Hi. I didn’t expect to see you,” he nervously blurted out a false statement. He knew that this was your go to store and you would always drag him there because they always had your favorite snacks in stock.

You chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to see you here either.” Unlike his statement, yours was true. When you were with him, he would always ask you why you couldn’t stop at any of the other shops because this one was on the other side of where you lived. But you simply told him that it was because you would feel like you would be cheating on this store with the others because this was your go-to place, and the employees here were just lovely.

“Shopping for yourself?” Harry asked.

You looked down at your basket. “Oh, no. For my Secret Santa. What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I was on this side of town and,” he turned around to face the wine section before grabbing a bottle of Pinot Noir. “Just needed to get this,” he said as he held it up.

“Night in?”

“Hmm, yeah,” he nodded.

“With…someone, or?” You tried your best to not show your anxiousness when you asked him if he was having a night in with someone that’s not you.

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, no. Not with anyone…” Your shoulders relaxed and a small smile appeared on your face. You slightly nodded your head, containing your relief. “You look great!” He complimented. You were wearing your work attire; a black pencil skirt with a white silk, semi turtleneck long sleeve, and a black coat thrown over. You were also in nude heels, which weren’t the best to shop in, but you had forgotten to bring a change of shoes.

You blushed. “Thank you. I came here straight from work.” Harry’s brows raised. You were always one for a sense of style, so he wasn’t surprised that you would look this good going to work.

“Really? How is work going, by the way?”

“Good, actually. I’m still interning at the law firm, so I’m pretty busy. But overall it’s great! A lot of research, mock cases, and sometimes the interns get to sit and watch in the courtroom. It’s pretty thrilling,” you said excitedly. Harry smiled, missing how you would explain things so eagerly. “This is my last year interning, so hopefully I could work at the law firm I’m already interning at, and become a permanent lawyer there.”

“I’m sure they’d love to have you there. You’re great, really. They’d be stupid to let you go…” he trailed off. There was a double meaning to his words, and you were wondering if Harry thought he was dumb enough to let you go. Not wanting to dwell on his words any longer, you murmured a soft ‘Thanks’ to him and smiled. Harry nodded, mentally beating himself up over his words and how he was really the stupid one to let you go.

“I, uh, should go, or my sister will be suspicious,” you chuckled. “I hope you have a great night, Harry.” You grabbed a bottle of whiskey before walking passed him. You weren’t even done shopping, but you couldn’t be in the same room as him without thinking of the memories that had always lingered, making you nostalgic and sad because you don’t know if you would be able to make more memories with him.

Harry was left alone in the aisle as he watched you walk over to the register to pay for your items. Just when you were done, you looked up, giving him a soft smile and waving at him before you turned around and walked out of the store. Harry’s heart fluttered, but at the same time, it was pounding through his chest. He mentally cursed himself for being so nervous around you, making an awkward tension fill the air. He couldn’t tell you what you were really doing at your store--no, he couldn’t.

Because what would you say if he told you that he’s been going to your store ever since you two broke up and whenever he’s in town just because it reminded him of you. The four walls somewhat mended his broken heart as he felt comfort inside of the shop because some of his best memories of you are in this very store. And since he couldn’t step into your apartment to immediately feel at home, your favorite store would have to do…for now.

Right when you entered Addie’s home, you were met with the loud music of the holiday season, along with Addie, Nic, and Elijah singing the lyrics to one another as they jumped and danced with a glass of their preferred alcohol in their hand.

They hadn’t heard the door open since the music was quite loud, so you took the opportunity to take a quick video of them as you smiled at your lovely friends, who felt so careless at the moment. Once the song ended, you put your phone away, and Eli was the one who spotted you first.

“Ah, there she is!” He walked over to you, giving you a big hug. You giggled as he slightly picked you up from the ground and twirling you. You were sure that he was already buzzed, and you were wondering how many glasses he’s had already, or if he pregamed by himself to calm himself down for talking to Nic, just like you had done to prepare you for a night with Harry, which you hadn’t done tonight.

There was a part of you that wanted to take a shot or two to ease your nerves, but you realized that you needed to stop doing that because as far as you know, you and Harry are most likely going to be friends for a long time. So, drinking almost every week did not sound fun to you.

Nic poured you a glass of wine, clinking your glasses together as you took your first sip of alcohol that night. You helped Addie set up the food onto the table along with some Christmas designed plates and utensils. Just as you were counting the utensils, you heard a loud Santa laugh coming from Niall, making everyone turn their heads towards the door. Niall walked in, carrying a bag-full of presents and Harry followed with a three foil wrapped aluminum trays in his hands as he chuckled at Niall’s way of making himself known. Your face immediately heated up at the sight of your ex-boyfriend because he looked good.

Although you loved every version of Harry, there was something about Harry Styles in the snowy winter that made your knees weak. He was bundled up in a sweater with a coat tossed over, and he wore boots. His hair was slightly messy from the wind as he shook off the snow that had fallen onto his locks. His nose was always red too, and when he would press a kiss to your cheek, you would feel the icy cold tip of his nose, contrasting to your warm cheeks. And it’s a tragedy that you’ve never spent a winter season with him when you were together, only two Christmases after the breakup.

Winter Harry was your favorite, and all you wanted to do was snuggle up with him.

Niall and Harry made their rounds to greet everyone, and Harry would always make sure you were the last one he greeted, just so he could hold and hug you a little longer.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve,” you said once he got to you. He smiled and chuckled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You laid your head against his chest, taking in his scent and natural warmth, even though he just came from the cold. “What’d you bring?” You asked once you pulled away.

“I brought the cheesy garlic bread, brussel sprouts, and crab cakes,” he smiled.

You gasped. “Your specialty. My mouth is already watering.”’ You clapped your hands in excitement.

Harry giggled, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Sure is, and it’s some of your favorite dishes of mine too,” he remembered. You blushed, heart fluttering as he didn’t forget your favorite foods.

Harry was always a chef of his own; he loved cooking. Learning from Anne, he made it his mission to make his own homemade food after he moved out, and she would always tell him that you could always show your love through food. From there, he learned more about cooking and seemed to love everything about it. Whenever the group has gatherings for special occasions and everyone agrees for a potluck, Harry always made sure to talk to everyone and see what they wanted him to cook.

When you two were together, he did the majority of the cooking. There would be times when you wanted to help, but he would simply tell you that you needed to let him do it and relax. That was something you loved about him—he was always a giver and didn’t expect to receive anything back, in more than one way.

You and Harry were definitely ones for staying in, and he would always whip up the best food that was filled with so much love and flavor.

“Once you two are done loving over there, we’d like some help over here!” Niall called out from the dining area. Your eyes widened as Harry’s cheeks turned pink. Harry held his arm out, gesturing you to go first, and you walked out of the kitchen as he followed behind you.

The group’s attention and eyes were on you and Harry, and your brows furrowed as you mouthed a ‘What?’ at them, and they instantly went back to setting up the food as if nothing happened. You turned around to look at Harry confusingly and he shrugged his shoulders, just as confused.

The music was playing, the decorations were lit up, and the food was settling into everyone’s stomach, followed by drinks as a warm feeling laid over everyone. It was overall a great time with them as it always was, and since Christmas was coming up in just two days, the merry feeling was always everyone’s moods.

As everyone was laughing and having a great time, Addie had gotten a knock from her neighbor, asking if everyone could keep the volume down. Everyone was holding in their laugh because you all hadn’t realized how loud you’ve gotten.

“I’m pretty sure they knew it was going to be a long night when it was just the three of them dancing and screaming,” you pointed out to Addie, Nic, and Elijah, and they all laughed, agreeing.

“Wait, what?” Niall asked confusingly.

“Right when I walked in, they were screaming at the top of their lungs. Wait, I have a video.” You pulled your phone out of the front pocket of your sweater and showed Niall the twenty second video.

He cackled. “Hey, thanks for waiting for us,” he teased, giving your phone back to you.

You leaned back onto Harry’s leg, since you were sitting on the floor and he was sitting on the chair behind you, and you looked up at him to show him the video. He leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs as you shifted closer to him so you were sitting in between his legs. Harry’s lips curled into his mouth, and he was grateful that you weren’t facing him because he was flustered. You pressed play, and he watched as he chuckled, watching his friends have a good time.

“Wait, I also wanted to show you this video,” you mentioned once the video was over. You scrolled through your pictures, and Harry was watching you go through your camera roll. He saw pictures of buildings, food, you and the girls, and some of them were just of you. Before he could really think about your own pictures, you found the video of your family dog and showed Harry.

As you and Harry were watching the video, your four other friends were eyeing you two and whispering things to each other suspiciously. Nic took a few pictures of the moment because the sight was just so cute, but everyone was wondering when you two were getting back together.

And you were wondering the same.

For a few minutes, you and Harry were in your own little world as you two talked about your family; never making the effort to change the position you were in--you had just turned your body so you could see him better. You’ve missed times like these where everything else, outside of the bubble you two created, didn’t seem to matter. The way his eyes gleamed when he talked to you had lulled you in, making you depart from every thought you were trying to create while the only thought that dawdled was Harry.

“Alright, let’s pass out our Secret Santa gifts before we’re all too drunk,” Niall suggested, popping yours and Harry’s bubble. You moved out of between Harry’s legs to sit beside him where you were before. You looked up at him, softly smiling and he gave you one back. His eyes looked like they wanted to say something, and you so badly wanted to crawl into his mind to know what he was thinking.

Everyone agreed, getting up to grab their gifts. Addie also grabbed the Santa hat that you had to wear if it was your turn to pass out your gift. The Santa hat had been through four Christamases with the group, and it was the little things that made you happy.

Addie decides to go first since she was the host. She put the Santa hat on before she started. “First one! My Secret Santa is…Elijah!” She walked over to him, giving him her gift as he smiled, thanking her. He opened her gift and gasped as it was a new headset for his PlayStation since he was always talking about how one side was completely dead. Addie placed the hat onto his head as he grabbed his gift.

“So, this one is for…” he smiled before walking over to the other end of the couch. “Nic.” Her eyes widened, taking the gift from his hands, and he took a seat next to her on the floor. She ripped open the wrapping paper before she paused, looking back at him. It was a large rectangle frame of pictures of her and Eli with a note in the middle saying ‘4 years as best friends, countless laughs, and one question unasked. Will you go on a date with me?’ Nic squealed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. It was like he was proposing to her because she screamed out a loud yes. “Life is too damn short. I can’t wait to go another day without calling you my girl, so I wanted to take my chances,” he told her. You smiled at them, realizing it’s been too long, and you were so happy for them.

It was Nic’s turn, which she completely forgot about because she was so overjoyed, and she walked up to Harry to give him her gift. He thanked her before opening it, receiving a set of nail polish, a few face masks, a vanilla candle, and a gift card to one of his favorite restaurants.

Harry was up, and he was a bit nervous for this one. You knew that it could either be you, Niall, or Addie since you were the three left without gifts. He stood in front of the fireplace as everyone looked at him. You thought he looked absolutely adorable in that Santa hat, which you think every single year. He slowly walked over to Niall, making him beam, but turned around and walked over to you, earning a ‘Hey!’ from Niall.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve,” Harry greeted you, handing you your gift. You smiled brightly, grabbing the box. It was a quite heavy box with brown wrapping paper with reindeers on it and a large red bow. “I wrapped it myself,” he smirked, playfully flipping his shirt hair, and you giggled.

You ripped the paper and opened the box, eyes softening. In the box, there was a graphic tee, your —and his—favorite fresh perfume by Jo Malone, five pens with your first and last name engraved in the middle, a Cravings cookbook from Chrissy Teigen and a yellow and white vertical striped apron with the words ‘Summer Lovin’ with a sun embroidered at the top. Your eyes watered at the words at the special but emotional meaning behind it.

Two months before you and Harry broke up, you knew it was the end. You both agreed that you would spend two months together before you had to part ways with one another. It was the most special and fun summer you ever had, but emotionally, it was the worst. Knowing that you weren’t going to be together anymore by the end of it was behind the facade of the endless laughter and love. You really didn’t want it to be over, but you understood and needed to grow separately and blossom with your careers.

The words behind the embroidered apron was from one summer night. You and Harry had a bonfire at the beach, and you were cuddled up with him as he held a blanket around the both of you. You had tequila disguised like water as you held your bottle up to the best summer loving. You wished the circumstances were different, but if it’s meant to be, then he’ll come back to you.

“You’ve always wanted to learn how to cook and I’ve seen that you’re starting to on your Instagram stories, so I thought these were the perfect things to get you so you could be a proper chef now,” he said with a soft smile.

Harry truly paid attention to the small details of your life. Together or not, he intently listened and observed without anyone knowing. He nailed it down to the small details; from the perfume, the pens, and the apron. The sentiment behind it was what made the gift so special, and the person who gifted it to you completed and made it so much better.

As your vision had gone glassy, you sat on your knees, reaching up at Harry for a hug. He bent down to your eye level, sitting on his knees as well as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You held him tightly, sniffling into his shoulder as a rush of overwhelming emotions hit you. Your heart fluttered and pounded at the same time—a feeling that was familiar to your body when it came to Harry.

“Thank you so much. This is the most thoughtful gift ever,” you said into his shoulder. This gift was number two on the list of gifts you’ve received from him, following Harry himself as your number one, of course.

Harry pulled his head back slightly to press a kiss to the side of your head. The gesture had made your heart swoon and you smiled against his shoulder. Everyone was watching you two interact, and they all thought this was finally the moment where you two would get back together again. They’ve all seen you two suffer enough being without each other, along with the heavy tension that there was. All they wanted was for you both to be happy.

You pulled away from him, looking up at his green eyes as they stared into you. He offered you a small smile that took your breath away before he wrapped one arm around your shoulder, bringing you into his side as he wasn’t quite done holding you.

After a few minutes, your friends had let you have your moment before Niall complained how he didn’t have a gift yet. You and Harry chuckled, letting go of one another, and he placed the Santa hat onto your head before you slowly started walking over to Niall. When you handed him his gift, he cheered happily before opening it. You had given him several customized guitar pics with his initials printed onto them, a leather notebook since he liked to write songs, and Proper 12 Irish Whiskey, which was fitting because he’s Irish and he likes Connor McGregor. He thanked you with a big hug, picking you up off the ground with one arm as he held the alcohol bottle in the other.

Addie was the last one who hadn’t received a gift, and Niall was her Secret Santa. He gave her a bunch of makeup with your help, and a tupperware set, which she had been asking for since everyone always took her containers because she liked hosting so many parties.

The rest of the night had gone on for a few more hours before everyone was pretty tired, deciding to call it a night. Everyone helped clean up, making sure to help Addie with the dishes and putting or throwing stuff away. Although you were cleaning, you loved your entire group. This was your family--the closest people to you. The ones who know everything about you and would laugh at you when you fall before falling with you. You were entirely grateful for everyone in this room, and you couldn’t have asked for a better group to spend more holidays and days with.

After the cleaning was done, Niall and Eli started to head out, not before Eli was satisfied with the amount of goodbyes he gave Nic with how long the hug was. Niall had to physically pull him off, telling him the Uber was outside.

You were washing your hands before Harry walked over next to you, handing you a towel to dry off your hands. “Thank you,” you muttered, shyly smiling.

“Uh, I wanted to ask if you wanted to come over?” He proposed. Your brows raised at his question. You and the girls had planned on having a sleepover after, but the prospect of going home with Harry had sounded much better (no offense to your friends).

“I was planning to sleepover here…” you decided to innocently tease, even though you knew you were going to say yes.

“I already asked them, and they said I could take you. I could drop you back off here if you want. So, the answer is up to you,” he smirked. A blush appeared onto your cheeks, admiring the fact that he asked your friends for permission if he could take you home.

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow,” you teased, lightly nudging him.

“I’ll take my chances,” he smiled, a hopeful look presented on his face.

You breathed out a chuckle, looking at him for a moment before you nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Harry’s eyes widened as the corners of his lips turned up. You grabbed your phone and your coat before walking over to Addie and Nic who were both cuddled up on the couch, saying goodbye to them. They sent you a playful wink, and you rolled your eyes as nerves startled to settle in your stomach.

You followed Harry out of the door, the cold air brisking past you as you walked to his car. He opened the passenger and you thanked him before getting in. Harry started the car and the song that was playing was ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside.’ It was a song you loved ever since you were a little girl, and you remembered the times you and your mom would always sing it in the car. You smiled at the memory, humming as you hoped it would be a way to distract you from the anxious feeling that you have.

You started humming to the tune as quietly as you possibly could, but Harry heard it as he started to hum it as well. You looked at him through your peripheral vision, noticing that he started to tap his fingers against the steering wheel.

You were about to start singing until you noticed that he pulled into his driveway, so you contained yourself and closed your coat, getting out of the car as you followed him into his home. You’ve only been inside his home three times--those three times being when he would suggest everyone hang out there. It was a lovely place and whenever you were sitting on his couch, you had wished you shared the space with him.

Harry lit up the fireplace, placing the metal shield in front of it before turning back towards you and smiling. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to get us some hot chocolate, if that’s alright?” He asked, wanting to know your preferred drink.

“Sound good.” You hung your coat onto the coat rack before walking over to his turquoise velvet couch and taking a seat, getting comfortable to an extent, not knowing how comfortable you should get.

Not long after, Harry came back with a wooden tray, and he placed it on the coffee table in front of you. There were two mugs filled with milk, two hot chocolate kits, and spoons.

“I made these for my students, and I just so happened to have two extra kits, so this will be fun,” he smiled, and you gave him one back appreciatively. You thought that it was cute and sweet of him to give something to his students for the holiday season. Normally, teachers don’t give them anything, but Harry wasn’t just any other teacher.

A somewhat comfortable silence fell over you two as you both made your own hot chocolate, and you listened to the fireplace roar. Once you two were done, you clicked your glasses together before taking a sip. The warm and comforting drink made you smile and was overall delicious.

Harry didn’t know what to say or how to say what he really wanted to say. It felt like he had non stop thoughts running through his head, but when he opened his mouth to start, there was a delay. An overwhelming feeling took over him and he wanted to yell at himself for not saying how he really felt.

“Y/N-”

“Harry.”

Just like before, your minds had been in sync, causing you both to speak at the same time. A light laugh came out of both of your mouths.

“You go first,” you told him.

Harry took a deep breath. “How’re you doing?” He asked. Out of everything he could have said, that was the only question that came out of his mouth, but he figured it’s a good start to getting somewhere.

“Truthfully?” He nodded. “I’m doing okay. I’ve managed to distract myself from worrying about the future with work, and so far, it’s been helping.”

“What are you worried about?” Harry wondered curiously. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest, and if he’s being honest, it’s been that way the first time he saw you…ever.

“Worried if I’m gonna be where I want to be career wise, and…” you trailed off.

“And what?” He encouraged you to continue. His stare was so intimidating and deep that the words flew off your tongue, making them unforgettable. “Ba--Y/N?” He called out for you, noticing how he almost slipped up and called you ‘baby,’ and you so wished he hadn’t stopped himself.

You finally mustered up the courage to speak your thoughts. “I’m afraid that I’m gonna be alone,” you said honestly.

Harry’s brows furrowed, shaking his head instantly. “You’re not alone, no. You have your family, all of us--your friends, me-”

“You?” Your brows raised.

“Yeah-”

“Harry, you’re the reason why I’m so worried…” you confessed. You were starting to get frustrated--not at Harry, but at yourself because you had planned to have this conversation a different day. You tried to calm yourself down, and Harry could practically see that you were getting angry at yourself. You had a certain stressful and frustrated look that he would notice when you started to beat yourself up over things. And throughout the months of being with you, especially when you were in the midst of law school, he learned how to calm you down.

Harry placed his hand on your knee; the touch being unexpected to you, but it had brought you immediate comfort. He pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder, looping your arm under his, the one that’s on your leg, and hugged his arm. Harry’s other hand touched your arm, caressing and soothing you. His actions had felt very natural and familiar to him. He would comfort you like this when you were feeling stressed. Normally, he wanted to cuddle you tightly, but this was your preferred way to calm down because in a way, he was still holding you, and you were still in control and didn’t feel like you were suffocating if he had held you tightly.

You stayed like that for a few moments, and you had calmed down a bit already, but you just wanted to be close to him and cherish the moment.

After a few minutes, you pulled away and turned towards him, smiling softly. Your heart warmed at the fact that he remembered exactly what to do when you started to feel anxious, and you may have fallen in love with him even more…after all these years.

“Now, wanna tell me why you’re so worried?” He asked softly, not wanting his tone to be pressuring, and you’re grateful for it.

“I’m worried I’m going to have to live a life without you. It terrifies me to think about you going out and meeting someone, and I would have to watch you get married to someone else that’s not me. That you would be sharing this home with someone that’s not me.” Your eyes start to water, and you had mentally told yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but you didn’t believe yourself in the slightest. “Watching you love someone else is going to be the most difficult thing I would have to do.”

Your tears had fully fallen down your face, which is unfortunate because you both had such a good day with your friends and it was nearly Christmas. Quickly wiping your tears away, you got up from the couch, and headed towards the door. Harry was confused until he saw you grab your coat, putting it on. In a flash, Harry got up from the couch, walking towards you.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked.

“I really can’t stay…” you told him sadly. You had no idea how you were getting home or back to Addie’s since it’s snowing, so you don’t know if there were any Ubers out, especially at this time. “This evening has been…so very nice, Harry.”

“You don’t have to leave. Baby, it’s cold outside, c’mon,” he pleaded with worried eyes. Your heart melted at his words and the name that he used to call you, making you pause in your movement.

“Please,” he pleaded softly, taking a small step forward, and your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up at him. There was a dead silence between you two that was tension filled, and you had no clue what was going to happen next until he opened his mouth.

“Mind if I move in closer?” He whispered. The sound would barely be audible if anyone else was there, so he said those words specifically for you to hear.

You shook your head, and he took another step forward. Your bodies were a centimeter away from being pressed up against one another, and your heart was beating so fast, making your hands shake and tremble. He looked down at you so intently that you were under his spell, and you were conflicted as you wish you knew how to break the spell as his green eyes looked deep into you, luring you in even more.

You took a deep breath. “Kiss me already,” you breathed out. Harry’s heart nearly stopped at your words, but he slightly smirked as he blushed, brushing your hair behind your ears before taking your face into your hands and leaning down to place a deep and passionate kiss onto your lips.

This feeling, this touch, this man was what you’ve been waiting for these past two years. Throughout those years, you felt like giving up; accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to love you again. But he had proved you wrong in the simple brush of his lips and tongue that were in sync with yours, making the spark between you grow bigger and bigger. The spark that had never lost its power, but was on pause.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him closer as the other hand was wrapped around his back. Harry had you pushed up against his front door, and you had the urge to lift your leg up to wrap it around him, but you resisted.

Harry wanted more, too. His hands trailed down from your face to your back, closing the nonexistent proximity between you, and guided you back to the couch. You were walking backwards, completely trusting him that he wouldn’t let you fall as his lips never left yours.

You giggled once the back of your legs hit the couch, falling onto the soft material as Harry hovered over you, laying in between your legs. He looked at you for a moment, studying every freckle, the crimson color on your cheeks, the curve when you smile, your glimmering eyes, and your cute nose. He knew that it was exactly how he remembered. After a couple of years being separated, a beautiful face like yours was hard to forget.

“You’re quite crazy to think I’d want to live the rest of my life with someone else when you’re right in front of me,” he suddenly said. Your eyes widened at his confession. “Never wanna be without you ever again. Thought you didn’t want to be with me when I came back, so I just didn’t bother. But you have no idea how much I missed you. I missed you so much.”

He placed soft kisses all around your face as he spoke, leaving you feeling so tender and soft as he was so gentle with you. For someone who’s on her way to becoming a lawyer and always having to have an answer for everything, you were speechless. The words that you’ve been waiting for for so long were music to your ears. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, slick like honey, and you connected your lips with his again, swirling your tongue against his as you devoured his words. Hands finding their way to his hair, you gripped on his locks and pulled just the way he liked it, earning a groan from him, and you smirked against his mouth.

You pulled back, leaving him breathless. Swollen lips, blushed cheeks, and smiles plastered on his face, you said the words you’ve been itching to say. “I love you,” you blurted out. The words had rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, making shivers run down Harry’s spine as his eyes watered up. “I was listening to Elijah earlier, and he’s right. Life’s too fucking short to not have what you want.”

He took one of your hands into his, bringing it up to his lips before placing a kiss onto the back of your hand. Your other hand was playing with the curls that laid delicately on his hands, scratching it lightly.

“Missed hearing you say those words.” He smiled, tears making their way down his face. “I love you too. So, so much that you have no idea how I feel when you walk into the room and I see your beautiful face. I love you. I love you. I love you, baby.” His affirmations had caused you to softly sob—the two of you a crying mess from the obvious but unspoken love that was finally being released again. “It’s always been you. You’ve always been my girl, did you know that?” You tilted your head a bit. “Never gonna go a day without reminding you that you are, because you’ve never not been my girl. Had to love and admire you from afar, but just wanted to hold you and kiss you.”

“You can kiss and hold me all you want now, my love,” you reassured him, and he dug his face into your neck, placing a soft kiss against your skin.

You smiled so brightly as your heart felt so happy and overflowed with love, and he matched your grin, feeling the same way.

The two of you kissed each other for a bit more, whispering sweet words, and laughed and talked about anything and everything—truly catching up with one another.

“Oh.” He got off of you, making you slightly pout from the weight of laying on you that you already missed. “I actually got you another gift.”

“Harry…you already got me enough.” It was true. Along with the thoughtful gift, he was your true Christmas miracle.

“I know. But this one, I wanted to give to you in private, and this is the perfect moment, so let me do this?” He looked at you with sweet and pleading eyes with a small smile on his face. Who could ever say no to that adorable face? Certainly not you.

You nodded, and he shot up, heading towards the stairs. “Give me thirty seconds,” he said before rushing up the stairs.

You heard him shuffling up there, and the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Thirty seconds later, he was walking downstairs, holding a white box wrapped in a red bow. He sat back down next to you, looking into your eyes as he spoke.

“This is what I wanted to give you when we were alone. It didn’t matter the outcome of how things turned out between us tonight, I just wanted to give you this because I think you’ll appreciate it. It reminded me of you when I saw it, and I knew I had to get it.” He handed you the box with slightly shaky hands.

You untied the bow, taking the top off. A gasp came from your mouth as you picked up the chain. It was a little gold sun pendant, symbolizing your summer together. You studied the charm for a moment, delicately touching it as you teared up at the meaning behind it. It matched quite well with your embroidered apron, and the two together would be quite the match.

“Thank you, Harry. This is so sweet of you.” You leaned forward, giving him a hasty kiss to his lips, smiling against them. “Help me put it on?” He nodded eagerly. You handed him the necklace before turning around, lifting your hair. You felt the cool metal chain hit your skin along with Harry’s lingering touches across your shoulders, causing your skin to pebble. He placed a quick kiss to your neck before pulling away. You turned around to meet his eyes as you smiled.

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m so happy. Merry Christmas Eve, Eve, baby.”

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve, my love.”

You cuddled into his side as the silence took over. The only thing was heard was the pounding of your love-filled hearts along with the cracking of the fire. Sure, it was cold outside, but right here in Harry’s arms, you were warmer than ever.

please come into my inbox and talk about your thoughts and feelings on this! also feedback is appreciated, thank you for reading! <3

#GBSxmaschallenge #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #boyfriend!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn #harry styles au #harry #harry styles

1K notes · View notes

nationalharryleague · 4 years

Text

Dog Days Are Over

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU

Word count: 4.8K

A/N: Hi all! This is something I’ve been working on for a little while now and I’m really proud of it! As usual, a massive thank you to Miss Lu (@meetmymouth) for being the best and beta reading. You can read more of my work in my masterlist and please please please send feedback to my ask! Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!!

***

Jagger was a good boy. He was a massive Great Dane with a shiny black coat and goofy wide eyes that softened his overall intimidating appearance. Great Danes had been bread as guarding and hunting dogs, but the gentle giant was nothing like his ancestors. He trapesed around the park every morning with his clumsy oversized paws and a tail that never seemed to stop wagging. A sunshiny yellow collar sat around his neck with a leash connecting him to his owner, a curly headed man with kind eyes.

She had built a rapport with Jagger over time, always willing to spare a few of the treats she kept in her pocket for her own dogs, Annie and Hallie. The pair of speckled Dalmations always looked up to give her a disappointed look that seemed to ask “Why are you giving our cookies away, Mom?” when she offered the chicken flavored morsels to the charming brute. She would lean down (not very far due to his massive size), give him two cookies, a scratch behind the ear, and a kiss to his forehead every morning, murmuring a “Good morning buddy.”

While she greeted Jagger, the man would always give her spotted ladies the attention they loved and a couple treats of his own, earning a few thankful and loving licks from the dogs. After the affectionate moment with the dog of a perfect stranger (she didn't even know his name), the pair would always give each other a smile and move on with their days.

This was their routine for months, meeting briefly every morning through falling leaves of a New York autumn that eventually gave out to the first snowy mornings and the charm of winter in Central Park. They never spoke more than a friendly morning greeting, occasionally commenting on the weather, but always taking a few moments to say hello to the endearing animals that accompanied them.

Her favorite coffee shop was especially busy one morning when they accidentally brought her two hot coffees with cream and sugar, instead of just one. When she had tried to return it, her favorite barista, a girl with golden skin and eyes to match, told her to take it anyway because it would just be thrown out. After the barista herself declined to keep the drink with a light chuckle, Y/N was sent on her way, each hand holding a coffee and both her wrists each looped through a leash.

Y/N, Annie, and Hallie made their way into Central Park, a surprisingly difficult task on his specific morning. She struggled to maintain control over the hot liquid and the two strong dogs with strong opinions of where they wanted to walk. Inevitably and like clock work, they ran into Jagger and the man with the kind eyes, Y/N slowing to a stop to greet her giant furry friend. It wasn’t long before her K-9 balancing act gave her an idea.

“Do you drink coffee?” she quickly questioned, the words leaving her mouth without permission and directly addressing the man with the kind eyes about something other than the weather or their dogs for the first time since they had known each other. Jagger bumped his oafish head gently into her hip, seeming to ask for her attention back, just as surprised as she was with her uncharacteristic interaction with his dad.

“Uh, yeah,” the man answered, eyes locking with hers and seeming to be just as shocked that she spoke to him as she was. His deep and velvety voice was a sharp contrast to the sweet and fairly high pitched tone he usually used with Annie and Hallie.

“Well, the cafe gave me two instead of just one by accident. Do you want it?” She offered the cup to him with a hopeful shrug and a smile spread across her face when he took it.

They continued on with their routine of saying hello to each other’s animals without another word, the man with the kind eyes taking a sip of the coffee to test it out. She was pressing the usual kiss to Jagger’s massive head when she watched a ring clad hand offering itself towards her in the peripheral of her vision. “My name is Harry, by the way,” he said with a friendly close lipped smile playing across his lips. “We never really did introduce ourselves, did we?”

“I don’t think we ever did,” she said with a chuckle, reaching her hand out and connecting it with his. His hands were soft, but felt strong like he worked with his hands and his palms felt hot despite the freezing temperatures from where he had been clutching the coffee. “Y/N.”

“It's nice to formally meet you, Y/N. I usually just think of you as Annie and Hallie’s Mom.” His lips saying her name made it sound like it was sung by a million angels and she just couldn’t get over the idea of him thinking about her outside of the park. Of course she thought of him, a British beautiful man with kind eyes who loves her dogs was like finding a unicorn, but it had never crossed her mind that the thoughts could be mutual.

Before she had a chance to respond, Jagger began to walk forward, ready to take on the rest of his walk. “I guess it’s time for you to go,” she joked looking down as the giant animal who began to pull Harry forward.

“I guess so,” he agreed, jerking forward as he tried to slow Jagger down. “Thank you again for the coffee.”

“No problem!”

“Next time,” he said over his shoulder, a teasing smirk on his face, after Jagger had led him a considerable distance from her. “I take my coffee black!”

***

She thought about him all day after the park. She couldn’t believe that the tiny conversation had with him was all it took for him to occupy her every thought. She wondered if he enjoyed the rest of the coffee, if she would ever run into him at the cafe that had its logo drawn across the side of the drink she had gifted him, or if his girlfriend was suspicious when he came home holding a coffee order that definitely wasn’t his. What if he thought what she had done was weird? Would he change Jagger’s walking schedule? Or maybe change his route completely to avoid her?

Y/N ignored every one of those thoughts the next morning when she attended her usual coffee shop; and especially when she ordered one hot coffee with cream and sugar, and one without. She even asked her favorite barista with the golden eyes to write a little ‘H’ on the black coffee so she wouldn’t get them mixed up.

“To make up for all the treats you’ve given to Annie and Hallie over these last few months,” she lied when she handed the coffee over to him, relishing slightly in how his fingertips brushed hers when he took the drink from her hands. She knew that she didn’t get him the coffee for the treats; she got it because she had a crush.

“Oh, thank you so much! You didn’t have to do this,” he insisted as he took a sip. “You even had a little ‘H’ put on it for me?” His eyes lit up at the possibility and from that second forward Y/N pledged to herself that she would do anything she could to see his eyes sparkle like that again.

“I just wanted to make sure they didn’t get mixed up.”

“H is what all of my friends call me.” She watched his plump pink lips move as he spoke, his warm breath creating a small steamy cloud in the frosty air.

“That’s really sweet,” she said smiling like a fool, endeared by the nickname.

“You can call me H, ya know?” he spoke and her heart just about stopped. “I think if our dogs are friends,” he said, gesturing to their dogs as their dogs played amongst themselves, “we can be friends too.”

She knew she would be unable to contain herself as soon as she got out of his line of sight in a few moments. She might bust out into a happy dance, or maybe even let out a small squeal; but for the moment she just nodded her head. “I think I would really like that, H.”

“So,” he began with the smirk she had already begun to fall in love with, “friends don’t let friends buy them coffee two days in a row without returning the favor. Tomorrow is on me.”

“Sounds good, H,” she said as the pair of dalmations began to pull her forward. “I take my coffee with cream and sugar!” she shouted over her shoulder, shooting him a wink as she went on with her walk.

“I know.”

She was unable to contain herself and did, in fact, do a little wiggle when she was out of his sight.

***

Of all places she thought she could end up this Saturday morning, she didn’t think it would be in Harry’s apartment.

She had casually mentioned that morning when they met up in the park, more to make conversation than anything else, that the heat in her apartment was out but she had never expected him to invite her and the girls back to his place to warm up.

They had fallen into a delightful rhythm of bringing each other coffee over the past few weeks, taking turns and spending a few fleeting moments speaking to each other before one of their pets decided it was time to move on with their walk. She had learned that he was a physical therapist and that he had rescued Jagger from a puppy mill when he was a baby, but to be completely honest, she didn’t know much about him beyond that. They could only learn so much about each other in 5 minute bursts before the dogs got bored and pulled them apart once again.

What she did know about him for sure was that his eyes didn’t lie when they said he was kind. He never missed a day getting her coffee and he always profusely thanked her when she brought him his. He always asked about how her day was going, and seemed to be genuinely interested in when she spoke about her work, hobbies, or whatever else ended up being the topic of their short conversations.

While she wouldn’t go as far as saying he cared about her, she knew that she cared about him.

“It’s not much,” Harry said, opening the door for Y/N and her dogs to pass into his home, “but it’s mine.”

As most New York City apartments were, it was a tiny shoe box of a living space; but it felt cozy, and most of all, warm. It was a small studio, with all the essentials packed in tight. His sofa sat up against the right wall of exposed brick, mirrored by a small kitchen on the left. She had to admit it was well styled; dark woods and stainless steel decorated the apartment and various posters and framed pictures on the walls made it his own.

The most breathtaking feature was a massive bay window that sat above his bed on the far back wall. The window directly overlooked Central Park and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sentimentality because that’s where they had met. His bed was perfectly made with dark charcoal grey sheets all she could imagine was being wrapped up in them with Harry.

Walking through the door, she was intoxicated by the most delicious smell that she could only assume was Harry’s cologne, but she was brought back to reality when he asked for her coat. Their hands met as she handed it over to him and a flash of concern immediately flashed through his face, bushy eyebrows furrowing. “You’re absolutely freezing, love.”

Once again, her heart began to burst with joy. Just that little word, the little pet name and term of endearment. It made her feel like a kid on Christmas, like she was ready to burst.

“Oh, I’m okay,” she managed to get out, still overwhelmed by his words.

“We’re gonna get you and the ladies all warmed up, okay?” She watched from her spot by the front door as he began to run around the apartment with one goal: to warm his friend up. He moved gracefully from the thermostat to a chest of drawers, making a small triumphant noise when he pulled out two dog sweaters that were Jagger’s. “They’re a little big, but I think they will work,” he said with a helpful smile.

She watched as he knelt down in front of Annie and Hallie, asking for their paws. Both of them quickly responded, clearly trusting the curly man in front of them as much as she did. He delicately slipped the knit over both of the dogs, and with anything he did, Y/N’s heart swooned.

To her, those dogs were her everything. She had moved to the city completely alone and had rescued the pair of sisters from a kill shelter only a week after arriving. She named them after the twins from The Parent Trap, her favorite movie growing up. She felt it was symbolic; like she and the dogs had been brought together by some twist of fate but had known each other in a past life. Those dogs were her everything and watching them interact with Harry ignited a fuzzy warmth within her; a sharp contrast to her still frozen nose.

“You next,” he teased, beckoning her over from her spot at the front door. She took careful steps over to him, trying her best to stay respectful of his space, already feeling intrusive for being there. She met him in the middle of the room, where he had grabbed a blanket off the couch, placing it over her shoulders and enveloping her in soft warm fabric and the smell of him. Shocks were sent up her arms as he rubbed them in an attempt to generate more heat. It was the first time he had ever really touched her other than light brushing of their fingertips, and she had never felt like anything was more right in the world than the way she felt in his arms.

She watched his face closely as he held the blanket tight around her frame. He had a light stubble peppering his strong jaw and his eyes were the most vibrant yet soft shade of green she had ever seen. His brows were still slightly knitted together in care for her, trying his best to accomplish his goal of warming the woman who had become his friend. Her eyes narrowed in on his plush pink lips and it took everything in her not to learn forward and press her lips to his; but she wouldn’t. They were casual friends; nothing more, nothing less, and her school girl crush didn’t change any of that.

His hands on her arms slowed and their eyes finally met, the deep green feeling like it had penetrated her soul. “I have soup in the fridge,” he said softly, eyes narrowing in on her still cold nose, “let me heat it up for you.” And as soon as the moment had happened, it was gone, him walking away from her in a flurry and starting his next task of making her soup.

“H, I promise I’m okay,” she said with a light chuckle. “I will warm up, eventually. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

“You have been in a frozen apartment for four days. You’re going to get sick,” he said, head still stuck in the fridge out of her line of sight.

“What do you care if I get sick?” she teased. “Won’t get your coffee?”

“No,” he said in an exasperated tone, popping back out from behind the fridge door to connect his eyes with hers, “because then I won’t get to see you.”

Despite the chill still present in her bones, she felt her cheeks heat with his words. “Oh, okay,” was all she could muster before he returned back to his search for the soup.

He did eventually find the soup and nearly force fed her the hot liquid, insisting that “you’re not getting pneumonia on my watch.” And while she kept up the act that she was totally fine and didn’t need him to fuss over her, it felt so good to be cared for like this. She had been on her own for so long now, lacking the care and affection that came with an overbearing mother-hen-esque friend, and she was honestly loving it.

It was later that day, while they were sat watching a movie on his couch, Y/N still wrapped up tight like a burrito in the flannel blanket that smelled like him, when he informed her that she wasn’t allowed to go back to her apartment until the heat was fixed. “H,” she had playfully groaned, “I am a big girl and will survive a little chill.”

“There’s a cold snap coming,” he justified his demands. “Saw it on the news this morning.”

“H, this is all too much. All of this has been so kind and the dogs and I appreciate it from the bottom of our hearts, but I can’t let you put your life on pause because I might get a little cold.”

“Please stay,” he began gently, almost pleading with her in a deeper and softer voice than he had ever used with her before, “for Annie and Hallie,” he finished. Her heart sank, reminding herself that the pair were just friends. He was just doing a favor for her out of the goodness of his heart; nothing more, nothing less.

“Maybe,” she murmured. “I’ll have to see if it gets fixed tonight.”

It didn’t get fixed. Apparently, New York City landlords, especially the one that owned her very tiny, and very shitty, apartment didn’t care much about their tenants turning to icicles. Around 10 PM, she finally gave up hope of anything getting fixed today, much to Harry’s delight.

She had accepted the sweats Harry had offered for her to sleep in, enveloped by soft worn fabric that spelled like him. A dark blue crew neck with ‘Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School’ written across the front swallowed her frame and Harry laughed at her when she had to roll up the legs of the sweatpants so she wouldn’t trip on them. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant,” she giggled, poking him in the chest and sticking her tongue out at him like a child.

“You’re lucky you look cute in those or I would be taking them back after a comment like that.” Her cheeks reddened for what felt like the millionth time since she had entered his space this morning. They had fallen into a charming banter, a rhythm of teasing jokes and kind words intertwined with each other that made her heart sing. While she still felt like she was intruding on his space, there was a growing part of her that was glad her heat wasn’t back yet. She didn’t want to leave his warmth and light just yet.

When a yawn left her lips later that night, Harry decided it was time for bed. “We’re in the middle of the episode,” she had argued through another yawn, “we haven’t even seen who wins the technical challenge yet.” They had watched almost an entire season of Bake Off over the course of the day, both of them curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets and dogs.

“We have to be up for our walk in the morning,” he smiled as he lifted Jagger’s massive head off his lap to get up. “I’ll even buy the coffee.”

“Okay, I guess so,” she agreed gently. “Can I just borrow a pillow?” she asked as she adjusted herself and the dogs on the couch under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a confused face.

“Getting ready to go to sleep?” she responded with an equally questioning tone.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. Come on, get into my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re my guest.”

“Harry,” she spoke gently but was met with a lift of his eyebrow like using his full name was an insult. “H,” she began again, “I’m not going to come into your home, inconvenience your entire day, steal your clothes, eat your food, and then make you sleep on the couch.”

“Please, just let me sleep on the couch, Y/N,” he nearly begged.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” she repeated with a stern tone.

“Then neither are you.” Her breath caught in her chest and her eyes flashed to the dark charcoal sheets she had imagined being wrapped up in with him when she first entered the apartment. “It’s a big comfy bed and I want you to actually sleep well. I’m perfectly okay with it if you are.”

While her heart was beating out of her chest at the opportunity of being that close to him, all she said was “sounds good,” unable to come up with anything more than that in the moment.

She reverted back to her careful steps and bated breath as she left the couch and made her way over to the bed, suddenly so aware of the respectful boundaries she had created for herself when she first arrived. She lifted back his heavy comforter and slid herself inside, pulling the blanket to her chin as she watched, mesmerized, as the man walked around the apartment getting ready for bed.

He walked around the apartment on the pads of his bare feet almost silently, turning off lights and pouring them both a glass of water before refilling the dog bowls on the ground. He led Jagger to his giant dog bed and invited Annie and Hallie up onto his couch to sleep, gently coaxing them onto the cushions and laying the blanket Y/N had been wrapped in for most of the day over the speckled sisters.

There was only the light coming off the street lights streaming through the window above her head to illuminate the silent apartment and she watched as Harry made his way to the tall chest of drawers on his side of the bed. He lifted his sweater over his head to expose his muscular back and elaborately tattooed arms, and she prayed he didn’t hear the small gasp that left her lips. As quickly as his back and torso were revealed to her, they were hidden once again when he slipped a large tshirt back over his body. She had only ever known him in the colder months, always wrapped up in a sweater or a coat; she had never expected the beautiful illustrations that decorated his body or his broad muscular shoulders that stayed hidden under layers of clothing.

“Stop staring, ya perv,” his deep velvety voice joked with a laugh and she felt her cheeks burn worse than they had all day. “I’m only kidding, love,” he spoke softly when he turned around and connected their eyes.

“I was just looking at your tattoos,” she stammered while she watched him slip into the bed next to her, trying to wipe the adoring look from her face. “I like them a lot.”

“Thank you.” He settled into the bed, far enough to be respectful but still close enough for her to feel the warmth off his skin. He brought his arm out from underneath the covers, allowing her to get a closer look at the ink that illustrated his skin and she rolled herself on her side to face him. She carefully traced the veins of the anatomical heart on this bicep with her finger tips. “Your fingers finally warmed up,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes flashed up to meet his eyes in the darkness, his irises still seeming to glow in the limited light. She felt his warm minty breath fall over her face and the sweet smell of him that had been enveloping her since she entered his space intensified with her proximity to him. He smelled of sandalwood and vanilla, mixed with the smell of clean linen coming from his bed sheets.

“I guess they did,” she said under her breath, like if she spoke too loudly the moment would be scared away. “We should get some sleep,” she said regretfully, remembering the respectful rules she had set for herself. She withdrew her hand away from his arm and rolled back to her previous position to stare at the ceiling until she fell asleep. If she hadn’t been so tired and if it wasn’t so dark, she would have thought she saw disappointment on his face before she dozed off.

When she began to wake the next morning, she was warm. Not a sweaty or sticky warm, a cozy warm that makes you want to curl up and spend an entire day in bed, seeking respite from the cold air that lives outside the cocoon of blankets you’ve created. She snuggled further into the warmth, and further into the arms that held her close. Her consciousness was blurred with sleep as she buried her face deeper into the warmth between someone’s shoulder and neck. She wouldn’t have woken up if she didn’t feel the body holding her release a light chuckle at her sleepy huffs.

Coming back to life, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to the strong jaw peppered with stubble that she had studied so intensely for months now. A gasp left her throat and she tried to pull herself away, wracked with guilt for passing a boundary she had set. But her movements were stopped when the pair of arms around her waist only pulled her closer, a deep gravelly voice next to her mumbling “don’t go.”

For the first time, she let herself occupy the thought that her fascination with Harry may be mutual. He had gone above and beyond for her and had always been kind and accommodating, always ready to take care of her any need or want. He had let her stay in his house for god sake, let her stay in his bed, and was now holding on to her like if he let go the little world they had created together would fall apart.

“Okay,” she whispered softly into his neck, melting back into his warmth once again. Her drowsiness must have clouded her judgement when she pressed a gentle and soft kiss over his pulse point.

It was Harry’s turn to pull back, a drowsy chuckle leaving his lips as he made eye contact with her still half closed eyes. “Did you just kiss me?” he asked incredulously.

“No, definitely not.” She buried her face in her hands, blushing uncontrollably and feeling her whole face heat up.

“You liar,” he grinned. “Come here.” He pressed his hands to either side of her face and pulled her mouth to meet his. It was a soft kiss, both of them unable to control their smiling lips. Her heart raced and so did his. Their lips moved together in a rhythm that was occasionally interrupted by excited giggles, and Harry pulled her closer to him than she ever had been before.

They stayed in that bliss for as long as they could; cheeks hurting from smiles, gentle laughter released often, and enjoying the warm cocoon they had created together. It was only a matter of time before they were interrupted, both of them letting out loud laughter when all three of their animals joined them on the bed. It was only then Y/N peaked out the window above them to discover Central Park covered in a bright white blanket of snow, flurries continuing to fall outside.

“I have been obsessed with you from the first day I saw you walking the girls,” he confessed as the dogs curled up around them both. “I thought you were so special and beautiful. I about lost it the day you offered me that coffee. I couldn’t believe you were actually talking to me and not my dog for once.”

“Let’s be honest, I fell in love with Jagger first,” she teased. “His hot dad was just a bonus,” she giggled against his lips as he pressed their faces together once again, bodies held apart by the dogs that had wiggled between them.

This moment felt like a fairytale. She wasn’t sure how long it would last or what would come from it but she knew that this was what pure joy felt like, and she would hold onto it for as long as she could.

They only had the dogs to thank.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean to the world!!!

#harry styles fan fiction #harry fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry style fanfic #one direction #one direction fanfic #harryandhockey #my wiriting #harry styles AU

650 notes · View notes

aggresivelyfriendly · 3 years

Text

-Tis the Damn Season- Year Three

Jingle Bell Rock Me

Hi anybody reading! She’s a tiny bit short, but so am I, and I think that’s cute! Lol! Thanks to @dirtystyles for the beta!

"Excuse me, Emma." His voice, the one that's been echoing in the hollows of her body for a year and that she hasn't heard except for on the occasional call in the same amount of time, nearly buckles her knees. It steals her breath and speeds her heart. She imagines her cheeks and chest have gone that red color.

It's not the same over the phone.

Emma thought she had prepared herself, at least a little. No amount of busyness could make her forget that she was going to see him. Emma had done her best to distract herself with trips to the market for her mum and to the pub to see anyone in town. She knew seeing him in those places was less likely. She really wanted to see him, to look at him full on, but Gemma was already looking at her a little funny, with her fluttering lashes and subtle panting. She hopes it's subtle. She's just about to get a hold of herself, she is sure of it, when his fingers brush over the keyhole in the back of her sweater. She'd worn it for this very purpose. Hoping they'd find themselves in the vicinity of the mistletoe or alone in the kitchen, or her bent over a chair in the snowy garden, wherever, and he could get his hands on her a little, despite the chill of the December weather.

It was everything she had hoped for, but that he went for it so immediately, another victory, is what makes her sure she's miscalculated her strategy. His opening volley has her ready to fall down dumbly and suck him off, and she hasn't even looked at him.

Emma can feel the goosebumps pop up and she hears his suppressed chuckle at her excitement at his presence, his touch. And that does it. If she was looking at him, could look at him, she would be rolling her eyes, maybe giving him a two finger salute. She suppresses the eye roll. Luckily, Gemma is doing it for her.

"Harry, are you just going to be a pest all evening? Surely some friend you still trust is here, don't lurk when I've found one of mine." Gemma put her arm around Emma's shoulder and turned her. It's lucky, because now they both can look at him, and Emma can do so unobserved. Gem is still talking to him in her dressing down tone, she'd loved to use that one on an assortment of dickheads in sixth form, and Emma almost laughs realizing where she perfected it. On Harry, who is looking at his sister with amusement, her barbed tongue having no impact on him. His backbone is stiffer than Emma's, though other body parts have more in common. His eyes are as wandering as hers. He slid his gaze to her, he stays near the acceptable places, though her lips tingled when he stared at those momentarily. When his gaze dropped lower, she could tell where it was roving though he feinted and parried so fast Gemma may very well not notice.

Emma is not so disciplined, and her gape is not the dance of a fencer, but is the blunt of a broadsword. He looks better than last year, she thinks. He's thicker, she can already feel his wider presence between her thighs. His hair must be longer, but he's got it wrapped up and she can't wait to pull it free and clutch at it later.

She's only seen him twice, in a year. Seen him through a call on her tiny iPhone screen.

The first had been early, just after she got back to Amsterdam and he texted to get her address. Later that day, when the giant bouquet of flowers arrived she had to call him.

"Do you send all the girls you fuck enough flowers to give their roommates sneezing fits?" She'd immediately taken the piss. Defensewas the best offense.

"Only the ones I'm hoping to fuck again." He'd been quick to respond and she was glad she hadn't yet answered the FaceTime call he must have immediately initiated. Emma got her blush under control, maybe just enough color in her cheeks to make the video call slightly more flattering, though the white and yellow blooms gave her a good backdrop to work with.

"Well aren't you a charmer!"

"Right out of your knickers!" He flashed his eyebrows and she realized he appeared to be in a hotel room in his boxers. Oh, OH, that's why he's flirting so hard.

Does she wanna do this, on their first phone call, have video chat sex? Is that a thing? He's laying back on the bed and she's about to throw her penny and pound into the ring when she hears Lula come into the entryway. "Behave! My roommate just got home!"

"Oh, should I say hello?" He asks and his hand slides to his stomach, right over the butterfly tattoo she had kissed until it fluttered a week before.

"No, I don't want to hear the screams!" Emma stage whispered.

"Oh, she's a fan?" He asked like only one answer was possible.

"Yea, of me. And she's been trying to get me laid for months." Emma giggled. "She says I study too much, I object, she doesn't study enough."

"Well, we took care of that." He made a curious face then. "You're not gonna tell her?"

Did he expect her to blab to anybody that would listen that she'd banged a pop star? Maybe phone a tabloid? "No, I don't think I'll tell anyone. I like the idea of you as my secret."

"Our little secret!" His dimpled smirk really did her in.

"Our dirty little secret." She filled in the missing word, it fit snugly in his growing dimples. The possibilities too. She'd hugged her flat mate and excised herself to make good on the promise the phrase made.

And then they didn't do more than text for ages, he was on some massive tour and the time zones had her not seeing his texts for hours because they needed to sleep and she needed to lock herself in libraries and labs. The second time they spoke he'd been on a break, in California, and he'd called to see if she could fly out. She was at the airport, oddly, but she was going to Reykiyavik, not Riverside.

She'd told herself the whole flight that it was silly to feel sad. They knew with their schedules that seeing each other might only happen over the holidays. It was such a given they hadn't even discussed it.

So, as much as she wanted to, and was overwhelmed that he'd even thought to ask her, she'd just told him, "H, I can't. I'm on my way to my summer studies."

And he'd just said, "Ah well, I'll just have to keep dreaming about seeing you then." Those words had colored her night visions for months.

He'd also left her a detailed message about what he wanted for Christmas three weeks ago.

His morning voice on her phone for three delicious, descriptive minutes was the closest she'd gotten to what he sounded like in person.

Her dreams were really bright then, almost technicolor, better than reality. At least reality with someone who wasn't Harry, as she found out in October.

It still hit differently, his voice, in this moment because she could see what he looked like too. In his jazzy button up and tight jeans. The guy she'd dated for a bit, Marko, had reminded her a little of Harry. But looking at the real thing now, in the flesh, not painted on hues, but living and breathing, she couldn't quite recall why.

Maybe just the hair. Though, Harry's was longer now, curlier, wilder.

It made her wild. When they made eye contact, she felt it in her toes. There was a pause in conversation, everyone waiting, Gemma waiting, for them to greet each other. Emma knew she should say hello, but she was busy trying to regulate her breathing. Panting wouldn't do, but that's what the collision of her daydreams and her wet dreams was inspiring.

Harry saved her, of course. "Hey Emma! It's so good to see you." The way he said good, the tone was almost like when he'd called her a "good girl" when she woken him up with a blow job last year. . Or, she thought it sounded like that.

God, what was he doing to her. She was nodding.

"It's really lovely to see you too, Styles, you've had a big year!" She'd started paying attention, when she had the time.

He blushed. Oh god!

"God, don't get him started, his head will only get bigger!" Gemma said affectionately, jostling Harry a little. "And you," she'd pointed at Emma then, "don't forget that time we had to help him hide coming home off his tits and he pissed himself. He's still my idiot little brother! No matter how famous!"

Or handsome, was Emma's addendum. She said it in her head. But they were all laughing and Gemma had given him more reasons for the attractive flush on his cheeks and deep press of his chagrined dimple. "We wouldn't want him to get a big head!" Emma giggled.

"I'm big enough everywhere else!" Harry tried to boast before Gemma started a story about how they'd had to special order a hat once, because of his massive cranium, and Emma could only sneak glances until he decided to loudly leave.

"I don't have to take this abuse!" He narrowed his green eyes at his sister. "Emma, if you want to have a conversation where my sister doesn't make it her job to insult me, I'll be in the kitchen." Near the mistletoe her mind added.

"She'll pass, I'm sure!" Gemma laughed.

Emma just smiled, as placidly as her galloping heart allowed. "I'm sure I'll need a refill at some point. Maybe then!" Her eyes promised she'd find him.

Which was how she'd wound up on the countertop of the back bathroomn with her palm between her teeth, her tights around her ankles and Harry's head between her thighs.

"Shh, shh!" He laughed up at her and god, he looked so in his element on his knees during his mother's party with a naughty glint in his eyes. Emma wrapped her hand around his chin and pulled him up to her.

"Come here!" She breathed against his mouth. The kiss tasted of her and who knew how much she liked that? Harry apparently, based on the knowing look he gave her when he pulled back to get his dick out of his tight jeans. "Convenient skirt this!"

"Inconvenient jeans those are. Are they some form of birth control?"

"Huh?" That stopped him as he was rolling the condom onto himself.

"There's evidence that wearing things too tight on your bollocks might reduce sperm count. That an extra measure to stop groupie babies?" She shouldn't ask about or imply she didn't want him sleeping with anyone else. They only saw each other once a year. She pretended even to herself that she didn't care who he slept with the rest of the year. If she wanted to know, she supposed she could ask, but she didn't. She also pretended not to compare her other rare dates to him.

There is no comparison.

"I'm gonna have to buy a whole new wardrobe!" He laid his nose against her collarbone and she pressed hers into his hair. She'd pulled off the head scarf as soon as they'd gotten into the bathroom and she was taking full advantage of the access. He was right, it was a little awkward, but Emma could see the potential and it was perfect for pulling.

He was perfect.

Her eyes had closed and she needed to get him back into gear, she should know better than to question a man's manhood when she was trying to use it. "Do you think you could afford it?" Her sarcasm was evident. She got her hand around the funny texture of his skinned cock. "Seems to be working just fine, still, and with possible positive side effects. Should we test it out?"

He lifted his head and his heavy breaths and blown out pupils suggested her stroke had brought him back to their present activity. He caught her mouth and her hips and brought her to the edge of the sill before sinking into her. He'd done his job well, the resistance was minimal and exactly what she remembered. He stopped for just a moment and she wondered if he enjoyed the fullness as much as she did. They exhaled together, made eye contact.

"I've dreamed about this for a year!" He started to move and stole the breath she would have said 'me too' with.

She knew she was making too much noise, she had every time she was with him. He was shushing her again and grinning proudly. "You have to be quiet." He laughed against her mouth.

"Make me?" Was what she said.

"Well, that would involve stopping, and I've no intention of that." So instead he caught her face and licked into her mouth while redoubling his stroke. He covered her mouth with his palm a moment later when her neck went soft and her head hit the mirror.

It was coming, the wave she'd been searching for that had receded too quickly when she'd insisted he kiss her after getting off moments ago. She bit down on his hand to muffle the groan growing in her lower belly.

"Ow!" He looked up from where he was jawing the tits he'd popped out of her bra. Emma squeezed down on him, hard, Iiterally. "Fuck!" He kept eye contact and sped up his thrusts, hitting up just as he had been when she bit him. Her eyes closed as she started to crest, popping open again when the door rattled.

Harry thought quickly and put his hip against it. His strong hold on her doubly useful. They both looked to the lock.

"You nearly done?" An unremarkable voice called.

Harry smirked at her. Covered her mouth and yelled through the door, "Yes, nearly!"

Emma didn't think she could come like that, but she was wrong. Her orgasm was all the stronger for the palm secured over her mouth and the person through the door who might hear. And for Harry's cocky cheek while he pushed into her, until his face dissolved and he groaned. She should have put her hand over his mouth.

Instead her fingers went there and he sucked dutifully.

That set her mind running. Should she ask about meeting later? Tonight, or their traditional, she hoped, Boar's Headon Boxing Day get-together?

They'd already gotten into each other; last year they'd wound up together any free moment, but she didn't want to presume. A week full of stolen moments, some texts messages, a couple phone calls, and a back bathroom fuck did not entitle her to anything.

This wasn't enough for her, but she was too afraid to ask for more. Even what she'd had last time.

"God!" He breathed as he pulled himself free and her off the sink, fixing her skirt before washing his hands and dick, not in that order, in the basin, "How am I gonna wait until tomorrow night?" He turned a drowsy sated smile on her. "What time can you get away to the Boar's Head?"

"You still want to meet up?" She hoped she didn't sound as astounded to his ears as her own told her she did.

He's folding his beautiful dick into his jeans and he's about to do the little jump he does to position it when he just stops. He looks at her quizzically. "Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

She needs to pee and use the sink for the inelegant water in hand wash out, but she'd rather do that in front of him than reveal her insecurity. "It's just...we just..." She pointed between the two of them.

"Yeah, and we can do more," He motioned between them. Then his face lost the cheek and was replaced by a look of focused earnestness that made her heart beat harder than seeing him in person an hour ago. "And if I only get to see you once a year, because you're terribly ambitious and I'm terribly busy—"

"Yeah, you're just busy, not ambitious." She'd try to diffuse the intensity of whatever she's hoping he's about to say.

"So busy, I only get to see my dear Emma once a year, I want to sleep with you."

"You just did!" She reminds him.

"No, really sleep with you, not just sex." He pulls her in. Inside the hug, he kisses her. "Plus, we need time to talk. I want to hear all about this year's research and whatever power plant you geeked out over all summer."

"Yeah?" She's starry eyed and weak kneed, again, still.

"Yes, you muppet. I don't miss you all year just because you taste so good." He kissed her then. "Though you do taste better than anyone else."

She takes the compliment, and only thinks about it on a loop all of Christmas Day, and night. She completely forgets about it after she and Harry have tasted each other by noon on Boxing Day. Then he reveals their real first kiss, and Emma is too busy feeling their current kisses and trying to recall details of that Christmas delight while they sneak around and carouse anywhere they can.

He had to leave earlier than last year. And it's not until he's pulled off, from their private goodbye, before his pub send off where they flirt just enough to annoy Gemma, that she thinks about it.

She's not innocent, she saw other people 11 months out of the year, well three, but she couldn't help but wonder, who else was he tasting?

He implied that he had something to compare her to. Even if it was favorable, she found it bothered her. A lot.

She could ask him; instead she decides to just remember his taste and his interest, it'll have to carry her through until next yule.

It's not her business, it's too far down a road not taken anyway.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #chapter three #jingle bell rock me

43 notes · View notes

gschamig · 3 years

Note

pecan: shuffle your playlist, what's the first song that comes up?

rose: favourite scent on a person?

red: describe your favorite shirt

blue: preferred type of weather?

Hope all is well with you 🌹❤️

Pecan: God Is a Woman - Rett Madison

Rose: On a person oooh that's tricky. I don't have a specific scent I like on people. I guess it also depends on the person. Freshly washed clothes is a nice smell lol. Also sunscreen smells nice on people.

Red: I have a ton of band shirts and I love most of them and am extremly passionate about them. The One Direction or Harry Styles related ones are my faves. I also have a ton of graphic shirts and I'm equally passionate about those. One of them says "Gay villain" in the front, that's one of my faves. My fave in general might be a shirt I got for my birthday last year that was specifically made for me based on something I talked about.

Blue: oooh I can't decide. It's either a snowy winter day, so cold the snow actually lasts for some time and it just doesn't stop snowing. Or a really stormy day, either with an extremly dark, cloudy sky or with a purple-ish sky, lots of lightning, thunder, wind, rain. All the good stuff. Both below 17°C.

Thank you babe! Hope you're well as well 💕

#Wow I'm proper gay cisncmsmfm #The shirt was based on tags I wrote on tumblr #It has a little aquarius symbol in the front and has aquarius written on the back #It has a sentimental value and I'll forever cherish it #Ya #Also that song diwkxmsmdmskdkksx #🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈#I shuffled my liked songs playlist on Spotify #asks

2 notes · View notes

larryfanficwriter98 · 3 years

Text

Chapter Five

Fake It Until You Make It Real

Friday night by seven o'clock found Louis being served a plate of steak, baked shell mac and cheese, honey buttered rolls, and a small side salad as he graded his papers.

"Thank you." Louis said looking up at Harry briefly as he sat to his left, "I could have helped you know."

"The only thing you need to do is one never do work at my dining table again and two eat." Harry said glaring at him playfully, "I have an office y'know, I have a spare office even if you wanted that for yourself. My dining table is not your desk."

"You're the one that demanded to keep conversation going about wedding flowers while I had to grade. I was moving to the coffee table. But I promise I won't turn your dining table into my desk."

"Good. Now eat." Louis rolled his eyes but set his red pen down and moved the graded stuff into his bag and the unmarked stuff to the living room coffee table for now. Returning to his seat he grabbed his fork and dug into his side salad first wanting to taste the homemade dressing Harry made.

"My mom is going to love you and demand to know how you made me eat a salad." Louis grumbled as he shoved another forkful into his mouth glaring at Harry.

"I'll be sure to give her my recipe." Harry said, "I use to cook with my mom almost every night, so I learned a thing or two."

"Now I feel like I shouldn't even try to cook your dinner. I'll disappoint you."

"Never. I just got into cooking because I have an empty house all the time. You have Freddie who gets hungry in five minutes and expects food in ten. You're not obligated to try and impress me with your cooking. If it's edible I'm happy. Doesn't even have to be warm. I'll eat cold food if I'm hungry enough. Hannah actually left out frozen pizzas or canned soup for me all the time. Most of the time the pizza was thawed by the time I got home and so it wasn't good to cook and the soup I would just open and eat without heating it."

"She didn't make you dinner?"

"Nope."

"Well, I guess I don't have to best her at being the better housewife." Harry choked on his beer and laughed as he wiped his mouth off.

"If there was a competition, I promise you, you have already won it. Anyway, speaking of your soon to be married title I picked up our engagement rings. Yes, I got us matching ones so the nurses can stop trying to persuade me into being straight. I’ve been telling them I’ve had a boyfriend for months and I think they don’t believe me.”

“Should I come by to your work to give you lunch one day? Be extra flirty?”

“Would you?” Louis laughed looking down at his plate, “I’m serious over here.”

“Sure, I’ll come over in my tightest pair of pants and your sweater I have at my house.”

“I have the perfect pullover hold on.” Louis opened his mouth to tell Harry to sit down but Harry was already running up the stairs by the time the words registered in his brain. Harry came back down on a minute later with a white pullover and when he spread it out, he saw STYLES was written on the back with the letter ‘19’ on the front and back.

“The hospital has a football team to encourage exercise and outdoor play. I bloody suck at football, but as my boyfriend you support me anyway.”

“Fiancé and give it.”

“Soon to be fiancé.” Harry countered with a grin as he handed the pullover to Louis who laid it with his other stuff in the living room. “Just come in wearing that and they’ll…hopefully back off.”

“Oh, they’ll back off. I can be mean if I want to be.”

“You’re the best.”

*********

Saturday morning Harry was waking Louis up in the guest room with French Toast, bacon, and three poached eggs.

“Eat, get ready, we should leave in two hours.”

“Go away.” Louis groaned, “Why did I agree to do this today?”

“Because you and I both know it’ll be easier to do wedding things without Freddie there. As much as I adore him, it would be very boring. See you downstairs.” Louis glared at Harry’s retreating back then turned his attention to the plate of breakfast and decided getting up this early was an even trade for breakfast that looked that good. Louis ate his breakfast quickly then got dressed for a day outside in the late September weather. He took his plate downstairs and put it in the dishwasher and turned to Harry as he laid out on the couch, his phone in his hands.

“Are you taking a selfie?” Louis asked grinning when Harry stretched his neck to look at him with a beet red face.

“I’m snapchatting Maddie. Meanie.”

“Meanie?! Wow. I’m impressed. For a doctor you certainly have a way with words.” Harry grinned rolling his eyes before looking back at his phone, “You take selfies weird.”

“There is no wrong way to take a picture you child. Stop making fun of me.” Louis laughed and headed to him, hands on his hips as he stood where his head was resting on the arm of couch.

“Ready to go old man?” Harry laid his phone on his chest facing upwards and looked at him with a soft smile on his lips, “What?”

“I bet you looked cute pregnant.”

“Really? That’s what you are thinking about? Well for the record I most certainly did not look cute pregnant. My ex made sure to tell me that everyday too. He wouldn’t even give a hand if you know what I mean when my stomach was in the way.”

“You’re joking.” Louis shook his head, “What a douche. Why did you like him?”

“The sex was good. I was young and naïve. He gave great head all things considered.” Harry laughed, “What? It’s true. Why’d you stay with Hannah for so long?”

“It wasn’t the sex I can tell you that much. When we were about to break up, we found out she was pregnant, so we stayed together. We had been having a hard time in uni, so we were discussing breaking it off but then she told me she was late one night, and I got a pregnancy test for her and it was positive. Honestly, I don’t even remember the last time I had sex…god I’m lame.” Louis laughed as Harry swung his legs to the ground and pushed himself up, “Ready then?”

“Yeah, come on virgin Mary.”

“Not funny. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Point taken. Moving on.” Louis said grabbing Harry’s pullover he gave him yesterday and pulling it on as they left the house. Louis slid into the passenger seat of Harry’s Murano as Harry got into the driver’s seat. “Where are we headed first?”

“I figured we’d do what will take us the longest first which is our venue. They’re all south of us as well except one. Want to start with the furthest one out which is four hours out. Ready?”

“I’m taking a nap on the road.”

“Go ahead.”

As predicted the venue looking took all day, but it wasn’t taxing at all. Most of the venues they were able to walk around alone or with just one staff member. The colorful leaves on the trees, not yet having fallen down, made every location look breath taking and each venue had pictures of what it would look like in the winter. It was relaxing really, and since Harry had only written down the ones that had the 19th available, they didn’t have to worry about falling in love with a place only for it to not be free that date. Louis held Harry’s hand throughout the day watching as he charmed his way through staff members and watching as his eyes lit up when he saw the snowy landscapes. There had been one staff member that hadn’t taken his eyes off of Harry for more than a few seconds that Louis shut down with a raised brow that made Harry blush and grin widely trying to pretend he had no idea what just happened and why the staff member didn’t look at Harry any more than appropriate after that. When they got to the SUV Harry had pinch him and exclaimed, they could not pick that venue for fear of a staff member ruining their wedding because of Louis. Louis had laughed and continued to laugh as they drove to the other venue. By the time they got home the sun was set and they had grabbed takeout on the road then relaxed on the couch watching a movie as they talked about the venues and what they liked and didn’t like until they had narrowed it down to their top three.

You guys will be able to have a say in the venue! The reason it has taken so long is because as an American I have no idea about wedding venues in the UK. So I've been googling and I've only selected the ones that had Winter pictures so we all get an idea of what it looks like. In the comments go ahead and comment your favorite! It can be you only favorite or your top three! I do have three favorites that I am in love with writing a scene with. The Mills Wedding Venue didn't have many winter photos so I encourage everyone to google all the locations as well to get a good feel of them. I LOVE ALMOST EVERY SINGLE ONE SO THIS IS ALL UP TO YOU! I'll be counting Wattpad, Tumblr, and Archive's comments as they come until I am writing the chapter. If you need better pictures they will be on my tumblr page! LarryFanficWriter!

#larry stylinson fanfiction #larry fanfiction #larry shippers #Larry Stylinson #larries #larry fake marraige au #fake marriage #nonfamous au #doctor harry styles #teacher louis

3 notes · View notes

ourkingweasley · 4 years

Photo

Basic Information

Full Name: Ronald Bilius Weasley

Nickname(s): Ron, Ickle Ronnikins,

Age: 22 years old

Date of Birth: 1 March, 1980

Hometown: Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, Great Britain

Current Location: London, England

Ethnicity: English

Nationality: British

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Human/Wizard

Orientation: Hetero-romantic, heterosexual

Religion: Agnostic

Occupation: Former Auror, currently employed at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes

Living Arrangements: An apartment on his own

Language(s) Spoken: English

Accent: British

Magic Information

School Attended: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Blood Status: Pureblood

War Alliance: Dumbledore’s Army / The First Order

Wand: 12" Ash unicorn tail hair, 14" Willow, unicorn tail hair, 9¼" Chestnut Dragon heartstring

Patronus: Jack Russell Terrier

Boggart: Spiders

Amortentia: Old leather, mint, and the smell of an unknown (Hermione’s) shampoo

Quidditch?: Keeper

Prefect?: Yes

Club(s): Dumbledore’s Army

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: George Mackay

Hair Colour: Red

Eye Colour: Blue

Height: 6′2″

Weight: 69kg

Build: Lanky

Tattoos: N/A

Piercings: N/A

Clothing Style: Ron does not pay much attention to his fashion choices. He will throw on whatever he can get his hands on as long as it’s clean

Distinguishing Characteristics: Ron’s most distinguishing characteristics are his freckles and his bright ginger colored hair

Health

Physical Ailments: N/A

Neurological Conditions: N/A

Allergies: N/A

Sleeping Habits: Ron has not experienced a full night’s sleep in years. Since his days at Hogwarts and the things that he’s experienced since, he often wakes up through the night with nightmares. He often relives the things that he’s seen or been through during the time that they were searching for horcruxes and the Battle of Hogwarts. Sometimes due to this lack of sleep, he can find himself napping without much warning in various places

Eating Habits: Ron eats constantly. Eating is his favorite hobby and he’d do it all the time if there was enough time in the day and he could be paid for it. He eats his three square meals a day and is often eating in between

Exercise Habits: Ron does not exercise as much as he should. He isn’t unhealthy by any means, but he doesn’t go out of his way to exercise

Emotional Stability: 7. Ron is relatively stable when it comes to his emotions. He is not someone who has severe changes in emotions, but he doesn’t ignore his emotions either. He doesn’t particularly enjoy talking about his feelings, however

Sociability: Ron is fairly sociable. He can hold a conversation with almost anyone and he enjoys talking to people

Body Temperature: Hot-natured; Ron tends to run hot

Addictions: Food! Ron is always either eating or thinking about eating

Drug Use: N/A

Alcohol Use: Ron drinks socially

Personality

Label: The Trustworthy

Positive Traits: Brave, humorous, loyal, & friendly

Negative Traits: Insecure, immature, argumentative, & envious

Goals/Desires: Get over himself and ask Hermione Granger on a date, continue to help at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and make their brand even more successful

Fears: Spiders, Voldemort, talking about his feelings

Hobbies: Eating, quidditch, spending time with his friends and family, eating

Habits: Swearing, rubbing the back of his neck when he’s nervous, talking with his mouth full

Favourites

Weather: Snowy

Colour: Red

Sport: Quidditch

Beverage: Butterbeer

Food: Pumpkin pasties

Animal: Pygmy puff

Family

Father: Arthur Weasley

Mother: Molly Weasley

Sibling(s): Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley (deceased), George Weasley, Ginerva Weasley; Fleur Delacour-Weasley (sister-in-law)

Children: N/A

Pet(s): Formerly had a family rat whom was passed down called Scabbers (he turned out to not be a rat but we won’t get into that !!)

Best friends: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger

Extra

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

MBTI: ENFP

Enneagram: Type 6: The Strategist - Type Sixes hang on to relationships tighter than other types, often depending on the people they hang out with to feel safe and valued. Thus, the primary emotion that motivates Sixes is fear. Type Sixes tend to be sensitive and overthink situations, which fuels their insecurity. Despite that, because of their need for security and loyalty, they will eventually return to the group.

Temperament: Sanguine

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Primary Vice: Envy

Primary Virtue: Humility

Element: Water

#thinking out loud || about/headcanon #icb i just banged this out in an hour #i love ron weasley w all my heart and soul tyvm

3 notes · View notes

eliasfraser · 5 years

Text

♡ twenty-one / four hundred and twenty four, cis male, harry styles ;; what was “elias fraser” doing coming out of the forest? wonder if “he / him” have anything to do with whatever is going on around here. oh, so they are “in the denali coven”. oh well let’s see how long they last, i guess ( emily, twenty-four, est, she/her/they/them ) // special ability: weather manipulation

hi my names emily! and here’s my BOI!

meet elias ELI fraser, originally born in december of 1582, and was changed in 1602 at age 21.

to be completely honest, eli remembers being changed and that’s about it.

but to back up his life, he was from a rather fancy old english family. his dad was a lord and his mother a lady, but he never fit that life. he was always off to fancy parties -- doing things he shouldn’t be and writing.

his parents expected so much of him, even arranging a marriage for him when he was young -- it didn’t really matter though as he didn’t stop living how he wanted too

one night he was out partying and woke up getting attacked by multiple people -- a coven had taken him and were feeding on him.

he’d been drained almost completely empty and they even disposed of his body, his parents buried him quickly -- trying to hide the shame

he woke up screaming and thirsty in a coffin -- he had to dig his way out and was all by himself

it was hard and he couldnt really help what happened at the start -- being so THIRSTY and controlled by that, and having no one to guide him that he started drinking the first person he stumbled upon

the first fifty years of his life was spent in a nomadic world trying to get a handle on his thirst and power

his power is weather manipulation -- in which he can control the weather in every aspect from making it bright and sunny to snowy the next moment

his power is directly tied into his emotions -- and though he’s spent a lot of years trying to not let his emotions have the control they do win out a lot of the time

when he changes the weather his eyes flash a different colour -- ( sunny = yellow, white = snow, etc etc )

at around a hundred years he met the volturi and decided to join up with them for a bit -- he spent around 50 years there before deciding to move on. he was desperate to find something else, jumping from coven to covens in hopes of finding a mate

he kept having to watch people fall in love and ultimately it just kind of reminded him of his own loneliness

later he ran into carlisle cullen who told him about being a vegetarian -- this made him consider a new way of life

he took a brief stint in the olympic coven in which he was taught how to be a vegetarian, but because the olympic coven was mostly couples that loneliness sunk back in

and in that he asked carlisle if he knew anyone else who was practicing the vegetarian way of life -- he found out about the denali coven from carlisle and has been there ever since

he loves his coven now and it just feels right.

#vindictaintro

3 notes · View notes

borealiis · 5 years

Text

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: richard paul montgomery de kimbly iv / felix crispus valeria NICKNAME/S: rich AGE: 2200 +, looks ~13, 14 BIRTHDAY: 19/20 of January ETHNIC GROUP: european / roman NATIONALITY: has several passports---main on is american since he is currently residing in the unites states LANGUAGE/S: latin, greek ( ancient & modern ), various other languages in both their older and current forms SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: heteroromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single and not really looking CLASS: wealthy HOMETOWN / AREA: rome, rome CURRENT HOME: new haven, currently residing with noel vohn and auburn hayden-vohn PROFESSION: a rich student

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: dark brown, always kept neat and controlled. his natural hair is curly. EYES: blue with some steely gray, changes depending on lighting NOSE: has that aristocratic look to it, uses it to look down on people no matter if he is taller or shorter FACE: boyish at first look, arrogant at second and ancient if youre really looking LIPS: not that full and not too thin---theyre lips. never chapped, though. COMPLEXION: fair and the kind where he needs sunscreen BLEMISHES: not too many, a rare and yet, cute blush (even fay thinks so, but he doesnt know that) SCARS: an annoying one on his left arm he got, but nothing big TATTOOS: none HEIGHT: 5'3" / 160 cm WEIGHT: 110 lbs / 48.8kg BUILD: scrawny, but a bit athletic from fencing FEATURES: has an old money, aristocratic look and air to him ALLERGIES: shellfish USUAL HAIR STYLE: gelled up neatly to avoid curls. USUAL FACE LOOK: arrogant, nose in the air USUAL CLOTHING: tailored clothes and clean pullovers

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: abandonment, being in constant danger, not being able to sustain his lifestyle ASPIRATION/S: to be able to relax, to find a home POSITIVE TRAITS: intelligent, decisive, honest, cautious, witty, good conversationalist, insightful NEGATIVE TRAITS: snobbish, impatient, arrogant, stubborn, sarcastic, self-serving, can and will hold grudges MBTI: ISTG ZODIAC: capricorn, aquarius cusp TEMPERAMENT: chloeric SOUL TYPE / S: thinker (19), leader (12), hunter (9), educator (12), spiritualist (6), helper (3), creator (4), caregiver (3), performer (6) ANIMAL: fox VICE HABIT/S: freezing on people, has a tough time letting people in, his impatience can get in the way as well and he gets frustrated by others easily FAITH: mostly agnostic with some lingering, private belief in roman deities, mostly concerning afterlife. GHOSTS?: not completely unlikely AFTERLIFE?: hopefully not REINCARNATION?: hopefully not ALIENS?: he’s arrogant, but not that arrogant POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: n/a ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: n/a SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: n/a EDUCATION LEVEL: very high. multiple degrees in various fields.

FAMILY.

FATHER: deceased MOTHER: deceased SIBLINGS: n/a EXTENDED FAMILY: had an aunt and uncle he lived with after his parents’ death--doesn’t mention them or think of them too fondly. other immortals, such as noel vohn and auburn hayden-vohn who are his adopted parents NAME MEANING/S: richard - ruler/king HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: was around for a lot of it---he was always involved with carious noble families as well as royal ones

FAVOURITES.

BOOK: he likes mostly academic ones but he did enjoy the harry potter series MOVIE: he enjoys ones with deeper plots 5 SONGS: classical music, but he has a soft spot for jazz so DEITY: when he truly believed-- he was into mercury. its embarassing. MONTH: january SEASON: winter PLACE: hard to pick, but always a soft spot for rome WEATHER: snowy SOUND: violin SCENT/S: peppermint, older books TASTE/S: minty FEEL/S: the softness of cashmere, silky sheets, huggs ANIMAL/S: cats NUMBER: 1 COLOUR: blue, dark purple, black

EXTRA.

TALENTS: fencing, violin BAD AT: being patient with people, opening up TURN ONS: n/a TURN OFFS: n/a HOBBIES: fencing, reading, art TROPES: lonely tsundere

VOICE CLAIM/S: tba?

#muse: hc #q

1 note · View note

peachychip85000 · 6 years

Text

*cries at how long this is going to be* @punk-rock-pixie

1. Name? Surname?

Iris Ortensia

Giselle ???

Timothy ???

2. Any family?

Iris has a mother and 3 older sisters

Giselle has no known family members

Timothy has both parents, a (slightly) older twin sister, and a younger sister and brother. His younger brother, Aaron, is @balancedpluto‘s apprentice, Aaron (who is romancing Asra)

3. Any familiar?

Iris: A pale purple kittyh with light blue points, and a pink crescent shape on her forehead. Her name is Iridescence.

Giselle: A glittery, white chameleon named Crystal.

Timothy: A sugar glider named SweetPea.

4. Asra, Nadia or Julian?

Iris: Julian

Giselle: ASra

Timothy: Nadia

5. Best strength in magic?

Iris: Potion brewing

Giselle: Uses her magic to heal plants and talk to animals.

Timothy: Trying to become a cryomancer, or someone who manipulates ice with magic.

6. Favorite color?

Iris: Lavender

Giselle: Light Green

Timothy: Periwinkle

7. Favorite number?

???????

8. Sexuality?

they’re all bi/pan

9. Weird hobby?

nothing weird lol

10. Favorite season?

Iris: Autumn

Giselle: Spring

Timothy: Winter

11. Favorite weather?

Iris: Rain

Giselle: Bright and sunny

Timothy: Cold/Snowy

12. Favorite place in Vesuvia?

Iris: Portia’s cottage. Pepi is there.

Giselle: The forest, when its not haunted by dead count goat ghost

Timothy: The palace, because Nadia’s there

13. How do their laught sounds like?

Iris snorts

Giselle giggles

Timothy asgdfjsdhfkj

14. How do they look like when they cry?

ghibli tears

15. What do they like to wear?

Iris: Loose corsets and flowy skirts

Giselle: Flowy dresses

Timothy: Comfortable things, but if its any shade of blue, its in his wardrobe.

16. What are their fears?

Iris: Something happening to Julian. Also spiders.

Giselle: Lucio

Timothy: Being alone

17. What do they like to do Friday night?

They all like to spend time with loved ones, getting food, and playing games.

18. Do they use makeup?

Yes

19. Favorite food?

Iris: Cheesy fettuccine alfredo with chicken

Giselle: Victoria sandwich

Timothy:Pizza

20. Favorite drink?

Iris: Strawberry lemonade

Giselle: Green tea

Timothy: Peppermint hot cocoa

21. Zodiac sign?

Iris: Libra

Giselle: Aries

Timothy: Sagittarius

22. Day of birth?

Iris: October 15th

Giselle: April 3rd

Timothy: December 12th

23. Favorite movie?

Iris: Barbie Island Princess/Rapunzel/Princess and the Pauper and Tangel, because she relates to Rapunzel a LOT.

Giselle: Ferngully and Don Bluth’s Thumbelina

Timothy: Star Wars, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Cats Don’t Dance

24. Favorite music genre?

Iris: Everything, but especially Pop and 80s music.

Giselle: New Age (Enya/Celtice Woman/etc...)

Timothy: As a music enthusiast he loves everything, but Big Points if it sounds electronic and/or 80s.

They all love musical and movie soundtracks.

25. Favorite song?

Iris: Moonlight by Ariana Grande

Giselle: May it be by Enya

Timothy: He can’t choose a SONG but his favourite video game soundtracks are Undertale, Mega Man 2, and Kingdom Hearts.

26. Favorite tv show?

Iris: Parks and Rec, Chopped, other baking shows.

Giselle: Cosmos, Round Planet

Timothy: Mystery Science Theater 3000, Twilight Zone, and Stranger Things

27. What is their style?

Is this for, a Modern AU? If so then...

Iris: Hyper feminine and geeky

Giselle: Feminine and hippie/hipster. Lots of dresses and floral print.

Timothy: Cozy. He likes hoodies though.

28. Any mental health issues?

Iris’s MH started to decline when her father passed away. Her mother was never the most nurturing, especially towards Iris, who is the youngest of 4. She developed a lot of self worth issues, anxiety, and depression due to her mother’s verbal and emotional abuse.

Giselle has anxiety, but if she has any other issues she’s very good at hising them

Timothy has a lot of body image issues, as he’s considered short (5′5) and is also very lanky.

29. Any health issues in general?

Timothy is anemic and underweight.

30. Are they human?

yeah dude

31. Favorite book?

Iris: Ella Enchanted

Giselle: Harry Potter

Timothy: King Killer Chronicles

They all love Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit as well

32. Favorite book genre?

If you couldn’t guess they all love fantasy, but Timothy also loves sci-fi as well.

33. Favorite time of the day?

Iris: Dusk/Twilight

Giselle: Mid Day

Timothy: Night time

34. If they weren’t magician, who would they be?

Iris: Pastry chef

Giselle: Zoo Keeper or someone that help at animal sanctuaries.

Timothy: Musician/Composer.

35. Do they believe in ghosts?

Yes

36. Do they believe in aliens?

Iris wants to believe they’re real

Giselle doesn’’t, but she likes the idea of them

Timothy does, yes.

37. Do they like sport?

Neither of them “Sport” except for Iris, who does ballet.

38. How do they look like?

39. What is their biggest motivation to solve the Lucio’s killer mystery?

Iris: Wants to clear Julian’s name

Giselle: She was asked to, and became more curious as the case progressed.

Timothy: It’s important to Nadia, so it’s important to him.

40. What do they think of Lucio so far?

>:O

41. What do they think of Nadia so far?

They all love and respect her. Timothy thinks she’s a goddess and has Heart Eyes.

42. What do they think of Asra so far?

Iris: Close and trusted friend

Giselle: *blushy face*

Timothy: Very good friend. Considers him like a brother, considering his brother is going out with him.

43. What do they think of Julian so far?

Iris: im love my dumb husband

Giselle: He’s funny!

Timothy: hello??? if i was straight before I am Not Now.

44. What do they think of Portia so far?

Iris: Future sister in law and best friends

Giselle: She’s a sweetpea and I love her

Timothy: She’s cute and important to NAdia. Wants to get to know her better.

45. What do they think of Muriel so far?

BIG BOI

46. Do they like animals?

YES

47. Are they allergic to anything?

Timothy is allergic to grass and shellfish

48. Do they have any talents (except magic)?

Iris: Cooks, bakes, dances, and as been known to sing well.

Giselle: Jewelry making and making flower crowns

Timothy: Plays numerous instruments and can sing.

49. Do they get drunken easily?

They are all lightweights!!! Giselle doesn’t like alcohol, and Iris and Timothy are picky about their drinks. They like sweet drinks.

50. What is their personality type?

Its hard to answer this question because none of them fall under a certain archetype.

51. What is their worst negative quality?

Iris: Crybaby and hyper sensitive.

Giselle: Extremely naive.

Timothy: Empathetic and generous to a fault

52. What is their best positive quality?

I think for all of them its their willingness to help and caring nature.

53. What is their position to fall asleep?

Curl like a kitten

54. The most uncomfortable moment they ever experienced?

Iris: Telling her mother she was moving to Vesuvia.

Giselle:

Timothy: Finding out his brother and Asra were banging, to which Aaron responds with “well why are you banging the Countess?” Fair point.

55. Their happiest memory?

Spoiler the most recent update: Iris: Finding Julian alive and well.

Giselle: Finding her familiar, Crystal. They’ve been inseparable ever since.

Timothy: Nadia having feelings for him as well. He’s not confident in himslef, and having someone like Nadia even look at him makes him smile.

56. Do they blush?

Yes

57. Are they clumsy?

YES

58. Do they like jokes?

everyone likes jokes

59. How do they flirt?

Iris: Compliments Julian until he’s a blushy mess

Giselle: Makes flower crowns, or bracelets for Asra

Timothy: Nervously makes jokes. Nadia see’s he’s trying tho and finds it charming.

60. Favorite fruit?

Iris: Strawberries

Giselle: Apples

Timothy, through tears: What do you mean blue raspberries aren’t a real fruit???

Note: I had to redo this bc my laptop shut off on me right as I finished it the first time!! ; 0;

#long post #this has 60 questions #hayden y would u do nthis to m #the arcana #the arcana game #fan apprentice #iris #giselle #timothy

9 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 6 years

Text

both foul and fair

ships: could be read as logicality, but none outright

words: 6,723

warnings: hypothermia, cut hand, food mentions, excessive puns

read on ao3 here

both foul and fair

If the blame could possibly be pinned on any singular person, in Logan's relatively unbiased opinion, that person would be Roman.

There are several reasons as to why Logan has reached this conclusion, but primarily for this: it happened in Roman's realm, which Roman made. Ergo, Roman's fault.

....perhaps relative is the key word in the phrase relatively unbiased.

The "bonding time," however, was originally Patton's idea. The other three had been rather slow to warm to the notion, but Logan has found the outings mostly pleasant. There had been occasional conflicts of timing with Logan's very particular working schedule, and it was difficult to go through any period of time together without at least a bit of bickering and backhanded commentary, but it was still mostly enjoyable.

Patton usually had big meals they all cooked together (or tried: Patton would tactfully take over with quite a few side-quests that tended to result in an overabundance of charcuterie boards) and board game nights; Virgil would have movie or video game or music nights; Logan would have quiet evenings spent with coffee and book recommendations for the others and music in the background; and Roman, well. Roman was the wild card.

That particular day was Roman's day to decide what to do, and Roman entreated them all to join him in his realm. From there, the day would take its form based on whatever Roman had in mind: there had been an enjoyable day lounging by a lakeside, when the weather had been warmer, and a sleepy night spent stargazing during a meteor shower, among others.

"We're going on an adventure," Roman declares brightly as soon as Logan steps through the door, jamming something atop Logan's head. "Bundle up, Wall-E!"

"Cease and desist," Logan splutters, hands jerking to the hat as he took a step back—cozy, knit, wool, and oh, fantastic, a rather obnoxious decorative ball on the top hat, wonderful. The flaps over his ears would be beneficial in ensuring a decreased risk of frostbite, though, and he rather enjoyed an article on the history of the ushanka and other hats—

He shakes himself. "Clearly, I would be Eve."

"Logan's right, Roman," Patton says, busy fussing over Virgil, who is seemingly refusing to wear a coat atop his usual hoodie. Virgil and Logan take a moment to exchange a despairing glance, which Patton either doesn't notice or cheerfully ignores. "Logan would be Eve, and I'd be Wall-E, and Virgil could be that cute little cockroach—"

Logan straightens his glasses, as Roman's knocked them askew, in the midst of Virgil grumbling angrily about his role in the movie, and Roman's just trying to be a nuisance, but Logan knows better than to voice his frustrations so early in the day. He goes over to the table instead, as it's laden with winter wear.

"Tell Logan about your plan today, Roman," Patton says, now jamming a pair of earmuffs onto Virgil's head, ignoring Virgil's squawks about his bangs.

"Oh, it'll be wonderful," Roman says—somehow making a puffy red-and-white winter coat that went down to his knees look like the height of fashion. "There'll be hot cider, and we'll go through the Winter Wonderland to go sledding, and then we'll get back here to bundle up in front of the fireplace with some cocoa and we'll roast marshmallows—"

Patton claps his hands in delight. "Like a snow day! Now, everyone, we've got to get all bundled up—"

Logan reaches for a sleek, black athletic jacket, ideal for the innermost layer, cutting off Patton's words. He's researched the ideal methods of dealing with the cold, though Thomas lives in a warmer climate. He's already running over how to decrease risks of the less savory aspects of being cold—the repeated application of warm beverages throughout the day would be helpful.

He tugs on a similarly puffy jacket—black, blue detailing, with a cheery Logan!!! ☺ scrawled in Patton's handwriting on the tag. Next a blue pair of gloves, a blue scarf, and a cursory straightening of the cap Roman had forcefully bestowed on him.

Patton's decked out in sky blue and gray—Logan spies the cat hoodie beneath his puffy jacket, and he's wearing a hat that's a similar style to Logan's, in addition to a scarf and mittens. Virgil, finally having sulkily agreed to get on with the day, is all in purple and black, grumpily adjusting his earmuffs with en-gloved hands. If Logan's not mistaken, they're the model of earmuffs that double as headphones—and, yes, there's distant strain of Virgil's music.

Roman, after ensuring that everyone's put on their winter boots (blue for Patton, black for Logan, red for Roman, purple for Virgil—Roman often delights in whenever he gets to dress them, however indirectly, and therefore goes the extra mile whenever he gets the chance) flings open the door, sending a blast of cold air into the house. "Onwards, men!"

He traipses cheerfully out into the snow, and with a sigh, Virgil follows, hunched over himself. Patton happily claps Logan on the shoulder, and with a sigh, Logan follows after him.

They're barely five minutes into the walk when Logan has to admit that he is (grudgingly) impressed: Roman's truly outdone himself this time. It rather looks like they've stepped into a postcard. They've set off down a plowed path in the midst of woods. The air smells of pine, and cold, with the faintest whiff of mint on the slight, nippy breeze. Fat, fluffy flakes fall gently from the clear white sky. There's already an even, undisturbed layer of snow over everything, making the world seem incredibly quiet.

What was that line he'd read? Ah, yes, Sarah Addison Allen—“It was magical, this snow globe world.”

Logan takes a moment to turn slowly in a circle, to witness this artificial form of winter mimicked to near-perfection, the world's faults smoothed over so professionally it almost wasn't noticeable, to breathe in and feel the burning cold as acutely as if he's in an actual forest—

"Keep up, four-eyes!" Roman shouts.

Moment of appreciation broken.

He sighs, and hastens after them—they've turned a corner, and a frozen-over river cuts a neat ribbon between the trees. On their side is an abandoned wooden stand, where Patton's helping Roman hoist what looks like a steaming cauldron before them. Logan's sense of smell is overtaken then—apple, most predominantly, and cinnamon, and possibly nutmeg, or cloves—

"Here you are, Lo," Patton says, cheerful, pressing a lid onto the paper cup before pressing the cup into into Logan's hands. "Careful, it's hot!"

Logan curls his hands around it, enjoying the way the heat seeps into his hands, even through his gloves. Patton hands a cup to Virgil next, who tips his cup at Logan in a sarcastic toast (it has been a mystery, most of their lives, how nearly everything Virgil does has some kind of sarcastic slant to it) and then Patton waves Roman off and ladles a cup for him next before getting one for himself.

Virgil's eyes narrow at the cauldron. "Seems dangerous to take a drink from an unattended cauldron in the middle of the forest."

Leave it to Virgil—though, in the real world, Logan would be inclined to agree with him. As it is—

"My imagination, my rules," Roman says happily, waving a hand so the cauldron vanishes. "The witches are all holed up in their cottages, they hate it when I make it snowy. We can get refills at the sledding hill, we're nearly there."

Logan takes a second to survey the environment. It seems like a very pretty river, even frozen—in fact, he might have come close to following this exact path when the whole of Roman's realm had been decidedly more summery, back when the other three had been close to napping in their post-picnic stupor.

"Roman, were there those nymphaea candida specimen right around here in the summer?" Logan asks, now he's wondering.

"Nympha-what? Nymphadora? I didn't peg you for the one to start the Harry Potter talk, but if you insist—" Roman says, lowering his cup, glancing away from where Patton and Virgil are making mini snowsides.

"The river lilies," Logan says with a sigh. "White petals, yellow centers?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose," Roman says. "There might have been."

Logan disguises his sigh by taking a sip of the admittedly delicious cider. Relying on his own memory then, he supposes, however unreliable that may be.

"Could we ice-skate on this river, Roman?" Patton gasps, looking up from what Logan thinks is snow-Patton, though it could also be snow-Logan.

Roman says, "No, this wouldn't do! We could go back to that lake we went to in the summer, though, that would be a nice rink for us. The ice on the river would probably be too unreliable."

Virgil shifts uncomfortably at that. "Couldn't you make it, you know. More reliable?"

"If we were going to ice-skate on it, certainly," Roman says, though without the bite that might have been in the statement a year prior. Virgil tilts his head, conceding the point, and Patton busily affixes a pine-needle-sash to what must be snow-Roman, mittens off, eyes narrowed in concentration. "The lake would be our best bet, though. No crumbling bridges or uncomfortable stopping points. We can go ice-skating next time."

Logan tries not to shudder. Lots of falling onto cold, hard surfaces, and Roman can probably secretly figure skate like an Olympian. He hopes Roman gets distracted by whatever idea takes him next.

Roman and Logan wait for Patton and Virgil—mostly Patton, Virgil seems to be in charge of snapping little sticks and pine needles to appropriate sizes for props—to finish making their snowsides, finishing their cider. Logan hangs onto his cup—if there'll be refills at the hill, he's disinclined to make waste, even imaginary waste.

Patton pauses, before he adds a little snowman in the middle—Thomas, Logan realizes, and Patton carefully adjusts the arms of snow-Thomas and each of the snowsides to go over each other's shoulders, like they're posing for a picture. Patton nods in satisfaction, and moves to stand, yanking his mittens back on and shaking out his hands.

"A wonderful facsimilie, Patton," Roman enthuses, crouching to snap a picture with his phone, and then a selfie with them, because of course.

"Good job, Pat," Virgil adds, and Logan echoes, "Indeed."

"Aw, thanks, guys," Patton says. "Let's go get some more cider, though, my hands are freezing!"

Roman laughs and claps him on the back, and off they go—Patton and Virgil, then Roman close behind, and Logan trailing after him, the pair of them trying to take his steps in their footprints—they're off the plowed path, now, and he doesn't want snow to get into his boots and wet his socks.

The snow grows thicker and thicker, and Logan loses sight of the river. The snowfall has stopped, leaving them with snow that must be half a foot deep—Logan would measure if he had an implement with him, but he doesn't, so he's left with an estimation. The trees have thinned out, and the world is blindingly white—the only way they all know where they're going is to trust Roman, a horrifying thought.

They've resorted to a single-file procession—a line of Patton-Virgil-Roman-Logan, Roman calling "It won't be long now!" and "Just past this bend!" as they plod along.

Logan is about to ask if this is the fastest they can go when they all hear it.

Crrr-crrrr-crrrrr.....

They all freeze where they're standing, Virgil wobbling—he'd been about to put his foot down where Patton's foot had just been.

Patton himself had frozen, arms held out away from him for balance, and he swallows enough that Logan, as far away as he is, can see his Adam's apple bob.

"Patton," Logan calls, trying to infuse a sense of authority into his tone, but a thread of fear works its way in anyways. "Virgil, if you'd just bring your weight down and distribute it evenly along the ice—"

Crrrrrrrrr—

And then, all in one movement, Patton moves faster than Logan's panic-ridden mind can track—he swings his arms from where he'd been holding them out, and shoves at Virgil's chest, hard, sending Virgil sprawling away from him, away from the river, and with the loudest, angriest CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—

"Patton!" Logan shouts, and his voice seems to harmonize with the final crack—because Patton looks up enough to meet eyes with Logan, arms pinwheeling, when he's suddenly swallowed up by the water.

It boggles him—Patton there one moment, gone the next, as if this is some kind of magic relevant to Roman's realm, vanishing in less than a moment, and he's frozen to the spot, arms reaching as if he'd have been able to grab Patton and haul him back to safety—

Later, when Logan's reviewing the events in his mind, this won't surprise him, but at the time it does—Virgil is the first to react, throwing himself onto his stomach—distributing his weight evenly across the ice, Logan thinks dimly—and looking down into the crevasse that's swallowed Patton up, only black water greeting him.

"Spread out!" Roman barks, and Logan rushes to oblige, the pair of them throwing themselves onto their stomachs and sweeping aside armfuls of snow, squinting through the ice, to the dark water below, eyes scanning the depths below, until—

—a faint pale hand, he's lost his mitten—

"HERE!" is torn from Logan's throat, almost too desperate to be described as a scream, and he waves a hand desperately at Roman, who seems to understand what he needs immediately because in the next second there's a hammer in his hands, and he slams it down on the ice as close as he can get to Patton without hurting him, and again, and again—

Logan's barely thinking when he shoves his arms into the water, the cold hitting his arms so hard it hurts, and it's taking too long, every second one they might lose sight of Patton, and he closes his hand around an arm and pulls—

Distantly, he's aware of someone's hands holding at his legs, his waist, to make sure he doesn't fall in after him, and they hasten forwards to help haul Patton up, out of the water, onto his back, and what he sees terrifies him.

His face is too pale, and too still—Patton is their emotion, he should be laughing or listening earnestly or smiling or frowning, not this blank thing—

Logan's about to bend, plant his ear over his mouth to see if he's breathing, but Patton beats him to it—he lets out a cough, barely turning to keep himself from spluttering on the water, and Logan hastily shoves his hands under his head, to tilt his head to the side to keep him from choking on the water again.

"Right," Roman says, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, eyes wide, "Logan, what do we—what do we—?"

"Home," Logan says, and the word's barely out of his mouth before they're all crouched in Roman's living room, Patton still coughing weakly.

"Right," Logan says, taking a moment to draw his hand over his face, and then, "Right, Roman—start a fire—Virgil, get some blankets, as many as you can, and something warm for him to drink—"

There's the sound of two different sets of boots thumping off, doing what they're assigned to do, and now Logan has to fix it, he has to fix it—

He's struggling to undo his own coat zipper with his burningly cold hands, but he manages it and throws off the puffy coat before he sets in on Patton's, ridding him of his puffy coat and his singular mitten before there's more thudding and Virgil drops the blankets on the ground and sets in on the cat hoodie, allowing Logan to get to work divesting himself of his soaked clothes.

"Logan," Virgil says, voice threaded through with, well, anxiety, jostling Patton with his desperate attempts to get off his wet clothes as fast as possible. Patton barely even stirs. "What are we doing here?"

Logan's struggling to get off his inner jacket before he finally manages it, leaving him in his short-sleeved shirt. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around himself, and picks up three blankets, draping them over Patton, trying to ensure that all of his previously exposed skin is covered as he talks.

"We need to get these wet clothes off and make sure he gets dry. His body's lost heat faster than it can produce it, so we need to help warm him up."

Thud thud thud, yes, that's Roman running flat-out, juggling a variety of things, slamming down to his knees before the fireplace as Logan wraps Patton in blankets up to his ears.

"Water's unfortunately good at conducting heat away from your body, so he's lost heat much faster than if he was exposed to the elements the way we were. We need to make sure he can sustain a healthy core temperature, so that means blankets, a fire, and warm liquids—"

Logan has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it, he has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it, he has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it—

He grabs another blanket, barely managing to throw it over his own shoulders before he wraps the rest of his blanket around Patton, pulling him close, holding Patton in his lap.

"Virgil, get him that something warm to drink," he says, terse, and Virgil hesitates before he scuttles off, Roman cursing as he fumbles with a matchbook.

He notices Patton's eyes are drifting shut, and Logan pokes him angrily in the ribs, once, twice, three times, before Patton's eyes open a little more, gaze unfocused, still so expressionless—

"Patton," Logan says, and pokes him in the ribs again, until Patton's head manages to swivel towards him, as much as it can when they're in such close contact. "Hey. Hey, Patton, what does a dinosaur wear when it's cold?"

Patton blinks. Once, twice.

"A Jurassic Park-a," Logan blurts out, too nervous to let him finish his thought. "Get it, Patton? Like the movie? And the segment of the Mesozoic Era? Get it?"

Patton blinks at him more, and Logan pokes him again, desperate. He needs to keep Patton's attention, and he needs to keep Patton from falling asleep. He's talking about the only thing that's coming to mind, something that would captivate and keep Patton's attention, and those are the awful jokes that come on the back of the chips that Logan likes to eat to fuel a late night brainstorming session, the jokes Patton love and Logan never understands but memorized anyways.

"Where does Frosty the Snowman keep his money?" He presses, and Patton's head dips worringly. "Mo." Another hard poke to the ribs, and Patton rests his head on Logan's shoulder with a shuddering breath. "Where does he keep his money?"

"A s-s-snuh," Patton mumbles into Logan's neck.

"A snow bank, that's right," Logan presses on, voice tight, why isn't there a fire, and he tucks his hand against Patton's cheek, keeping him upright, keeping him awake. Patton blinks at him again and again. "You're so smart, Patton, that's exactly right. Keep those guesses coming. What kind of math does Hedwig like?"

Finally, finally a fire starts up in the fireplace, and Roman swivels towards them as Logan bites out, "Owl-gebra, Patton, she likes owl-gebra, see? Because she's a snowy owl?"

Yes, there, the slightest twitch of a lip. That's a good sign. He thinks.

"What do chefs call Baked Alaska in Alaska?" Logan asks.

"Whuh," Patton mumbles.

"A baked here," Logan says, and there's a little huff of air from Patton, so close to a chuckle. Logan wriggles them closer to the fire, so Patton's closest to it, Roman throwing in old newspapers as fast as he can crumble them, building the fire high.

"Which side of an Arctic Tern has the most feathers?" Logan presses.

Another twitch of the lip. "Ousside," he sighs.

Logan laughs a little, giddy with it. That sounded like a word! That's even better! "So clever," Logan says. "Okay. Um—"

"Why do seals swim in salt water?" Roman picks up, and Patton sways towards him, only Logan's arms around his waist keeping him upright. Roman looks—a little nervous, a little scared—but it's gone in a flash as he grins and does jazz hands and declares, "Because pepper water makes them sneeze!"

Something that could conceivably be related to a snort.

Virgil crashes in from the kitchen, somehow hauling four mugs and a steaming kettle without dropping anything.

"Patton," he pants, and Logan doesn't even have to help Patton move his head that time, "What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?"

Roman stands to help Virgil fill up the mugs as fast as possible, and Patton's chin settles on Logan's shoulder. Logan pokes him in the ribs again, sharp, and Patton mumbles incoherently.

"Frostbite!" Virgil says, fingers threading together, biting his lip.

"Good," Logan says, and pokes Patton again. "Did you hear, Patton? Frostbite!"

"Goo'ne," he slurs. "S'good."

They keep them coming as Virgil and Roman work on making cocoa for all four of them—why don't mountains get cold in the winter? they wear ice caps! what do arctic hares use to keep their fur looking spiffy? hare spray! what do you call a cold ghost? casp-burr!—and Logan has to keep poking Patton, even as Logan feels more and more like a person. Control over fire, he thinks—there is a reason that it was the most revolutionary discovery and invention in human history, spurring mankind to progress to the point they are at today.

But Patton is still shivering hard enough that his teeth clack together, even with the extra blankets, and his back to the fire. He's still barely responding to the jokes—more slurred mumbles, huffs of air, smiles that look more like winces. Virgil, visibly worried, lifts the mug to Patton's mouth so he doesn't have to disentangle from the blankets, and Patton flinches back, spitting.

"Burns," he chokes out. "Too hot—"

Virgil's brow creases in concern, and Logan can see why—he'd barely waited for the kettle to heat, so the water is only a few steps above lukewarm. It would be a fine temperature for any of them to drink, except—

Logan's busily wracking his brain for the article he'd read years ago—handle the person gently, limit movements to those that are necessary. Move the person out of the cold, remove wet clothing, cover the person with blankets, monitor breathing—but what else, what else, they're missing a step—

So how would Logan get warm on a cold day? Wear blankets, stay dry, what else—

And it hits him so suddenly that he barely resists smacking himself on the forehead.

"Roman, Virgil, would you two come over here? I think I know something else we need—"

Logan's loath to leave Patton in this state, but Roman and Virgil seem to both understand—with a bit of bickering, Patton's laid down on his side, as curled up as he can be, with Roman pressed up against his back and Virgil against his front, Virgil keeping a close eye on Patton to ensure he doesn't go to sleep. Logan discards the blanket he'd had around his shoulders, and he hears a sucked-in breath.

"Logan, your hand," Virgil says, almost getting up but remembering himself at the last moment. Logan stares at his hand—still bleeding sluggishly, and he sees the slight stain on the dark fabric of where his hand had been resting on the blanket.

"I'll bandage it up," he says, standing. "Roman, your first aid kit's still in the bathroom—?"

Roman nods, and Logan sets off to gather his supplies, setting a quick pace. Now that he's aware of the injury on his hand—must have been cut on the ice—it pulses more and more, notifications of something wrong to his brain, something to fix. But pain is a message he can choose to ignore—it is more important to get Patton back to a healthy body heat that he can sustain on his own. A cut hand is hardly the priority.

When he comes back, first aid kit tucked under his arm and a variety of makeshift warm compresses in his hands, he crouches beside Patton, placing one on the back of his neck. Patton makes a squeaky noise, trying to move away from it, but Logan presses it into place.

"We're heating your major arteries, Patton," Logan says, "so that it'll help provide better internal heat. Neck for the carotid, armpits for brachial, the groin for your femoral. I don't want to unwrap you from your blankets, so could you place them for me?"

"They're too hot," Patton mumbles. Logan forces himself to take a breath—Patton responds best to pathos, not logos. Appeal to his emotions.

"Patton," Logan says, tempering his voice, making it softer. Patton's eyes took too long to focus on him, and Logan takes note, tries to inject the concern into his voice as best he can.

"It would make me feel... very relieved if you would put these where I tell you, all right? We're all worried about you."

Patton blinks again, and there's something familiar in the way he shifts in his blankets. Something that makes him think sulky, or perhaps—self-conscious.

In the next moment, his eyes slide to where Virgil is curled against Patton, who seems to be ignoring the way Logan is imploring Patton, and Logan realizes. The way Patton shifted, just then—it's the way Virgil fidgets in his hoodie whenever there's too much attention on him. The similarity between them is jarring, in that moment. Patton lost his glasses in the river, and the cold brings out the blues and purples in his face. If Virgil would discard his hoodie and they stood side by side—Logan would be hard-pressed to distinguish between them.

For some reason, that makes something in his chest tighten. For once, he doesn't particularly analyze why.

He has to make himself softer, gentler. Logan widens his eyes a little, leans in a little closer, moves his uninjured hand from the compress to let his fingers scratch lightly at Patton's scalp. He makes himself look as entreating as possible. "We just want you to feel warmer, and better, and happier. And these would help warm you up faster, so we can all feel better." He takes another breath, sets his pride aside, and adds, "Please."

Another shift, and then Patton's hands snake out of the blankets, tugging in four of the compresses, and Logan lets out a breath of relief. He runs his fingers through Patton's hair again.

"Thank you. You just need to keep them there for about ten minutes, but they'll make you feel so much better, Patton, I promise."

"Hand," Roman says pointedly, as soon as Patton's adjusted for the compresses, and Logan nods, sitting back and opening up the first aid kit.

From there, it's almost comforting to focus on a more straightforward injury. Logan tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and sets to work. Disinfect with a careful, measured inhalation through his nose to keep himself from making any less-than-distinguished noises from the pain. No stitches necessary, thankfully—it's a long but shallow cut, running jagged from the space between his fourth and fifth metacarpals, down the carpals, and jerked suddenly to the side, fortunately away from any important veins.

He places clean white gauze over the wound, and then wraps his hand and wrist in an elastic bandage, to ensure the gauze would stay in place. He flexes and clenches his hand, to ensure it would stay in place, and then it's time to ask Patton to pass the compresses back. He does that with remarkably less of an argument.

Logan decides to reheat their abandoned kettle so they can all have some cocoa, and he's just pouring them new mugs when Patton sniffles.

The other three focus on him with laser-like intensity, and then Patton coughs, and then he says, "Wh-what'd'you c-call a P-patton that falls through th-the ice?"

"What?" Virgil asks, voice soft.

"P-popsicle," Patton stammers out. "G-get it? B-because I'm the dad? And I'm c-cold?"

There's a moment of strained silence that stretches like a rubber band, and then Logan laughs, a bit too hysterical, but he can't bring himself to care—he's too relieved. Reasoning, a joke—marked improvement from Patton's previous state. They're practically out of the woods. Roman joins in next, laughter loud and booming, and Virgil snickers, shaking his head.

"Awful, Padre," Roman says, but he's grinning and hooking his chin over Patton's shoulder. Logan would wager a hug happened under the blankets, where he can't see. "Truly. I love it."

And they're off again, puns galore as they all sit up and drink their cocoa—what eight letters can you find in the arctic ocean? h to o! why is slippery ice like music? if you don't c sharp, you'll b flat! why did the snowman want a divorce? because he thought his wife was a flake! where can you find an ocean without water? on a map! where do penguins go to see movies? the dive-in!—and it's so much better, now that Patton's aware enough to laugh along.

By the time he's drained his cocoa, he isn't shaking anymore, and the temporary stammer's vanished. He even pops in with a couple more, to Logan's chagrin. ("How is a baby bird like its dad? It's a chirp off the old block!")

Roman goes to get the supplies for roasting marshmallows, at Logan's urging (carbohydrates and sugar would be good for boosting Patton's energy) and they all gather in front of the fire. Virgil takes over fussing for a while, from there—he makes sure none of the blankets are within the flames' reach, and takes Patton's stick if he thinks his hand's been outside of the blankets for too long, and makes sure Patton won't burn his tongue on any of his marshmallows.

Roman would either bluster off any such attention or play up any such injury to get more attention, and Logan would strain under such care. Virgil would brush it off with a scoff. Patton, though—Patton just smiles indulgently, occasionally hugging Virgil or thanking him, usually with a sport or champ or sunshine tacked on at the end. Each time, Virgil ducks his head and mumbles something like "whatever." Because that's what Virgil needs at the moment: to reassure himself that things are okay, that Patton is okay, and that the worst of it is over now. And Patton must know it; that must be why he isn't squirming under the attention. Patton has always been the most gracious of the four of them. He's much more observant than they give him credit.

Logan turns back to his own marshmallow, only to find Roman looking over at Virgil and Patton, too. It seems he isn't the only one to have that realization. Roman clears his throat when he realizes he's been caught, and drives a nearly-friendly elbow into Logan's ribcage, before swiftly spearing another marshmallow on his stick.

Logan scowls (nearly, the key word in that phrase) and elbows him back, before popping his own marshmallow into his mouth.

They work their way through the plate of marshmallows, and Patton's eyes seem to focus on Logan's bandaged hand for the first time with a small noise of dismay. Logan decides to take a page out of his book, and sits still, unprotesting, when Patton takes Logan's hand gently between the both of his.

Patton carefully turns Logan's hand over, inspecting the bandage, and then back over again.

"It's not very serious," Logan says. Distantly, he's aware that Virgil's pulling Roman to his feet, to go make something a bit more substantial to eat and to top off their drinks, but he's too ensnared by this: the heat of the fire, and Patton's cautious touch, like Logan's made of glass. "It should heal up just fine."

Patton hums, and settles for cradling Logan's hand, tracing his fingers along the bumps in the bandage, the protruding squares of gauze. Gently, with such a soft pressure it, bizarrely, makes Logan think of bugs crawling up his arms.

"You were very brave, Logan," Patton says instead. "I'm sorry that you got hurt while you were saving me."

He isn't looking up from Logan's hand, so Logan can only hope that he doesn't see the slight flush to Logan's cheeks. Logan clears his throat.

"Yes, well," he says. "Acceptable loss, a bandaged hand. You... it would be much less so."

A potential future too terrible to even think of, so he sets the thoughts aside.

"Still," Patton says, and his brow is furrowed. It's very odd to see Patton without glasses. He wonders distantly if there's an old pair gathering dust somewhere, or if Roman can materialize a pair, before an idea occurs to him. "I hate that you got hurt."

"I didn't notice it until Virgil pointed it out," Logan says truthfully. "The cold may have been helpful, numbing it."

He reaches up with his free hand, taking off his glasses. He narrows his eyes and blinks, adjusting to the blurry vision, before he reclaims his hand from Patton to tilt up Patton's chin, directing him to look at Logan straight on. He holds up the glasses in explanation. Patton blinks at him, a little confused, and in answer Logan carefully slides his pair of glasses onto Patton's face.

"Our prescriptions are the same, if I recall correctly," Logan says, and fiddles with them so they sit correctly on Patton's nose.

Even without his glasses, he's close enough that he can see the faint dusting of freckles across Patton's cheeks and nose, the way his lips are slightly parted, the look in his eyes—like Logan has done something extraordinary, revolutionary, amazing, instead of just handing over a pair of glasses. Logan's fingers brush over the tops of the shells of Patton's ears, and he clears his throat, letting his hands and gaze drop.

Except Patton picks up his injured hand again, and Logan blinks, looking back at him. There is a look of determination in Patton's eyes.

"Well," Patton says, "clearly, you've forgotten the most important part of treating an injury."

Logan blinks. "Impossible. I disinfected and cleaned the wound and bandaged it properly—"

But then Patton's spinning his hand over, palm up, and dropping to kiss it with an obnoxious smacking noise, and Logan's mouth drops open, just a little.

"You forgot to get someone to kiss it better!" Patton declares, and then leans forwards and kisses Logan's cheek with an impossibly more obnoxious smacking sound, the mwah! seeming to echo around the room.

??????????????????????????????

Patton leans forwards, and gives Logan a short, sweet hug—a squeeze round the shoulders, really. Logan has frozen up, arms trapped awkwardly between them. His cheek is a little wet from where Patton's lips had been. What—what exactly—what?

Virgil and Roman choose then to walk in, and Roman declares loudly, "Has Logan had a malfunction?"

All at once, Logan's face burns, and he moves to adjust his glasses, except there's nothing to adjust, so he ends up poking himself in the nose.

"Now, Roman," Patton says, "Logan just did something very nice, and I was thanking him, is all. What'd you make?"

Roman and Virgil exchange a slightly sheepish glance, and present the plates—quesadillas, if Logan's not mistaken, that were made in the microwave. He supposes that, at least, it isn't burnt.

Roman builds up the fire more while they all eat in relative silence. They've just finished their meal when Virgil says suddenly, "Pat, do you want me to get you some actual clothes?"

Patton's just arranged a blanket vaguely like a toga over his bare chest, with another wrapped around his shoulders. "That'd be great, kiddo," Patton says. "How about some pajamas for everyone? We'll do a slumber party!"

"I'll handle this, Virgil," Roman says, looking excited, and snaps his fingers before anyone can protest.

Logan looks down at himself, prepared for the worst. But it isn't actually all that bad—a navy shirt, and a fuzzy light blue pair of pants with a unicorn print on them. Roman's outfitted in a Prince Charming shirt and a pair of checkered pajama pants, and Virgil's picking at his thick tank top straps—Logan suspects he's secretly pleased with the Nightmare Before Christmas theme. Patton's is the most eyesearing combination of colors—his top is a very bright rainbow tie-dye t-shirt, and his bottoms are patterned with... some kind of reference, Logan supposes, in a shade of happy purple.

Logan also drapes a blanket over Patton's shoulders. Just as a precaution. Patton gives him a look that Logan would describe as "fondly exasperated." But he does cuddle into it, wrapping it around himself, and Logan counts it as a victory.

Patton gets to pick the movie, and all three of them groan when Patton reveals "Frozen" with a mischievous smile ("get it? because I was frozen?") but they all settle in—Logan suspects some quirk of Roman's realm, because the floor feels much more like a mattress than an actual floor, now. In any case, there are plenty of throw pillows and blankets sprinkled on the floor, and Logan picks up a blanket at random, resigned to restraining himself from pointing out the holes in reason. And, of course, to Roman's performances, and Patton's acting along, and Virgil's commentary.

By the time Anna is climbing the impossibly formed ice stairs to her sister's impossibly formed ice castle, all four sides are struggling to suppress yawns. He blames Virgil entirely for yawning the first time, and he'd caught it then, and the pair of them had made swift work of Patton and Roman. Besides, it had been a long day. Sleep would do them all good.

Logan's about to admit defeat, curl up under his blanket and go to sleep, when Patton clears his throat. All three of them turn to him, alert, and he spreads his arms.

"We should all cuddle together," he says decisively. "I got to cuddle plenty, but I didn't get to snuggle with all of you. I mean, if everyone's. Comfortable with that."

Patton. Hesitant. Abnormal. Logan doesn't like it.

"Certainly," he says, a little stiff. "Close physical contact increases oxytocin levels."

Roman, not to be outdone, proclaims, "Of course! That sounds wonderful!"

Virgil shrugs a little, plucks a little more aggravatedly at his tank top straps. He looks oddly bereft without the hoodie. "Sure, I guess," he grumbles.

It doesn't materialize perfectly from there, of course—they have to go and brush their teeth and wash their faces, jostling each other at the sink. And there's a bit of arguing about configuration, and who would be on their back or their side, and gathering and placing of blankets and pillows, and then shifting in their place, getting comfortable. Logan's-now-Patton's glasses are settled safely on the coffee table.

When Logan will wake up, there will be twin wet spots of drool on his shirt. Patton will be sprawled halfway over Logan's body with his hand on Virgil's back, Virgil curled up with his head on Logan's shoulder. And Roman will be the cause of Logan's feet falling asleep, tucked up between Virgil and Logan's bodies as he would be, with his dead weight on Logan's legs and his arms enclosed around Patton's waist. Logan will be sweaty and overheated, and most of his body will have its circulation cut off, and he will have to lay awake, alone and more than a bit uncomfortable, until the others stir from their deep sleep.

But for now, there is only the fluffy state between consciousness and unconsciousness, and the slowly evening breaths of the sides setting rhythm with the troll's song, and Logan—

Logan is secretly grateful for each and every one of them.

#text #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #hypothermia #cuddling #logicality #puns #my fic

444 notes · View notes