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eveningepiphany · 1 year

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and they were roommates | H.S

summary: when harry and Y/N have gone from longtime best friends to roommates, the lines that have been slowly blurring since their teen years are beginning to disappear altogether.

warnings: smut, oral fem rec, PIV (unprotected), praise kink, kind of a size kink if you squint— and sexual mentions throughout!

my masterlist <3

——————

“Dude, why are you drinking out of my coffee cup again.” You groan, after opening the cupboard to find your favourite cup missing for what had to be the third time this week.

You and Harry have been living together for over half a year now, since he got back from touring with one direction and you started college.

It all happened relatively quickly, Harry wanted a place with someone— so it was never alone over the months he was touring— and you didn’t want to stay on campus with a heap of people you didn’t know.

So here you are, living in your 3 bedroom flat, with your best friend while studying to get the job of your dreams. It sounds ideal doesn’t it, till your flat mate starts stealing everything you own I suppose.

“M’sorry,” he laughs from the couch, not meaning it whatsoever.

“It’s just s’cute— reminds me of you with all the little hearts n’stuff on it.” He glances over his shoulder, a guilty smile on his face as he brings it up to his lips and swallows a mouthful of hot tea.

You grab his cup from the shelf, “We live together, there’s hundreds of things in this house that should remind you of me other than my mug.”

“It’s fine, I’ll use yours instead.” You know his favourite, the one Gemma and Anne got him for his 14th birthday, with their faces plastered all over it.

“Go ahead, doesn’t bother me at all.” He says smugly, stretched out on our couch, clad in grey sweats and a black tshirt.

You make yourself a tea, and plop down next to him— since it’s Sunday, you don’t have anything planned other than going to the campus library to study.

As if he read your mind he asks, “what’re the plans for today, sweet thing.”

Him and his bloody pet names.

He’s been doing it since you were in highschool, and he started calling you ‘baby’ as a joke because you said you thought it was a cheesy nickname, and it’s stuck around even years later. Now he has a full list of nicknames, equally as disgustingly lovey.

Yet, coming from his mouth and in his accent, they somehow evoke a blush on your cheeks everytime.

His girlfriends never liked the nickname thing— even though he toned it down a lot, if not completely. You rarely heard them, except maybe when you were alone, another thing that didn’t often happen when he was with someone.

The amount of girls who absolutely despised your existence back in highschool all because of your friendship with Harry.

Plenty of girls made up the most scandalous rumours possible to try and get Harry to hate you, fortunately it never worked.

In the end it never really mattered, his relationships never really lasted particularly long anyway. A lot of girls just couldn’t handle the fact he was so close with you, and to be honest you did understand.

“Not much sugar, just going to the library later to study.”

“Can I come?”

“Are you suggesting I sneak you into our student only library right now?” You say in mock surprise.

“Absolutely i am, and maybe then we can go out and get a bite to eat.”

“You’re just gonna be sitting there doing nothing for like probably 2 hours?” You shrug, unsure why he’d want to come in the first place.

“That’s s’alright, I would’ve just been doing that ‘round here anyway.”

“Alright, better not get me caught then.” You sigh.

“I’ll wear that really baggy college jumper you have, they’ll never know.” He laughs.

“Just another thing if mine you’re gonna start stealing, hm?”

“Oh, well now you’ve suggest that—“ He chuckles and you dig your elbow into his side.

“Ouch!” He yelps, as if it actually hurt that much, and he quickly reaches over to have some payback.

Knowing he’s probably gonna tickle you, you jump up, “Oh god— not with the tea, not with the tea!”

He smoothly slips the mug out of your grip and places it down on the table.

You panic, knowing how brutal his tickling is.

Your legs only get you so far across the room before he catches up, immediately prodding you in the waist— he knows that has you disarmed in seconds unfortunately.

He tugs you into his chest, fingers skating all over your body causing you to squirm.

You’re half laughing half crying as you fight against him, “oh my god— Harry, please—“

“You know I always give good payback, love.” He laughs as you’re both stumbling around in the lounge room.

You manage to knock him into the couch, practically sitting him down. His lips part and you’re left standing directly between his spread legs.

His brows shot up his face, a few brown curls falling over his eyes.

Of course he looks fucking gorgeous right now.

You find plenty of these little moments, where sometimes it takes more strength then it should to pull yourself away from him. Your head muddled with images— fantasies— of your lips on his.

You allow yourself to indulge just a little, letting your hand sweep the curls that have fallen over his eyes back. Pulling them hard enough to tip his eye line to you.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You say breathless, attempting to sound annoyed but you don’t think it would have scared a fly.

And with that, you move from the space between his legs and head back to your room.

Harry is left sitting there, also short of breath, with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

——————

About 2 hours later, you’re laying down on your bed, book in hand when the door to your room opens.

“Hey Satan.” You say, not looking up from your page.

“Hey Angel.” You can literally hear him smiling.

He walks into your walk-in-closet, and starts to flick through the racks.

“And what exactly are you doing.” Sighing, you put the book down.

He comes out, pulling your grey college hoodie over his head. It hardly looks baggy on him, compared to how it is on you.

“Getting ready t’go.”

“You’re uninvited.” You scoff, sounding deadpan, but he knows you don’t mean it.

“Awh, you mad at me hm?” He comes over, grabbing your hand to pull you up off the bed.

You don’t fight him as he tugs you up, nor do you agree or disagree.

“God you’re a bluff.” He laughs as he picks up your bag with his free hand.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, a smile cracking through.

He doesn’t drop your hand as this time you pull him out of your room to grab your keys.

The college campus is luckily only a 5 minute drive down the road, and it’s not long before you’re both walking in.

You scan your student key card to get into the library, and because it’s Sunday afternoon it’s pretty much dead.

There’s two people sitting over by the windows on their computers and that appears to be it.

Harry follows you down to the back of the library, where your favourite spot is, surrounded with shelves and has warm midday sun streaming through the skylight.

You sink into the leather couch, and start pulling stuff out of your bag.

Harry has ended up flipping through the books nearby, and you really take a moment to look at him in your hoodie.

A feeling swells in your chest, that he really wanted to spend his afternoon with you in a library, and how… cute he looks in your jumper.

You assume this is probably how guys feel when girls are wearing their overly baggy shirt and boxers or something.

But instead you can nearly see the bulge of his bicep outlined through the material.

He walks back over, slipping his phone out from his back pocket before he sitting down next to you.

“Thanks for sneaking me in.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Your welcome.” You chuckle.

You open your laptop, beginning to file through notes, and he’s scrolling on his phone.

It’s a comfortable silence, something you’d never get sick of. Just being with one another.

His had slips over the back of the chair, fingers brushing your shoulder.

Heat zips up your spine for no good reason. You want to die a little, hating how you find yourself getting hot and bothered all because of his touch— and since you’ve moved in together it’s happening all the more often.

Like the times you end up cuddling on the couch, watching romcoms, and his hands would fall on the peak of your hip and the dip of your waist, pulling you into his chest. God his hands. Usually adorned with cold rings, at that time of night they’re bare and warm.

Or when you’ve fallen asleep on said couch with him, and woken up— somehow having slept all night without waking— in a tangle of limbs with him, feeling his morning wood poking into you. Him apologising profusely after waking up, even though it’s not the first time it’s happened.

However this isn’t an entirely new feeling. There were the few times as teenagers when you pushed the limits on your friendship. Usually drunk and sneaking back into one of your houses, and ending up against the wall or in bed, getting so close to kissing it physically made your body ache. Till someone laughed, or he tickled you.

That one time you were sitting on his lap at a party and you felt him harden beneath you, and you played into it a little, innocently wiggling your hips against him. And when he’d looked at you— eyes dark and filled with undeniable desire— you’d coyly asked him what was wrong, like as if you didn’t know exactly what the problem was. “Nothing.” He’d cleared his throat, scooting you down his leg with his hands. “Just uh, have t’go to the bathroom.”

You shake you head, physically— hoping to clear your thoughts— and his eyes snap to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a light frown on his face.

You clear your throat, “just remembered I…”

His thumb is stroking your shoulder, really not helping you collect yourself. You clench your thighs together.

“Have a test tomorrow.” You finished slowly, and his eyes narrow for a second before nodding.

He doesn’t say anything as you aimlessly scroll through notes, pretending to focus when all you can feel is his fingers grazing along your shoulder.

45 minutes.

A fully excruciating 45 minutes you sit there, half attempting to focus on the notes as his fingers trace the length of your shoulder, and even ghost over the junction of your neck and upper back.

“I think I’m done.” You blurt, causing his gaze to snap to you and hand to still.

“Wanna get something to eat then?” He asks, a slight edge to his voice you can’t properly place.

“Maybe if we can just go home? I have a headache to be honest, I kinda just want to eat some ramen and crash on the couch.” You ramble, hoping he’s not annoyed you’re not going out for lunch— when In reality Harry would never care about something like that.

“‘Course beautiful.” He nods, a smirk flashing over his lips.

The drive home is just as painful for you, and you feel like you need to have a cold shower to get out of the headspace you’re in.

Because everything he’s doing is somehow being warped into completely non-platonic thoughts— plain filthy thoughts.

Like how he’s fiddling with his ring right now at the red light, slowly slipping his finger in and out of it.

Oh god.

As you get home, you are almost jumping out of the car.

Distance, you need distance— right now.

You leave your bag in the back, ready just to get inside.

You’re fumbling with your keys at the door, trying to find the house key amongst 20 others, and Harry is right behind you.

He reaches over, plucking up the gold key on the key ring, “this one.” His voice sounds gravely, almost sultry as it enters your ears and into your depraved and clearly aroused mind.

You unlock the door, toeing off your shoes, “You’ve really gotten yourself worked up, hm?”

He asks, and you freeze.

You don’t say a word as you stand just inside the doorway, he’s right behind you but you can’t trust that actually just came out of his mouth.

Because maybe you’re hearing things— maybe really horny people hear thi—

“Don’t think I haven’t seen how hard you’ve been clenching those pretty little thighs.”

“Wh…what?” You stutter out as he moves closer to you.

He’s in your space when you turn around, and your stepping back— only to be met with him stepping forward again.

This happens until your back hits the hallway wall, and his hands bracketing either side of your body.

His hands move to rest on your lower hips, gently enough that if you weren’t comfortable with it, you could slip them straight off.

“I’ve seen you like this before.” He states, eyes dark.

“How you get so zoned out, I’d kill to see what’s going inside that head of yours.”

“Harry…” Your hands are hardly an inch away from his chest, tingling to touch him.

You’re reminded— the second time today— of the time when you were teenagers, up against the wall of his bedroom.

“Fuck.” Harry sighed, breath hot against the side of your neck.

You’d somehow managed to sneak back into his house without waking his family, which is shocking considering the amount of drunken giggling coming from the both of you.

Or the stumbling up the stairs as he playfully swatted your ass behind you.

It was somewhat a wonder of how you ended up against the wall of his bedroom, hands all over eachother.

He was half-hard, you could feel him pressed into your side shamelessly as he ran his palms along your figure.

“Am I getting you all hard?” The alcohol in your system gave you confidence to ask outright with a laugh.

He chuckled back without an ounce worry, “Yea, honestly.”

“Didn’t know I did it for you like that.” You pushed your hands up his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his torso.

“Mm, I betcha don’t.” He licked a stripe up the shell of your ear and you let out a little humorous squeak.

“You’re so sensitive.” He started to tickle you and you squirmed under his grip.

That was the closest to kissing the two of you got that night, and although the tension was palpable, you somehow managed to resist it. Even though you both wanted to so bad it made you ache.

Scooping you up, he plopped you onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs.

He chucked you one of his shirts and sweatpants for you to change into.

Nothing more happened, he got into bed with you after stripping down to his boxers and you rolled into his arms.

“Look cute in my clothes baby, as always.” He kissed your temple.

“Mm, you’re cute, H. Think you’re really sweet.” You slurred with sleep.

“Love when you call me baby.” You confess while you play with his hair.

“D’ya?” He smiled into your neck.

“Yea…”

“See, there you go again— what’s got you all distracted?” His calm question snapped you back to reality.

You slide your fingers down to his waist, still not sure what to say, head spinning at his close proximity.

“Or do I have to work it out for myself?” He slips his hand to your waistband, waiting again for a reply.

An uncalled for whimper slipped from your mouth, louder than you’d like to admit.

“Fuckin hell.” He groans, moving to graze his lips on your cheek, not doing anything without asking.

God they were soft. So fucking soft.

You kissed his cheekbone, and you both gently pecked around eachothers face, all but evading lips.

“Please kiss me, H.” You tugged on his hair.

He wasted no time sliding his lips over yours. The two of you savouring that first real kiss.

You both held it for a few moments, the years of tension melting into it. Too far gone to worry about the repercussions this could possibly have on your friendship.

At this point, you’ve crossed the line between your platonic friendship and not so small romantic feelings so long ago— perhaps without even releasing— that although it’s a new feeling, it almost feels natural.

Years of short pecks, and gentle, mostly chaste kisses— not to say you haven’t made out while blackout drunk i suppose— have made you both eager to experience a kiss like this for the first time.

It quickly went from a feather-soft kiss to one you could only deem hungry and exploratory.

The first real taste of his tongue was hooking, he swiped it along your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth and plucking it towards him.

The pop it made as he released it had you groaning into him.

Your hands— which had long since found their way into his curly hair— were tugging at the roots.

He pulled your legs up around his waist, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

“You’re so hard—“ you moaned out, pushing your hips forward to grind against him.

“God, you feel s’fucking good. Bet you’re so wet right now.”

“Touch me, Harry, please touch me.”

He chuckled into your neck, “I am baby,”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Tell me what y’want.”

“Want you. Anything, anything you’ll give me.”

His mouth is back on yours before you can say more, and he’s carrying you down the hallway into his room.

He carefully sets you down on the edge of his of bed, dropping to his knees between your splayed legs.

“Can we take these off?” He clarifies as he grabs the top of your pants.

“Yes,” you sigh out and he slips them from your legs.

He tosses them aside before coming to solely focus on you.

You’re only in plain black panties, and you open your mouth to apologise for it,

“Sorry, didn’t really think I’d—“

“Don’t you dare apologise. This is bloody…” He leans to press a kiss on the inside of your knee before ghosting his hand over the fabric covering your core.

Moving forward he lays an open-mouthed kiss on top of where your clit is, and you moan out softly.

He could feel how damp the soft cotton of your underwear was beneath his lips, and he looks up to you.

“Can these come off too?” He asks, hooking his fingers around them, eager to get them off.

Another keen yes slips from your mouth, and he tugs them from your hips.

He’s quiet for a moment, as your lower half is laid on display to him. His eyes are flitting over every detail possible, taking in what has to be the only part of you he hasn’t seen in your years of friendship.

“You are phenomenal.” He says, his filthy praise has your head spinning.

“And so wet…” he licks his lips carefully, “all for me?”

You groan again at his words, hardly able to form a coherent sentence to answer such a question.

“Use y’words, darlin’.”

“Yes, Harry— just for you. All this just for you.” You whine, pushing your hips up into nothing, aching for any kind of friction.

He kisses everywhere, just under your belly button, the crease of your inner thigh— everywhere except for where you want him most.

“Harry, don’t tease me, just want your mouth on me.” You say outright, moaning at his finger that’s slipped up to your entrance, gently rubbing the outside of it.

“Want my mouth?” He smirks, his ego taking your begging personally.

He leans forward, jutting his tongue out to where his index finger was just circling. But instead of staying there, he drags it up, bringing your arousal to your clit.

You never imagined the first thing the two of you would do would be this. Him burying his face between your legs, licking into you like he was getting payed.

But fuck was it perfect. It felt like everything was clicking into place.

The way he’s lapping at your clit has you already fluttering around nothing.

“Taste s’fucking good. Like a dream.” He says into you, the vibration of his words causing you to arch into him.

“Thought about you like this so many times.”

Images of him touching himself to the thought of you flash to life in your brain. In his room, on this very bed. His warm hand wrapped around himself, uttering your name quietly with every soft tug he does. You wonder what else he thought about, if he was imagining your lips wrapped around him instead, or maybe being buried within you.

“Me too,” you admit, breathless.

“How good you’d taste— or how tight your little cunt would be around me.”

“Shit, Harry—“ you moan, his lips moving to suck on your clit, and his two fingers slipping into you.

He pulls his face back a fraction to look at the fingers he just pushed into you.

“And I was right. Aleady fuckin’ squeezing around my fingers like it’s too much hm? How’re y’gonna take m’cock?”

His perfect curly hair is being mused by your hands and you’re practically trying to tug his mouth back to your swollen clit.

“I’ll take it, I will.” You promise.

“Mm you will, that’s right. Good girl.” Your belly tightens and you know you’re not going to last long.

Harry knows it too, picking up the pace of his tongue and fingers.

“Keep talking,” you beg, not only enjoying the dirty words coming from his mouth, but the way they vibrate into you.

“Bit busy.” He states— and you can almost feel him smirk before his teeth ever so slightly graze over your pussy.

“Fuck.” Your cry, bucking your hips at the sensation of it.

He takes note, and does it again. Eliciting another just as loud moan from you.

“Harry, please—“ your head is begging to fog, every other thought dissipating, only mantras of his name paired with curse words seem to be left.

“Holy shit, Harry.” Your jaw is slack, legs splayed as wide as they can go.

He moans into as you clench around his fingers, and the words ‘good girl’ are muffled into you again.

“Im gonna come— I’m so close.”

He sucks on you with another moan almost as loud as your own— you can help but love how vocal he is—and it feels like it was vibrating your whole body.

With his fingers curling in you he pulls back just enough to draw in a deep breath, “come on darling, that’s it, come around m’tongue.”

“Wanna feel you clench around my fingers before you take m’cock.”

He flicks his tongue fast along your clit, moving it in sync with his fingers and it all comes crashing down.

Your thighs almost cage his head between your legs, and it proves the deep breath was not just for nothing, because there is no way he could breathe right now.

You’re moaning his name as you finish, grinding your cunt against his movements to ride out your high.

As your breathing begins to level out, he pulls his head away with an inhale, and you look to find his mouth glistening.

“That was so… so good.” You whispered to him, body gone completely deadweight on his mattress.

He’s smiling wide with his swollen pink lips, “took my mouth so well.”

You move to sit up, and it’s a true sight to see him on his knees like that.

You pull him by the back of his neck to your lips. No shame in where his mouth just was.

“Can you taste yourself?” He asks, hands going to cup the junction of your neck and jaw.

You hummed in agreement, and you start pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“Off, please?”

“‘Course.” He pulls it over his head, briefly breaking the kiss.

You stare at his chest, and your eyes dip to the symmetrical ferns that highlight his v-line— drawing special attention to the line of hair that starts under his bellybutton, and disappears into the black boxer briefs he’s wearing.

He’s watching your eyes trail along his body, quietly noting the clear effect it has on you.

You reach out a hand, gently brushing it down his abs. Locking your eyes with his, you gauge his reaction as you slide it further down, resting over the top of the hardness in his jeans.

Goosebumps prickle across his arms, and he looks at you with expression filled with pure lust.

“This ok?” You check.

“Yea…” he seems curious, almost unsure of what you plan on doing— yet that excites him all the more.

You brush along the fabric, and he audibly swallows.

A squeeze and he’s already bucking his hips up into your palm.

“Y/N—“ he moans.

“Look at you, I haven’t even touched your bare cock yet and I’ve gotten you all riled up.” You tease, taking a swing in the dark that he likes it as much as you do.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “stand up so we can take these off.”

He quickly lifts from his knees, hand going to the button of his jeans and slipping them down his legs.

Clad in only his black boxer briefs, you stroke your hand over the fabric again.

“Please, don’t tease me.” He echos your own words from earlier and you chuckle, hooking your hands into his underwear resting on his hips, and tug them down.

His cock springs towards his stomach, and you still completely.

Whatever post-orgasm confidence you’d gained has dissipated immediately.

You knew he’d be big, having felt him hard against you earlier and on those few other occasions. But seeing it in front of you right now has you lost for words.

“Don’t go all shy on me.” He practically pleads.

“Can’t touch me like that and then…” his sentence trails off unfinished, hand twitching near the base of his length.

You take him into your palm carefully. He’s heavy and warm in it.

He moans at the mere contact, and you start to stroke him, thumb swiping over his tip where precum has long since started to seep out.

He’s literally swaying on his feet, “H, sit down.”

You laugh a little as he sits as close as possible to you, connecting your lips when you start moving your hand again.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He whispers against your mouth.

You are careful not to push him too hard, but enough to really get him going.

“Feels s’good— y’bloody hands, could cum all over them.”

“Wanna fuck you first though, s’tha ok?” He asks, hands coming to rest by your hips.

“Yes,” You whine, “wanna make you come in me.”

“God you’ve got a dirty mouth.“ he starts to get up off the bed,

“You getting a condom?”

“Yea, unless you…” he stares at you a moment, cock twitching at the idea of taking you raw.

“I’m clean. If you’re using—“

“I’m on birth control… and I’m clean— haven’t been with anyone since my last test.” you say.

“You sure?” He asks a final time,

You nod, “I trust you.”

He wastes no time settling back next to you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

He slides you up his lap, taking your top off— which had been on for far too long.

He places a kiss on the top of both your breasts before unclipping your bra.

“Not a single flaw on your fuckin’ body.” He sighs, taking in the sight of your bare chest.

He pulls you forward a little more, so you’re chest to chest as he lines himself up with you.

You feel the hard head of his cock slide through your slit and press just into your entrance.

You’re both already panting and Harry looks at you, saying tenderly, “I’ll be careful.”

He’s somehow so hot and so sweet all at the same time. It’s hardly fair that he can be both.

His hands on your hips are lowering you down slowly, and he’s groaning at the feeling of you stretching to fit him.

It’s a bit of an effort to get to the base of him, but fuck once you do, you feel so full.

“Fuck… don’t— don’t move.” His head is spinning, you’re so tight around him that even the slightest movement could have him cumming into you.

It takes you both a moment to ground yourselves, “Sorry— god you’re just so fucking warm and tight… nearly came just getting in you.”

“Can move now, love.” He says, still sounding a little shaky.

You roll you hips gently, and the pleasure of it is overwhelming.

It kickstarts his movements, because after a few more pushes of your hips, he starts to thrust into you.

You’re already trembling, “Harry—”

“You’re a good girl, Y/N, keeping y’promises. Taking me so well.” His praise has you clenching around him.

It’s clear to him how much dirty talk and praise effects you, so he keeps it up.

“Feel good, hm? Like the feeling of my cock stretching you all out like this.”

“Yes!” You cried out, heart thundering in your chest.

“Lettin’ me fuck me so good…”

“Got such a nice little cunt, I want it all to myself now.”

“Have it, Harry— it’s all yours.”

“Sweetheart, you’re too good too me. Gonna make y’feel s’good.” He reaches his hand down to your clit.

He’s fucking your clit with fast circles that feel heavenly paired with the way he’s pushing his cock into you.

Your bouncing into his thrusts, and a heat blooms rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

“Harry! I’m so close, please.”

He moans, “fuck— your cunts clamped ‘round me so tight. Gonna come.

“Come in me, please.” You whined, the thought almost enough to tip you over the edge.

But what really does is the way he grunts “good girl” into your ear a final time.

You both cry out in sync, and it’s euphoric, pure bliss really.

You’re both breathing hard, still spasming and twitching as you feel the pleasure from your orgasms ease off. He slips gently out of you, and lays you into his chest.

“Thank you.” You whisper, feeling exhausted yet so grateful for him.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes are closed and he stokes the small of your back, “Five more minutes, then we’ll go clean up and cook some ramen, hm? How’s that sound.”

You smile tiredly, “Sounds good.”

——————

A/N- this has been sitting in my drafts for ages— I’ve reread it that many times idek if it’s that good but decided to post it anywayyy <3 hope you enjoyed!

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harrystyles smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #best friend harry #best friend!harry #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #harrystyles x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #roommates #one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine

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katiesharms · 4 months

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65 (or march 6th) for @paulmezcal - love is a laserquest by arctic monkeys

i can't think of anything to dream about/i can't find anywhere to hide

it's weird to be haunted by someone who isn't dead.

bradley's well used to hauntings at this point in his life - his father looms over his career, his mother over his house. mav over his trust issues and most reckless tendencies. and jake over his heart.

he hasn't seen jake in years - 5 to be exact, almost to the day. since their leave ran out post mission and jake broke out of the daydream they had been in together, like he'd never even been there.

"this has been fun," jake had said, that same smirk he always has affixed to his face. "we should do it again some time."

and then he got in his car and drove off, leaving bradley in the parking lot, watching him, frozen in place. he's still there, in a way. it's weird, maybe concerning, how much everything reminds him of jake. the blanket across the back of the couch that they had laid down on the floor and fucked on top of the second they got home, adrenaline and relief taking them both to the edge in record time. the mug in the cabinet that jake dropped one morning when trying to prove he had the balance to be a waiter. the shampoo jake left that bradley started using, and kept buying even after it ran out.

it's not like he hasn't tried over the years. he's dated others, but it's all fallen away and all that's left is the stain on bradley's ceiling from the time jake opened the microwave and the butter exploded.

it's all pathetic. so pathetic that when he answers the door on a sunday afternoon, bradley almost doesn't believe it.

"jake," he says dumbly. maybe this is just another one of his daydreams.

"bradley," jake says back, more sure. always more sure. "you gonna invite me in?"

wordlessly, he steps aside to let jake come in. the man wastes no time getting comfortable, seemingly still acquainted with bradley's home after all this time. jake sits at the small table in the breakfast nook, so bradley sits across from him. he's struck with the memories of sharing their morning coffee here.

"what are you doing here, jake?" bradley asks when the other man is silent for a long time.

"i, uh, just got home from deployment," jake's not looking at bradley; instead, he's tracing his fingers over the wood grain of the table. "i got into my car and started driving south. didn't realize where i was going until i hit bakersfield."

it's not an answer, but bradley's too confused and too tired to fight. "and why did you come here?"

"i guess i was just thinking of you. it was just your birthday right? 40?"

bradley starts. he didn't know jake still kept those facts about him, stored away in some private file.

"yeah," he confirms. two weeks ago, he turned 40. the same age mom was when she was diagnosed.

"when i saw the date, i remembered how you used to look in the mirror sometimes, for so long i was afraid something had happened. and when i would ask you, you just told me you had to remind yourself that you're still here. i guess i was just wondering if you still had to do that. or if you've found something else to ground you."

for a long time, bradley thought jake would be that person. he almost was; by the end of there few months together, bradley's nights spent studying himself, picking out the differences and similarities to his parents, shrunk and shrunk. instead, he let jake kiss it out of him.

"not yet," bradley settles on as an answer and tries to decode the way jake's brows scrunch together, how his shoulders droop.

"i'm sorry. i know that's what you wanted."

it feels cruel, almost. that jake is sitting her and dangling what he refused to give bradley in his face.

"of course," jake continues, "you've never been very good at asking for what you want."

the truth of it burns, and bradley feels hot.

"what about you?" bradley volleys. "i remember distinctly feeling like this whole thing was some kind of game to you."

"it was," jake admits so easily that it shocks bradley, just for a moment. "i never felt like anything was real. i liked to move fast and not care about what i left behind."

"used to?" bradley echoes back carefully.

"yeah," jake confirms, looking deep into bradley's eyes. "used to."

"what changed?"

jake shrugs. "i think i finally feel my age. and i think i finally realized that i need to stop pretending you were just some lover, like all the rest."

bradley sucks in a sharp breath. "jake, you can't say that. not now."

jake's face crumples. "look, i know it's probably too late. but i'm sorry and i miss you and i want to try again. for real."

"what's changed?" bradley asks again, trying to quell the hope crawling up his throat.

"nothing. except for me. if that's enough."

bradley doesn't know if it is. but for now, it's good enough for him. he reaches across the table to loop their hands together and squeezes.

#top gun maverick #hangster #my writing #prompts #top gun fanfiction #hmmm that's enough

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cleaning-chronicles · 5 months

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So. I made this blog a while back. I have no idea if I can figure out when that was...but hi, my name is D and I'm a hoarder. Not the way that probably you think of hoarding, if you have seen a hoarding TV show on daytime TV? I do have some food (mostly snacks) in my space, as well as some drinks and things, but I do try really hard to take trash out in a timely-ish fashion. Old newspapers and things like that are closer to my truth, but they're not really...it. The only newspapers I have kept are things like my accomplishments in my hometown or old Sunday comics from almost a decade ago. I won't get into why. But anyway, they're precious to me.

What else is here? Things like D&D dice, crafting supplies, pins and buttons. Technology bits and bobs, writing utensils. An insane amount of printed paper, just whatever stories or images have resonated with me. Stuff I've made. Art. Mugs that hold items, not tea. Costume pieces...anyway, I feel like a lot of that isn't really what you'd think of when you hear the word "hoarder". Or maybe you would. I don't know you.

Anyway, like the title says: I fell down a horrific depression hole about 10 years ago. Actually, the depression started a while before that; but combine suicidal depression with someone whose greatest fear is letting down their parents by not going to college, and you get someone who moves away for most of the year, moves back over the summer, and then moves away again, all without doing much packing or unpacking. It got to be too much. When I graduated (with honors!) and moved back in with my parents - I was single and making a pittance at some call center job - the depression swallowed me. In truth, I don't have much memory of those years. It's all shrouded in fog and one of my greatest fears is that I'll never get those days back, that they will always be hidden from me.

It would make sense, given how much trauma ensued, but it sill makes me sad. Do you have any idea what it's like to match up the timelines of your life and be surprised that thing 1 and thing B happened on the same day? It's horrifying.

Anyway. I have graduated multiple times and I can hold a job for about 3 years at a time before I get restless. I'm currently unemployed, but...I'm coming up on a large milestone birthday. And all I want is to be able to invite my friends into my space. I was going to write "without feeling like total shit and a failure" but honestly? I can't even invite people over. That's how intense the shame is. That's where I have been, mentally, for almost a decade. Extreme isolation unless I go out seeking someone else's company. And somewhere in all the books and glass pens and hinged boxes and fake flowers...somewhere in here there is joy. Somewhere in my life there is freedom. I'm going to find it if I can. I'm going to find it if it kills me.

Perhaps that's too strong a word, since I mentioned the suicidal depression. While I've been repeatedly traumatized, my heart repeatedly broken in this decade, I promise that I don't currently have any plans to end my life. I think that's why the sudden urge to clean. I'm getting better, and I want my space to reflect that. Honestly I can't imagine how any of my family has come in here and not carted me away to a mental hospital; for all that I'm saying it's not your typical hoarder space, shit is BAD in here. There are springs poking up through my bed, I haven't been able to reach the window in years. My closet hasn't had a function other than "try and store as much as possible in here" for most of this time.

But it's going to get better. That's what the blog is for.

For anyone curios: I may post pictures. Maybe. Honestly I'm a little afraid to do that. What if someone I know sees it? But I might post a few pics, just so people understand. I think part of doing this is to shout into the void, but...also, honestly, if I could say that maybe I helped someone...it would make my heart a lot lighter.

Thank you if you have read so far. I do sincerely appreciate it.

#hoarder #hoarding #cleaning #organizing #long post #longpost #depression mess #cleaning depression mess

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iantimony · 3 months

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i once again am overwhelmed by stupid busywork. Get Me Out

listening: finished the counter/weight prequel eps! feels good to be listening to a friends at the table thing in-time with when they're released, lol. i fully laughed out loud at the heartfelt moment between aria and hymn being interrupted by austin's fucking ice machine. incredible. no notes. "people are gonna go insane about aria in this one" keith you are SO right.

music for the week was the spotify release radar! just gettin some new tunes. i'm thinking of making a playlist that's just the songs that i like from release radar and the at the end of the year i can have a New Of 2024 list, idk. i AM going to try and be more discerning about what things i post, though - it would be very easy to just drop a huge list of all the songs on there that i kinda liked with no commentary but i think it'll be more fun to do fewer songs and actually talk about them, y'know?

philadelphia (matt maltese): feels like a mug of tea. very soft. nostalgic for something i've never seen. travels (rob blivion): really does seem like it should be playing over some indie film montage of someone travelling through mists in the scottish highlands. harsh truths (lemoncello): another indie soundtrack song. i think there's a bass in the background? although in retrospect i think it's a cello. lemoncello. duh. anyways it's very good. burning down the house (paramore): this is SUCH a fun cover. what can't paramore do for real. oh no::he said what? (nothing but thieves): BOUNCY. toe tapper. i am driving down a neon highway at 10000mph. coming home song (sammy rae & the friends): back to wistful and nostalgic. feels a certain kind of way especially right now because i am in the process of finding a new apartment, entirely alone for the first time. jolene (maneskin & dolly parton): speaking of really fun covers, yes yes yes. everything i would have wanted from this.

honorable mention to love me not (emei). i do not like this song particularly. it is stuck in my head though.

reading: fallow.

watching: just like last week: with the boyf, the newest dungeon meshi, i loved the way they animated the mimic. then some kill la kill. we're up to episode 11 now, almost halfway! also went to a superbowl party sunday. basically what you'd expect. fun socializing though.

playing: only had the one dnd last weekend, the one i run! went well. definitely was kinda sleepy and not as focused as i'd like. sigh.

making: mostly fallow...i cut out some of the border pieces for my handsewing project in a nice matching solid blue during the superbowl but have not attached any of it yet. started idly crocheting a rectangular prism-shaped object to use as a mtg deck case.

drew a little birthday card for my grandma i guess? mostly watercolor pencil, some prisma marker for the background. can't be assed to rotate it the right way, sorry, lol

pottery-wise, i did not take pictures but i have some fun interesting stuff in the works! biiiiig pot for my mom (got a little busted. but i think it'll make it). mug. glazing a bowl using sgraffito to carve out some waves (my roommate accidentally dinged the rim and i'm incorporating that into the design). did not take any pictures last week but i'll get some tomorrow for the next tuesdaypost.

eating: my roommate made a truly enormous focaccia in a 9x13 glass baking dish to cut into super bowl party sandwiches. they were delicious and we are still eating them for lunch basically every day. she also made a marinated beef bulgogi-type object, served over rice with veg and a fried egg and some spaghetti squash...yumb.

misc: i can't even be like "i just have to make it through this week" because i know next week will look literally exactly like this one (homework due wednesdays for one class, fridays (plus ANOTHER assignment alternating wednesdays) for the other). really bad vibes. just gotta make it through this week this semester.

#tuesdayposting #Spotify

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andoymayann · 1 year

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I wished I could quit overmixing my meals.

Although this blog may not fit the "trend" concept, eating disorders are a topic that some readers may not be familiar with. This blog raises awareness of eating disorders and my personal experience of having it.

The satisfaction of being socially relevant in consideration of your attractiveness is incomparable. I enjoy receiving compliments, and my favorite is when someone praises my slender figure, these individuals have no idea how much pain I go through to get in this shape.

Some mornings, I simply sit in bed and look up at the ceiling of my room while debating in my head whether to prepare a mug of strong black coffee for breakfast or eat something more substantial. As always, a mug of coffee always prevails.I always avoid eating because I find it to be so time-consuming, especially when I have errands to go. If I had to pick between eating for five minutes or applying makeup for ten, I would graciously chose doing makeup for ten or more minutes.

When I was a child, I truly enjoyed eating. I enjoy how my family goes out to eat after Sunday service, I also enjoy going to birthday celebrations. simply put, I adored going to any event that involved food. when I turned 18 everything changed. I started to avoid attending gatherings, not because I dislike the individuals that attend events, but because I detest it when others comment on what I eat. I once sat where my other aunts sat at the wedding's mealtime at my aunt's wedding. When they saw that I had chosen the caesar salad, they mocked me, "mao rana imong kaonon sa kadaghan handa?" and I just smiled as my respond. My other aunt simply looked at me while I mixed and questioned why I kept mixing my food. I just reply to her " busog paman gud ko ta". Since I was a bridesmaid that day, I must admit that I felt a little more peckish than usual, but I restrained myself from eating since I didn't want to bulge in my dress.

I always look at the nutritional information labels before making a purchase to see how many calories I would ingest from that item. If the item has 200 or more calories, I will respectfully return it to the shelf. I have my cheat days just like everyone else, but after the day is over, I always make sure to push my body to throw up whatever I consumed that day. I can hear anorexic thoughts in my brain saying you don’t need to eat just to live, every time i decided to eat.

I used to think that these things were typical up until one of my high school friends informed me that my sudden weight loss wasn't normal and that I should see a psychiatrist because I could have eating issues. there are various of eating disorder and I have anorexia. According to my doctor, anorexia is fairly frequent among young girls, and there are several strategies to deal with this problem. Eating disorder recovery has no time restriction. You could reflect on your life throughout the years and say, "Wow, I wish I had done that sooner." Yet, you act in a way that suits you at the moment. I usually find myself moving backwards if I act too hastily. I'm not suggesting that you always need to feel prepared to move forward with some things in recovery because frequently you won't genuinely feel prepared. The moment I am ready to push myself to the next level, however, I am aware of it in myself. Even if I might not feel prepared for the following step, I come to the realization that I must still go for it.

#contentwriting tBSTCM2K6 WEEK3

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zypiris · 2 years

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Poké Noir

My sight starts as cloudy as my memory, vague images swirling like 3 day old coffee. A truck roars in the background, sound slowly dying to silence. Would you believe it? My vision clears just in time to have a box attack my face, lousy bastards. I barely escape with my hat.

There's a smiling dame waiting for me outside the truck, chattering about "our move" and "your dad". Although I don't got my memory, I know as sure as jelly doughnuts will always betray you that my pa left when I was 8 and never looked back. I'll play along, though. Whatever purpose these mugs have, there was a whole mess of nothing to get back to, so far. But while I was woolgathering, the skirt had already herded me into "my home". I hated it instantly, with the bright wallpaper and cheery, tasteful decor.

Boxes everywhere, of course, but the main attraction was the working stiffs. One sucker was schlepping the same two boxes back and forth in the living room. Strange lookin' mugs, but who was I to judge? They were slabs of meat, though, sure enough. Muscles gleaming in the light, his arms effortlessly swinging those damn two boxes around, eyes locked to mine.

"Machoke~" Dang. These poor gorillas couldn't even speak, but I coulda sworn I saw a flash of pained understanding- both of us trapped in some hellish mockup of life.

Like that, the moment broke. The broad playing my ma refused to say anything else until I went upstairs. My room was blue and orange, vibrant color searing into my grimy soul from every direction. It took me back to being 8, when pa walked out and took all my toys. Probably.

Set the clock, chicky? With what? To when?! I'm only wearing a hat and a trenchcoat, and I ain't got one of them fancy pocket pieces. Damn dames. I was released from clock hell to discover an entire bookcase full of the egghead books parents buy in the hopes their kid'll like education. Maps, dictionaries, and a full 27 volume encyclopedia. The knowledge was so overwhelming, I blacked out again.

S st4nds f0r 5kItty.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was one of them Machokers heading down the stairs. All the books were gone. So, they wanted me dumb? Damn turkeys would learn a whole new meaning of dumb when I got to 'em. The next thing was another skirt standing over me, smiling like Sunday Punch. "You should explore." What kinda chump did I look like? No way. Didn't need to tumble the plan with a slug trap you could spot sloshed. "Leave town. Go north..." Like hell, chippy. Go kiss a duck.

She left me alone with questions thick as mud, nursing a hangover I hadn't seen since my ninth birthday party. The coast was clear when I came downstairs, doorway as inviting as spoiled milk. As much as I hated listening to that broad, there weren't other options.

Three shakes of a lamb's tail and I was still outta options. To the south was the wickedest looking water I could ever remember seeing, tossing around like a drowning rat, and me without my floaties. The trees to the east and west were somehow half as wide as the houses, growing into solid blocks you couldn't fit a mouse through. Only the north was passable, grass waving invitingly in the breeze. 'Come and die, sap.'

Of course, the screams were a different matter. Made me feel back at home. Sounded like some schmuck stuck in over his head, someone besides me. Maybe he'd have some answers, but that's counting on luck I didn't have no more.

In the clearing was an egghead being chased by a dog, screaming to get something out of his bag. First bean counter I knew to carry a piece, but I was past complaining. Of course, the only halfway useful looking stuff in the bag were balls, bright red. Three of 'em, to be exact, and by the way the dog was lookin' at me, I'd need 'em all.

The lollipop arms my situation left me with were enough to get the first ball dead center on the dog. Needless to say, this aerial assault took me from background detail to the before picture of an animal mauling. Can't believe I stuck my neck out for free. Egghead didn't even have nice legs on him.

I caught the... raccoon looking dog on the snout with the second ball, which exploded. Damn, maybe I still have a little luck left. Of course, I was expecting the smoke to clear to -1 dog, but instead ended up +1 red cat.

Puss grenades? And I thought this place was too bright to have my kinda fun.

With the screech of a hellbeast, that cat went straight for the dog's eyes with the kind of moxie I could respect, leaving me to hope I wasn't next. And that the bean counter would be worth some kinda pay day to set me up, being as I was snatched flat broke.

But the fight was far from over. Our dog friend looked scuffed but still ready to tangle, with the red cat leaping forward like the avenging angel from my dreams. And just like my dreams, this angel was shooting gold coins at a dog I was starting to feel sorry for.

Tenacious, tough, and loaded? She was my kind of cat. Based on the whimpering pile of ground meat that used to be a dog with a raccoon face, I think it felt differently.

I went straight to business, asking the bean counter how generous he felt to have not been mauled. He threw a lot of poke words at me, and something about gyms, but eventually rewarded me with one of them animal grenades, and a book on egghead stuff.

I eyed my ferocious femme fatale. Somewhere in the fight, she'd won my grimy heart. Not that a class act like her had much use for a washed up PI, but a fella could dream. No point in putting off the inevitable, so off I went. I only ankled a few steps before a gold coin hit me in the head.

She was staring me down, daring me to make a move that we both knew would be my last. I had a goose egg the size of Chicago to tell me so.

"Skii."

Anything you say, angel eyes.

"I'm takin' the cat, chrome dome, and you can't stop me."

Of course, bending down to pick her up just gave me a chance to shovel all the gold into my coat pockets. I liked eating regular, and if my femme fatale was like any other dame I'd met, she'd demand the best.

I was getting the stink eye from the scientist guy. He looked like a puppet someone pulled the script out of, limp and looking to be told what to do. It made me want to sock him one, so I did. He joined the mess my cat made of the dog.

The second after putting my mitts on her, I realized I might have made a mistake in being too forward. My hands weren't bleeding, so it seems she forgave me, but I couldn't go around carrying her like a potato.

"Can you ride, puss?"

She claimed her perch instantly, curling around my neck for support. It was probably intentional this also left her claws right next to my throat. My deadly little dame.

The trees swallowed us readily enough, green on poison green. It was enough to make me scream for shade, and lovingly caress my fedora. I managed to impress my new squeeze instantly, getting sidetracked twice on a path as straight and narrow as a virgin priest. Her purred laughter made me glad one of us was having fun.

After only an hour or two, I hoofed it into the next town. Old Dale. It felt old in the same way as an ancient geezer handing you candy as a squirt. Sticky and kinda pathetic.

With all of one house, it felt more like a watering hole. But it must get some kinda traffic to support two shops, so what does a city boy like me know?

Too bright and cheerful, too upbeat. The shops were better. I got to trade my scratch for what the shopman called adventuring supplies. He even threw in some more of them exploding containers. But the prices! Over two thousand poke gone in a wink.

I had worried about stares over Angel Eyes, but most people took one look and knew what was good for 'em. It's for the best, getting blood out is a pain.

The eyeless gaze of the sun still lingered in the sky, blurry and red, so I firmly declined the hut hospitality offered at this hole in the wall and continued traveling east. The villagers had talked of a grand city. I wasn't expecting much, and anything would be an improvement over this.

Damn, I even missed the lousy pigeons.

My feet worked all too well without my grey matter interfering, which left me with entirely too much to turn over in this case I'd never asked for. Snatched off the street, conked out. How far had I traveled? And what did they want with a washed up has-been, too stupid to be bribed, and too crooked to be clean?

I knew a setup when I saw one, and this was as bent as the cops. Too many people watched me out of the corner of their eyes, turning away when I looked. The bumpkins answered too quickly, somehow all using the same words. Someone wanted to make me a patsy. Well, they could try but I refused to go down without pugging for it, me and puss.

#writing stuff #pokenoir and fatale #I somehow made a thrilling dime novel out of a randomized Emerald game #so. I dedicate this to my biggest fan.#jeg er glad i deg #if you're going to push me to put this out there I'm going to publicly thank you #sucks to be you bestie #zyp stuff #pokemon #his name is Noir by the way. And the cat is a shiny skitty named Fatale

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 64: Shower

There were a lot of benefits to living in a muggle flat in London.

Draco never had to worry about being recognized, it was delightfully noisy (always an added bonus when you woke up from a nightmare, it was very grounding), and one of his neighbors was always leaving him baked goods just outside his door.

But there were definite downsides as well. Mostly that when things broke (which pretty much seemed to be always) he couldn't use magic to fix it and had to wait for the muggle repair man.

"You're sure you can't get here any sooner than Friday to fix the shower?" he asked the maintenance man over the muggle mobile he'd purchased shortly before moving in.

"I'll get there as soon as I can but it's Friday at the earliest," the man replied, "right now I have a busted toilet, a broken garbage disposal, a kitchen light repair, a cabinet door replacement, a window that won't open, a door knob that the lock sticks on, and an ac unit that is pumping in hot air."

Draco resisted the urge to tell him to hire some help and sighed, "Right. Thank you."

The man grunted in response and hung up.

After a moment of contemplating his options, he gathered up his bath supplies and marched down the hall. When he'd moved in a girl named Amelia had told him if he ever needed anything just to come knock on her door. She'd said that she and her boyfriend would be happy to help, and she had even mentioned a shower breaking specifically.

Steeling himself he knocked, "Amelia?" he called. "It's Thomas from 116," he added, he'd almost gotten used to calling himself that. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but my shower is broken and-"

"Just a minute!" a distinctly male voice called back.

And he waited, feeling more embarrassed since couldn't recall having ever met Amelia's boyfriend. He hoped that he wouldn't think that Draco was a creep.

"Sorry," the man called, and Draco heard the locks being slid from their places, "Amelia and I broke up but I'd be glad to help wi-"

The door opened and Draco felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Potter?" he spluttered

(Read more below the cut)

"Draco Malfoy, what the actual fuck?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco hissed.

Potter drew back like Draco had slapped him, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

Before Draco could respond, Delores from the room between their rooms emerged and Potter grabbed him by the front of his tshirt and dragged him inside of his flat.

Draco barely had a moment to notice that his flat was surprisingly cozy before Potter was standing in front of him once more, arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" Draco exclaimed. "I've lived here for six months!"

"Well I have lived here for almost a year!" Potter replied. "How did you find this place?"

"Do you know how hard it is to find a flat to rent in London?" Draco asked.

Potter paused, "Actually, yes," he replied. "And this place is enough of a shit-hole that there is a rotating tenant-base."

"Where's Amelia?"

Potter's brow furrowed, "How do you know Amelia?"

"I don't," he said with a shrug, "I met her when I was moving in and she told me if my shower ever broke I should just come knock on her door."

Potter sighed, "Damn."

"What?" Draco asked, feeling like he'd missed something.

"Oh nothing," Potter said, waving him off, "I'd just really been hoping that the guy I caught her cheating on me with was the only one."

Draco spluttered, "I was not romantically involved with your girlfriend."

"No," Potter replied, "No, I know. Just we worked opposite shifts so she was home in the day and I was home at night, and," he shrugged, "Well, you know how it goes."

Draco pinched his arm, he must be dreaming.

Potter turned and wandered toward his kitchen and Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was meant to follow him. "Tea?" Potter called over his shoulder.

And really, Draco had just meant to beg to use the shower but that little part of him that desperately loved gossip decided tea was a better plan. "Please."

The other man sent a smile at him over his shoulder, dimple popping up and Merlin, when had Potter gotten this attractive?

"So," he said as he put the kettle on, "What do you do?"

"I'm going to a muggle university, actually," Draco replied as he found a seat on a stool at the island, "studying to be a solicitor."

"Huh," Potter said, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, "That suits you."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," he said, brow furrowed.

"Oh, nothing," Potter assured, "Just you're clever, good at arguing, and good at finding loop holes, I imagine."

At the earnest look on Potter's face, he decided not to take offense. "What is it that you do?"

Potter smiled at him, "I work at an animal shelter."

Draco blinked, he'd never expected that answer.

"I know," Potter laughed, "It's not what anyone expected but it makes me happy and it feels like good work."

The kettle whistled and Potter turned around to fetch down a couple of mugs and make them tea. "How long have you been living out of the wizarding world?"

"A little over a year," he replied. "It was just too difficult," Draco said, "I was mobbed everywhere I went, sent death threats," he added, "Not that I don't deserve them-"

"You don't," Potter said sharply, spinning around to face him. "Godric, Draco, you were just a kid. We all were."

He swallowed and looked down at the island, "Be that as it may," he said carefully, "I think it's easier for people." He made a vague gesture, "Not to have to see me."

"The pressure in the wizarding community is unreal," Potter said, setting a cup of tea along with the sugar bowl in front of Draco before he made his way to his refrigerator, "You still don't take cream, do you?"

"No," he replied with a little smile, pleased that he wasn't the only one to still remember oddities about the other.

"Why don't we go into the living room?" he suggested. "My furniture in there is much more comfortable."

Draco followed along behind him and settled onto what appeared to be the least squishy piece of furniture, a beige chair. Potter seemed to have no such qualms and sunk into a cozy rocking chair. Draco cleared his throat, "You've been gone for how long now?" he asked.

"Almost two and a half years," Potter replied before taking a sip of tea.

"Do you miss it?" Draco asked.

Shrugging one shoulder he answered, "Sometimes. I still go to the Weasley's most Sundays and I go for birthday parties and holidays. It's enough." He took another sip of tea, his eyes glued to Draco in that piercing way of his and it felt like it had been ages since someone had actually seen him. "What about you? Do you miss it?"

"At the beginning," he confessed, "But less now."

Potter hummed, seemingly waiting for Draco to continue

"Did you go to-"

Potter waved him off, "My life is exceptionally boring, I assure you. Tell me about you," he said. "Tell me about school, about what you want to do with your degree, tell me about acclimating to Muggle life," he chuckled, "tell me everything."

And so Draco did. He talked about his classes, talked about how difficult certain parts of living like a muggle were, talked about doing work with children, talked about doing a double major in law and in psychology. Draco talked, and talked, and talked while Harry listened; and he realized it had been a really long time since someone had done this with him.

He was in the middle of a story about how he hadn't understood how pens worked when Harry's mobile rang. With a wince he pulled it out of his pocket, "Sorry," he said, silencing it only for it to start ringing again a minute later. He huffed, "Sorry," he repeated. "It's Hermione and Ron. They'll just keep calling if I don't answer, give me just a minute."

"Of course," he said.

Harry gave him a little smile, "I'll get some more tea," he added before picking up.

Over the tiny little speaker Draco could hear cheering and hollering before a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday was sung and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. He pulled out his own mobile and clicked the wake button. July 31

He felt like such an arse, here he was blabbering away at the other man when Potter probably had a million things he'd rather be doing.

"Thank you," Potter said over the phone from the kitchen. "I'm a bit busy just now," he broke off to listen to some chatter. "Yes. I'll be by on Sunday to celebrate." Another pause, "Yes. Love you all, too. Kisses to Rosie and Teddy."

When he returned he said, "Sorry, you were saying about the pens?"

"I feel like an absolute clot," Draco said.

"What? Why?"

"It's your birthday!" he exclaimed, "and here I've sat for the past two hours talking your ear off about..." he trailed off, "Complete nonsense!"

"Oh, it's fine," he said, waving Draco off, "This is way better than the way I was planning to spend my birthday."

"Oh? Why don't I believe you?" he asked.

"No really," Potter said earnestly. "I was just going to go for a walk and then hang out around the house."

"But why? Don't your friends want to see you?"

"Oh, the Weasleys are away. They went on a trip to Spain; when they made the plans, I'd planned to be on a beach in the Galapagos with Amelia."

"I'm taking you to dinner," he said firmly.

"I couldn't impo-"

"I insist," he interrupted. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Well if you insist," Harry said with a laugh.

"Good. I'm going to use your shower and then go get dressed and we're leaving in twenty minutes."

He chuckled, "It's a date."

--------

And it really had felt like a date, Draco reflected as they strolled back toward their apartment building after a long dinner with multiple courses and dessert.

"Thank you, by the way," Harry said, his shoulder bumping lightly into Draco's when they were just outside of their building.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "It's the least I could do."

Harry stopped and looked over at him, so Draco stopped next to him, "It's not, though," he said. "You didn't have to do any of this."

"I wanted to," he huffed.

He started to lean in closer, "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," he whispered.

"What?"

"This," he murmured before his fingers cupped Draco's cheek and his lips pressed, soft and dry, against Draco's lips.

Harry drew back, "Alright?" he whispered.

Draco's fingers clenched in the front of Harry's shirt and he tugged him back in, slotting their lips together once more. The fingers on Harry's right hand slid through Draco's hair and his other slipped around Draco's back, drawing their bodies flush against one another as Harry's tongue brushed over Draco's bottom lip.

They stood on the sidewalk and kissed for a long moment before Harry pulled back and murmured, "Come home with me?"

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, brow furrowing.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," he replied, pecking Draco's lips again.

He couldn't help but smile as he nodded his consent and Harry grabbed his hand and dragged him inside and straight to his bedroom.

------

Later, when they were still lying in bed talking about whatever nonsense came into the heads, Harry said, "Draco?"

"Mmmh?"

"This was probably the best birthday I've ever had."

He rolled onto his side so he could see Harry's face illuminated by the moonlight. Harry reached up and brushed his forefinger over Draco's cheekbone and Draco responded, "You've not had many good birthdays, then, have you?"

Harry laughed, "I've had some good birthdays."

"Next year," Draco said before he could think through what he was about to say, "Next year I will give you the best birthday you've ever had."

"Oh?" Harry said, grinning widely at him.

At the sweet, innocent look on Harry's face, he let himself dream, let himself imagine what life could turn out like. He nodded, "I'll wake you up with lazy morning sex, you seem like the type to really enjoy that."

"I am," Harry affirmed, his dimples showing.

Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to the nearest dimple and said, "Then, I'll take you to Paris for breakfast."

"Ooh, Paris?"

He nodded, "I'll get you strawberry crepes with mounds of whipped cream."

"Sounds delicious," Harry said.

"Then I'll take you to a beach somewhere, Bora Bora maybe," he added, enthralled by the pleased crinkle around Potter's eyes.

He hummed, "I've never been to Bora Bora."

"No?"

Harry shook his head.

"Right, then we'll spend the whole day there, I'll sit under an umbrella all day and pretend to get annoyed when you come to kiss me and get sand and ocean water all over me."

He laughed, "As long as it's pretend."

"Then," Draco said, "I'll bring you back to a little villa that you can see the ocean through the floor and I'll cook you dinner. We'll eat together, then go swimming in the dark."

"Sounds lovely," Harry sighed.

"And then we'll come back and try out the bed that's under the stars," he said, brushing a hand over Harry's waist.

"That sounds really nice," he murmured.

"It's a date, then," Draco said.

He smiled back and echoed, "It's a date."

-------

And, true to his word, one year later Draco took Harry to Paris for breakfast and then to Bora Bora for the rest of the weekend. Harry proposed to Draco the very next morning.

--------

Day 63: Hair | Day 65: Question

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #getting together #fluffy #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlet #bisexual harry potter #send me an ask and i'll write you a ficlet #thanks for the prompt! <3

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spotofimagines · 3 years

Text

Car Sick P1 ~ Dominic Calvert-Lewin

A/N: This is sort of carried on from this blurb I wrote a while ago, bc I loved the idea and wanted to write more for it, you should probs read that first to catch the vibes. This is for @footballffbarbiex writing challenge based on tv and film. I used this storyline from Modern Family with Gloria and Jay. Once again, no real timeline with this, just made up scenarios. I struggled with the next bit of this so I asked you how you wanted it and you chose 2 parts, here's the 1st. Enjoy :)

Warnings: pregnancy, kids, step parents, injury mention - reader is female

Summary: You thought you were just feeling car sick, turns out it's something else...

gif by @hishairmyweakness - gif by @delstroyer

You were dropping your daughter off at Dele's for a long weekend since he didn't have a match or training to attend. After she had squeezed the biggest hug out of her dad and trudged dirt in his hallway, she perched on the sofa with her ipad and juicebox, leaving you and Dele to catch up.

Dele had been showing you how he redecorated his kitchen so you accepted a drink and decided to stay a little while. Plus you figured the news you had for him should rather be said in person than over the phone.

"Hey, Del, I have something to tell you." You said nervously, leaning your hands on the kitchen island. He turned around and took a sip of the drink he just poured as he walked closer to the other side of the island opposite you. "Go ahead." He replied, his eyebrows knitted in concern at your worried tone.

"Well, remember when we stopped by last Friday since you were playing on her birthday?" you recollected and he nodded along. "And I had one of those herbal teas and a tablet because I was feeling car sick?" "Yeah..." he trailed off quietly, putting his drink on the counter between you. "Turns out I wasn't car sick," he frowned in confusion and looked even more lost than he did a moment ago.

You fiddled your fingers together and took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You knew you could trust Dele with absolutely anything. You'd been close since you were teenagers, grew closer when you started dating and left nothing in the way when you had a baby. Being so young when it happened meant a lot of things turned against you, a lot of people with a lot of opinions trying to dictate your lives and yet you stuck it through. You haven't been together romantically for a while, however your relationship with him never faultered, your connection of trust staying strong.

But it didn't make this any easier to say. It wasn't hard to see when Dele got hit by moments of gloom at the sight of the mini family you were creating with Dominic. While your split years ago was amicable, and neither of you would rekindle that flame again, more than happy with your close friendship, Dele couldn't stop that jealous bubble rising in him when he saw your daughter enjoy spending time with Dom as much as she does with him. Blame his stubbornness but facing change wasn't his strongest suit. This news was going to be a big step away from that picturesque life you both once envisioned together and you desperately didn't want it to drive a wedge between you nor push Dele away. You had settled into a good rhythmic system with him that suited your daughter and your schedules, you'd hate to tarnish that in any way.

So, yes, you hesitated to tell him.

You sighed and picked at your nails, needing to just get it out before it drove you crazy.

"I'm pregnant."

Dele's eyes went wide and his mouth opened a little from shock, the frown lines that creased his forehead disappearing. His breath was taken away. Nothing prepared him to hear those words come from your mouth and know that he wasn't involved. It was bound to happen but it still took him by surprise.

He tilted his head as he looked at you, nervously twiddling your thumbs like you always did, and it only took a few seconds for a smile to slowly grow on his face. "That," he cleared his throat and met your eyes with sincerity, "that's great. Congratulations."

He scuffed his socked feet along the floor as he walked round the counter to wrap you in a warm hug. He squeezed your shoulder and gave your cheek a quick kiss when he pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. No, he wasn't involved this time, but he knew how amazing it was to experience pregnancy and he was certain Dominic would take to it greatly.

"What did Dom say?" He asked, leaning over to grab his glass and take another drink. Your breath caught in your throat and that made Dele side-eye you mid sip. "You haven't told him, have you?" He questioned gently, and you shook your head.

Now it was his turn to sigh.

The glass clinked loudly in the quiet room when he put it back down, and he had a ton of questions he could have asked you and a ton of things he could have told you to do that he thought was right, but it wasn't his place. Not anymore. So he took a moment to think whilst you rubbed your hands down your front to straighten out your t-shirt again.

"Are you going to?" You tutted and looked back up at him incredulously. "Of course I am Del, think it'll be pretty hard to miss when I'll be bursting through my clothes!" You joked and he held his hands up in defence as he chuckled, realising it was a stupid question.

"Are you nervous, then?" He tried again, this time opting for something more reasonable. "More nervous than when I told you for the first time." You admitted. Dele whistled lowly and shook his head with a laugh.

The state you were in a bit under 7 years ago now when you told him you were going to have his child, it was something else. He still insists he hasn't seen someone so frantic, before or since. He could only imagine what was coming Dominic's way.

---

There were plenty of reasons for you to believe Dom would be happy to be a dad. He adored his young brother and truly enjoyed spending time with him when he was back home. He was thoughtful and attentive with all the people he knew so you know he'd be the same, multiplied by a million, when it came to a child that depended on him.

But the way he cared for your daughter above anyone else proved to you, without a doubt, how good he would be. Dom wasn't her biological father, but that never once stopped him loving her the way she deserved. Dom made sacrifices when he needed to and even when he didn't. He'd stay awake if she couldn't sleep, he'd ask to see her on facetime when he was travelling and he always asked her about school, he even did the afternoon pick up with you when he got the chance. If Dom would be such an amazing figure in the life of a little girl he had no obligation to be a part of, just imagine what he'd be like with his own child.

You wouldn't question his want or excitement to have kids with you at any time, having spoken about it before.

Any time except now.

Dom hadn't been himself the last week, and justifiably so. He picked up a knee injury in the Merseyside derby last Saturday that resulted in him hopelessly limping off the pitch with the physio under his arm to hold him up. A torn ACL was the conclusion after a couple hours in the hospital. While an injury was never welcome, a minimum six months out was tough to take. But with the upcoming England tournament he'd been called up for that he will now have to miss, alongside the rest of the Premier League season, it shattered him. His club and his country had important matches this year and it killed him to not be able to help secure some much needed wins for them.

Most of Sunday was spent doting on him, helping him relax and alleviating both his physical and mental pain, offering comfort through his favourite meals and hours of cuddles, something your daughter happily assisted with.

However, by the time Monday rolled around, his rest was stifled by your daughter's birthday party.

Despite how often you'd sat him back down, Dom wasn't used to sitting all day and had helped you decorate the house whilst your girl was at school. The balloons were littered in the front room, the buffet snacks laid out on the dining table, and the banners Dom had pinned on the ceiling blew from the gentle breeze coming in through the back door.

So by the time you pulled into the drive with a car full of young girls eager for sugar, Dom was working on half a bar of energy already. Yet he played along with the party activities and managed to dance, or more shuffle, to some Disney songs on his crutches inbetween sneaking mini sausage rolls and chocolate biscuits.

You could see him getting more tired as each kid left, but "she only turns 6 once, right?", so he persisted on keeping the party lively until your daughter was knocked out in bed, out of her party dress but still wearing the new bracelet she got from Grandma.

You trailed behind Dom with two cups of tea as he hobbled toward the sofa, barely managing to keep himself up despite it only being 9pm. He dropped heavily on the cushions in the corner and let his crutches fall on the carpet, not caring where they landed as long as they stayed within reach. The sigh that left him could have knocked down a tree.

Before you got comfortable, you put his mug on the table and put a random sitcom on the TV. Dom's eyes were closed and his legs were stretched out as best as they could be, his injured knee up on the couch in front of him with a cushion underneath and an ice pack held on top.

"I'm telling you, I feel way too old for this." He muttered just loud enough to hear. "You're only 24." You chuckled a little into your tea at his complaint.

"Yeah," he rolled his head your way, hair falling on his face, "but running after her makes me feel 70, she knocks me out," he spoke quietly but with the last tints of energy in his tone, "and with this peg leg too you gotta change that to 80."

You smiled at him sympathetically and loosely linked your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand as let his eyes close again.

He was joking, it was obvious. But a niggling part of your brain told you that he wasn't just being dramatic.

Admittedly it was a tiring evening with your daughter's friends running around, but with the lack of energy left in Dom, how could a baby be added to that scenario and it not be an issue? Maybe it was the wrong time. Maybe, no definitely, getting pregnant when Dom wasn't shrouded by an injury, when he didn't have frustration on top of frustration on his shoulders, when there wasn't a hyperactive 6 year old that needed attention too - that would definitely be a better time to have a baby. But that wasn't what life had handed you. Life was a little more complicated in its ways than to give you an easy run, you knew that well enough by now.

What concerned you most was how Dom would handle it. Whilst he had picked up parenting duties well over the past couple years, he hadn't been there when your daughter was a baby, nor had he seen how tough it was on you at the time. The thought of raising another was scaring you, so it would surely terrify Dom, doing it for the first time.

Even before the time came to hold them in your arms, being pregnant was no easy deal. So how could he possibly handle the stress of an upcoming baby, the stress of having to look after 2 kids in the future, the stress of a cranky pregnant girlfriend, the stress of prepping the house and himself, all whilst he's hobbling on crutches and having to watch his teammates from the sidelines too?

You sipped your tea and let the TV fill the room as your brain ran overdrive with questioning thoughts, sitting silent next to your boyfriend who's head seemed full of only the sleep he was dreaming of, oblivious to the changes that were coming his way.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin x reader #dele #dele alli #dele imagine #dele x reader #football #football imagine #my fic #oneshot #my og post

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 3

You hadn’t quite gotten used to being around Harry in the morning. What would typically be braless breakfasts on Saturday now had you wiping off any traces of mascara and at least throwing on a sports bra before you descended the stairs and turned on the keurig.

But on the morning of what would have been his last day, you came down to hear pots and pans already clanging together and giggles escaping the kitchen.

When you rounded the corner, CeCe was sitting on the counter, Maeve was trying to pour orange juice, and Harry was manning the waffle iron with a bowl of batter by his side.

“Morning,” you said with a suspicious glance. “What’s all this about?”

“Happy birthday!” CeCe smiled, excitement on her face when she turned to see you.

“My birthday’s not for another four days,” you reminded them, a kiss to her forehead when Harry offered a sheepish grin.

It had been long approaching, and thirty-two felt like a number you’d been avoiding in more ways than one. Turning thirty-two probably sounded like no big deal to everyone else. But being a newly-divorced single-mom who’d just lost her father and main support, having a birthday felt like a cruel way for the universe to remind you of all of your failures.

“Right,” Maeve said, “but it’s a Thursday, and we figured we wouldn’t be able to do all of this before school, so,” she shrugged innocently, Harry smiled down at her when you took another look around the kitchen.

It was messy, dishes in the sink and CeCe’s hands looked sticky. Maeve had her hair up but the batter was smeared on her forehead. Harry watched you glance around, his eyes expectant when you then asked: “Can I help?”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, amused by your obvious discomfort. “S’not what birthday girls do.”

He shooed you away once Maeve came over and tugged at your arm. “Here,” she said, “come sit and watch TV and I’ll make you coffee.”

“Let Harry make it,” you encouraged, unsure if she’d dump the whole sugar bowl in or spill half and half all over the counter.

“Mom, stay out of it, okay?” She rolled her eyes when she pushed the remote in your face. You looked over your shoulder quickly, shocked by the sight of a man with your daughter by his side, laughing and seemingly enjoying himself.

“Roger that,” you nodded, uncomfortable with the swelling of your heart at the sight of it. CeCe giggled and Maeve hurried back over, laughing when Harry let out a playful yelp at the heat from the waffles as he put them on a plate.

It took them a minute to get everything together, and right when your mug of coffee was returned (a little sweet, but you’d live), the doorbell rang and Maeve jumped into action. She pulled the door open to reveal Tristan, eyebrows arched high on his forehead when realized it wasn’t just any Sunday morning.

You were already on your feet to greet him, worried about the current state of your kitchen but also worried about the type of interaction might occur between your right hand man and the guy in an apron with CeCe tugging at his sleeve.

He’d been asking a lot of questions, his penchant for all things pop culture left him curious (or just nosy) about the current living situation in your new house. You were surprised, quite honestly, that it took him this long to pop over unannounced just to get a peek behind the curtain.

“Well hello” he looked around, a smirk on his face when his eyes settled on you. “Quite the morning we have here.”

“It’s mom’s birthday breakfast,” Maeve informed him, scurrying off to help her accomplices when you greeted him with a hug.

He kissed your cheek and shut the door behind himself. “A few days for you to panic, still, right?”

“Panic?” Harry called over his shoulder, his role more passive now that Maeve was worried about the presentation of the waffles on a ceramic plate.

Tristan took that as his cue to stick out his hand, head for the kitchen, and smile: “Nice to meet you, I’m Tristan. Second in command at Luna Skincare.”

“Harry,” he greeted, voice a good octave lower than Tristan’s and a firm enough handshake that made Tristan blush. “I’m just the house guest.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tristan winked in his direction.

“Alright, why are you here?” You tried to pull his attention away from the attractive man in your kitchen, a loud sip of coffee when he made a face at you.

He pushed a folder into your hands. “Sorry to show up unannounced." (He wasn't.) "But I wanted to show you these. Mock ups for the new body wash debut. Don’t know how I feel about those bottles, but, your call.”

You took it, opened it with one hand and let him thumb through some pages for you to see. The body wash debut was a long time coming--only about a month away and as always, it seemed to come at the best and worst time. Spring was always busy, you always launched something exciting and then CeCe’s birthday was in April. Then school got out in late May and there were plays and dance recitals and everything seemed to happen at once.

But spring was the perfect time for launches--sunshine, warmer weather, less rain in LA and people were typically ready to start spending money to prep their skin for summer.

“I kind of like them,” you looked up at him, voice hesitant when you showed them to Maeve.

“Clean lines, modern branding,” she nodded, coming back to stand beside you. “I like them too.”

“The council has spoken,” Tristan nodded, taking the folder back. “I’ll get back to them tomorrow morning and have them send a few samples over for us to see in person before we move to production.” He pulled out his phone and typed a few things into a note, Maeve tugged at your sleeve.

“Are you going to eat?”

“Yes, let’s offer something to our guest, though, right?”

“Harry’s not a guest anymore,” she wrinkled her nose at you in confusion. “It’s been way too long to call him that.”

“I mean Tristan,” you clarified with a laugh, eyes glancing over to Harry to gauge a reaction.

He felt like a guest, sometimes--when he asked how to use the washing machine or when he asked if it was okay to use the pool. But seeing him make waffles with your daughters or sit on the couch to watch a movie with everyone after dinner made him feel like more of a friend. And thinking that made you feel insecure and stupid.

Harry’s brows arched in Tristan’s direction. “We do have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed,” Tristan waved him off. “Had an omelette and a green smoothie and now I’m off to a spin class--wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Says the man who shows up at my house before 9am on a Sunday with no notice,” you teased.

He held a hand to his hard for dramatic effect. “I just felt like this couldn’t wait.”

“Right,” you narrowed your eyes. “No other reason you needed to stop by.”

He laughed, Maeve was growing impatient and he could sense it, adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder as he turned to head for the door. “Birthday dinner Friday night? I already made the reservation based on Zoey’s list of restaurants.”

“I will be there, unfortunately,” you teased. “Even though I said we don’t have to do anything special.”

“Friday night?” Harry inquired, eyebrows furrowed together when he moved to lean on the island.

“You should come,” Tristan decided, an enthusiastic nod in Harry’s direction. “Jeff will be there, Zoey--you’ve met Zoey, right?” Harry nodded but you cut them off.

“You don’t have to, Harry,” you said before turning to Tristan. “He’s probably busy.”

He didn’t have to, that part was true. But your hesitance was also because it felt like another blurred line. Was it weird for him to come? Was it weird for him to sit at a table with your friends and sing happy birthday like you hadn’t just met a few weeks prior?

“No, m’not busy. I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to stay with the girls.”

Another wave of butterflies in your stomach at his words, but Maeve derailed the conversation.

“I’m sleeping over Bella’s house,” she informed.

“Me too!” CeCe chirped with a smile.

“No you’re not,” Maeve shot back. “You’re not coming with me to a sleepover.”

Tristan declined Harry’s offer for you before you even had a chance to open your mouth.

“Do you know the woman? She can afford a babysitter. You should come, we’re gonna have an exquisite time!”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, hands in his pockets when he looked to you. “Is that alright?”

You weren’t going to say no. You weren’t going to stare him in the eyes and tell him he couldn’t come or tell him--in front of your daughters--that it felt weird for him to suddenly be more than just a house guest.

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Perfect,” Tristan smiled, “then I’ll see you on Friday,” he pointed at Harry and turned on his feet, a wave over his shoulders at the girls. “Bye my little devils!”

They both echoed a farewell when you turned to face them. “Okay,” you said, a nod to yourself more than to them. This was fine, it was fine for Harry to come along and spend time with your friends, right?

“Let’s eat already, I’m starving,” CeCe groaned. Maeve reached into the drawer and grabbed forks, Harry got the syrup and helped bring plates to the dining room table. The girls reached for waffles and CeCe let out a cry when Maeve took the one with sprinkles that she wanted.

“CeCe,” Harry reassured, “I made this one just for you. Lots of sprinkles,” he nodded, forking a waffle off of his own plate and onto hers.

She grinned from ear to ear and the butterflies reappeared. Maybe having him around wasn’t so bad after all.

Maeve’s sleepover fell through. Apparently Bella didn’t ask her mom in time and when Shelli arrived to pick up the girls for an exciting sleepover at Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv’s, Maeve was less than thrilled.

The day of your birthday was less than exciting. Meetings in the morning, Tristan brought you a cupcake at lunch and you were doing your best to not honk aggressively loud in the pick up line that afternoon when someone nearly caused an accident.

Take out that night with the girls because you didn’t want to cook and Harry was busy--some sort of meeting with Jeff and other people. You were sat on the couch by 10pm with a glass of wine and for a second, you thought about waiting up for him.

A text at 10:15 informed that he’d probably stroll in after midnight. You climbed the stairs and felt hopeless and pathetic and entirely old. Even if everyone was telling you that you weren’t.

Now, Maeve was going on and on about how unfair it was that you didn’t ever let her stay home alone.

“One day will you let me?”

You gave her a sideways glance, secured an earring in place at your dresser and then turned to see her.

“One day--a long time from now.”

“A long time?” She asked, slumped over in a chair in the corner of your bedroom. “How long is long?”

“Maeve,” you let out a frustrated sigh, thankful for the fact that Shelli was more than fine to entertain CeCe downstairs while you finished getting ready and plastered enough deodorant to your armpits in hopes that you wouldn’t sweat through this dress. “I’m not playing this game.”

“It’s not a game, it’s a question,” she shot back.

“When you’re fifteen maybe.”

“Fifteen?! That’s, like, five whole years from now!”

“I know,” you nodded, offering her some mock sympathy. “However will you survive until then?”

A knock on the open door, an awkward smile from Harry. “Hi, sorry to interrupt--you look beautiful.”

“Ew,” Maeve rolled her eyes but then didn’t say more when you shot her a glance in the mirror.

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly, resting a hand on your hip. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to say I’ll drive, if you want. That way you can, you know,” he held a hand up to his mouth and gestured throwing back a shot.

Maeve stared up at him, confusion etched on her face but then she looked to you. “So you can drink?”

Harry’s face suddenly looked guilty, his eyes wide when you let out a laugh.

“Yes, so I can drink. But only responsibly,” you informed her, a finger pointed in her direction before you nodded and obliged. “That would be great, Harry.”

If he was going to come, he might as well be useful. It wasn’t going to be that type of night, though. Thirty-two felt like it was way too old to get too drunk to drive or end up on a friend’s couch hungover in the morning.

This was just a birthday dinner, ten people total and fancy wine. You’d order dessert and be home by eleven.

Maeve lugged her overnight bag down the steps, complaining the whole way about Bella and dragging her feet out of the door and into Shelli’s car.

Shelli, who wrapped her arms around you and wished you a happy belated, kissed you on both cheeks and encouraged you to let loose. “You’re not old,” she smiled. “You’re mature, you’re settling into your life. You’ve got years ahead of you to be boring and tired.”

You smiled, let her hug you again when you said: “it’s just been a hard year.”

“I know,” she nodded, brushed your hair with her hand and gave you an extra squeeze. “And birthdays just make us look back at the last 365 days.”

You nodded when she let you go. She kept your hands in hers, though, ignored the way Maeve said something snotty to CeCe in the back seat. “But here’s to looking forward! To the next 365 days and to less headaches. I’ll keep these two under control and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry had wandered out now, sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the setting sun.

“Harry!” Shelli called him over. “Make sure Y/N has fun tonight.”

He let out a laugh but looked in your direction. “I can try.” He had the keys in his hand, pressed a button to make his car chirp to life when Shelli got in hers.

You bent down at the back window, reached in and pinched CeCe on the cheek. “Be good, okay?”

“You be good too, mommy,” CeCe smiled. They waved from the backseat when they pulled out of the driveway and you turned to see Harry, still standing with his sunglasses on a smirk on his face.

“What?”

“Is it really that hard to make you have fun?”

He walked towards his car, you followed his lead and prayed your heels would hold out on the pavement. “No,” you said with a certain level of defense. “She’s just teasing me.”

“Yeah?” He climbed in when you opened the door. You settled in beside him and felt a sudden urge to convince him.

“I’m a fun person, Harry.”

He smirked when he started the engine. “Never said you weren’t.”

“I just have responsibilities, you know? Two children--that clearly would kill each other with their bare hands if I weren’t watching.”

“Hmm, don’t think I agree with you on that one,” he laughed, the tires gripped the pavement of your street when he took off towards the restaurant. “I think they’re more tame than you think. In fact, I think you’ve gotten so connected to the role of mom that it’s hard for you to turn that off.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You sound like a therapist.”

He shrugged, dimples on his cheeks when he stole a glance in your direction from behind his sunglasses. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“No,” you said, looking down at the bracelet on your wrist. “Not completely.”

Quiet for a few moments, a left turn signal before he looked at you again. “I think you’re super fun, by the way.”

You hated the way it made your pulse pick up, another smirk in his direction when you felt your cheeks turn warm and he let out a tiny laugh.

You were both quiet for the rest of the ride, he introduced himself to Zoey and joked with Jeff on the way to your table on the back patio of a restaurant in Brentwood. They’d put up balloons, a toast in your honor after other friends filed in.

Appetizers first, embarrassing stories from your high school friends who seemed to flutter their eyelashes in Harry’s direction. Jeff’s arm was around the back of your chair by the time your dinner plates were cleared.

“The only time I’ve seen you as excited was when our dads brought us backstage for the No Strings Attached tour.”

You shot Jeff a look quickly, hoping he wasn’t planning on launching into the same story he’d told a thousand times--if only to see the look on your face.

“Wait, you mean the NSYNC tour?” Harry was seated across the table, margarita in hand when he leaned in for more details.

“Oh god,” Zoey rolled her eyes when Tristan shook his head. “Not this story again.”

“You mean the greatest story ever?” Jeff leaned down and shot her a look.

“We’ve all heard it,” Tristan whined, “I could recite it as if I was there, honestly.”

Harry’s eyes met yours, a few glasses of wine deep as the tea lights above the patio flickered on. “I haven’t heard it.”

“You certainly don’t need to,” you pointed at him with a lazy finger.

“Were you even alive then?” Tristan laughed.

“For NSYNC?” Harry pulled his head back, “course I was! My sister was obsessed with them.”

“Okay, well the story is literally stupid. Jeff thinks it’s funnier than it is and all that happened--”

“I want to tell him!” Jeff reached over and smacked you on the shoulder, pulling an eye roll from you when the others let out a laugh. “She asked Justin Timberlake to sign her boobs in front of our dads and it was ridiculously uncomfortable for everyone.”

“I was fourteen,” you defended, a smile pulling your lips towards the sky. “And stupid and in love with him and I didn’t think they could hear us.”

“Right,” Jeff waved you off as if everything you said was totally valid. “But the best part is when her dad then goes: ‘if you sign hers, you have to sign mine, too.’”

Zoey let out a snort of a laugh and so did the others, Harry tried to fight a smirk when he looked your way.

Jeff could barely keep a straight face, “Justin Timberlake never seemed so intimidated in his life.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard that story before,” Harry said to Jeff, elbows on the table now. “I can’t believe Irv hasn’t made a thousand jokes about it.”

You sipped at your drink and narrowed your eyes at Harry. “Maybe he also blocked it out due to being traumatized by the embarrassment.”

“What year was that?”

“Summer of 2000,” you looked to Jeff. “Their prime, obviously not mine.”

“Oh it was most certainly not your prime.” He shot back with a laugh,

You gave him a shove. “It wasn’t yours either! Your hair was curly and not in the cool JT way.”

“I’ve seen some of those pictures,” Harry pointed at his friend. “She’s right--not in a cool way.”

Jeff played it off and shot something back at Harry, ordered you another drink when you tugged on a jacket in the cooler air. The waiter brought out a cake with sparklers on top, Zoey took a thousand pictures and wrapped her arms around you at the end of the night.

“I have a feeling thirty-two will be a much better year,” she assured.

“Here’s hoping,” you agreed, pulled apart from her when Tristan leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Well, you have a chauffeur for the night, so you’re off to a good start,” he teased.

Harry held up his keys in his hand and raised his eyebrows in a cheeky way. “Door to door service, a good price. Definitely off to a good start.”

You climbed back into the front seat of his car after Jeff shoved the balloons in the back, told you to keep them for the girls. The car ride was quiet, he told you about his album and kept the windows half way down as you snaked back up into the hills. You weren’t wasted by any means, just tipsy and tired and full after good food and better friends.

You keyed into the house with the balloons in hand, Harry was behind you and flicked on a light switch downstairs. You kicked your heels off inside and let the balloons float into the living room. “Want a glass of wine?”

He looked in your direction after clicking his phone shut, eyebrows raised as if he didn’t quite know how to answer. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“I’d have one if you would,” you shrugged, already walking to the kitchen to grab some glasses.

He smiled, came to the island and ran a hand through his hair when you uncorked a new bottle of Pinot Noir. When you handed him a glass, he clinked it against yours and took a sip.

“Happy Birthday,” he said.

“Don’t remind me,” you laughed.

“Oh come on, s’not that bad.”

“You turn thirty-two and then tell me that.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” he nodded. “Dinner was good though.”

“As good as it can be when you get that group of weirdos together,” you admitted, stem of the glass between your fingers when you headed for the couch. He watched you walk away, paused for a moment before he followed suit and sat a few cushions down on the oatmeal colored sofa.

“S’kind of funny that we hadn’t met before Jeff set this up,” he motioned around the living room as if to gesture to the living arrangement. “I mean--obviously I’d heard a lot about you.”

“Like what?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you sipped the wine again. “If not the most embarrassing story of my early teens--”

“Just that you were one of his closest friends. Probably heard just as much about you from Shelli and Irv, to be fair.”

“I think I’m their favorite child even though I’m not actually theirs.”

He laughed at that, lifted his glass as if to agree with you before he angled his body towards you. “What did Jeff ever say about me? Aside from making me sound homeless and pathetic.”

You shook your head a bit and tugged at the hem of your dress. “He didn’t make you sound like either of those.”

“Well you didn’t seem too eager to have me living here…”

He trailed off, like he was waiting for you to protest or something. When you fought a smile and looked up at him, he squinted suspiciously. “What?”

You hesitated, unsure if admitting it would do you any good. Things were starting to feel normal, almost like Harry had a place in your house or your life or like it at least wasn’t awkward to be sitting on the couch with him after a night out with friends.

“Oh it’s that bad? Hesitate before you tell me bad?”

You made a face and laughed, almost embarrassed. “I was mostly focused on the fact that you’re young and that you’d maybe be a bad influence on the girls. You know--the whole rock star vibe.”

He smiled, nodded after a second but then said: “do I pass the test?”

“There’s no test,” you rolled your eyes.

“Right,” he looked at you like you were crazy, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t make me meet you for coffee with Jeff that day to scope me out? Figure out if I was a total freak--”

You leaned back into the sofa and let out a playful groan. “I mean I was hoping you weren’t since Jeff always had such good things to say about you.”

He made you list them off, laughed at the fact that you thought you were too old or too uncool to come to the release for his first album. He poured you both another glass and smiled, hopefully you’ll come to the next one.

He showed you stupid videos from his time in his old band, listened to you talk about anxieties at work and how weird it felt to be in your dad’s house now.

“I mean, I’m glad we had a place to come.”

“Where’d you live before?”

“Woodland Hills,” you shrugged. “We bought a house there right after CeCe was born. It was nice, but too small and we obviously needed a change after I found him in bed with another woman in our bedroom there, so.”

Harry’s eyes went wide at that, he let out a laugh when you did, too. “Sounds miserable.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“And he’s not--does he see the girls ever?”

You bit your lip, moved your head from side to side and then sighed. “I mean--I asked if he could come to the funeral just to be with them and watch them since I was so busy, but he told me that he’d planned a weekend getaway with his new girlfriend in Malibu, so…”

“So he’s really a twat.”

You laughed at his word choice, British and confident when he nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Luke.”

“Luke!” He scoffed and looked up the ceiling. “No wonder he was a twat.”

“Yep,” you nodded. “So it’s nice to be here.”

“I’m sorry that happened, by the way.”

You waved him off, finished the last of your wine and set the glass on the coffee table. “S’all good. Moving on to bigger and better things, right?”

“M’sure you can do better than someone who didn’t realize what a mistake he was making.”

You nodded slowly, dropped his gaze when you felt butterflies beneath your ribcage. You let out a breath, looked up to him. “I should probably head to bed.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, moved to stand from the couch and reached out for your wine glass. You handed it to him, ignored the way his fingers grazed against yours when he smiled. “Are you drunk?”

You hesitated to answer, followed behind him to the kitchen when he looked over his shoulder, waiting for your answer.

“Are you drunk?”

He pretended to be offended. “I asked you first!”

You lifted your shoulders and then giggled. “Yes, but in a good way.”

“Great, love that.”

“You have to answer, too!”

He turned around after he put the glasses in the sink. “After a bottle of wine here and a few margaritas at dinner? Of course I am,” he laughed. “Red wine goes straight to my head,” he pointed to his temple.

“Well,” you started to walk back to the living room for the stairs by your office, flipping off a few light switches along the way. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yeah? You plan on getting me drunk again soon?”

“I didn’t get you drunk,” you pointed at him. “It’s my birthday dinner, remember?”

“Yeah--you’ve been throwing them back all night so I couldn’t forget.”

“From the guy who encouraged me to have fun tonight! I’ve been having a great time, totally relaxed, totally cool…”

“You have,” he laughed, his footsteps echoing on the stairs behind you. “Just like you were totally cool when you met NSYNC.”

“Hey,” you turned around quickly and laughed, a tad unsteady from the drinks and the time of night. “That is privileged and confidential information--not something you get to hold over my head!”

“Mmm, okay, so I can’t bring that up in front of Irv and Shelli?”

“Absolutely not,” you leaned against the door frame to your room. “Unless you want to never speak to me again.”

It was dark in the hallway, a glow from the lights on the first floor crept up the stairs when he held your gaze for a second.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, voice quieter now.

Your heart seemed to flutter, or maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that you were up way too late. “Mhm,” you paused, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in the air between you. “Then I suggest you forget that story.”

“Thanks for letting me come with you guys tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, eyes down to the ground for a second, suddenly self conscious. Did he have a good time? Was it weird for him to come? “Thanks for driving.”

You didn’t have too long to dwell on the thoughts, though, because soon he stepped closer and let his mouth meet yours before you were able to bring a hand to his shirt, tugging him into you.

He pulled you closer, too, his hand on the small of your back before he pulled away. “Are you--is that--I should have asked first.”

“No,” you shook your head, the word sounded funny in your drunk brain. “I’m not mad about it.”

He let out a quiet laugh, kissed you again when you tugged him back into the room and shut the door with his free hand.

You stumbled backwards, laughed against his lips when he lowered you onto the bed. Greedy hands and desperate moans when he pulled away to tug down your panties. If your life had been a movie, there’d be a cut to the hands on a clock spinning while you giggled into his neck and felt your skin against his beneath the sheets.

But what felt like a dream could only last so long.

Your head shot up from the pillow when you heard it--the door opening and shutting, the beep throughout the house to let you know someone had arrived. Sun shone through the curtains and giggles floated up from the first floor, you heard Maeve tell CeCe something and then you heard footsteps on the stairs.

Morning, the night faded into sobriety and you rubbed your eyes. His face was barely visible beneath his messy hair and the sheet pulled up to his chin.

“Harry,” you shoved him, voice quiet but stern. “Wake up!”

He blinked a few times, squinted in the sunlight and you realized that an 8am wake up call might have been early for him, you know, since he was barely an adult.

“The girls are home,” you said when you shoved him again. “Which means Shelli is here, which means you need to get the hell out of my bed.”

His eyes opened wide at that, he pushed himself up and then scrambled out of the sheets when he heard footsteps in the hall. The door was locked, luckily, but the banging of little fists had you pushing Harry into your bathroom and telling him to not say a word.

He was sleepy, but his lips pulled into a smirk when he took one look at you half-dressed. There was no time for addressing the way his fingers pulled moans from your lips or the way he said he’d been waiting for this. No, because as soon as the thoughts of last night settled back into your brain, you tugged the door open to see your beautiful daughters smiling up at you.

“Good morning,” you said, voice cheery when you tugged a sweatshirt over your skimpy tank top. You forced a smile and Maeve seemed to narrow her eyes.

“You look messy.”

“I just haven’t brushed my hair,” you told her. CeCe pushed past you and ran straight for your bed, a cannonball of sorts into tangled sheets.

“We had the best time with Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv!” She said, “we watched a movie last night mommy and I stayed up until ten o’clock.”

“You fell asleep on the couch,” Maeve corrected her. “I stayed up until almost eleven,” she bragged.

“That’s great,” you told them, heartbeat rising as you tried to search for a way out of this. “Girls, why don’t you go find Auntie Shelli and--”

“I’m right here, sorry, I hope they didn’t wake you,” she appeared in the doorway, pulling another forced smile from you when you turned on your heels. “Good morning,” she looked you up and down with a smirk, more perceptive than your daughters.

“Where’s Harry?” Maeve asked, crossing her arms as she relaxed back on top of your duvet.

“I don’t know,” you said quickly. “In his room.”

“Door’s open, he’s not there,” she answered.

“Maybe he went to stay at a friend’s house.”

“Oh--did he tell you that?”

“I don’t remember,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, suddenly feeling put on trial by your ten-year-old.

Shelli had scanned the room, her eyes landing on the shoes by the foot of your bed that were clearly not yours. She smiled, nodded slowly and then said: “Girls, why don’t we go pick up donuts? We can bring some back for mom and she can take a shower and straighten up while we’re out?”

“Great idea,” you smiled, a hurried nod as you moved towards your daughters and ushered them out of your bed. “When you get back we can watch TV or go for a bike ride later today,” you were just throwing shit at the wall now, anything to get them out of your room and distracted enough to not realize that Harry’s shirt was on the floor beside his pants and that his bed hadn’t even been slept in.

“I want a jelly donut!” CeCe informed you when Shelli pushed them out into the hallway.

“Sounds great,” you smiled. “See you in a bit, okay?”

You mouthed a thank you to Shelli and she winked in your direction, a wave of nausea crashing into you once the door was shut. You rushed over to the bathroom door, pulled it open, and found Harry leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.

He looked up quickly at the sound, offered an awkward smile and said: “are you livid?”

You shook your head, unsure how to put your emotions into words but also aware of the fact that this was the exact reason why this should have never happened. You turned around and headed back for the bedroom, looked out the window near your closet to see Shelli helping the girls into the backseat.

“You’re not livid?”

“No,” you said, turning around quickly. “I just--I don’t know--that probably wasn’t a great idea.”

His face fell a little bit, arms crossed over his torso when he asked: “what do you mean?”

“Last night was fun, Harry, but I’m thirty-two. I’m a mom,” you said the word like it was embarrassing to admit.

He made a face like he didn’t get the point but then nodded. “I’m completely aware of both of those facts.”

“You’re twenty-four,” you reminded him. “That’s a seven year age difference.”

“Eight, now that your birthday passed,” he said this sheepishly, like he knew it would lead to another groan.

“Exactly!” You said. “That’s a big gap. I spend my weekends going to birthday parties and playdates. What do you even do? Go to clubs and hang out with millionaires?”

He let out a laugh. “I’ve been hanging out with your kids a lot on the weekends, to be honest.”

“Yeah, but, my kids almost just caught us in bed together and Jeff’s mom is definitely aware that something happened, now, so--”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

A moment passed when you heard the engine start.

“It was fun, though,” he said, a small step closer to you when you let out a sigh. “It was something I’d been hoping would happen.”

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat when he took another step closer, the pad of his thumb making contact with your arm when he went on. “Call me crazy but I feel like we both knew that was coming.”

You took a step back, not because he was wrong and not because you didn’t like it, but because suddenly every thought in your brain was spinning at 100 miles per hour and you knew you had about fifteen minutes to get dressed and figure out what the hell was going on. Or at least craft a story that would explain why his clothes were in your room and figure out a way to get Shelli to completely forget whatever she thought she saw.

“Can we maybe talk about it later? Like--when they’re not coming back here in a few minutes with donuts and coffee?”

“Yes,” he nodded, words fumbling out of his mouth like he’d forgotten how to form sentences. “Later. I’m going to get dressed.”

“Me too.”

He shut the door after he gathered up his clothes and shoes. You sat on the foot of the bed and stared at your hands--the ones that had touched him and run through his hair and traced circles on his chest when you fell asleep.

You were simultaneously mad at yourself for being stupid enough to do that and still completely enchanted by the fact that it happened and you weren’t dreaming and you hadn’t been crazy to think there was some level of sexual tension between you.

You were drunk. The first time you'd had more than two glasses of wine in a while, after all. Whatever type of stupid crush that had developed was nothing more than that: stupid, silly, a complete fantasy that had sparked into a flame once you had a few drinks.

Sure, maybe you had no clue what to do moving forward, but you figured that playing it cool was the only option until you’d had enough time to let your thoughts and feelings settle.

Maeve and CeCe were clueless, you learned, when they sat at the counter and scarfed down donuts. You sipped the coffee that Shelli had returned with and asked about their night.

A movie, popcorn on the couch, so many laughs and Uncle Irv even let them play on the old pinball machine he kept in his office.

The shower in Harry’s room shut off eventually, he descended the stairs with wet hair and offered a timid smile to everyone in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he patted CeCe on the head and moved to fetch the cup of coffee that Shelli offered in his direction.

“I’ll take it the birthday dinner went well?” Shelli brought her coffee up to her lips and let her eyes dance between the two of you. Harry looked at you and you looked at him, a silent standoff to see who would respond.

But it was your birthday, you realized.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Was great.”

You reached for a bite of donut from CeCe’s plate, she let out a yelp when you plopped it in your mouth, offering her an apologetic look. “Good food, good drinks.”

“You enjoyed yourself too, Harry?”

He was caught off guard by this, lips in a thin line when he set his coffee on the counter and nodded. “It was wonderful, really.”

Shelli wouldn’t care--you weren’t worried what she would think or if she’d judge you. If anything, you knew she’d be the type to encourage you to let your hair down and venture out into the dating pool. Which is what she practically did last night. You just didn’t know if she’d actually meant to encourage you to sleep with the client of her son.

But she didn’t know the context! She didn’t know about the way he looked at you across the dinner table or the way he kept pouring wine. All she knew was that she told you to have fun and then she found you--quite disheveled--with Harry’s clothes on the floor and Harry himself nowhere to be found.

Maeve was off to her room soon enough, reporting that she needed a break from CeCe who was keen to play with a doll in the living room with the TV on. You wiped the counter with a sponge and Harry took a loud slurp of his coffee when Shelli broke out into a full smile.

“It’s none of my business,” she said.

“It’s not,” you looked up at her quickly.

“But,” she lifted a single shoulder and smirked when you rolled your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Then why was he hiding in the bathroom?” She lowered her voice so CeCe wouldn’t hear.

“How do you know I was in the bathroom?”

“He wasn’t hiding in the bathroom.”

Shelli offered an unimpressed look in your direction but then turned to Harry. “She’s a catch, Harry.”

“Okay,” you held up a hand, embarrassed and uncomfortable and already breaking a sweat. It was fun, you’d been thinking a lot about him and the way he acted with you and the kids and you didn’t need Shelli to be egging on your single-mom fantasy.

Harry blushed at that, a nod in her direction and a smirk on his face when he brought his eyes to you.

“Shelli--people get drunk and do things that sometimes they wouldn’t normally, right? So, I need you to not make a big deal out of this and not tell Jeffrey.”

She put her fingers up to her lips and twisted them, implying that they were locked and Jeff wouldn’t catch wind of your best and most anxiety-provoking hook up to date. She dropped it at that, Harry made some excuse about going for a run and soon Saturday melted back into what you’d hoped it would be: the kids playing outside, cannon balls in the pool after lunch.

Daylight faded and it wasn’t until after 9pm when you had to face him again. He knocked on the door to your office when you had glasses falling down your nose, a sweatshirt tugged over your messy bun.

The side of his mouth twitched into a smirk, arms folded over his chest. “Do you ever take a day off?”

You let out a laugh and turned to see him over your shoulder. “Email never sleeps.”

He watched you for a second, wheels spinning in his head as he planned out his next words carefully: “Is now a better time to discuss what happened last night?”

You let out a sigh, one that pulled a nervous look to his face, but he soon laughed. “Uh oh,” he teased. “Doesn’t sound like a good start.”

“No,” you laughed, unsure of how to save any last morsel of dignity. “I’m sorry that Shelli was so...intrusive this morning.”

He looked down to the ground but chuckled. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s always talked about you like a daughter.”

“Yeah, I just--I had a great time, I mean that--”

“But,” he looked at you expectantly, blinked a few times when you smacked your lips together.

“But I think that it needs to be a one time thing. It would be really confusing for CeCe and Maeve if they found out.”

He nodded, took a deep breath and said: “I agree. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Something plucked at your heart, an unidentifiable emotion that made you want to kiss him harder than you did after five drinks and a birthday dinner. He was fine--totally understanding and unbothered by your words that effectively ended whatever mini-fling had existed for less than 24 hours.

Maybe that was it--disappointment. Had you expected him to put up a fight and convince you endlessly to sleep with him again or sweep you off your feet and drive off into the sunset? No. Did a part of you wish that he didn’t seem so accepting of learning that it would never happen again? Apparently so.

You faltered for a second, stared at him awkwardly but then clicked out of your mailbox. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He looked back out to the kitchen, quiet and tidy after it’s post-dinner clean. “Do you want a glass of wine?” He smiled a bit, watched you with a sturdy dose of suspicion when you stood and rolled your eyes.

“Is this our thing? Turning questions around?”

He laughed but trailed behind you, sat at the island when you picked out a bottle. “Our thing? What do you mean?”

“You know--all friends have a thing, their bantery joke. Apparently ours is asking a question but then the other person turns it back around.”

“Hmmm,” he laughed, thought on it for a second when you uncorked and poured. “Are we friends?”

You looked up at him, matched the smirk on his face when he plucked at his lower lip. You slid a glass over to him on the granite. “Are we not friends?”

“You’re doing our thing.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, took a sip of the Merlot and then cleared your throat. “We can be friends.”

“Friends who don’t sleep together.”

“Right,” you nodded, less self-conscious than you had been in your office. It happened, right? People would accidentally sleep together when they were drunk and they could move on, poke fun, make light of a situation that threatened to bring too many emotions to the surface if either one let their guard down for a second.

“Did either Maeve or CeCe ask any more questions today about where I was?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, let out a breath of relief. “Maeve got too distracted by the donuts and the activity planning of the day and CeCe was oblivious the whole time. So, we should be fine.”

“Good,” he said. A pause when he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

He looked up at you briefly, shrugged a little and then said: “Just can’t help but think about what Jeff would say.”

You blushed at that, dropped his gaze and stared at the wine in your glass. “I don’t know about you but I’m okay not finding out.”

Another dimple on his cheek when he asked: “embarrassed of me?”

“No,” you laughed, fighting a smile. “I just know how he can be. He’ll want to know every detail and he’ll have a million questions. If you think Shelli was bad this morning, Jeff would be worse.”

He smiled, tipped his glass back to take another pull. “Right, he might as well be your brother, I guess.”

“He’s just as annoying as one, that’s for sure." You were desperate to change the subject, fearful of what you might say or admit if the topic stayed put. "Do you have any siblings?”

“Sister, yeah,” he nodded. “Just the two of us.”

“Are you close?”

“Super,” he smiled. “We talk pretty regularly despite the time difference. Our parents got divorced when we were young so it kind of feels like we’ve been through a lot together.”

He didn’t realize the way his words hit close to home until you sighed.

“How much did that ruin your life?”

He pulled a face, apologetic and understanding at the same time. “It didn’t ruin my life,” he reassured. “Just don’t think they were meant to be.”

“Well I can definitely relate to that.”

He tilted his head to the side, swirled the wine around his glass. “Why do you ask if it ruined my life?”

“I just worry about them, I guess. I was young when they got divorced, and then my mom passed and that definitely affected my sense of family."

He nodded, his eyes invested when you spoke.

“It was just me and my dad--and obviously we had the Azoffs, but, I don’t know. I guess I just worry that they’ll also grow up feeling somewhat unfulfilled.”

“Did you want a sibling growing up?”

“More than anything,” you laughed. “I mean, I had Alison and Jeff and all of them, but--you know, it’s not blood.”

“Yeah,” he took another sip. “I get that--my step dad was really important to me, passed away last summer.”

“Oh, wow--I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

Great--here you were complaining about losing both parents now, completely unaware that Harry had suffered a similar loss and yet this was the first time you were hearing it.

“I don’t mean to talk about myself so much,” you said quickly, cheeks flushed in a pink hue of shame.

He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he found your sudden retraction endearing or adorable. “I could listen all day.”

“Well, I wouldn’t make you suffer through that,” you said.

He stood, rounded the edge of the island and you wondered if he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, like you were 16 at a summer fair on top of the ferris wheel. His lips were pressed to yours before you could tell him not to, before you could stick up a hand between the two of you and remind him what you’d said only a few minutes earlier: friends.

The moment was quick, though, the tiny thudding of feet on the stairs sent him flying to the other side of the kitchen. CeCe’s hands gripped the railing and she rubbed at her eyes when she let out a tiny wail.

“I--had--a--bad--dream,” she cried, her voice soft in the dim kitchen.

“Oh sweetie,” you hurried over to her, let your arms wrap around her before you scooped her up into your arms. “It’s okay, it was just a dream, you’re here and safe with mommy.”

You looked over to him, a close lipped smile in apology when you turned back to the stairs. Maybe it was for the best. If you couldn’t control yourself around him, at least you could count on nightmares and little feet to be your safety net.

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gingerale2017 · 3 years

Text

“Now, Kiss!”

Based on this hc I made earlier :)

3474 words

Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles

Pairing: Kai x Cinder

Fluff

Description:

Kai knew that the annoyance was part of having a sibling, but he hated it all the same. Nainsi would tease him about everything and when she figured out his crush on Cinder Linh, it only got worse. When Cinder calls Kai on the day that Nainsi brings some friends, she suspects that something might be cooking in the pot. Is she right, or are they friends for another agonizing day?

(Also I decided to name her Nainsi bc I’m too tired to brainstorm anything else I like it)

“WAKE UP KAI!” was the first thing Kai heard after being unfortunately interrupted by a sweet dream involving a certain someone. He was awake now, with a 100-pound pillow being tossed onto his head. Groaning, he flipped to his other side, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would make the tiny monster go away.

“KAI WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!” Nainsi yelled. She threw another pillow at him and when he didn’t show any signs of stopping, she yanked the cover out. Thank the stars for sheets.

“Stars, what time is it?” Kai managed to ask. Knowing his family it was probably five in the morning.

“Seven-thirty, ” he groaned again. It was way too early to get out of bed. Plus, the school didn’t start until eight-thirty so they were very much not late. He tucked his head in the pillow and wished for his sister to magically vanish away into whatever drama she obsessed with now.

“KAI! GET OUT THE BED RIGHT NOW!” Kai turned his head to glare at her. She glared right back.

“You know Cinder gets up super early for whatever reason. That’s something you two can get along with, ” instead of rolling her eyes like she usually did when Kai talked about Cinder, Nainsi's lips formed into a coy smile.

He cursed.

She somehow smiled even further and cocked her head, “Got any plans with her tonight?”

He could feel his ears turn red, and he tried to kill her on the spot with his eyes. His little sister took the smart choice and sprinted out of his room with Kai on her heels.

She screamed as he followed her down the stairs into the kitchen, seeking refuge next to their father’s chair. Kai could tell he was annoyed by the posture he was in and the way he took another sip of his coffee.

Nainsi shot Kai a smug smile that he wished to wipe off her face, “are you gonna wear pajamas to school, Kaito?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Ah, yes, but then you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail and will never see your precious Cinder again.”

He glared at her once more and left to go change. When he came back, the aroma of fried eggs was so strong that it filled the whole house.

His father was humming a tune while seasoning the eggs with pepper, now in a less annoyed mood. There were two plates on the kitchen counter already equipped with breakfast. Nainsi rebelliously made cereal instead of eating eggs. Kai, on the other hand, was grateful for the free breakfast.

He sat grabbed a ate and sat at the barstool, preparing to dig into his meal. Dad wanted to make small talk instead, “Good morning, son, and you're welcome for the delicious breakfast that I so graciously made for my marvelous kids.”

“Good morning, father, and us marvelous kids are so grateful for this delicious meal that makes caught us by surprise. But unfortunately, one of your children prefers Lucky Charms to you’re amazing breakfast, ” Kai responded after swallowing his first bite of eggs.

Nainsi looked up from her cereal, “that’s because I don’t like eggs, they’re disgusting.”

“You don’t like anything, ” she stuck her tongue out. Kai picked up his plate and placed it in the sink. Unsurprisingly, he was still hungry, so he went to see what was in the fridge.

“Kai, why don’t you ever want up early?” his father asked.

“Um, because-”

“Because he’s up all night thinking about making out with Cinder in the back of her BMW, ” the little monster interrupted before he could continue. He grabbed a tomato and slammed the fridge shut.

He then threw the tomato at her, “two strikes, Nainsi.”

She dodged the tomato and looked back at Kai with big round eyes.

“Hey, it's too early to fight with your sister just yet, ” interjected his father, “also, if you couldn’t tell, your mother is working double shifts at the hospital today so she wouldn’t be coming back tonight and I have a business trip. I know you have some friends coming over today, Nainsi, so behave better than usual. Both of you.”

“What friends are coming over, Nainsi?” Kai mused, an idea forming in his head.

“Just Geovanna and Emily. Possibly Ben but he hasn’t confirmed yet,” she answered, “why?”

“Just wondering. Anyways, we gotta go now,” Kai pulled on his sweatshirt from the laundry and headed towards the front, “bye dad.”

He nodded at Kai, currently preoccupied with his second mug of coffee while Nainsi rushed to follow Kai.

It was freezing out, as it usually was during winter in Maryland, but today was unusually cold. He turned on the car while Nainsi hopped in the passenger seat.

“Are we gonna go or what?” she barked.

“In a minute. Let me close my eyes for a bit.”

“You always do that, you lazy bum.”

“Your insults are getting drier and drier Nainsi.”

“Just go, ” this time she hit his forearm with her binder from nowhere. Repeatedly.

“Okay, stop hitting me. Ow.”

They drove off towards the school. Although Nainsi lived to tease Kai, they got along pretty well. They talked about this new show and had similar opinions on it during the short car ride. Once they were at Nainsi’s school and she was gone, then he could start playing the radio.

He bid his goodbye’s and see you later’s and now was off to his school.

᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽

Kai was unsurprisingly drained during the last period of the day. He fiddled with the corner of his notes to keep himself awake for at least ten more minutes. When he felt himself starting to doze off, he began to replay the day so far.

When he got to school, Cinder was marked absent which made his day worse. He always looked forward to hearing her sarcastic remarks or her smiling at one of his witty jokes.

Anyways, she was gone and he was sad, but Cress wasn’t. She happily explained to Kai that she and Thorne were going on a date Sunday. He was happy for her, truly, but all he could think about was how he can unsuccessfully tell his feeling to Cinder.

Not telling her felt like he was forgetting something important every day, except he was not forgetting. He knew exactly what he was doing and it killed him, but he also didn’t want to ruin the good that they have now. Then Kai would think about how it would be better and his thought would circle around and around.

After meeting up with Cress, they endured through the first two periods they shared, Scarlet and Thorne joining during the second. Although he had plenty of friends to talk to and enjoy, he couldn't help missing Cinder.

She's gone for one day and you feel like this? he thought, get a break. The little voice inside Kai's head was right.

Then the last bell rang, startling him. He stood up and began to pack his things. Then he fast-walked out and left.

"Kai!" he heard someone call.

Iko and Cress gestured at Kai to come to their lockers. He obliged.

"Look, Winter's birthday is in a couple of weeks, during the break. We want to throw a party because it's her sweet sixteen! We already have all the decorations ready, I know it's early, but long story short, can we throw it at your place?" his blue-haired friend asked as innocently as possible. Although she had to change her posture, tone, and expression to look innocent, Cress had that personality as her default.

"Please, Kai?” Cress pleaded and she knew what she was doing. It was always impossible to say no to her without feeling guilty. Or maybe it was just Kai who hated saying no.

“Of course! My parents are going to their parents during that week, so I’ll just ask to stay behind.”

“Yay! Thank you so much!” Iko hugged him tightly, “also not a word to Winger. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yep. I got to go to my job interview, remember what I was telling you about. Ah, the chance to work a boutique, what a dream,” and with that, his friend walked away.

“Hey Cress, did you hear anything about Cinder, ” he pressed.

She nodded, “Adri was mad at her again so she’s stuck at the garage, ” the blonde began to nibble in her fingernails. Noticing the bad habit, she brought he hand down.

“Oh, ” he hated Cinder’s stepmother, he truly did. And it killed him he couldn’t do anything about it.

They walked silently down the hall. Girls batted their lashes and some greeted him but he ignored it as usual.

“Do you think Adri would let Cinder free tonight?” he asked, now in the parking lot of the school.

“If you’re the one taking her anywhere then, of course, Adri would.”

Cress, Cinder, and Winter all skipped one grade. Cinder and Winter skilled first, and Cress skipped seventh. Cress was the smartest of them all, granted, and they don’t have a driver's license. So Cress got a ride with her older brother Jacin, and so did Winter (Jacin’s girlfriend). Cinder usually rode with Thorne, but on the good days, she rides with Kai.

They reached Kai’s car which was near Jacin’s car and being the super over-protective brother he was, he glared Kai down. Kai found this confusing because his feelings for Cinder were quite obvious, but then he saw Thorne parked next to Kai.

Thorne was currently ‘interested’ in Cress which made her a flustered mess.

Cress walked quickly to Jacin’s car and hopped in the back. Kai called goodbye and started his car. Then there was a rap on his window.

“What?” he asked Thorne, “I got to pick up my sister.”

“What flowers does Cress like?” he lifted an eyebrow at his friend, “not like that,” what Thorne did not know was that Cress told Kai everything about their date. Perhaps Thorne wants to keep it secret until then.

“Uh-huh.”

“Just answer the question!”

He shifted in his seat, “I dunno. Ask Jacin.”

“Great advice,” Thorne deadpanned.

“Get her roses. Those are super romantic and she’s all about the romantic gestures.”

“Nah, too cheesy. Pretend it's Cinder, what would she like?”

“Cinder doesn’t like flowers. Wrenches, however, are much appreciated.”

“I think I’ll just get roses.”

“Yeah, now move, my sister is waiting for me, ” Kai rolled up the windows and drove out.

Time passed very quickly and the next thing he knew, Nainsi was climbing in the passenger seat with her three friends in the back seat.

“I thought it was only two people, ” he whispered harshly.

She shrugged, “Ben decided to come.”

“What are you gonna feed them.”

“Pizza.”

“Who’s money?”

“Yours,” he shoved Nainsi but she shoved back.

“Fine but you owe me.”

“We’ll see, ” she turned in the seat to talk with her friends.

᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽

Once everyone was settled inside and pizza was ordered he began to brainstorm ways Kai could punish Nainsi for this morning.

Then, like a light bulb, a perfect idea formed into his head. He walked into the laundry room where a basket filled with his clothes was waiting for him.

He pulled off his shirt, grabbed the basket, and headed into the living room. His sister was watching a realistic drama with her friends, although Kai wasn’t sure the drama wasn’t ‘realistic’ at all.

This plan happened before on accident with the same friends and they just stared at him while Nainsi shooed him out. Little did he know that her friends would just start talking about him and his looks. When Nainsi told him this, he groaned and whined about how he got enough of this from school. So when Nainsi had people over, Kai would camp in his room to avoid the awkwardness.

Now, he knows how her friends would react. And how she would react.

But before he could do anything, the phone in his pocket vibrated, making him turn a one-eighty back into the laundry.

It was actually Cinder calling and he answered quickly, “hello?”

“Uh, Kai?”

“Yes?”

“Can you do me a favor? Please?” it sounded like she was outside where it was currently raining.

“Yes, of course, what do you need?”

“I need a ride. I’m stuck here in the rain, by myself. Also, this is going to sound weird but, can I also stay with you for an hour and a half?” she defeated like she lost an argument.

“I can pick you up and you can stay with me. Nainsi has some friends over but it should be fine, ” Kai wondered if he sounded too cheery.

“Ok, thanks. I’m at the gas station outside your neighborhood, by the way.”

“Great, see you in a few minutes. Bye.”

“Bye, ” she hung up.

Kai hurried to put on a shirt and grab two rain jackets from the close, just in case Cinder needed one. Then he walked into the living room and out the front door, only to come back in. He forgot to tell Nainsi where he was going.

“Hey Nainsi, I got to pick up someone. I’ll be back soon though, ” she nodded, mouth full of pizza crust, “uh, don’t open the door to strangers. Bye.”

This time he didn’t go back inside after he left. He drove out of the neighborhood, slowly because it was pouring buckets and he could barely see three feet in front of him. After an eternity, Kai finally reached the gas station and parked under the large roof.

He didn’t even see Cinder come in, only heard her, sacring him witless. She smiled apologetically while tossing a white plastic bag onto her lap. It was full of snacks.

“Thanks for coming to get me, I owe you one now, ” she said, handing him one of the bags of chips.

“Of course, Cinder, I would do anything for you, ” the corner of her lip curved upwards as Kai’s cheeks heated, “that came out wrong. I meant that you’re my friend and such. Like the good moral movies where like the one friend reminds the other what friendship is truly about?”

Cinder snorted, “Like My Little Pony?”

“Isn’t that a TV show?”

“Same thing.”

“Is not.”

“Whatever, I know what you meant. Peony had made me watch enough TV shows and movies to last a lifetime.”

“Okay then, ” the rain seemed to finally thin during their conversation making it much more comfortable conditions for Kai to drive in.

Cinder had a habit of talking with her mouth full and the ‘good manners kid’ inside of him cringed. He hoped he hid it well.

Anyways Cinder explained why she was soaking wet at a gas station abandoned with snacks. She was bored and hungry and wanted something to do. So she walked to the gas station, alone, for snacks and a good walk.

Kai raised an eyebrow at that, “you live far away from me, how and why did you walk miles just for a bag of junk food?”

“People can do miraculous things when they are bored, Kai.”

“Yes, and penguins can fly if they really set their minds to it.”

“They are a bird so, hey, nothing’s impossible.”

“Who drove you?”

Cinder shoved a chip in her mouth, “Pearl,” she admitted reluctantly.

“What?”

“I skipped lunch and she knew I was hungry so she drove me here and left me while I was getting snacks. She also called me and said that it was a prank she couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, ” Kai said as they were pulling in his driveway. It was drizzling now so there was no need for the rain jackets.

“I’m also supposed to be at the garage until later so that's why I have to stay that long. If I come back early, Adri would get mad, and I don’t feel like getting yelled at today.”

“Ok,” he said as he walked out of the car.

He opened the door for Cinder and followed her inside. Nainsi and her friends did not move from before he left, but they switched shows. His little sister locked eyes with Cinder, immediately getting up.

“Hey Cinder. I did not know you two were hanging out today?” She said conspiratorially.

Cinder nodded, “yeah it was kind of sudden. Also, Peony is not with me, sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m going back to my friends now. So you guys can ‘hang out’” Nainsi emphasized the last part then ran off to her friends.

“So, um, what do you want to do for an hour and a half?” he asked.

Cinder turned to him, “I don’t know, what do you want to do.”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s just go to your room then.”

“Good idea, ” Cinder has been to his house enough to know the layout. He followed her to his room where she fell on the bed.

“Working under cars all day isn't good for the back you know, ” she explained, muffled by a pillow.

“I would expect so because your posture is not up to standards.”

She snorted, “I guess that’s true, ” Cinder sat up and leaned on the headboards, “sorry for taking up your space. And for calling you. Stars, this was a bad idea, you already have people here. I’m like an intruder-”

“Why are you apologizing so much? I don’t care if you light my room on fire, ” Kai accused. It was true, ever since he met her, she would apologize for every single tiny thing, as if every single wrong thing she did was unacceptable. He moved towards her to place a hand on hers, “it’s okay, Cinder. And calling me was a good idea because you saved me from the little demons.”

Cinder let out a genuine laugh that ended with a genuine smile. A smile that never ceased to make his heart twitch. He bashfully realized that he was still holding her hand.

Kai let go but she only grabbed his hand back. He watched her intertwine their fingers, trying to ignore the strong pounding of his heart. He dared to look up and realized that Cinder was staring at him.

He looked into her chocolate eyes that seemed to shine with stars. He wanted to dive into that sea of brown and lie there for eternity. As long she was there.

“Now kiss!” cried a shrill voice. Kai jumped away from Cinder, noticing that she copied his actions.

“Aw, come on just kiss already, the tension was so thick, ” said... Peony?

Cinder’s eyes widened, “Peony, what- how did- why are you here?”

“Well first, I was invited to the sleepover but I had volleyball practice so I had to come late. I just got here. And second, I saw Nainsi sneaking up here so I followed, and oh my stars, we ruined the money, didn’t we?” Peony looked at Nainsi.

“We did. Sorry guys, we’ll go now.”

“Yes, now you can kiss in peace, ” the girls left, leaving Kai very flustered. He glanced at Cinder and saw that her cheeks were also tinted pink.

“So, do you want something to eat, ” he asked finally. He could not bear the silence anymore.

“Yes, ” she nodded, although they already are in the car.

They got up to leave but before he could open the door, Cinder grabbed his wrist and pulls him down. The next thing he knew they were kissing. It was quick and soft and amazing. It felt like everything suddenly clicked and the world was righted. Like the stars finally aligned.

She pulled away and Kai could feel the heat in his ears. His heart was beating so loud that he was sure Cinder could hear it as well.

“Let’s go get some food, ” she breathed and opened the door. She was still holding his wrist, he realized. He intertwined their hands like before, but this time it felt more meaningful. It was like their hands now signified that they were more than friends. That they loved each other, even if they hadn't admitted it yet. But he could feel it and was sure that she could too.

They entered the kitchen and Cinder began to talk about food options but all he could think about was the kiss. He wanted to kiss her again. And to hold her.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, making them turn around. Nainsi, Peony, Emily, Geovanna, and Ben all stood with knowing faces. Nainsi smirked, “finally.”

Peony looked like she was about to explode with happiness, “I already told Iko. She’s ecstatic.”

Neither Kai nor Cinder said anything. Nainsi probably knew because of the looks on their red faces and told Peony. Then Peony told Iko and Iko probably told everyone in their friend group.

So now everyone knows.

“Just to be sure, you guys did kiss, right?” asked Emily.

Slowly, Cinder nodded. Kai opted to stare at his feet. Peony whooped, Nainsi squealed, Cinder blushed, and Kai groaned.

“Ok now we will leave you alone, for real, ” Nainsi promised, dragging her friends away.

“Why are there so many people here?” Kai murmured then turned to Cinder. She leaned on his shoulder. They were still holding each other's hand, “I really want to kiss you again, by the way.”

“Me too.”

“Okay then, ” he cupped her cheek with his free hand and kissed her. Cinder squeezed his hand affectionately. He once again felt like everything was where it was supposed to be, where he was supposed to be, and that was with Cinder.

Tagging: @just2bubbly @winterrhayle @jacihayle @shelbylmkaider @cerenoya @a-salting-the-world @ladyvesuvia @not-the-founder-of-rome @greenalmond @zephyr-thedragon @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @strawberry-seraph (these are just one-shot tags so please tell me if you want to be added or remove for these types of fics <3)

#kaider fanfic #my fanfic #headcanon #tlc fanfiction #the lunar chronicles #tlc au #nainsi #prince kai #cinder linh #peony linh #kaider

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deliasqueen · 3 years

Text

Battered Love

Summary: Falling in love with Cordelia was easy, but will your brain allow her to love you back.

Warnings: Shitty parents? Idk if that’s a warning but just in case.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: So this may or may not be about my life with actual examples. So um this is my heart poured out into writing, and I’m terrified to post this.

You had been living at the academy for almost a year now. The second you walked in you were completely enthralled with the Supreme’s beauty.

Wanting to know everything about being a witch, you started spending time with her. It started as small lessons in her classroom to spending long hours in the greenhouse. At first the relationship was purely platonic, with a lingering glance here and there, but after a couple months, it started to turn into something more. You two making each other’s preferred morning drinks when you got in the kitchen before the other, lingering touches, and using your greenhouse time to destress and get to know each other better as opposed to practicing spells.

One night in particular had you really feeling a certain way for your favorite witch.

Cordelia was sitting on the bench, and you were lounging on your pillow pile on the floor. You two had been talking about nothing really when Cordelia opened up about her past.

“You know I have an ex-husband, right?” Looking over at Cordelia you see her staring mindlessly at the ceiling, and you were shocked.

“I didn’t know that. May I ask what happened? Only if you want to talk about it of course.”

“You’re fine sweetheart. He was a witch hunter, which was bad enough, but he also cheated on me,”

After a deep exhale she continued, “I felt worse than I could put into words. I hated myself for loving someone who hated who I am. I hated myself for loving someone who put the girls into danger. I hated myself for loving someone who didn’t value me,”

Wishing you could wrap her in your arms, you just listened to what she had to say.

“What made the pain even worse is that my mom was so awful to me. I mean she was always awful to me but this…made it so much worse.”

After hearing her say that, you got up and took her into your arms. You pulled her down into your pillows, and you two fell asleep on the greenhouse floor tangled in each other’s arms that night.

After that night you knew you were truly in love with her, but you were too scared for her to love you back. Hearing your entire life how much your mom hates your dad, and how you are just like him, hearing how much your mom hates you, hearing your mom constantly talk about how if she could leave you two she would, eventually took a toll on your idea of love. No matter how respectful you were, how much of the perfect straight A student you were, no matter how many awards you got, you just weren’t good enough for her. You knew no matter what you did you would never be good enough for anyone to love. You were so afraid that if you let Cordelia in, and let her love you, she would eventually start to hate you just like everyone else. The only thing that gave you a little hope was that Cordelia knows what it’s like to be hated by her mom, no matter how perfect you try to be.

It was Saturday evening, and the girls were all in the living room having an extremely competitive game of drunk Uno. Skipping tonight because of an assignment you had to get finished, you were sitting in your room when you heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” turning off your music and moving your laptop you looked up to see Cordelia walking in.

“Hi honey, can I sit?” with a sweet smile, she motioned to the spot next to you.

“Of course.” scooting over, you gave her room to sit with you.

“You know the girls are asking for you to come down.” She looked at you with a pout.

“I want to, but I have too much work,” with a frown you motioned to your laptop.

Humming Cordelia just laid her head on your shoulder.

Feeling electricity shoot through your body you murmur, “How come you aren’t downstairs?”

“Why would I be downstairs when my favorite girl is up here alone?” She wrapped her arm around your front snuggling into your shoulder.

When you tensed up, she immediately knew something was wrong.

“Are you ok honey?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Scooting over, tears formed in your eyes and you did everything in your power to not let Delia see.

With a look of pure hurt in her eyes Cordelia said, “Y/n did I do something wrong? You can always tell me if I’m overstepping.”

“No! No, no. It’s not that, it’s just me being complicated.” Quickly you grabbed her hand and ran your thumb across it to get the pained look off her beautiful face.

“You know you can talk to me about anything.” With big does eyes Cordelia looked at you and made you want to melt into a big gay puddle.

Quickly trying to decide to open up to her or not is one of the hardest decisions you’ve had to make. You could tell her everything now and have the possibility of being able to love her, and kiss her, and cuddle together, but at the same time what if she hates you and wants nothing to do with you once you two start dating.

Letting your negative thoughts get the best of you, you decide it’s better to live in this eternal torture of not expressing your love than it is to have the love of your life hate you.

“It’s really nothing Cordelia, I’m just stressed and tired from school.”

Cordelia being the ever observant one caught onto you saying her full name. Thinking that she had done something wrong she left your room with a mumbled “goodnight” and went to bed.

Watching Cordelia walk out of your room like a sad puppy broke your heart. You knew you had screwed up. Big time. Regretting every choice you’ve made in your entire life, you disregarded your assignment, laid down, and cried.

Waking up to a sun filled room on Sunday, you walked downstairs to see your mug in its place inside the cabinet with a missing Cordelia’s. With a big sigh and sadness filling your chest you went back to bed and quickly fell asleep.

Awaking to a knock on your door, you groaned and rolled over to see what time it is. Picking up your phone and squinting from the abrasively bright light, the time read 2:07. Shocked at the fact you slept in so late, you jumped out of bed and answered the door. Opening the door you were met with a very angry Madison and annoyed Zoe.

“You broke Cordy,” snapped Madison.

At a loss for words, you just stared at her with your mouth slightly agape.

“Cordy isn’t being her usual chirpy annoying self. Today she is just mopey, rude, and even more annoying.” With that Zoe elbowed Madison and looked at you.

“Look Cordelia is clearly upset and it’s affecting us. Just whatever happened please fix it, so she starts acting like herself again.” With that they both walked away and left you staring at the Supreme’s door conflicted.

What got to you the most about what the girls told you was that Delia is clearly upset. And that makes you upset. You thought her hating you would be the worst feeling in the world, but the fact that she was upset because of you broke your more than you could’ve ever imagined. You knew now was the time to open up about something you had locked away and buried so deep for so long.

Walking over to Cordelia’s door you hesitated. You knew you wanted to do this, but you were also terrified to do this.

With a light knock to the door, you bit your lip and wanted to run away.

A somber “come in” was all it took for you to swing the door open.

You were met with the sight of Cordelia snuggled up in a blanket reading the book. This was the book of poems you gave her for her birthday a couple months ago. You highlighted all the parts that made you think of her. Things that talked about beauty, grace, and intelligence. You put doodles of flowers and stars in the corners of some pages just because when you think of Delia you’re inspired. She cried when she read through it and told you this was the most special, heartfelt thing she owns.

“I owe you an explanation,” you looked into her sad, red eyes and your heart broke 1,000 times more.

“May I sit?” With a nod from Delia, you sat next to her with just a little space between you two to give you room to breathe.

“Look y/n, I’m really sor-“

Cutting her off with a finger to her soft lips you began, “I want you to know that my reaction yesterday had nothing to do with anything you did. You do not need to be sorry about anything. I should be the one apologizing. I reacted harshly when I shouldn’t have,”

“Y/n you tensed so hard it was like I hurt you.”

“I know, and I shouldn’t have reacted that way. That’s why I owe you an explanation,” Scooting just a bit closer to Delia for her comfort, you prepared yourself to bring up this topic.

“Growing up my parents couldn’t stand each other. They were constantly arguing and fighting no matter where we were. Every year they would have this one massive blow out fight. I had to watch them do awful things to each other and call each other the worst names. Names you would call your enemy in a fight, not something you should ever call someone you love. Constantly watching my dad make my mom feel like she’s nothing and watching my mom shoot off at my dad over tiny things really started to wear down on me. I didn’t know what to feel or who to love when there was just so much anger,” Catching your breath, you didn’t realize tears were trickling down your face until Cordelia wiped them for you.

“And sure, plenty of people’s parents fight, but my biggest issue came from my mom. She was so miserable with my dad, and I was her venting outlet. I had to listen to her talk about how my dad makes her stomach sick and how she can’t stand being married to him. I was also the outlet of her anger. Even without a failed marriage my parents have actual anger issues. Between that and the anger she held in from the way my dad treated her, I had no chance. Delia, she was so mean to me,” Voice cracking on the last sentence, you look at Delia with tears flowing from your eyes and you reached out with grabby hands.

Cordelia quickly scooped you into her arms, and you buried your face into her chest and sobbed. She cooed comforting nothings and gently rubbed your back until you calmed down.

Laying on her chest, you began telling her more, “Ever since I was little, I remember my mom coming home from work and talking about how she wished she didn’t have to come home, she wished she could go somewhere else. I was young and didn’t really understand, but I knew deep down I was hurt my mom got so upset to come home to me. As I got older, it just got worse. Her and my dad started fighting more, so she took that anger out on me. She would constantly scream in my face about how I’m just like him and how she hated both of us. She would follow that with, ‘I would leave here if I had somewhere to go.’ Everything got so much worse when I came out. Well, I didn’t really come out. She forced me to, and I wasn’t ready. She acted awful towards me until my grandma died, and then she tried to be more accpeting. Even after that though, she was still miserable and mean. She would call me a little bitch when I swear I did nothing wrong. I didn’t do ‘bad’ stuff, I made exceptional grades, hell I took the SAT in 7th grade and scored so high I got state recognition, but no matter what I did or how hard I worked it was never enough to please her. It was always I could do better, and it got to the point where that was all I heard. That I was awful, and I could do better.” Tears back in full force you just sank into Cordelia.

Through your sobs you choked out, “The reason why I pushed you away last night was because I love you Delia, and I don’t want you to end up hating me like my parents do. I don’t want to have a relationship just for us to hate each other”

Completely shocked with your confession, Cordelia holds you against her so tightly and whispers as if she’s afraid speaking too loud will break you, “Honey, baby girl, love of my life you are not awful, and I am so proud of you. You are so smart, and talented, and oh so loving. You care about people so much. You always do what you think will help others before you do anything for yourself. You are the most special girl I have ever met; I could never hate you princess. I love you with my entire heart y/n, and my love for you will only grow. Our love is not your parents love. Just because they have the relationship they do, doesn’t mean everyone else does. There is true, honest love in this world y/n, and we have it.”

Sobbing into Cordelia, you are so unbelievably relieved with her response. You feel this sense of love and pride you have never felt before.

Once your sobs had calmed down into small hiccups Cordelia gently pushed your chin up with her finger to look into your eyes. Seeing the red, puffy y/e/c eyes she loves so much made her heart swell. With a soft smile on your face, you looked at her beautiful, full lips and back into her eyes with a pleading look on your face. With that Cordelia pulled you up to her and your lips met in a passionate, soft, and long-overdue kiss.

“I love you so much Delia.” Looking into her honey-colored eyes you felt at home.

“I love you too, more than anything in this world baby girl and not one thing on this Earth will ever change that.” Laying down she pulled you onto her chest.

“Sleep now my sweetheart and know you are so incredibly loved.” Placing a kiss to her chest, you drifted off into the most comforting sleep of your life.

#cordelia x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx #cordelia foxx x reader #ahs #ahs x reader #ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson #this was scary #please enjoy

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat - prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky.

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks.

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home.

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her.

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not need the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home.

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground.

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery.

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital.

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’.

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip.

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face.

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap.

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands.

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand.

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs.

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight.

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings.

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes.

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’.

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor.

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when she would help me after physiotherapy’.

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour.

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!'

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away.

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint.

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter.

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home.

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest.

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him.

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly - Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers.

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart.

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise.

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses.

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands - ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet.

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go.

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind.

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie.

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side.

He hears the door close behind him.

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes.

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily.

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs.

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause.

The twins stare at each other.

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.

The door slams behind him again.

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour.

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Gift by SisterSpooky1013

2931 words, rated E

Read it here on AO3

Adult content immediately after the jump

He trailed kisses down her sternum, stopping to lavish each nipple with the rough brush of his tongue before continuing to her belly button, dipping into the shallow well of her navel and eliciting giggles from up among the pillows. He smiled against the skin of her lower belly as he rubbed his second-day stubble on her flesh, delighting in more arousal-laden tittering. The amount of play and laughter in their newly-blossomed sex life had surprised him; someone who was generally as serious and task-focused as Scully didn’t strike him as the type to make a joke while he was breathlessly driving himself as far into her tiny body as he could get, but she did, and often. He nipped at the hem of her panties, snapping the elastic with his teeth, then ran his nose down the damp gusset of the thin fabric, smelling her arousal. He wanted desperately to taste her. Tentatively, he ran his tongue along the seam of her thigh, slipping millimeters into her panties. His hopes were dashed, yet again, when he felt her hands on the sides of his face, pulling him up.

“Come here, Mulder,” she breathed in an intimate whisper. “I want you here.”

After they had each found their release and lie sated and sweat-damp on her bed, his head resting on one of her small breasts as though it were a pillow, he surveyed her face to gage her openness to a real conversation.

“Scully, can I ask you something?” He queried.

“You just did, “she replied smartly, brushing her fingers over his scalp with a content smirk on her lips.

“Har har,” he said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem to want me to, shall we say, go down under.” He lifted his eyebrows and tipped his head back slightly to indicate he was referring to the lower half of her body.

“‘Go down under,’ Mulder? I assume we’re not talking about a trip to Australia here?” She was making light, but he caught the slight tensing of her body when he’d mentioned it.

“Okay, if euphemisms are unwelcome, let me clarify that I’m talking about me putting my mouth on your vagina.” He punctuated the statement with a haughty little smile as her eyes briefly went big before she composed herself.

“I think you mean vulva, Mulder. The vagina is just the opening and pathway to the uterus. The vulva is everything external, including the labia majora and minora, and the clitoris.” She was averting her eyes to where her fingers were trailing down his upper arm, hiding behind facts and definitions. Had anyone else witnessed this conversation, they would not detect that she was deeply uncomfortable. Mulder knew better.

“Thank you for the anatomy lesson, Dr. Scully. But that begs the question of why you won’t let me go down on you.” He worked to keep his expression soft and open, without judgment or expectation.

She met his eye and shrugged, pushing her chin into a pout concurrently. “I’m just not a fan. Is that a problem?”

“No, not a problem per se. If you truly don’t like it I can accept that, but I can’t help but wonder if you actually don’t like it, or if you’re just not comfortable with it.” He had picked up her hand after she dropped it from his arm and was brushing his thumb over her palm. He wanted to maintain connection, to communicate that this was wasn’t meant to be confrontational. He just wanted to understand her.

She inhaled deeply and let the air stream out through puffed lips. “I suppose I would say the former, because of the latter.”

“So you’ve done it before?” He clarified. “Or experienced it, more accurately.”

She peered at him from under her eyelashes, a look of slight annoyance on her face. “Yes, Mulder,” she said as though it were the most obvious answer possible.

“And you didn’t like it?”

She sighed again, growing tired of the conversation. “I’ve just never been able to…get out of my own head, I guess. It’s just awkward, and I find it difficult not to think about what my partner is thinking or experiencing.” She picked at a patch of lint on the comforter. “I’ve honestly never enjoyed it so I’d rather just skip it.”

He absorbed this information, to which he had numerous rebuttals, but he knew that it wasn’t something he could or should push her on. “I respect that decision,” he started, “but I also think you should know, just so you’re armed with all relevant information, that I’m really good at it. Like, REALLY good.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I don’t doubt that, Mulder. But the fact remains that I could make you the best rhubarb pie on Earth and you still wouldn’t like it, because you hate rhubarb.”

He shifted so that he was lying on his side facing her, propped up on one elbow.

“Or have I only ever had shitty, underripe rhubarb? I’d have to try it to know for sure.”

“Mulder.” Her tone carried warning that he was taking it too far.

“Okay, okay. Just one more thing and then I promise to let it go.” He lifted his free hand and placed it gently on her thigh so that his thumb was resting just beside the cleft of her sex. “What if I told you that in all the times that I fantasized about being with you, which were very frequent by the way, that the thing I thought about the most was going down on you?” He swept his thumb lightly back and forth, a whisper of a touch near her clit.

“Then I would tell you that I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” she replied, bringing her hands to his face and pulling him towards her for a kiss, at the same time letting her legs fall open so he could explore her with his fingers. That much, she would happily permit.

******************************************

Autumn had arrived in full swing, the yellowing leaves and chilly air sending them into hiding beneath wooly blankets, favoring her place for the availability of a fireplace to keep them warm. It was here that they sat on a lazy Sunday afternoon, steaming coffee cups wafting up to their kiss-swollen lips after a morning of lovemaking.

“It’s almost your birthday, Mulder,” Scully remarked, “What do you want to do?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. You know I’m not a big birthday fan. For myself, anyway.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I know, but that’s because no one ever made any effort to make your birthday special. I’d like to change that, if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t want you to put a bunch of effort into it, Scully. It’s just another day, it doesn’t need to be a big deal.”

She set her mug on the coffee table and then took his, doing the same. She wrapped his cup-warmed hands in hers and looked at him with tender affection.

“It IS a big deal, Mulder. I’m certainly grateful that you were born.” He smiled sheepishly and looked at his lap, uncomfortable with such unabashed praise. “I really want to do this for you. Think of something you’ve always wanted to do but never have, and we’ll do it together. It would mean a lot to me.”

He met her eye and felt his heart swell at how open and genuine she looked. “Okay, I’ll think about it,” he finally said, and she smiled victoriously as she retrieved his cup for him.

*******************************************

“I figured out what I want to do for my birthday.” He announced. It was October 10th, and she’d reminded him a few times that she would need at least a little bit of notice to make arrangements, depending on what he decided on doing.

“Oh good!” She exclaimed, setting the file she’d been reading on his coffee table so she could give him her full attention. “What is it?” She sat at the far end of the couch with her back against the arm rest, legs crossed.

He felt nervous, knowing that he had to do this just right or it wouldn’t work. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, years actually, but I’m not sure you’ll want to do it with me.” He rubbed his palms on the tops of his thighs. “Actually, never mind.” He picked up another file and opened it in his lap.

Scully stood and moved to sit right beside him, one leg folded under her so that she was facing him, and took the file from his hands. “Tell me, Mulder.”

He fought off the smirk that tugged at his mouth. “Before I tell you, do you promise you’ll do it, even if you aren’t exactly excited about it?”

“Of course,” she said emphatically, her eyebrows stitched in concern as she folded her diminutive hands around his own. He felt a little guilty, but not enough to stop. “It’s your birthday, and I’d really like to do whatever it is that would make it special for you. It doesn’t matter whether I enjoy it, as long as you do.”

“Okay,” he said, beginning to lose the battle to maintain a neutral expression, which contorted his face into an odd grimace. He looked at her and bit his lip. “What I really want for my birthday, more than anything in the world, is for you to let me go down on you.”

Her eyes widened and then narrowed as she let go of his hands and sucker-punched him on the upper arm. “Mulder!” Her mouth dropped open in a mix of surprise and amusement. “That isn’t fair, you tricked me!”

“I did not, everything I said was completely true and honest. I have been wanting to do this for years, it’s all I want for my birthday, Scully.”

She shook her head at him ruefully, but there was a soft smile on her mouth. “I’ll give you three minutes, Mulder, and that’s it.”

“Deal,” he replied, extending his hand in an offer to shake on it. He had the good sense not to tell her how confident he was that she would be begging him not to stop when those three minutes were up.

******************************************

At the time she agreed to his birthday gift, it had been four days since they’d last had sex, and he artfully avoided being in a position for them to be intimate for the following three. Part of his plan, which was exceedingly well thought out, involved her being as turned on as possible when he finally touched her. He picked up her favorite red wine and made sure she had the opportunity go home after work before he came over, in case being able to take a shower or bath was something she’d want to do, not that he cared. He just wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, part of which included being in her own apartment.

His own excitement was palpable, his cock twitching at the idea of tasting her as he knocked on her door, bottle of wine in hand. When she answered in a knee length grey dress, the apartment abnormally warm with a fire blazing, he failed to suppress the grin that spread across his face. Easy access was all he thought, and he was hoping she had the same thing in mind.

“Happy Birthday, you bastard,” she crooned, pulling him through the door and pushing on to her tip toes to kiss him.

“Why thank you,” he returned, pulling back and holding up the wine. “I brought you something.”

Taking it from him, she walked to the kitchen and set it next to an already open bottle. “I’m two steps ahead of you,” she replied, pouring him a glass after she drained her own.

He joined her by the counter, setting their glasses to the side and gripping her by the hips to lift her up on to it. Stepping close to occupy the space between her thighs, he brought his hands to her face and tipped it up until she was looking at him. “You know you don’t ever have to do anything with me you don’t want to, right? No matter how much I want this, if you’re not into it, we won’t.”

She nodded. “I know. But I’ve made up my mind. I think I can withstand three minutes of something mildly uncomfortable for the sake of all your birthday dreams coming true.”

He smiled warmly at her. “Okay. But just so you know, my plan is that it’s slightly better than tolerable.”

She chuffed a laugh and he kissed her, a slow languid kiss that morphed into the slip of a tongue, and then the grip of a hip, until finally they were making out on her kitchen counter as he tugged her pelvis against his own, grinding into her as she hummed with desire.

He hadn’t expected them to get right to business so quickly, but he was more than happy to initiate phase one of the plan; torture her until she was practically begging to be touched. Slipping his hands under her ass, he lifted her off the counter and carried her into her bedroom, placing her gingerly in the center of the bed. He kissed down her throat, his lips brushing over the sensitive spot beneath her ear and sucking gently at the juncture of her shoulder. Feeling for the zipper at her back, he peeled it down and then pushed it from her shoulders to get at her breasts. She’d skipped a bra, and he circled her nipples with his tongue before flicking at the hardened buds. She flexed her hips, moaning softly, and he trailed his hand up her inner thigh to cup her lightly over her dampening panties; not enough pressure to relieve her need, but enough to drive her crazy with want. He moved between her mouth, neck, chest and breasts, licking and sucking as he simultaneously teased his hands around the edges of her panties, brushing close but never touching her clit. Finally he peeled her panties off and lifted her dress over her head, leaving her naked and aching before he resumed the same pattern on her bare skin. His fingertip danced at her opening, placing a hint of pressure but never going inside. He fluttered over her inner lips, hovering just above her clit and she squirmed, biting his lips and whimpering. She was incredibly wet, which allowed him to slide over and around her effortlessly with almost no pressure. This went on for a deliciously long time, until she arched her back abruptly in an attempt to force more contact and then moaned in frustration when he pulled his hand away.

He moved quickly, not wanting to give her time to pull herself out of the moment with self-conscious thoughts. Moving to the end of the bed, he shucked off his shirt and then gripped the top of her thighs and pulled her down to where he was kneeling before her. He hoped that in the future he’d have the opportunity to look and explore and taste her slowly, taking his time, but in this circumstance he instead immediately brought his lips to her swollen, aching clit and sucked it softly, fluttering the pointed tip of his tongue across it as his eyes darted to her bedside clock and took note of the time.

She sucked air into her lungs audibly, her chest rising and obscuring her face as a single, piercing “Oh” escaped her lips. He proceeded to devour her, dipping his tongue into the liquid pool of her entrance and tasting her sweet and slick, running up her seam and to her clit, when he felt her hand on the back of his head. Dismayed, he thought this was the point where she would ask him to stop, and he would without question if she asked him to. But when he glanced up he saw that her eyes were closed, her face contorted into an expression of absolute ecstasy as her other hand gripped her breast tightly and pinched at her nipple. Encouraged, he swirled his tongue around her sporadically throbbing bud and let his ears delight in the sounds of her pleasure, knowing that she was close. When her panting became quick and rhythmic, he slipped two fingers inside her and flexed them against her front wall, and she cried out in a mix of surprise and relief as he felt her clench around him, spasming under his tongue as she dripped down his chin and his wrist, wetter than he had imagined possible. He continued, slowing only as she did, pulling from her each pulse her body had to offer, not letting her miss out on a moment of it. When she shifted her hips away from him he removed his fingers and placed one last kiss to the inside of her thigh before he crawled up the bed to find her with her eyes closed, breath still quick as she returned to Earth.

“Hey Scully,” he whispered into her neck.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, eyes still closed.

“I still have 30 seconds left on the clock. You wanna go again?”

She snorted. “Happy Birthday, Mulder.”

“Thank you. Hey Scully?”

“Yes?”

“I think you liked my present.”

She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, pupils the size of saucers, a sated smile on her lips.

“That I did.”

Tagging @today-in-fic thanks!

#dana scully #fox mulder #the x files #txf #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

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harryhighkey · 4 years

Text

the 1

hi!

so because i haven’t been able to listen to anything but folklore ever since it came out here’s a one shot inspired by one of the songs, the 1.

i’m really proud of how this turned out and i’m thinking of maybe doing more one shots inspired by songs from that album!

hope u like it and happy reading ♡

______________________

You were doing good.

So good in fact, that when someone asked you how you were, it wasn’t a mundane, somewhat conditioned response of ‘good’ - even if you weren’t. It was a genuine, wholehearted ‘I’m so good’ kind of response you’d hear in some finding the light moment by a protagonist in a movie. You deserved it too, you had been actively trying to find this frame of mind and finally here you were.

You first noticed the change in yourself when you started some new habits in your life. The moment came when you were caught in a drunk-minded deep conversation with one of your best friends.

“Y’know what I need?”

“What?”

“Get on some new shit.”

“You wan’ drugs right now?”

“Nah, nah, nah, not like that. I mean like, in life in general, y’know?”

“Yeah, dude. Same, like... let’s day drink on weekdays too.”

You laughed at her reply, but you remember not saying no. That was something else you were trying to do. Saying yes instead of no.

It’s not that you were necessarily a no person. In fact, you liked to think you were more of a yes person. You were always the friend who was up for anything once upon a time. No matter if it was going to sushi train, spending an afternoon following a Bob Ross tutorial, going axe-throwing, having a Sunday sesh of drinking bottomless margaritas or simply laying in bed and bitching about the people you didn’t like from high school and how boring their lives seemed compared to yours. You were always very friend orientated and you had amazing friends who you always had the most fun with and when that part of your life halted, it effected you more then you realised.

It had stopped by your own choice. You happened to fall in love with one of the most known and beloved male singers of this generation. Harry Styles. At first you kept living normally, but it was only a matter of time before you would get recognised more and more due to being his girlfriend. You didn’t sign up for being a celebrity, it was never your plan and you didn’t consider yourself to be one. But you couldn’t deny that you were known in the Harry Styles fandom for sure. Because of this, you started saying no to a lot more things. It was a sacrifice, but one you were willing to make at the time for the boy who you were so sure was the one.

It was impossible to ignore his status when you two were together and even now when you were not. There was a day when it had been two months and six days since you broke up where you were driving home from work and you were thinking of him. On your lunch break, your co worker who was named Henry was drinking from a mug with a ‘H’ on it. It was the same mug you had bought for Harry when you two were together. And on your way home there was a split second where you thought you saw him at the bus stop. You didn’t though. Of course not, it was just your mind playing a sick trick after you’d been thinking of him so much. Someone of Harry’s fame wouldn’t be able to catch a public bus, especially at peak hour without causing a ruckus. It was easy to miss the good parts and that moment was a slap in the face of reality at how the two of you struggling to be a ‘normal’ couple was a big reason why you broke up.

Two days after that, you spent a week where you swore to hit the ground running each night that week to feel better. The first night was out to dinner, the second was a board game night, the third was visiting your parents, the fourth was an escape room, the fifth was a rooftop bar, and finally came Sunday where you hit the matinee.

That week was exactly what you needed. It was busy as hell, but you wanted it to be. By the end of the week you were exhausted, but in the best possible way. Almost in a way of when you exercise and the release of good endorphins follow. You really felt like the main character in your life again, and when you were reminiscing back on the packed week, it was like a montage in a movie and your favourite songs would’ve been playing as the soundtrack. But then you had a wave of him. One single moment alone, and of course he’d crept into your mind. A simple memory of when you couldn’t decide what movie to watch. You had very different tastes when it came to watching something and Harry in an effort to soothe this over before it became frustrating asked in a dramatised voice,

“Don’t you know that the greatest films of all time were never made?”

At the time you had rolled your eyes and laughed at him. But maybe he was right after all. You missed him again in that moment, you never thought you would have to miss him in that way. When you were together and you missed him because he was away for a work commitment, you could call him up. Now you couldn’t. The the last phone you’d had with him flew to the front of your mind and sadly it was a bitter memory.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, H.”

“You okay?”

You sighed.

“That’s a no.”

“Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well I’m home again.”

“Go out then, (Y/N). You don’t need to have fomo.” He tried to lighten the mood by saying it like that, you were an extreme fomo sufferer and it was a personal joke within your life and at first he had found it cute and joined in. But it wasn’t simply fomo anymore. You were beginning to become depressed with the downfall of your social life that was once, such a defining aspect of who you are, and one of the reasons you had caught Harry’s attnetion in the first place, he loved your extroverted attitude.

“If I go, I’m gonna’ feel like groups of girls are looking at me and talking about me.”

“I know how that feels.”

“Harry, it’s not the same for me.”

“I know.”

You gave him silence, some sort of this conversation had became pretty repetitive for you two towards the end of your relationship.

“I am sorry you’re feeling like this (Y/N), but I’m not sorry for having my life.” He was getting frustrated, you could hear it in his voice. You were too, but you understood his frustration now, you didn’t then.

“Well, how I was to know that dating you meant this? You never know... never know that dating someone is going to fuck your life up.”

“I fucked your life up?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

He hung up then. It wasn’t pretty due to things only getting rockier. You broke up the day after that call. And fuck, were you devastated. You didn’t have your old life because going out meant feeling like people were looking at you for being Harry Styles’ girlfriend and that would hurt too much knowing you weren’t. Another thing that kept you inside for the most part, was the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before rumours spread on social media that the two of you had split. And you didn’t even want to think about how it would make you feel to hear people you didn’t know at all whisper about you being his ex. So there you were, without your old life and also without Harry and the new life you had with him.

It fucking sucked.

You waited for him to call, or to show up at your door to display some proclamation of love to get back together. In the first two months you would’ve said yes of course. But unfortunately it happened five months and twenty-eight days after the break up.

You were having a really good night. Harry wasn’t.

You and your sister were at the movies and you had to go to the toilet after ordering the biggest slurpee size and not being able to make it through the movie without needing a pee break. Just after you’d washed your hands your phone rang and you answered without looking at who it was, assuming it would be your sister asking to get some more m&m’s.

“Yeah?”

“Ah..hi. Bad time?” You recognised his voice and swore you felt your heart lurch into your throat. “(Y/N)?” You hadn’t answered him and you had answered the call so quick, he was caught off guard at your abrupt answering of the phone and now complete silence.

“No.. I, I didn’t look who was calling. I thought it was (Y/S/N).”

“Oh, you out?”

“Just to the movies.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Bet you look so pretty, baby.” He was drunk. His compliment did cause that warmth to appear in your heart, but you fought against it.

“Why are you calling, Harry?”

“Miss you...miss you so much.” Tears welled in your eyes, this was all you had wanted months ago. Just not now, not after you’d work so hard to get your life back on track to how you liked it. “Want you back, (Y/N).”

“Stop.”

“No.”

“It’s too late.”

“Why?”

“You had so much time to do this, it isn’t fair you’re doing it now. If you wanted me, you really should’ve showed.”

“I’m-”

You hung up on him and then cried.

You never made it back to into the theatre, instead, your sister came to you in the bathroom, making a joke about if you had gotten diarrhoea. She quickly stopped when she saw your makeup ruined and teary eyes. Immediately becoming concerned and when you explained what had happened, she simply told you,

“If you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.” And that was all you really needed to hear.

And so bleed you did, figuratively. You thought you had gotten past the crying stage but that call brought on a second wave. Except this time, you were determined to keep up with your found again lifestyle. More often then not you saved the crying for when you were alone. But sometimes, something reminded you of him and you couldn’t help but to become a little teary eyed in public.

One day though, a month and eleven days after that call, the tears weren’t out of complete sadness. You were at your nieces birthday party and the current activity for the children was making balloon figures with those long, skinny balloons. Your attention was on one kid who was seeming to struggle a little and you could quickly see that her balloon was shaping into something not so appropriate for a kids party. It made you laugh and before you gave it a second thought, you snapped a photo and sent it to Harry, due to it reminding you of a memory with him.

“Baby, I don’t think giraffes are meant to look like that.” Harry was laughing at you, the two of you had, had some drinks and after finding a random packet of those bendable balloons in your backpack, you decided on seeing who could make the best animals.

“I know! I can’t figure out how to do it any differently.” Your tone was frustrated. That was your third attempt and it was turning out exactly how the first two had. In the shape of a penis.

“That dirty mind of yours.” He continued to tease you so you hit him with your penis shaped balloon and he quickly picked up the other two to hit you back with them. It wasn’t long until the swats of balloons became grabby hands and you two had some of the best sex you’d ever had.

It was such a fun moment and your eyes did well up slightly, but it was more of a nostalgic feeling. He replied to the photo quickly.

Harry: I want to support you in whatever you do but I can’t support you teaching the only balloon shape you know how to do, to kids.

His reply was funny and you laughed and gave a quick wipe under your eyes before a tear could roll down but your sister caught the movement and gave you a questioning look so you told her,

“It’s alright now.” And she knew exactly what you meant.

You didn’t message him back. That day. And you had to really fight with yourself not to but for the next two nights he was in all of your dreams so that third morning when you woke up and was still half asleep, you messaged him.

(Y/N): I had this dream you were doing cool shit.

Harry: You did? What was I doing?

(Y/N): A bunch of things, it was like I was watching a movie of you.

Harry: How so?

(Y/N): Idk, having all these adventures on your own.

Harry: Anything in particular that stands out?

(Y/N): You met a woman on the internet and took her home.

Harry: It wasn’t you?

(Y/N): No.

Harry: Interesting.

You didn’t reply after that. You thought it would be another light hearted text conversation but something felt weird about it. Yes, you were obviously broken up but you swore there was a shift of some kind.

You tried your best to forget about, you really fucking tried but a few more weeks passed and on a Saturday at 1:33am you were drunk calling him.

“’lo?” It was his ‘I just woke up voice’. And your heart fluttered, he always was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ person when he slept, so this meant your contact was still selected as a favourite.

“Hi.”

“(Y/N)? What time is it?”

“1:33am.”

“You okay?”

“I don’ know.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“My life feels out of place...and I’ve been trying real fucking hard to get it back on track.”

“I’m sure if you keep trying-”

“I hate tha’ you’re missing from my life.” You cut him off.

“(Y/N), I think you need to get some sleep.” He could tell you were drunk.

“I know we never painted by the numbers, but like, we were making it count... Right?”

“Right.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything anymore... the greatest loves of all time are over now.” You were so drunk, and speaking a little dramatically but Harry knew you were in a state, so he was being a little patient with you. “Do you miss me, Harry?”

“I do.”

“I miss you, too.”

“But think of all the things you missed when we were together. I don’t want you to stop living your life that you love so much.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

“This is for the best.”

“Do you actually think that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to come stay tonight? I miss you a lot in the mornings.” You were getting more tired and Harry could hear it in your voice.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t, (Y/N).”

“Fine, it’ll just be another day waking up alone.”

“You’re not alone, you’ve got so many people in your life.”

“But not you, anymore.”

“Well, you still do, just not in the same way.”

“But, we were something, don’t you think so?”

“I do think so.... Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Harry asked a second time, he still cared for you so much.

“I think so, I just, can’t stop thinking about what if we had been together in another time... Like, imagine us in the roaring twenties. We’d be so vibrant and throwing parties together... Wishful, too. Tossing pennies in the pool.”

“What would you wish for?” He knew it was wrong to ask this while you were intoxicated but your emotion was flowing onto him even through the phone and he couldn’t help himself but to induldge in your scenario.

“Harry, if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you and me always.” You so unashamedly admitted, and Harry felt guilty then. He was pretty certain you’d wake up in the morning and regret this.

“I think I should go, (Y/N). Let you get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, night.” You were exhausted.

“Goodnight.”

The next day your best friend called and once you had told her of your late drunken call to Harry she immediately asked you,

“Now why the fuck would you do that?”

“In my defence... well I have none.”

“Exactly, and my question still stands, why the fuck would you do that?”

“You know me, just can never leave things well enough alone.”

After that call and promising your best friend that you wouldn’t go drunk dialling ex boyfriends again, you really wanted to stick to it. And so you did.

For seven months, there was no contact. And Harry had been laying pretty low so he wasn’t really being talked about and plastered in places so you couldn’t not see his face or hear his name or his songs.

Until news broke of him and his new girlfriend.

It was everywhere and you hated it. You hadn’t even thought of dating someone new. A couple months ago, you and your friend had set up a tinder profile for you but you hadn’t used it at all. You didn’t end things with Harry because you didn’t love him, because you did. So maybe part of you thought that you would get back together eventually, and maybe part of you thought he felt the same.

Apparently not.

The following weekend, you only had a couple drinks when you went out for a friends birthday. Truth being told, ever since seeing photos of Harry simply holding hands with another girl who wasn’t you, you had a pit in your stomach. You didn’t stay out for long, either. It was probably just you being a little anxious but you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were staring at you, and it had been a while since you felt like that and it was not a welcomed feeling.

Once you were home, you persisted and resisted the temptation to call or message Harry, simply to ask him if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? But you did resist and that was something you could celebrate.

Eventually those feelings that came from seeing Harry with his new girlfriend, faded. Partly because you’d done everything in your power to block hearing any news about him, but it was what you needed for your own peace of mind.

But today, you were going to see him, you knew that. And you knew there was a possibility of his new girlfriend also being there. It was a mutual friends engagement party, and maybe you had tried extra hard to look as good as you possibly could due to this knowledge.

You’d brought your best friend as a plus one and she spotted him before you did.

“Don’t turn around, but he’s coming in now.”

“Is she with him?”

“Yeah.” You took in a deep breath at your best friends confirmation of what you’d been worrying over. “He’s just spotted you.”

“Fuck... Does he look like he’s gonna come over?”

“Maybe, he’s talking at the moment.”

Harry was only a 180 twist away from seeing him after no contact for so long, but anxiety overtook any feeling of excitement or temptation. “Let’s move, I’m not ready.”

“We’ll go get a drink.”

The two of you walked off to the bar area and you released a sigh of relief which was followed by a few wet pussy shots to calm your nerves.

As the night continued on, you started to feel more at ease, which was probably from the alcohol but you didn’t care what it came from, as long as you felt better. As far as coming into contact with Harry, you hadn’t yet. You’d spotted the back of him a number of times, but he was always involved in a conversation with someone else.

It was when the engaged couple and their families announced speeches, you’d ended up closer to him then you would have liked. You sat down beside your best friend, only to look slightly to your left and see Harry sitting just to the side of you and a tiny bit forward.

You wished you could’ve said you found this fine and you enjoyed the speeches given by the couple and their family members but you kept allowing your eyes to drift over to him. It was so easy to considering he would have to look over his shoulder to catch you looking. He seemed happy with the rosé flowing with his chosen family.

“Are you okay?” Your best friend whispered to you and you looked back to her with a soft, sad smile.

“Yeah... just would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me.”

You were so grateful she was there with you and when the final speech was completed with a cheers, the both of you downed your own drinks and then laughed at each other. The laugh of yours that was familiar to someone else in the room and when you felt your vision moving to the left again, you were greeted with Harry’s eyes locking with your own. You weren’t even sure how, but your heart stilled and you watched as he turned his head back to the woman stood beside him to tell her something. She gave him a smile and nodded and you quickly looked at her as she glanced to you, you barely mirrored the smile she offered you because then Harry was making his way towards you.

“Hello, ladies.” He greeted the two of you. Moving to hug your best friend first because you had subconsciously taken a step back when he became too close.

“Hey, Harry.” She greeted him back and you took the brief moment they embraced to glance down and try to quickly regain your composure as best as you could.

It was only a quick timeframe between him hugging your best friend hello to then solely directing his attention to you but at the same time, it seemed like time was in slow motion.

“(Y/N), hi.” He moved to you so easily, and you to him. You were worried about it being awkward but your bodies knew exactly what they were doing when it came to each other. Your arms didn’t bump into each other, rather they so elegantly glided across one another until yours were up and around his shoulders and his were clasped so snugly around your waist.

Fuck, it felt good. It had been so long since you’d seen him, let alone felt him. You were so happy it was a genuine hug, being pressed against him and being held so tight felt so right. “Hi.” You finally returned his greeting, quietly and he pulled you in closer then.

“I’m just gonna head to the bathroom, guys.” Your best friend spoke up and part of you was glad because you weren’t sure you could ever let go of Harry again after being apart for so long. Another part of you wasn’t because it did cause the two of you to break apart and look towards her. You both shared a look, an unspoken ‘are you going to be okay?’ before she walked away after an unspoken confirmation.

When you looked back to Harry, you realised your hand was still gently holding onto this arm and when you noticed he had completely dropped his touch from you, you did the same. “Sorry.” You apologised and held your hands in front of you, but he smiled so warmly at you.

“Don’t be, it’s all good.” He always was so good at making you feel okay.

It was beginning to grow louder where you were with the completion of speeches and the party going back into full swing, so at the same time you both started to suggest finding a different spot.

“Should we-” You both stopped to allow the other to continue but with the double stop you both laughed.

“Let’s go.” Harry continued and so you walked with him in search of a more peaceful spot. After a few steps, you started to grab his hand without even realising why it would be a little problematic to do that right now. “(Y/N)...” He garnered your attention by calling your name and before you could finish filling the gaps between your fingers with his own, he pulled his hand away. His movements weren’t quick or aggressive and he didn’t speak your name with any kind of warning, it was more of a sad tone.

“Sorry.” A second apology was given.

“It’s okay.” He accepted, he wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable.

Eventually, you two found an empty side balcony with a little corner seat to occupy and when you sat down, your knees touched but neither of you made any effort to move to stop the accidental physical connection.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you so doubtlessly and as your eyes found his again, you swore the stars you saw in them made their way right to your heart to pierce through it. At a different time, you would have slid right beside him and held his face in your hands and kissed him so tenderly. His hands would have effortlessly found their place on your hips and if you were both feeling daring enough, you would have fucked hard and fast right there on that balcony. But he wasn’t yours anymore. Those stars weren’t for you anymore, as much as you wanted them to be. So you couldn’t allow yourself to react how you wanted to.

“Don’t do that, Harry.”

“What?”

“Tell me that and look at me like that. It’s not fair.”

“(Y/N),” He looked away then with a sigh, but you kept your eyes trained on his side profile. “You wanted this.”

“Okay, no.” Immediately, you argued against his words. “This,” He looked back to you then as you waved your hand between you two, “is not what I wanted.”

“Enlighten me, then.” His tone changed, it was slightly angered now.

“Really? Do you really want to dig up that grave another time.”

“I mean, as far I can remember you broke up with me.”

“But not because I didn’t love you or want you or anything like that, though.” You turned more towards him and the contact of your leg against his became more prominent.

“I know... but I’m with someone else now.”

Fuck, that hurt.

“I know.” Your voice cracked and instantly you snapped your head to the side in an effort to hide your teary eyes but he had already spotted them welling up.

“(Y/N),” He placed his hand on your knee and without looking at him you put your hand over his, at first you told yourself you were going to push his hand away, but instead you let your hand simply sit atop his. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m trying not to.” And you were. Harry could see that and he waited as you took in a few very shaky breaths. It took everything in him to not gather you in his arms and cradle you against him, but he knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do right now. But with each breath they became more evened out.

After a couple of minutes, you looked back to him while also lifting your hand from his and pushing his hand from your leg. He got the message and removed his grip.

“I swear I’ve actually been really good.” You spoke up and Harry smiled.

“I don’t doubt that.”

As you continued on, you looked away from him. Mindlessly glancing at whatever you could as you tried to explain. “No, really...like, I miss you, yeah, but, I really have been doing good.”

“I believe you.”

“Honestly, I swear I don’t sit around crying all the time.”

“(Y/N),” Instantly you looked back at him. “I know, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

You laughed and so did he.

“It would’ve been fun... wouldn’t it?”

“What?”

“If you would’ve been the one.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles concepts #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #writing #writings #my writing #my writings #the 1 #folklore #by blue

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