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gucciwins · 3 years

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Roses and Romeo

Harry and Y/N come back to their hometown after eight years to open up a time capsule they buried ten years ago as high school sophomores.

Word count: 20,534

A/N: Hello beautiful friends, hope you’ve been well. I’m really excited to share this story. It is a former high school sweethearts to lovers. Thank you to @havethetimeofyourstyles Jill for creating timetravelathon and allowing me to participate. I am very sorry it’s later but I finished!!! I do hope you all love it.

Also this story is my baby, because i’ve never hit 20k before so this was new and exciting. I just had so many ideas for the story.

please come and tell me your favorite part!

_____

DECEMBER 1989 - SENIOR YEAR

It's December, and all that is on her mind is how the grass would look covered in snow. The cold breeze, an extra jacket to stay warm, a blanket to bundle up with her favorite person. Safe to say, she can only imagine it because California, specifically Southern California, isn't so keen on giving her this one gift she asks for each year.

A huge smile spreads over her face as soon as she sees her house up ahead.

It's not huge, but it is perfect for Y/N. She has the best memories growing up in a house full of love and laughter and the most gorgeous flowers. The iris and tulips bloomed extra bright this year. There is never a day her mom isn't fixing the garden. Her mother always makes sure she has fresh flowers in her room; right now, for the week, she has purple tulips. Also makes a lovely gift to take to her boyfriend. Harry always blushes when she brings him flowers.

It also gets her extra kisses.

Harry parks right outside but doesn't rush out to open her door like always, so she turns to look at him. He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel; she patiently waits for him to speak up.

She'd wait all day if she could; he has a beautiful face, one that she will never get tired of gazing at. She especially loves that curl that flops down over his forehead; as much as he pushes it away, it bounces back as if he never moved it.

"It's Friday, love." Harry begins, "I think you should consider coming with me to a party."

She pouts. "No, I want to listen to that new record my dad found, and I also have lots to study. Big exam on Monday."

"You're always studying." He groans.

She frowns. "Not true! Calculus is my biggest enemy. Mr. Leanza is not easy on us."

"Okay, Miss 101%." He pokes her cheek.

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"I'm not going to go just for you to tease me."

Harry leans over and steals a kiss before she can dodge him. "Let's play a game." He sees her roll her eyes but asks her to hear him out.

She gestures for him to go on. "I go in and quiz you. Zero wrong out of all the flashcards you have in that bag of yours, and I get to take you with me. I already have parent permission. I'll have you know."

She narrows her eyes at him. Not ever surprised that her parents agreed, they trust Harry. He's given them no reason not to. She's about to tell him, no, but he gives her a big smile. His dimples are on full display, and she finds herself agreeing.

She mutters a small "okay."

Harry smiles, knowing how she likes to make him work for it, but he really enjoys finding new ways to win her over. He might have cheated, flashing her his dimples that he knows she can't resist, but he never said he played fair. "Only if I get to drive Nessie."

Nessie is Harry's classy white 1966 Mercedes-Benz 230 SL. She was never interested in cars, but Harry speaks so fondly of his car that she has come to learn so much about it and loves it just as much as Harry and her father together taught her how to change a tire and check the oil on Nessie. They want to prepare her for anything, and she is thankful because Harry likes to test her from time to time.

Harry smirked, knowing how much she loves driving. She loves it but does not cave in letting her parents get her a car. Her parents have wanted to get her a car since she got her license at sixteen, but Y/N claims it is too much money to spend.

Her parents tell her they have saved enough for her and her education. It's like raising an only child. They remind Y/N all the time since her brother has graduated university and now lives in San Francisco as an engineer in a growing company.

Harry has been meeting discreetly behind her back with her parents on gifting her a car this Christmas. Although he fears that having a car will mean less of him driving her around. Meaning they will spend less time together and fewer backseat make-out sessions, but on an upside also means he'd have to help her christen it.

"Darling, you dating me for my car?"

"Yes, dearie. I started dating you back in our first year because you had Nessie, not because of those dimples and lame jokes.

"You told me you love them!" Harry gasps, offended.

"Tell you what you want to hear." She shrugs, getting out of the car.

"Hurting my feelings, love." Harry now stands in front of her taking her bag from her hand and closing the door behind her.

"Let's get inside." She pushes him to walk in quickly, knowing her parents aren't home yet and her mom isn't due for another thirty minutes, and she would really love to squeeze in a make-out session.

"Compliment me, then we can go in." Harry stands firm in front of her, a teasing glimmer in his emerald eyes.

She reaches up and places her hands on his cheek, planting a small kiss on his nose.

"You're a dreamboat, Styles." She whispers.

Harry can't help the blush that seems to be taking over his entire face.

She pecks his lips and skips around him. "Let's get studying, then you can help me pick my outfit for later."

Harry shakes himself out of the trance she always seems to leave him in. "God knows you need it

JUNE 1998 - SUMMER HOME

Y/N had always known she was a bit crazy but honestly, deciding on making a 44-hour road trip from Massachusetts to California, where her hometown of Aurora takes the cake.

Yes, she knows how unsafe it is to be a woman on the road alone, but she saved up for the trip and would be spending the entire summer home for the first time since graduating high school. A plus was that she knows the map really well, having studied it hard like one of her anatomy books. Also, helped that her father quizzed her on what roads and exits she would be taking.

She's a good driver; her father always told her everyone else is who she had to watch out for. Honestly, she thanked her family for pushing her to drive more, and now she loves being behind the wheel.

The road was never-ending, taking her where she wanted, and currently, she was aiming for home.

It's four hours until she reaches home, a home she has not lived in for over eight years. A place that holds her most precious memories as well as most heartbreaking.

She's driving with the window down, enjoying the breeze, knowing the heat will only get worse the closer to home. A car passes next to her; she looks over briefly, taking in the vehicle's blue color. It does look a bit old; as the driver accelerates their speed, she notices that it's a Mercedes-Benz but can't make the model seeing as the driver must be eager to reach their destination now speeding off. If she's honest, those types of cars remind her of one person, and that's how she knows she'll never escape because she finds meaning for them in anything and everything life has to offer.

The last few hours on the road pass relatively quickly because the next thing she knows, she's parking her Jeep Cherokee in what she used to call her parking. This car has spent nine years with her and runs like a dream. It was a gift from her parents, and at the time, she was nervous about the gesture but really grew to love it. It also came in handy, seeing as she now lives far from home and visits as much as she can. She hopes to make more trips up now that she has residency but knows it will be harder to get holidays off.

Her parents understand; they do. She's following her dreams and achieving each one, and that is all they could ever ask for.

Y/N gets out and gets her suitcase; it has her essentials and anything she's missing; she can come out later to get it, well her father will most likely fight her and do it on his own.

Just as she is about to open the door, it swings open. Her mother doesn't give her any time to react and simply wraps her in a hug. A tight one full of love and happiness, an embrace she will never get tired of.

"Hi, momma," Y/N murmurs, not at all ready to let go.

"Hello, my sweet girl. It's good to have you home."

"It's good being here. Feel younger already."

"Ah, same here. Come inside; I have lemonade served up and muffins because they are your favorite."

Y/N smiles, knowing how much her mother made sure to have her well-fed always. No matter what she told her, she wanted her with meat on her bones. This also meant anyone who she brought home was given a big meal as well. Telling everyone and anyone they were too thin then proceeding to provide them with a second serving. This was her mother's way of getting into people's hearts through their stomachs.

Y/N walked into the kitchen and smiled at how nothing had changed. Hanging on the refrigerator were her three graduation photos: high school at seventeen, ready to take the world by storm, at twenty-one graduating with the highest honor from Columbia University, and the last was graduating Harvard Medical school this past spring. She knew the next to join would be a photo of her on the first day of her residency.

"Your father refuses to take any down; when your brother comes into town, he complains. Your dad shuts him up by telling him to go be a doctor, and then they could talk."

It warms Y/N's heart that her parents are proud of all the accomplishments she has made. It's been a tough road, but nothing stops her until she accomplishes her goals, and starting her residency is the next stop.

"Like dad's office is covered full of his accomplishments since entering that job in San Francisco." She jokes, transitioning the conversation away from herself.

"The oldest child always seems to be the most jealous." Her mother reminds her.

After eating a muffin or two, her mom sends her off on a walk, not wanting her to be cooped up in the house on her first day back. She has always loved walking around. It's something she did when her friends weren't able to offer her a ride. Also, her parents would walk her to the park every weekend growing up to run around in the grass and ruin more clothes with grass stains.

It's no surprise that she arrives at the entrance of the town's park. It looks like there is no one around until she really enters and finds a family seated on a picnic planet as their youngest tries feeding their oldest strawberries. It's a sweet sight.

She keeps going, not at all wanting to disturb; soon enough, she enters the part of the park no one really visits and finds the old park bench with lots of initials carved in the wood, hers included. It creaks as she sits on it; she smiles, knowing that it is something that has not changed.

There aren't many flowers in this corner, just a big willow tree offering her shade that she very much enjoys.

It's nice being home, she's missed it, but she has loved living in new places, making new friends and connections. She spent her first four years in New York, and she loved the environment. It was a university filled with thousands of people never seeing the same face twice in the halls. Everyone was always in a rush to get somewhere but not here, not at home. Everyone stops her for a conversation. They talk to her as if no time has happened, as if she was still the young girl who helped her mom tend the garden each weekend.

In a way, she always will be.

She wanted this time to explore and travel because she knows this where she'll come back one day to lay her roots. She and her future husband will marry here, maybe at the botanical garden with the beautiful flower arch all year round. It's where she sees her children growing up and running around as she once did. She's got her residency to finish up, but she's looking forward to when she can call Aurora home again.

After sitting for a while, she decides she will come back with a book or two next time. If she's going to be here all summer might as well start by doing some reading on books she has not gotten around to reading. Y/N is thinking about leaving when her eyes spot a couple coming down a hidden path, a small daisy behind the girl's ear, her arm tight around her boyfriend's arm. He's got the biggest smile on his face. They look so lost in each other, one can feel their love.

It reminds her of when she used to do that. When she did that with Harry before they broke up and never spoke again. It breaks her heart, but it also brings back some of the best memories. He'd always bring her here just so they could talk for hours so that she'd tell him more about the flowers and to kiss in private.

One of her favorite memories is when they were in their third year of high school, and he asked to meet for a surprise. She stands up and shakes the memory away, not wanting to get lost in her thoughts. It's harder to do now that she's home and she can see him everywhere she looks.

With that last thought brushed away, she decides to walk back home. She's got a few days to herself before meeting with everyone; there was the big reason she was back in town.

It was time to open a box of memories.

APRIL 1989 - JUNIOR YEAR

Harry is up to something.

She suspects something because he made her walk to the park when he would always be quick to offer her a ride. Sure, it's only a ten-minute walk from her house, but he always says something along the lines that not everyone is as kind as they seem.

It's April, and the flowers are in full bloom. She hears the birds singing, and she swears they sing of the beauty of the flowers. It's also bee season, meaning lots will be around the park, and as much as she loves them, Harry has a big fear of them. Y/N has mentioned various times that they don't mean to harm him; it can just happen. Especially if they get startled.

Y/N takes note of a new flower; it's a small white four-petaled flower that grows in fragrant clusters. They smell divine, but she knows she has never seen them. She really wishes she had her father's polaroid on her to take a photo and show her mother. Any other day she would turn back to do just that, but Harry is waiting on her.

She walks to the back of the park where Harry has claimed their spot, their initials carved in the bench make sure of that. He's standing next to the viola's, and they stand dull next to Harry.

"Hiya, angel." Harry greets hands hiding behind his back.

"Hello." She greets softly; Harry can easily note she's nervous. Any other time she would have given him the biggest hug, but right now is keeping an appropriate distance.

"Are you nervous?" He teases, which honestly calms her down because if he's teasing her, it surely means he doesn't want to break up so she can toss that idea right out.

The last few ideas left are that it's an important anniversary and she's forgotten, or he just wanted to be romantic.

She hopes it's the latter.

"Not so much anymore." She replies truthfully, stepping closer, desperately wanting to give him a hug. He looks warm in his knitted baby blue sweater; she knows it was a Christmas gift from his grandmother, his new favorite.

If he's not wearing his cardigan, he's wearing his varsity jacket, but it's at the dry cleaners because when it's not in his possession, it's in hers. She likes the heaviness of it, how small it makes her look. Harry is the perfect height, standing at what she thinks is 6'0, but she can't be too sure. His broad shoulders only seem to grow stronger each summer after returning from two weeks of football camp. At this point, she wears his varsity jacket more than he does. Sure, she can get an academic one she has more than enough patches to choose from, but it just isn't the same; besides, she rather spend her money on books and records.

Harry tells her his favorite thing about her wearing his jacket is that it has his last name. He knows marriage is long down the line, but he does hope to share the same last name one day.

It's his most prominent dream.

But currently, his big dream at the age of seventeen is asking the prettiest girl to prom.

Harry brings his hands forward to reveal a dozen lavender roses in his hand. Y/N gasps at their beauty, not at all expecting this. They are gorgeous, and she can't wait to show them off to her mom as soon as she gets home.

"My love," Harry starts closing the gap between them and bringing her left hand to his lips to place a soft kiss before setting it back down to rest close to his heart that is beating just for her. "Will you do me the honor of being my date to prom?"

She smiles wide, not at all expecting him to ask, let alone for it to be this romantic and intimate.

"Yes, of course." She wraps her arms around his neck, and Harry spins her around, letting out a small holler of excitement.

"The roses are beautiful; they must have cost you a pretty penny," Y/N tells him as soon as he sets her down so she can admire them again.

"Well, darling. You're worth every one. It also pays that your mom gets on well with the town's florist."

She giggles, nodding.

"Now, how about we walk over to my car and celebrate with a make-out." Harry wiggles his eyebrows at her, knowing he needs very little to convince her.

"Harry!" She chastises, looking around to see if anyone heard, but the park is empty, not a soul in sight. "How about we take a stroll around the park, then we'll see afterward."

"You're a little tease, love." She leans in and pecks his lips two times. He tries for a third, but she hurries off.

"Come on, dove. We've got to see the rest of the flowers that are blooming." Y/N's voice is full of excitement at the chance of walking around the park for the next hour, hand in hand with her boyfriend.

Harry grins happily, following after her, he may be young, but he knows he will do whatever is in his power to always see her happy and smiling.

JUNE 1998 - HOME

"Dad!" She yells as soon as she walks in the door; she sees him stand quickly from his seat on the couch and embraces her in a big hug.

"My baby is home." He whispers.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"How was work?"

"Awful, when I knew I had my two favorite girls at home waiting for me."

Y/N laughs. "Always a sap, dad."

Her mother makes her presence known. "This is a lovely sight. I've missed it."

"Yes, as have I." Her father gives her one last kiss to her head and lets her go.

"Any plans?" Her mother questions walking back from the kitchen, placing a cup of tea for Y/N on an old family coaster.

Y/N takes a seat on the couch, as do both her parents wanting to carry on the conversation.

"I'm meeting Sarah and Sydney for breakfast one of these days, most likely going to spend the entire day together. Then, everyone else won't be coming around until the week after. Think it will be on Friday, seeing as that is what worked for everyone's schedule.

"Happy to see your friends." Her mom states, the wide smile on Y/N’s face confirming her statement.

"Yes, chatting isn't as easy as when we were in high school seeing each other that day. There are lots of emails sent back and forth between us."

"Glad you girls stayed closed. Was worried you would all drift away." She reaches forward to squeeze Y/N's knee.

Y/N knew she meant it about Harry. How no one thought anything would come between them that they would make it through university and settle down soon after. Oh, how wrong they all were. As much as they hoped for the best, they were each other's downfall.

"It's a bit late; I'm going to shower and head to bed instead."

"Before you go, can I say something?"

Y/N recognizes the gleam in her mother's eye and nods, knowing she has to get this off her chest.

"It's sadly a man's world out there, but you have managed to make it your own." She reaches forward and takes Y/N's hand in hers, pressing a gentle kiss before settling it in her lap. Y/N smiles. "I know you long to love and share it with someone, and I want you to remember that the person for you is out there. As a mother, I know these things, and I wish you nothing but the greatest things in life, but they all come when we are ready for it."

Tears well up in Y/N's eyes, she nods. Not replying to her mother's words because she knows if she speaks, she will cry.

"Lorelai, you made her cry." He whispers, pulling both women into a squished hug.

"I've always had your father, and I hope you find that someone for yourself."

She pulls back and wipes her tears away. "Thank you." Y/N leaves her parents with a final hug.

She heads up the stairs to the room that holds all the memories she has kept locked away. In her home, there are no longer any photos of her friends or of him. Not like before, where they were spotted on every wall displayed for all to see. Her mother took them off after she left for university. It broke her mother's heart to see her suffer such a big heartbreak. Harry had become like another son to her parents, so they were all sharing the heartbreak. She missed everything about him, but it has been years since they last spoke.

It's been eight years since they last talked, last kissed but not the last she's thought of him. He's coming for the time capsule opening, and as much as she tries to convince herself she's going to be alright, she knows she's not. Yes, she's moved on. She has built a life without him in it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

All she can do is count the days until she leaves Aurora and goes back to the comfort of her apartment in Massachusetts.

____

It's been a week since she's been home, and she knows everyone will show up in two days. The friends she was sure she'd never lose touch with but slowly did with time no matter how each tried, but life moves on.

Y/N is nervous to see everyone. She's changed in the last eight years, but so has everyone else. She misses what they used to have in high school but honestly, getting to hear what everyone has been up to will be fun. Who knows, it might feel as if not time has passed at all?

She met up with Sarah and Sydney earlier for breakfast at the old dinner. The girls spent a good five minutes embraced in a hug before they took their seats. They ordered too much to eat but, to no surprise, finished it all by the end of their conversation.

The time together was spent mostly catching up and jumping from topic to topic. She did feel she was asked one too many questions about starting her residency and how they will be addressing her as a "doctor."

Y/N brought up Sarah's love life wanting to hear how they were doing. Sarah and Mitch did not start dating until after graduating high school, finding out they were going to the same university just an hour away from their hometown. Everyone was aware of Mitch's heart eyes for Sarah, but she was too focused on her internship, always wanting to do good. One can imagine how happy everyone was when news spread that Sarah asked Mitch out and was quick to say yes. Now eight years later, were happily moved in together. Sarah is a music engineer, and Mitch a music teacher at the local high school; as mellow as Mitch is, he gets on well with the teens.

Having focused on love and Sydney quickly saying nothing new was going on with her, just that she was more in love than she could have ever imagined, it was time to hound Y/N, it seems. They asked about her love life and how good-looking the boys in Massachusetts are.

Y/N told them how nonexistent her love life has been since she graduated high school. It's not something she ever made time for, and her friends understand as much as they hate that for her. Sydney did not stop herself from making a joke on what seems to be Y/N's long dry spell. She shrugged it off, not at all bothered. Y/N assured them she knows how to take care of her own needs until the right person comes along. They all knew who she hoped would be the right person, but they knew better than to bring him up.

Once again, there was a change of pace. Sarah surprised them with tickets to Spice Girls at a sold-out Madison Square Garden concert on July first. Six tickets, a perfect number for their friend group. It was perfect, honestly. Sarah figured they'd road trip up the last week of June and could stay in Y/N's shared apartment with her roommate, who would not be home yet. Then take a train up to New York for the show. Also, told them they'd have hotel rooms for the night already, having an idea there would be an after-party. Y/N was all for it as was Sydney.

Y/N has always loved concerts; it's something she saves for not bothered to spend some money to enjoy a great show for one of her favorite artists, especially in good company. The long queues were a downfall, but not everything is perfect. She has gone to concerts and knows that one can make the best experience out of floor seats and nosebleeds. Artists never fail to amaze.

It reminds her of the first concert she ever went to that Harry took her to their senior year. The ticket stub she has pinned next to a polaroid that a stranger offered to take for them. It was before the show, and they had matching grins. It's still one of her favorites, and the reason she doesn't take it down is too good of a memory to keep hidden away.

While seeing Sarah and Sydney was good and everything she hoped it would be, it did not prepare her to see the others. She had not talked to Zac in a long while, having no idea what he was up to. Mitch is quiet and only says hello when she has called with Sarah and Harry; well, it's like she doesn't exist to him. Not since their last day together.

Y/N has two days to prepare.

Two days to wrap her head around the fact that she's going to see Harry.

AUGUST 1989 - SENIOR YEAR

Many people told her to enjoy her high school years because they would fly by, and she accepted the advice and made memories to last a lifetime in the three years leading up to her senior year. Her friends and family have made each year memorial. Still, there is something about senior year, and knowing that it is their last year before university has her excited and anxious.

Harry repeatedly told her how he wanted it to be their best year yet and promised to do just that. She has no doubt in her mind he will accomplish that in whatever way. He's managed to do so year after year.

Harry made sure to pick her up each morning, never wanting her to worry about walking alone to school or arriving late. He made sure he knocked on her door every morning.

Depending on the time he showed up, he was ushered in for a homemade breakfast, or sometimes he said a quick hello before grabbing her hand and rushing out the door because they were running behind schedule, and Harry knew he could not make her arrive late.

One thing that was always constant was how he carried her bag to his car and opened her door. He made sure she was settled before reaching down for his morning kiss. Sometimes, he went as far as putting on her seatbelt, just wanting to be close to her.

Today was Monday, and he usually comes in, but today he selfishly told her to grab him a slice of toast because he was in a hurry. She didn't question him and sent her apologies. Her mom kissed her cheek and told her not to worry about it. A true angel, her mother was.

Harry slipped her bag over his shoulder before ushering her in. She felt a little flustered with his urgency but let him be. He stole a quick kiss before going to the driver's seat.

"What's got you in a rush today?" She asks, genuinely worried.

He smirks, looking over at her. He seems calm, not that they've driven away from her house. "Thought we could use the extra time for some kisses. You deprived me this Sunday." He pouts at her, waiting for the light to turn green.

"H, you know I have dinner with my grandparents one Sunday a month." She chastises him.

"I know, darling, doesn't mean I like it." He tells her. "Had to suffer a Sunday alone."

"Well, at least I know how I can make it up to you." She teases.

Arriving at school, Harry parks toward the back under a shady tree, one far away from everyone.

"Want to sit on my lap, baby?" He asks, spreading his thighs, and as much as she wants to, she shouldn't knowing very well what he can convince her to do when in his lap.

"Later, H." She promises.

"I'm holding you to that, angel." He unclips her seatbelt, quickly placing his lips on hers.

She feels how smooth his lips are and knows he stole her cherry lip balm again. "Harry, that's the third lip balm you've taken in two weeks." She pulls away, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip that he juts out. He gives her thumb a soft kiss.

"Swear I was going to put it back this time." He moves closer, placing a kiss on her neck, slowly trailing down, pushing his varsity jacket down her shoulder, exposing more of her neck. Her black corduroy pants and white acrylic sweater, and her favorite worn-out Mary Jane's mother have been begging her to change out. She likes to think it adds an extra flair to her outfit. "You drive me crazy when you wear my jacket," He whispers in her ear.

"Does that mean you're always going crazy?" She whispers back, knowing he mostly wears the jacket during game days.

"Always make me lose my mind."

After a fun half-hour of making out, Y/N pushes him back, knowing she has matching bruised lips. She loves that everyone can see what she did to him. She also may have sucked a little too hard on the skin right below his collar, the love bite just barely visible. She pulls down the sun visor, looking in the mirror to straighten out her hair, that Harry just loves digging his fingers into.

"Baby, what did you do?" Harry says, looking at the fresh mark just by his collar bone.

She smirks, knowing very well that Harry loves when she marks him. Not doing it very often in fear of getting caught by their parents.

"Got to remind those girls that stare at you who you belong to." She reapplies her lip balm before layering the new lip gloss her mom got for her the other day.

"You know I've only got eyes for you, love." He says, caressing her cheek softly.

His gentle tone of voice always makes her soft, but it also might be that his accent seems to stand out even more.

"I know, H." She leans in to give him one more kiss but pulls back quick enough to not let him deepen it.

"Sneaky, baby." He clicks his tongue at her, rushing out and rounding the car to open her door, offering her his hand.

She gladly accepts it, placing a kiss on both cheeks before landing on his lips.

"I love you, Styles." She whispers against his lips, eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath.

"And I love you, my darling angel." He softly nuzzles her nose, causing her to let out a small giggle.

"Let's get you to class." He says, throwing his arm over her shoulder pulling her in close.

Harry is smiling wide; she takes notice as she looks up. He looks extra giddy.

Too giddy, and it has nothing to do with their steamy make-out.

She narrows her eyes at him, "what's got you extra smiley?"

"Nothing, happy all the time."

"Nuh, uh. Styles. I know you. Fess up!" She stops walking, wanting him to answer her.

"It's because my girl marked me up today for all to see. Makes me feel special." He answers smoothly.

Y/N looks at him in suspicion, not buying a single word he's saying, "I'm onto you, Styles."

Harry lets out a deep breath before stepping close to her. "Let me surprise you, darling."

She instantly relaxes. "Okay, only because you know I like surprises."

"Thank you." He rests his forehead against her, happy to be in her space, forgetting all around him until he hears a shout of his name.

Moment over, it seems.

"Let's get you to English Literature," Harry murmurs, intertwining his hand with hers making sure she's close by as Sarah greets her.

_____

It's lunchtime when they walk hand in hand to the lunch tables where Mitch and Sarah sit, stalling their conversion to greet them. Before she can take a seat next to Sarah, Harry pulls her in his lap. He leans in close to her ear and whispers that he'll give her his chocolate chip cookies Anne had baked. She silently agrees, grabbing the bag Harry was offering her. What he didn't disclose is that his mum had sent them specifically for her. They have three empty seats, but she can see Zac and Sydney approaching, carrying food trays. Meaning, neither had lunch prepared for the day.

Y/N leans back against Harry getting comfortable, knowing that he wouldn't be letting her go any time soon. The chatter begins with how their weekend went and what this week's activities are. She knows she doesn't have much to do this week; her club meetings don't meet until next week. Harry has football practice all week, meaning she either visits the library or finds a ride home. She doesn't mind staying and watching his training, but Harry hates knowing she sits there alone for so long. He rather have her be home warm and cozy than on the cold bleachers.

Harry asks for her attention by placing a kiss on her neck, his tell sign that he's feeling left out.

"Yes, H," She whispers for only him to hear.

"Need your attention. Don't like sharing."

"You're extra needy this Monday, dove." Y/N has his hands in her lap as she begins to trace circles on his palm; it's something that soothes him instantly.

"I just want to know our plans this weekend." He kisses her cheek, nuzzling his face in her neck. "Rather you get parent permission early on than last-minute giving them a chance to say no."

Harry's right; there are occasions where her parents have said no, and Y/N finds herself sneaking out from her window that conveniently has an old tree that makes it all the easier.

Her parents trust them together, but if they really knew what happened behind locked doors, they would think otherwise.

"Do you want to go kiss a little?" He wants her to say yes.

"At your car or in the abandoned hallway?"

"What's quieter?"

"The hallway, and it's closer."

Harry nods, gently grabbing her waist and helping her stand. "We'll see you later," Harry says, interrupting their conversations.

"Oh, Styles, you've corrupted her." Zac teases very well, grasping what they were about to go do.

"Think she's corrupted me. Who knew angels could be so dangerous?" Harry teases in front of their friends.

Y/N feels her face warm, bidding them all a quiet goodbye. Harry, having rendered her a bit speechless. She swears she never knows what is going to come out of his mouth.

Harry all but drags her to the hallway. He gently pushes her back against the wall next to an older poster for the school play. Y/n glances down at his lips before looking into his eyes.

"Did you really bring me here to kiss, or are you spilling the surprise?" Her eyes are big and filled with hope.

"Sorry, baby. Really did want some kisses from you." He pulls her closer wanting no space in between them. "Really missed you. Can't believe we only have one class together."

"It's like they know you wouldn't pay attention to me in a class with you." She teases.

"Kissy." He pouts his lips, feeling like they've talked enough.

Who is she to deny him when he asks so sweetly.

Y/N always felt like time stopped when she kissed Harry. She felt her heart pounding in her chest as her knees grew weak, and as if Harry knew, he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her up. Harry pulls away slowly, a smile growing on his face. He would never tire of kissing her.

Harry leans in and nuzzles his head in the crook of her necks, slowly beginning to place kiss after kiss before he finds his favorite spot and begins to suck lightly, pulling a surprised moan from her.

She pushes him back. "No love bites that high. It will keep us locked up in the house all weekend supervised.

Harry tenses at the thought, knowing fully well her parents would do that, having done it before when they first started dating, and he thought more with the thing in his pants than his brain. "I guess I'll just have to bruise these pretty lips."

Never one to tell him no, a small nod is enough to make Harry lean in and take her breath away. He'd kiss her forever if he could, but the last fifteen minutes of lunch break would have to do for now.

_____

Monday's always drag on; she goes home, does homework, reads a book, and waits for dinner to be ready. Most days, she joins her mother in cooking; both like conversing about their days. More than ever, they have lots to talk about, from holiday plans to the universities she is applying for. She has saved up allowance allowing her to use it for more universities than the average three. If it was up to her, she'd send one to all the universities because that is how confident she is not only about her grades but how she comes off as a student on paper.

Dumping most of her books in her locker, she keeps Calculus in her bag, knowing the sooner that homework gets done, the less stress she'll have. Just as she shuts her locker, she hears footsteps approaching her.

"Is my girl ready to go?"

"She is."

Harry swings his arm over her shoulder, and they begin to walk out the school doors that are kept wide open. There are groups of students lingering talking to another, and in the distance can hear cars driving away eager to get away.

Y/N smiles at a girl who sends her a wave, recognizing her from her English course. Harry walks them under a tree, a reasonable distance away from everyone because, as she has come to know, he likes kissing her in private.

"Our first game is in two weeks." Harry reminds her.

"Yes, exciting."

"Will you be there, or is there a test to study for?" He teases.

She frowns and takes him by the lapels of his varsity jacket that she gave back to him at the end of lunch because she claimed it was losing his smell.

"Don't start, Harry. You know I've never missed a game, and I won't start now."

"Was only teasing, love."

"Didn't like it."

"Sorry, love. Forgive me? He pouts, wanting her to smile at him instead of frown.

"You know my price." Y/N shrugs.

He sighs, nodding his head three times before moving to get on his knees, toying with unbuttoning her pants.

She gasps and jumps away. "Harry!"

Harry can't help but smirk, "Isn't that always the price."

"I just wanted a kiss; no need to make a scene." He shrugs. "Now, don't you have a practice to get to?"

"Ugh, I do." Harry groans, dreading practice knowing the coach likes to run them twice as much for not working out on the weekends.

"Give me a kiss, please. Then you'll come by later, right?"

"That is correct." He leans in, giving her three consecutive pecks on her lips.

"Who's taking you home again?" He asks, wanting to make sure she's safe.

"Sarah and Mitch."

"Right, good. Well, off I go, poppet."

"Bye."

Harry turns and heads toward the field, where he can see the freshman already setting up drills and getting the water jug out to the bench. He's only taken a few steps when his angel's voice stops him.

"Dove,"

Harry can feel his cheeks turn bright red at the term of endearment. He turns and takes two steps back to her. "Yes, lovie."

"Will you give me one more kiss?" Her voice soft and innocent but the gleam in her eye is anything but that.

Harry takes the last step towards her and holds her face with both hands reaching down and kissing her passionately. He pulls away after what feels like a lifetime, slowly as he tries to steady his breathing.

"I love you," she whispers.

He presses a final kiss to her forehead. "And I love you." Harry turns and begins to jog away, recognizing he's got a limited time to get dressed and out on the field to warm up. He's a few feet away but turns his head to see her watching him still. "Tell your mom I'll be joining you for dinner."

She nods, letting him know she heard him before he turns a corner and out of her eyesight. Only then does she go in search of her waiting friends who will bring her home.

______

After Y/N informed her mother that Harry was going to join them for dinner, she got up to cook, wanting everything to be ready for when her father and Harry arrived, seeing it would be around the same time.

Y/N made herself scarce as her mother was in no mood to converse. Instead, she wanted to cook, and maybe if she planned her time accordingly, she would do dessert.

Dinner time came around quickly, meaning she was lost in homework for a good few hours. She walked downstairs wanting to help her mom set the table when the front door swung open.

"Hello, father!" Y/N bounced over to him, giving him a big hug and a peck on his cheek, one that he happily returned.

"Hi, my sweet girl."

"Mom cooked a delicious dinner. We're just waiting on Harry." Y/N told him, knowing he's hungry from a long day at work.

"Won't have to wait long; Harry was just parking when I was on the steps."

Y/N's eyes lit up at hearing that he arrived. Her father chuckled, "I'll go say hello to my wife, dinner in ten, okay."

Y/N walks out to see Harry coming up the stairs in a cozy blue emblem sweater with denim Levi jeans and paired with his old white Chuck All-Stars. She smiled because he went home to shower, not wanting to wear his clothes from earlier or come over smelling like sweat, not that she minded.

"You know we don't mind the sweat, H," She tells him as he's climbing up the last few steps.

He shrugs. "I know, but I am a guest in your home and would never dare disrespect your parents and you, of course."

Y/N grins. "Four years dating, and you continue to prove to be the most perfect boyfriend."

Harry looks away, feeling bashful. "I wouldn't go that far."

"I would, dove." Y/N closes the gap between them. "Now, I say you kiss me before mom calls us in for dinner."

"It would be my greatest pleasure."

____

Dinner was a success, conversation always flowing well. Y/N likes to sit back and listen to her parents talk with Harry as if they hadn't seen him in forever when he is more than likely to be here every other day. Her father is a big fan of football; he too was once a player. No, he wasn't quarterback; he was right-wing and helped his team make it to state championships.

The high school team has won three state championships since Harry's first year as a freshman. They counted on making it the fourth year; no doubt in anybody's mind it would happen. Y/N picked up on her father's excitement going on and on about the first game and how it was the most important one now that scouts would be coming out more and more. Without a second thought, she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, lightly squeezing, reassuring Harry she was there for him. He slowly turned the hand on his thigh palm up and intertwined them together.

"Thank you so much for dinner, Lorelai. Luke, thank you for the great conversation. I can't wait to see you both at the game."

"We wouldn't dare miss it, Harry," Lorelai tells him, a wide grin on her face as she picks up the dishes.

"Now go on; I'll help your mother with the dishes tonight." Luke gestures to them to get up and get their privacy. Y/N thanks him and takes Harry's hand, leading the way up the stairs.

Now they are lying on her bed, it's got enough space for them to be spread out, but she prefers to lay across Harry, her head on his chest as he rests his head on her pillows.

Harry had his hand in her hair, always calming for her and for him. Allows them to sit in comfortable silence, basking in the joy of being together.

Many people ask them if they ever get sick of seeing each other every day and never giving each other space after dating for so long. That isn't entirely true because when they aren't at their respective extracurricular activities, they are found together. Harry's response is always, "she's my favorite person." Y/N just shrugs and smiles, "he's my best friend."

Believe it or not, they spent around in her room listening to music or in his house watching movies from their grand VHS collection. Most thought they spent it making it out, not that they don't do that because they are just as in love as when they got together four years ago. When they walked into any room, her parents were sure they would be kissing, which is why the open door policy exists. Well, half-open is the agreement now.

Harry looks around her room, his eyes settling on the polaroid photo on her bedside table, one of them smiling at each other, lost in their own worlds. It's dated 06-18-1989<i<, it was from one of their many summer days spent together. He decided now was as good as time to bring up what he had been hiding.

"You know how we were making plans for the weekend, sweetheart."

"Yes, you didn't let us decide on anything."

"Well, what if I did?"

She sits up and moves to sit in front of him. "Okay, I'm all ears.

"You up for a drive?"

"Always, so drive me to the moon, please."

Harry laughs. "Serious for a sec, baby."

"Sorry, yes, go on then." She interrupts him once more. "How far is the drive? You're not always the best driver."

"Ouch" Harry has his hand over his heart, feigning as if her words had pierced him. "Guess I won't tell you."

"That's fine."

"Yeah. Is it?"

"Yup."

"Why's that?" He's confused; she's usually begging to know by now.

"Simple, because I just won't give you any kisses."

"That's cruel."

"Oh well. I don't play fair."

"Think you can resist me, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I know I can."

Harry shakes his head, response ready, but she stops him. "Remember who asked who out five different times."

"That's because you were playing hard to get. Claiming you just wanted to be friends for a little longer."

"That was tru-" It's his turn to stop her.

"Ah, yes, I know. I was getting impatient. Don't know if you know this or not, darling, but I had to scare off a lot of boys.

"Trust me, H. I knew"

"You did?"

"Yes, I think it was because everyone knew sooner or later I was going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah, by saying yes."

"Oh no, I was going to say no."

"What changed?" Clearly, something had, and he just had to know.

"You decided to show up at school wearing your Sunday best and brought me sunflowers. Told me they reminded you how much light I brought into your life. There I decided yes, he'll make a fine boyfriend."

Harry's smile is big, dimples on display just for her. Always for her. "You tease too much."

"But you love it."

"I do." He leans in and smiles as she lets him lead the kiss. It's slow and full of love. A love that only continues to grow each moment they are together. "I really do."

Y/N leans in, wanting to give him more kisses, wanting to be connected to him, wanting him to always feel her love. She's not sure how much time has passed when Harry pulls away.

"You do realize we got sidetracked."

"Yes, worth it if you ask me." She looks pleased. "Now you have to tell me, I gave you kisses."

Harry runs his thumb over her bottom lip, asking for another. She puckers her lips leaning forward, and connects their lips in a short soft kiss.

"Friday night, the Forum."

Y/N's eyes go wide; she was not expecting to hear that.

"No."

"Yes."

She sits there taking it in.

"Say it, baby." Harry likes that he managed to surprise her.

"You got us tickets for Elton John." She whispers out, her eyes now locked with his needing him to confirm it.

"Yes, I did."

"A sold-out show."

"Think it's going to be a fun night."

"How?" Although Y/N has an idea.

"Well, I called in on a favor with our dear friend Sarah and the radio station she's interning at."

"I love her." She breathes out.

"Hey," Harry knocks her out of her gaze. "And me."

"Of course, I love you." She moves forward, seating herself in his lap. "I love you. I can't believe you did this for me."

"Yes, can't let you go off to uni without experiencing a concert."

"You are perfect, Styles."

"Perfect for you."

There's so much love in between them; if anyone walked into the room, they'd be able to feel it.

"Wait." Her hands now resting on his chest, a frown taking over her face. "How are we going to convince my parents."

"Already done. Told them the plan and the itinerary, and your parents have agreed."

"Perfect, I'm telling."

"Is this why we're walking to school tomorrow?" She remembers him telling her he won't have his car.

"Yes, taking it to the mechanic. I just want to make sure all is okay."

"Marry me?"

Harry can feel his cheeks warming up; she always makes him blush. He takes hold of her left hand and brings it up to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on her ring finger.

"All in good time, my love."

_____

The week had dragged on, but it was finally Friday. She had been excited all week, and everyone could tell. Told her how she was jumpier, a lot more smiley, and twice as affectionate with Harry. She was happy.

She's at home getting ready; they would be leaving soon. Seeing as it was still a bit of a drive and no doubt would get stuck in traffic, seeing as they aren't the only ones attending the show.

Y/N had gone over outfit after outfit until she finally decided on what she is wearing now. She's wearing a deep red power shoulder tucked into her favorite high-waist denim that makes her waist and butt look extra good.

As she walks down the stairs, she hears the door and knows Harry is here to take her away. No matter what, he always stepped up to the door to pick her up; it still made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy.

Her father is at the door speaking with Harry going over her extended rules and what numbers to call for an emergency.

"Well, aren't you a dream," Harry looks her up and down; she does a slow spin for him on the heel of her black boots to give him the full look. "I'm a lucky man."

"Glad you know it, H."

She grabs hold of his brown leather jacket and runs her finger down it, it's an old one, but he takes such good care of it; one would think he just got it today.

"Think you just took my breath away, H." She swears there are hearts in her eyes as she takes him in.

"That's exactly what I was going for."

Harry and Y/N bid her parents goodbye; they wish them a safe journey. Her mother was excited to send her off; her father was a bit more worried but trusted Harry to keep her safe.

The drive to the arena is filled with conversation over the upcoming year, Harry's final football season, and her volunteering hours how she was hoping to be accepted into the NICU's internship at their hospital. Also, lots of singing on the radio as well as Harry's CDs. From ABBA to Shania Twain, he had, but they settled on Elton John for the ride.

In what feels like no time, they had arrived. Y/N is amazed at how big it is; she doesn't know much about the place just from what Sarah told her that it was large and no matter where she sat, she was going to have the best time of her life. Already having Harry at her side, she had no doubt about it. She can't stop smiling, and neither can Harry.

Harry grabs her hand as they both stare at the arena, where hundreds of people are lining up to enter.

"Ready, love."

"Yes, gosh. I might throw up from the excitement."

"Oh no, let's get you a pop. It'll help."

"That sounds nice." Y/N leans up and gives him a gentle kiss. "Thank you, H."

"Angel, I am more than happy to do this for you."

Hand in hand, they walked into the arena, ready to sing their hearts out together.

_____

Two hours of singing and dancing her heart off, and yet it still wasn't enough to tire Y/N out. Harry was sure she'd be clinging to his arm as he pulled her out of the arena, but she had asked him to wait out the crowd, and they stood in the emptying arena, arms around each other. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and it was still pumping hard. He kissed her lips one final time before swinging his arm over her shoulder and guiding them out to the chilly Los Angeles air.

Y/N was all smiles, and she thinks it has to do with the man whose curls have fallen flat from all the sweating they did inside the arena. Being in a room packed around thousands of people will do that. She has never been in such a happy and united environment.

It's a memory she's going to cherish forever.

The drive home is full of retelling of their favorite parts of the night. Harry decided his was when Y/N turned to kiss him during "Your Song." He felt himself fall in love with her all over again. It's a feeling he never wants to end.

Y/N's had to have been each outfit change. There were so many that she lost track, but she loved how unique each outfit was. It's something she knew she could never pull off, but she admired the beauty of each one. It was over the top and full of colors; it kept her mesmerized. It reminded her of life and how filled with color it really is. Also, when Harry sang his heart out during "Tiny Dancer." How he knew every lyric and didn't miss a beat, if she's honest, she didn't bother looking at the stage for the entire song too entranced in Harry.

The smile does not leave their face, not during the traffic of getting on the freeway, not when they stopped by McDonald's and got burgers and decided to share a coke, and not even when they saw the sign welcoming back into Aurora.

Y/N's smile didn't drop until Harry parked his car right in front of her house. She sits back against the seat and turns her head to already find a bashful Harry smiling at her.

"Come here." He whispers.

She unbuckles and sits in his lap, it may have been a few hours, but she missed being this close to him.

Y/N didn't wait for Harry to ask; she simply leaned in and connected his strawberry lips with hers. She loved how soft they always were, and she knew she'd keep letting him steal her lip balms if they did such an excellent job keeping them soft and tasting sweet; then again, that could be all Harry. She lets out a small moan when Harry swipes his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance, and she happily grants it.

She wishes she can stay here forever, in his arms, kissing his lips, never having to stop.

"Baby," Harry breathes against her lips.

Y/N knows what he's going to say; she's not ready to say goodnight. Instead, she keeps kissing him. "Just a little longer." She mutters against his lips.

Harry can't bring himself to pull away again and nods, allowing her to take control. He has a tight grip on her thigh, he wishes to move it higher, but he knows if he does, she won't be going inside tonight. She moves her lips down his jaw pressing gentle kisses.

"You drive me crazy."

"Feelings mutual, darling."

Harry pulls her back up and kisses her plush mouth. She tastes sweet, something he never pinpoints; all he knows is that it's intoxicating. He presses one final kiss on her lips and pulls back. She's breathing heavy, a large grin on her face. He knows he looks just as dazed.

"Think you got to get inside now."

"Don't want to leave you." She grabs a fist of his jacket, pulling herself closer.

"I'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

She pouts. "Why so late?"

"Because you're going to want to sleep in." He brushes a bit of her hair away, she leans into his touch; she loves how delicate each touch is.

"What if you come early and then cuddle me? Mom won't turn you away."

"She might."

"Not after I walk in and tell her how amazing the night was." She cups his cheeks, rubbing her thumb affectionately on his smooth skin. "She's got a sweet spot for you."

"And you." He reminds her.

"Well, of course. I'm her daughter." She laughs but knows she hasn't convinced him. "Please," she whispers. She flashes him her best puppy dog look, knowing he won't be able to resist.

"Fine. I'll be here at eight, darling."

"Perfect." She gloats.

"Let me walk you up."

Harry helps her back into the passenger seat so they can both head out. He grabs her hand, pulling her in close, not wanting her far for the last moments he has her.

"You want to know something, H." She whispers, keys in her hand.

"What is it, angel?"

"I want to travel the world with you."

"The world." He gasps. "It's a big place, baby. Where would we start?"

"London got to see the place you grew up before moving here. Of, course we'll save up and just spend the year traveling wherever life takes us."

"That sounds perfect."

She hums, deep in thought, picturing visiting all these places she's only dreamed of with him by her side. To see the Eiffel tower, walk the streets of Scotland, and swim in the Amalfi Coast waters.

"Dove," He hums, playing with a loose string of her jeans. "Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere you want. I'll make sure to take you wherever you want to go."

"Take me to the stars, dovie."

"As you wish, my sweet angel."

Harry brings his right hand up to her face and gently cups her cheek; she sighs, knowing precisely what he's going to do. She tilts her head up and feels his lips against her. It's the softest kiss of the night; it's gentle. It's her favorite kiss, the goodnight kiss, a promise to see her tomorrow.

She breaks away the first time tonight, knowing if he kept going a moment longer, she wouldn't let him go. "Goodnight, H," She whispers as she begins to open the door.

"Goodnight, love."

Harry turns and walks to his car as he hears the door shut and hears her turn the lock. Once in his car, he takes a look up at her window, sends a final smile as he sees her waving him off.

He feels so much joy always being around her, but tonight it seems to have multiplied by a hundred. He knew tonight was perfect, but his favorite part wasn't even at the concert; it was standing outside her door as they spoke of their future together.

Happiness isn't always about the big moments but also about these small moments that make them feel invincible.

JUNE 1998

Y/N grabs a book from her bookshelf, not bother glancing at which one knowing if she stopped to read each title, she would be there all day. She heads to the yard, a picnic blanket tucked under her arm, so she can lay on it and soak in a bit of the sun.

Her mother is trimming the leaves of the roses, wanting the flower to pop out more. Her father usually helps her, but he's finishing up last-minute work before coming out to join them. He has a good view of them from his office window. When she was young, he told her he chose this room because it's where her mom spends all her time, and he likes having his eye on her as she joins the beauty of her flowers. Y/N's known love all her life, and she's happy her parents have each other, but she can't help but feel like she let that one-of-a-kind love go years ago and fears she'll never find it again.

As she settles down on her blanket, she decides to rid herself of all thoughts and instead get lost in the words of Stephen King. She picked up a psychological horror. She remembers her father mentioning it was a good read and that she'd enjoyed it. Two pages in, and she knows she's hooked; it looks like she will be laying out here all day.

At least that's what she thought when her mother interrupted her.

"When are you meeting everyone?"

Y/N puts the book down on her chest and looks over at her mom, who's still got her eyes on her roses. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"When are you meeting everyone?" Her mother repeats herself.

"Tomorrow."

"Time, darling?"

"At one."

She hums in response. "I leave you in charge, and please be watchful over my roses."

"Of course, I would never think of damaging your roses. Well, my roses, really." Y/N corrects.

"Just because they were planted in your honor does not mean they are yours. You've cared for them for such little time."

"Excuse me, mother. I went off to university, but once I'm done and ready to settle down, I will be doing all the caring."

"Yes, because you will have time as a doctor." Her mother responds sarcastically.

"I will be able to."

Her mother decided to move on, knowing how stubborn Y/N can be. "Your father and I have lunch and dinner plans out of town, so you'll have the house to yourself for most of the day and night."

"You're treating me like I'm sixteen again, and it's my first time having friends over."

Her mom laughs, and Y/N can't help but join. "You're forever, my little girl."

"Cheesy." Y/N teases.

Y/N leans back and gets comfortable, all thoughts of tomorrow pushed away and instead gets lost in the town of Bridgton, Maine.

_____

It's time; everyone is making their way over. She can feel her palms begin to sweat, thankful there's a nice breeze outside to keep her cool. Y/N and her mom cooked pasta with grilled chicken and strawberry lemonade wanting to be ready for after the digging. Y/N would feel bad making them dig a hole, open a box, then head on out. These people are her friends, and she wishes to spend time with them, and what better than with food.

She's got ten minutes before everyone is due to arrive when she hears a car pull up and turn off right in front of her house. Y/N knows of only one person who shows up early.

Harry.

Y/N thought he would be the last to arrive, but she's guessing old habits die hard. She takes a deep breath before opening the front door and walking out.

Harry would be lying if he wasn't nervous. He's about to see Y/N for the first time after years. He's seen her in photos; he knows she only continued to become more beautiful as the years passed. It's not the same as, no, because he knows what's separating them is a walk up to the door.

He feels precisely as he did the moment he asked her out and, if he's truthful, how she made him feel their entire relationship. Harry's 26, but his heart feels 18, and at that age, he was deeply in love with the woman inside that house. He loves her just the same.

Harry takes a long deep breath before slowly letting it out. He could do this; he got out of his car and made his way up the path, where she was already standing waiting for him. It felt like no time had passed as if he was coming over to take her on a date--except they weren't even close enough to say they were friends.

"Harry," She breathes out as he reaches the first step.

"Hi" He sends her a small smile. "You look great."

Y/N feels her cheek flush, and knows he can notice now that he's right in front of her. She takes in her outfit; it's simple, just a cropped red long-sleeved tee and black pants, with an old pair of black sneakers.

"Thank you, Harry. As do you." And he really does. He's wearing loose green denim joggers with a matching jacket. He has left it open, showing a brown button-up, a silver cross necklace peeking out from the space he left unbuttoned. "Always on time still."

"Better early than late."

She nods, not sure if she should continue the conversation or not. Are they going to stand out here in silence? It was never this hard; she hates this. Y/N rather keep talking than let themselves stand there in silence for another eight minutes.

She clears her throat. "How'd med school go? Have you decided on a residency yet? Anne told me you were weighing your options."

Harry doesn't try to hide his shock. "You spoke to my mum?" He asks in disbelief.

Y/N grins as much as his English accent is fading; it always comes back when saying 'mum,' or well, when he's nervous.

She nods. "I visit her when I visit my family. Recently passed when I came to see my mother who was feeling down and lonely as she put it even though she has dad to keep her company."

Harry smiles, knowing what weekend she was talking about because he had come the week after, and Lorelai had told him she was no longer as lonely. He thought it might have been because of his company, but it was because her daughter was home for a weekend.

When he's about to tell her where he decided, she waits patiently, staring up at him, a shy smile on her face but stops when Sydney comes and tackles Y/N in a hug.

"Of course, Styles got first dibs on you." Sydney fakes her exasperation.

"He knows how to be punctual." Y/N teases. "Looks like you bring the others as always." She signals seeing two more cars park; they park in the empty driveway.

"Just like old times," Zac screams out two bottles of wines in his hands. Mitch and Sarah walk up behind him, agreeing.

Y/N looks around, and it's almost like old times. Just one small difference that makes her heartache.

Everyone greets each other, sharing long hugs, and it's not long after that she invites everyone in and into the backyard.

"Mom says if we mess up her roses, we are dead meat," Y/N informs them all as they all stand in a semi-circle under the spot they buried their time capsule.

Mitch steps and pats Harry on the back. "If anything does happen, just say it was Harold. Lorelai has a soft spot for him."

Sarah approaches water in her hand. "Y/N is her golden child who does no wrong, easy to forgive."

Y/N laughs. "Enough. No roses will be damaged. Are we clear?"

She gets a chorus of "yes."

"Great, there are clear instructions that only Zac and Harry are allowed to shovel. Sorry, Mitch, mom said we've got to take care of your musical hands."

Mitch nods in appreciation.

"What about the doctor? No care for him." Harry mutters a small smile on his face.

"Quiet Styles, you're a favorite still," Zac tells him, pushing a shovel into his chest.

Y/N's happy watching the banter; it's like she's sixteen again, and they are trying to see who could dig their side of the hole faster.

SEPTEMBER 1988 - TIME CAPSULE

"High school friendships aren't known to last," Zac speaks out randomly, breaking everyone out of their conversations.

Harry sighs, "You're a downer."

"I'm a realist."

Y/N takes this in; she hasn't thought years down the line. She just assumed they would always be in her life. She can't see herself without them.

"What if we aren't friends ten years down the road?" Y/N voices.

Harry instantly picks up the concern in her voice. "I promise I won't let that happen, lovie." He assures her.

"H, I know."

"It's not uncommon for others to drift, especially when everyone has a different path after high school." Sydney comments. "My sister went through it."

"Let's write a letter, and we can bury it, open it ten years, but we have to do it together," Sarah suggests.

"Not a bad idea." Everyone nods in agreement.

"Let's do a letter and something important to us." Y/N proposes already having an idea of what to put.

"It's settled. We're burying a time capsule." Harry states.

"One problem."

"What now, Zac?" Sarah groans.

"Where do we bury it?"

Slowly everyone turns their gaze on to Y/N.

"Your house," Sydney tells her.

"You all agree?" Y/n is surprised.

"Your mom will never leave her house. It's gorgeous."

"Also," Zac chimes in, "You love it and tell us how it's going to be yours one day."

Y/N sighs and nods. "I will ask and will let you know."

_____

It took a lot to convince her mother, but her father liked the idea and supported her. Two against one, Y/N knew her mom was in a losing fight. After lots of hugs and kisses and promises of doing the dishes for two weeks straight, she got permission.

They had decided on a Saturday, wanting to do it early in the morning, unsure how long they would take digging the hole. Her mom designated an area for them to open.

Her mom allowed her to have the house to themselves, trusting them not to do anything but dig a hole. Y/N had everyone promise they would be on their best behavior.

Harry and Zac volunteered to dig, and no one argued. It took over an hour for them to get a decent-sized hole. It looked tiring, but Y/N enjoyed watching Harry's muscle flex as he threw out dirt. Finally, being satisfied with the hole size, mainly Sydney, made them go longer; it was time to place their items inside.

Y/N rewrote her letter a few times, never knowing the right thing to say. It wasn't until she was lying on the floor of her room with Harry's head in her lap did she know what she wanted to tell her future self.

Mitch went first, putting in his first-ever guitar pic, Sarah her Walkman, Harry followed with a copy of Romeo and Juliet, Y/N a chained rose ring, she put it in but not before giving it a small kiss knowing she'd miss it. Zac decided on his baseball mitt, and Sydney threw in a signed polaroid of herself, knowing it'd be worth a lot more once she became famous for her art.

Harry locked it shut with the final object in the box and lowered it down with Mitch's help. It fit well, and they sat around as it began to fill with dirt.

"Ten years, we'll come back and open it up."

"Yeah, but like summertime. I'm sure we'll have more time during the summer than other months." Zac might be right for once.

"June 1998," Sarah suggests.

Everyone thinks about it for a second, it feels so far away, a lifetime, really, but yes, they all agree.

Ten years' time, they will all be digging it up and will relive these moments.

JUNE 1998

Harry removes his jacket half an hour in, and there is nothing to complain about. He tosses it close to her side, and Y/N knows if things were different, he would have gently thrown it at her, and without a second thought, she would have put it on. She missed the times when he loved her. Because as much as she can't admit it out loud, she still loves him.

Now she'll fake conversation with Sydney when her real focus is on Harry and how his muscles seem to grow every time he scoops some dirt out and adds to the pile. He's grown buff over the years, he was always tall and firm in high school due to football, but now he's more defined. The most significant change was in his face, more stern. Not as smiley; it might just be due to being around her. He must hate being in her presence after she broke his heart.

Y/N lets herself get lost in thought when Zac cheers. She looks down, and peeking out in the corner is brown wood.

"We've hit gold."

In the next five minutes, Zac and Harry dig as much of the sides as they can, and soon enough, they are lifting it out before settling it down with a big "thump."

Y/N can't stop eyeing it; it's got dirt in every spot that meets her eye, but she knows what's waiting for her inside of that box, and she can't wait to have it with her once more.

"Who's going to do the honors?" Mitch asks the bolt cutters in his hand, ready to hand them over.

Everyone looks around at each other; no one says a thing until Harry steps forward and reaches to take them from his hand. Mitch hands them to Harry, no question asked. Harry heads straight to Y/N; he stretches his arm out, waiting for her to accept the cutters.

"Think it's only fair Y/N does the honors, seeing as we made her do a lot of groveling to Lorelai ten or so years ago just for us to bury this; not that she let any of us know." Harry smiles, urging her to take it. Y/N fingers brush his rather quickly, but in that small second, she felt her heart rate pick up and fears he might hear it, although that is almost impossible.

"Thank you." He nods, urging her forward.

"Take your time, doll." Zac says sarcastically."

Y/N is too busy getting down on her knees in front to see the glare Harry sent Zac's way. Everyone else catches the look; believe it or not, they all hope this is the moment that brings these two once lovers back again.

"Here goes nothing."

Y/N places the bolt cutters between the lock and counts down to three; it breaks right off the first try.

"You've got some strength!" Sydney exclaims; she was expecting it to take much longer.

Y/N lets the lock fall before reaching up and pulling the single latch. She scans everyone circling around her before opening the crate hating the creaking sound it releases.

There on top are their most prized items from when they were sixteen.

Sydney reaches in first, pulling out a polaroid and pink envelope. She flips it over and lets out the biggest laugh. Sydney turns the photo around, letting everyone see her in the photo wearing her then boyfriend's varsity jacket. It has her signature on the page. "I swore I was going to be famous for my art and would sell this for thousands."

"One day." Harry offers.

Sydney shrugs. "My boyfriend will appreciate this the most if I'm honest."

"He's that crazy for you?" Sarah asks.

Sydney nods, a shy smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fortunate." She laughs, letting the moment pass. "Enough, Zac, please, you're next."

Zac, for the first time the whole evening, has fallen silent, almost looks nervous to reach inside. He takes a deep breath to go to the corner of the box and pull out a beat-up baseball mitt. Y/N can see his eyes well up with tears. He chuckles, "I swore I was going to go pro, but that senior injury year changed everything. In a way, Zac felt free; he got to pursue a career in travel journalism. "Enough sap, I volunteer, Harry."

Harry nods, moving forward, sitting next to Y/N thighs touching; she feels her breath hitch; she doesn't dare move. He reaches in for the only book it's resting on the bottom, a white envelope with a scribbled 'H' on top. He sets the envelope aside but keeps the book in hand.

Harry smiles at the book in hand, Romeo and Juliet. It was not his favorite by any means, but it held a special place in his heart because it was the first book Y/N read to him when they first started dating. He remembers telling her he hated how she ignored him for words on paper, so he proposed she read to him aloud, and that way, they could bond. Y/N was thrilled at the idea; the first book was Shakespeare because it was a reading assignment, and she wanted it done that weekend.

Harry hated the ending; he remembers ranting to Y/N as she ran her fingers through his hair to calm him down. He didn't understand why Shakespeare made these two people who were star-crossed lovers fall in love in a week only to have them die.

Safe to say, it took a while to let Y/N read another one of Shakespeare's works.

Y/N's eyes were on the book, and she watched as Harry carefully opened it to the first page, moving it back so that only they could read what was written on the cover page.

It read: I've loved you for six months. I'll love you for six more. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to love you for life. Love, Y/N xxx

Y/N felt tears behind her eyes; she had to look away. She was so naïve at the age, but oh how she loved him, and she knew he loved her just the same. Y/N was so grateful to know she was loved, even if it was years ago.

She doesn't want to go next; instead, Sarah reaches in to save her. Sarah pulls out her folded half of paper and her blue Walkman player. "Oh my goodness, this is going to have some golden tunes."

Mitch chuckles, "You suffered without it. Think was the first time I ever heard you complain about something."

Sarah sends him a playful glare. "Shut it! Why don't you go next, Mr. Sentimental."

Mitch is one to never say no to Sarah, so he shrugs and makes his way forward. Patting Harry on the shoulder causing Harry to shift closer to Y/N. Both Harry and Y/N don't say anything but don't bother to move away either.

Sarah smiled as she watches Mitch pick up a guitar pick. It was the first one he received from his father. "Dad always said I had a guitar in hand."

"Mitch, you've voiced your thoughts out loud." Harry jokes.

"Funny Styles." That's the last of what Mitch says as he moves back to read his letter, and Sarah follows close behind.

Y/N feels everyone staring, but really it's only just Harry. Everyone focused on their own letters but also waiting for a reaction. She slowly reaches in, first pulling out the pink envelope with her initial on the front; Harry wrote it for her, saying she needed a way to identify it years later.

She sets it in her lap before reaching in and getting the item she's been thinking about all day.

A silver rose ring.

It was a gift from Harry; Y/N always spoke of roses and how much her mother loved them. Leading to Harry finding out she loved them just as much. He wore this ring for a long time; he found it in a store in London before they made the move here permanently. It's his last real piece of home, but Aurora had become home, and so had Y/N. It felt right to give to her. She cried, receiving it, and knew it wouldn't fit but told him not to get it resized. She surprised him by wearing it around her neck; she put it on a chain she had. There wasn't a day she wasn't seen without it.

She holds it tightly in her hand as if Harry might rip it out of her hand, wanting it back, but it's hers, and it's special. Y/N never wants to forget her memories with Harry, no matter how much it hurts, thinking back on them.

"I've missed it." She whispers.

Y/N slips it over her head, letting it rest outside her shirt for all to see. She missed the look on Harry's face, but this might be the motivation he needs to speak with her. To talk about where they are now in life.

Except Y/N stands up, brushing the dirt that was on her pants to head somewhere more private to read her letter she wrote to herself. She walks a few feet away and flips open the pink tab, pulls out a folded paper. Her eyes immediately go to the bottom of the page, wherein black ink, it says, "I love Harry (PS: he made you write that, but it doesn't make it any less true."

Everything surrounded him; her love for him was just that large. She reads over her letter taking in the words of how her sixteen-year-old self said she was proud of her and that no matter what happens, it was all for a reason.

It's exactly what she needed to hear.

Harry is watching Y/N stand there read her letter, and he feels the gaze of everyone else to go approach her. Years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about it, he would have been at her side holding her hand or rubbing her back, but now he doesn't even know if they are even friends. Mitch nudges him, and he knows he should check on her, but she surprises everyone by turning around, a grin on her face.

"Mom and I cooked lunch, so let's wash up and eat. All this sure has built up my appetite."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Zac smiles, walking inside heading straight to the kitchen sink.

The others begin to follow Zac inside when Y/N stops hearing her name being called. It's Harry standing by the hole, shovel in hand.

"Should I cover it up?"

Y/N can't help the smile, Harry was always so eager to help, and she's glad his kind helping sport hasn't changed. "No, dad is going to cover it. Mom told him he needs to do more yard work. She called it bonding time."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I am."

"Let's head in then."

As Harry is about to walk past her, she reaches her hand out, grabbing his bicep, surprising him. "Thank you."

He nods his head. "Of course."

Y/N sighs; there's so much left unsaid. Their breakup fresh on her mind seeing him walk away from her, bringing it all back. Oh, how she wishes things were different.

She doesn't regret leaving for New York, but she does wonder if there was a way to have made their relationship work; would it have survived or crashed and burned.

In a way, she's glad she never had to find out.

Y/N puts her brave face on; she's surrounded by friends who love her and who she hasn't spoken to for longer than half an hour. She's going to soak in this time and enjoy it.

There are other times to be sad.

MARCH 1990 - ACCEPTANCES

Y/N and Harry were both lost in thought as Harry drove them to their destination. There was a lot to think about

Harry was proud to get a full-ride football scholarship to UCLA and a partial for USC. They were close to home, and he got to play a sport he was good at. These universities were tough to get into, but he impressed the recruits. He didn't bother applying outside the state, knowing he couldn't be far from home. It felt wrong for him; he knew that wasn't the case for Y/N.

Y/N always spoke about leaving the state. She had dreamed about it from a young age especially seeing her brother do it. Gabriel's stories only make her more excited for her future. She loved to travel, no matter the distance.

Harry, of course, knew this; he just thought he could convince her to stay.

Applying to schools was hard for Y/N; there were many universities she wanted to apply to, but she feared rejection, so she set a limit of six. Still, a high number; she just needed options.

When acceptances came in, each application welcomed her. Two east coast universities offered full-ride scholarships, USC offered partial and others only half. She had the money for tuition, her parents saved for her, which she is forever thankful for but knowing she could move across the country like she always dreamed of was calling her name.

The one thing that stopped her was Harry.

Y/N had never known love until Harry, and she knows her leaving will jeopardize that. She also knows if she stays, she might not be happy, always stuck on the "what if?"

She was distraught as soon as she heard the news. Her mom saw her pace outside, then sit, pour herself tea then began the cycle again. Y/N dreamed of Columbia. It was her dream university, and to give that up, but also having to give up Harry, she couldn't pick; she didn't want to.

Harry parks the car; he drove them to an abandoned cliffside that's full of wildflowers. Y/N didn't rush out of the vehicle as she once would have wanted to feel the cold breeze. Now, she stares ahead, letting the car fill with silence—neither one wanting to be the one to begin the conversation that would change everything.

"Is this the end?" Y/N asks her voice, betraying her, as she feels her throat tighten up.

Harry doesn't answer; he reaches for her hand and holds it tight.

"It doesn't have to be. I don't want it to be." She's barely holding herself together. Y/N's staring at the side of his head, silently begging for him to meet her gaze.

"Life isn't always as easy as the last four years have been for us," Harry tells her, finally meeting her eyes.

"I love you. You know that, right."

"I know." He whispers.

Y/N shuts her eyes, repeats the words in her head she hasn't been able to voice out, knowing she's going to be breaking more than one heart right now.

"I can't stay, Harry." Y/N blinks her tears away, but they come right back, seeing Harry holding back tears. "As much as I want to, as much as I can't let you go. I also can't stay."

"Don't let me go then." He whispers. He reaches forward, cradling her cheek in his hand. It's the softest touch he's given her. It's as if he's trying to remember how she feels.

"It's not fair."

"I don't care." Y/N reaches forward to wipe the tear away that managed to escape.

"But I do."

"I don't care." He tries again, Harry can't let her go. She's his life, he's too young to know about forever, but he doesn't want to live a life without her. "I'll go with you."

Y/N lets her tears begin to fall at his words. "No." Her voice firm. "It's over if you leave."

Harry pulls back, hurt by her words but Y/N's just as upset.

She lets go of her hold on him and hurries out of the car. Harry yells her name, begging her to come back, but she's too busy crying to listen to him. Soon enough, she's surrounded by trees, and there are two trails to follow, but she can't pick; it is faith mocking her in the smallest of ways. Instead, she settles for sitting right in the center on a patch of grass.

Y/N sits hunched over, crying; that's how Harry finds her. He doesn't say a word. He sits next to her and pulls her into his lap.

"I'm sorry. So sorry, darling."

Harry begins to rock her back and forward, letting his tears all as he rests his chin on top of her head. Begins to whisper sweet nothings, just wanting her close. He hates that they are causing each other this hurt.

Y/N's cries have stopped; she sniffles from time to time. The holds she has on Harry is iron tight as if he'd vanish if she let go for even a second."

"Summer." She whispers, breaking the silence.

"What?" Harry is not sure what she can mean.

"We have Summer."

"Yeah, we do."

"We have to let each other go at the end of Summer." Her tone is final.

"Y/N-"

Y/N stops him, "Harry, I'm not letting you give up your dreams for me, and I know you won't let me do the same."

"I can't say goodbye," He confesses.

"Then we won't. We'll kiss goodnight and pretend like we'll see each other in the morning."

"That's heartbreaking, love." He chuckles bitterly.

"I love you, Harry Styles."

"And I love you, my angel."

Harry is done crying, instead leans in and kisses her like he should have done earlier as soon as he had parked the car. The kiss is fast, not soft like all the kisses he's used to giving her, no he wants her to remember this kiss. He wants her to feel everything he isn't saying.

I love you. You're mine. You're my best friend. I will love you forever. He wants her to feel it all.

"Show me you love me." Y/N pulls back breathless, lips plush begging to be kissed again. Harry knows what she's asking, and he's not one to deny her.

He stands up, confusing her, but he comes prepared. Harry walks for the blanket he dumped a few feet away from them, grabbing it and spreading it out. Y/N is quick to lay back on the soft blanket. It warms her instantly. She smiles, reaching her hand up as Harry leans over her, his bottom half straddling her waist, her hand intertwining in his soft curls. Y/N brings him down for a kiss needing his touch to be close.

Harry and Y/N are wrapped in their own world, lost in their kiss; it's always been them against the world, but soon they are going to venture off separately. It's something that neither of them wants to wrap their head around, and they won't not until they have to.

They will enjoy graduation together, hand in hand receiving diplomas. Y/N will deliver a beautiful valedictorian speech. The joint graduation party will be a joy and one they sneak away from to spend watching the moon reflect over the ocean. It's the one place they feel at peace, the sea being a favorite of both of theirs. The Summer will bring endless days out, travels up the coast of California even as far as making it to San Francisco for a trip. There is not a second where they don't spend time together, and their parents understand; it breaks their heart, but it's their future, and all they can do is support them. Their love will only grow this Summer which makes it more heartbreaking when they say goodbye in August.

But none of that matters because, for now, they have each other, and that is enough.

Harry pulls back, leaning his forehead against hers, their breaths mixing together.

"I love you."

"I love you so much; it's not going away just because--" Harry stops, not being able to voice the words out loud. He can't say it, or he'll start crying.

"I know, dove." She trails her finger up his chest until they right over his heart. Y/N can feel how fast it's beating; it beats for her. "Maybe a day will come where we can be together again, that's if you don't find someone else, which I understand if you do."

"It's not going to happen."

"You don't know that," She mutters.

"Hey, I love you. No one is going to love me like you do. I'd be a fool to love someone else." Y/N settles her chin on his chest. She's staring into his eyes, trying to find a hint of a lie, but there is none. There's only love and sadness in his green orbs.

"I love you too."

Harry sighs; there's not much they can do to brighten the mood. "You know what we can do?"

"What?"

"Make a summer bucket list. First on my list is to kiss the prettiest girl I know every day." She laughs, making Harry break out in a big grin. "Lucky for you, that happens to be you." He tells her, booping her nose with his index finger.

Y/N laughs; it's only March. She has the rest of Spring and all of Summer to love Harry. To love him with every bone and cell in her body because that last day will come sooner than she likes.

_____

The end of Summer arrived, and she bid Harry goodnight with a kiss at the door like normal, like he was going to show up tomorrow bright and early for breakfast and kisses, but that wasn't the case. It was goodbye, even though neither of them could admit it.

Y/N and Harry walked away from each other; they didn't say no contact, but it was like they both silently agreed on it because there was no letters or calls to each other, no visits to each other's homes, no visiting each other parents, at least not in the beginning

The love was there, but life goes on.

JUNE 1998

After a delicious meal and second servings, everyone sits back stuffed. Everyone enjoyed a lovely home-cooked meal with entertaining conversation. Y/N enjoyed watching it happen, not participating much in conversation. She never was that interesting, she felt, always let her friends carry the conversation. She could feel Harry glance at her from time to time, but Y/N still hasn't recovered, knowing that Harry's most prized possession at sixteen was a book she wrote a note in.

Y/N wonders if he's regretting that now.

"Have we overstayed our welcome?" Zac asks, taking Y/N's silence as something terrible.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're fine. I like listening, fascinating conversations going on."

"Come on, share something with us." Zac urges her.

"Uhh… med school has been going well. Have all of the Summer off, might do some sightseeing before going home."

"Yeah, driving home to Massachusetts instead of taking a plane like a normal person." Sydney winces at the thought, not at all wanting to think about the pit stops she had to make.

"Maybe not the smartest idea, but I encountered zero troubles; my baby, Twila, runs smoothly."

"Should get her checked out again before leaving." Harry comments.

Y/N nods. "Dad's been on my ass about that as well, but I've got no rush, especially since all I ever do here is walk around town."

"Enough car talk, let's talk about the time Zac got his clothes stolen after gym class sophomore year." Sarah sets them off on a never-ending conversation of memories.

As soon as one story is finished, a new one is being shared. Y/N forgot most of these, but as her friends tell them, she feels each memory unlock and surfacing. The conversation goes on forever, with no end in sight because that's how friendship is; it's never-ending. Especially when all they did for four years was hanging out together, creating these memories they now are so fond of.

It's around seven o'clock, the sun begins to set when everyone decides to head home. She walks them out, giving them hugs and promises of seeing each other again before everyone leaves town. Y/N notices Harry lingering by, but she doesn't say anything.

Y/N waves goodbye to Sarah and Mitch when Harry comes to stand by her. She waits for him to say goodbye, not going to rush him, which is why what he says next surprised her.

"Do you want help cleaning up?"

Harry looks shy, asking, and Y/N knows he's about to take it back, so she nods. "That'd be great."

She walks back in, and Harry follows close behind, making sure to lock the door, just in case. "I'll rinse, and you put it in the dishwasher. Okay?"

"Okay, yes."

They begin to work in silence, the only sound of the running water. Y/N wonders if he's going to stay longer or if he's going to leave right after.

God, she could really go for a glass of wine.

As Y/N hands him the last plate, she dries her hand with the red dish towel before handing a white one over to Harry, who thanks her quietly.

She leans back against the counter, debating asking him to stay for a drink or not. Harry catches her staring and smiles, unleashing the dimples. It seems he made the decision for her.

"Do you want a glass of wine?" Y/N turns around, reaching up for a glass for herself, not wanting to face him just in case he rejects her.

"Wine sounds great."

Y/N grabs two stemmed wine glasses and opens the bottle of red wine rather quickly; she's surprised her hands aren't shaking because she's so nervous. She fills both glasses halfway before stepping forward to hand Harry his cup.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Harry takes a sip, humming at the taste. Y/N isn't sure where Zac got the bottle. She's just happy it tastes good.

"Do you want to sit outside, watch the sunset on the steps?"

Harry agrees and steps out, holding the door open for her. She sits down, leaving room for Harry. He leaves a small space in between them.

"I love sunsets, never the same."

"Same as sunrises."

"I'm not a morning person as I once was, a bit of a night owl." She shares.

"Oh really, why is that?"

"I'm not sure." Y/N knows that's a lie; what she wanted to say is because she has no one to wake up to. No one to give morning kisses or morning cuddles.

"You must still love mornings."

"I do." He chuckles. "I do three-mile runs each morning."

"Three!" She gasps. "I'd be tired the entire day; I prefer going on hikes or long walks."

"Used to it already."

"Pity, to your partner. Stealing cuddles from them." She mutters, taking a sip of her wine, hoping he didn't hear.

Harry wants to respond, not sure if she was asking or stating. Oh, how he wishes he could know what she was thinking.

"Didn't know you were interested in medicine, Harry."

"I wasn't, not until my injury." He rubs his shoulder as if he remembered the pain. "After finding out, I was done for; I just needed something entirely different. My physical therapist spoke about his journey to entering the field. He told me to enter something that captured my attention and something I would never get tired of learning about. It led me to psychiatry. My professors were great guidance."

"John Hopkins, right?"

"Yes, the very one."

"Tough school."

He laughs out loud, hand on his belly. "You're telling me, miss dean's list each semester. Graduating with highest honors from Harvard."

"You know me, my head always stuck in a book."

"Still don't take compliments."

"Makes me feel weird. I love what I do; I can't wait to start and just learn it all. This sponge I call my brain is ready to absorb it all."

"I'm sure you're going to do amazing."

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." She pats his knee before quickly retracting her hand back into her lap.

"Where is your residency?" Harry looks at her, a frown on his face. "Don't think I asked you."

"Well, Harvard medical was a dream, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye, so I accepted Massachusetts General. I really love the environment they have in the hospital." She sets her wine glass down, turning her body to look at Harry. She misses the look of shock on his face. "Everyone is so kind--"

"Y/N," He tries, but she continues on.

"I went for a tour, and it was busy and crowded, but they were so kind with the children. When I entered the pediatrics ward, I just knew it's where I had to be."

"Y/N,"

"I already know who I'm going to be working under, and she's--"

"Love," Harry tries his gaze on her face hoping to get a reaction.

That shuts Y/N right up; it has been a long time since she last heard that term of endearment.

Her eyes are on Harry; he has her full attention. He can tell she's a bit stunned, but his news is life-changing. "I have my residency at Massachusetts General."

"You what?" She was not expecting that news. Harry is in the same hospital as her. "Are you saying?"

"We would have run into each other if we hadn't come home for the time capsule, yes." He answers for her.

"Fate," she whispers.

Harry nods, eyes shining with tears. That one word was enough for Harry to know she might feel the same.

He sees Y/N's eyes flicker to his lips, going back to his eyes, then leans in. He does the same, wanting to feel her close more than ever.

"Y/N, you left the-" Harry and Y/N spring apart, the moment gone started by her mother. "Oh, hello, Harry."

Harry clears his throat, standing up to offer the woman who startled him a hug. "Hello Lorelai, wonderful to see you."

"How's your mother?"

"She's well. Left yesterday to visit my nephews for the weekend."

"That's nice."

The three now stand outside together, Y/N rocking back and forth on her heels, not able to standstill.

"Truly wasn't expecting to see you," Lorelai tells him.

"We were catching up" Harry smiles at Y/N. "We were keeping each other company."

"Very kind."

"I should get going; it's late." Feeling as if he overstayed his welcome.

Lorelai senses the tension a second too late as Harry is saying his goodbyes. "Well, please do stop by before you leave town."

"Of course."

"I'll walk you out." Y/N smiles at her mother as she leads Harry out through the side gate, personally wanting to avoid a run-in with her father.

Y/N, true to her word, walks him to his car; he is about to round his car, heading to the driver's seat but stops.

"Y/N?" His voice was shaky.

"Yes, Harry."

"Let's have dinner together." He rushes out in one go.

"Harry…" She pauses, "I--"

He interrupts her. "Don't tell me you have a--" he trails off, not wanting to say the word.

"Course not." She replies quickly.

"But,"

Y/N takes a deep breath, taking a moment to get her thoughts together. "I won't do this unless this is it. This is the time I'm yours again. For good."

"You've always been mine." He steps forward, hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She lets out a sigh, feeling a sense of peace take over her body. "Eight years and no one compared. No one ever will."

"H." He can see the tears in her eyes.

"I mean it. I've always been in love with you. I will always be in love with you. It will always be you."

Y/N closes the gap between them; they are the closest they have been in eight years. She searches his face for any sign of doubt but finds none. Only sees love in his beautiful emerald eyes.

"I love you." She confesses feeling a weight leave her shoulders as the words leave her mouth for the first time in years. "I never stopped. I will never stop."

"Sweetest words I have ever heard. Words I want to hear forever." Harry's smile is one she had never seen before; it's wide, and she swears it reaches the sky. His eyes hold a shine they never have before.

There's one last thing she needs for this moment to be perfect.

"Please kiss me."

"With pleasure."

She's never dreamed of this moment in fear of it not happening, but it finally is, and Y/N swears she feels the stars aligned just for them. Harry's lips were getting closer, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She parted her lips and felt him washing over like a wave of warmth. She finally felt at home. Her whole body tingled, the feel of his frame leaning on jets as his arms wrapped around her tightly, afraid that she'd disappear. Y/N's fingers slowly moved up Harry's chest until they tangled with the back of his short curls. She tugged, needing more, feeling her legs buckle at the moan Harry let out.

All she felt was love, and she wanted to feel it forever. Y/N let Harry pull away; he didn't go far, letting his forehead rest on hers. Their breaths mix together. There's a bashful smile on Y/N's face, but this moment feels too good to be true.

Harry and Y/N stand there wrapped in each other's arms, lost in each other's gaze as if no one else existed and there was no risk of interruption.

"I'll be here at noon tomorrow, going to take you out if you'll let me."

"Yes, H. I accept." She kisses him softly two more times before unwrapping herself from him, putting a bit of distance between each other, or they very well would stand there all night kissing.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." She confirms

Harry steals one last kiss, short and sweet, before getting in his car. He sends her a kiss that she pretends to catch and places it over her heart.

She knows he is blushing even though she can't see it.

As he drives away from her, all the hurt and pain of not having him washes away. Harry is hers, and she is his.

All is right.

Their paths finally crossed again, and this time there would be no final goodbye.

_____

Harry showed up the day after as promised. Y/N was eagerly waiting, she had felt time go slow when they had been apart, but it's a monumental day because once again, after so many years, Harry and Y/N are finally reunited.

She waited on the steps of her house like she used to when she was a teen waiting for him to pick her up and take her out on a date. It was bringing back the best memories. Harry parked right in front, and just as he was rounding his car to go meet her, she was in front of jumping in his car.

"Woah!" Harry was fast to react, only stumbling a little put holding her tight. "This is a nice welcome." He teases.

"Can you blame me? I missed you." She tells him, nuzzling her face in his neck.

"Missed you too, love. Eight years, I've missed you."

"Don't start, H. Don't want to cry. We're here now."

"You're right."

Y/N has Harry set her down; they stand there smiling at each other, taking each other in.

"Up for a drive?"

She nods. "Will you drive me to the moon?"

"Anywhere you want, angel."

Harry drives them to one place she hasn't visited because of the memory it holds. She's guessing it's because he wants to create new, better ones.

"It's still beautiful here." She looks out through the window, not wanting to leave the safety of the car. She wants to stay close to Harry.

Y/N sits in silence with Harry holding each other's hands, allowing each other to just enjoy this time together. The calmness of being loved and feeling loved. She knows there are lots to talk about, but she settles for the quietness for now.

She's not sure how much time has passed, but she's now facing Harry, and he's toying with the rose ring hanging on her neck.

"Y/N," he whispers; she lifts her gaze from his lilac nails and hums for him to go on. "I have to ask." She lets his words sit in their silence. She knows what he's asking, the same thing running through her mind.

"No." She frowns. "It felt wrong. I could never-- it was never you."

Harry can tell she feels sheepish confessing this.

She chuckles dryly. "I must sound lame; the last person I kissed was you eight years ago."

"No, it's not." He assures her.

She sighs, "Harry."

"It was the same for me. My friends tried to set me up multiple times, but it felt like cheating. No one understood."

"So you haven't…" She trails off.

"Well acquainted with my hand." He jokes.

She burst out laughing, and seconds later, Harry is as well. Their joyous laugh fills the car but also their hearts.

"I love you." She breathes out, trying to catch her breath.

"And I love you."

"Want to know a secret," she asks him.

He nods.

She turns her head to the window; she can see herself and Harry in the reflection. His eyes on her full of adoration.

"I wrote you letters, hundreds. I've lost count, really, but I've got a box full; they are locked up in mom's attic." Y/N turns, looking back at Harry; there's a soft look on his face. "I wanted to send them, but I couldn't. I didn't want to interfere."

"Darling, that's-" he chokes up, tears escaping him. "Can I read them?"

Y/N nods, "Of course, they were intended for you after all."

"Will you read them with me?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Do you want to know something now?"

Y/N reaches forward and brushes a loose curl back. "Tell me."

"Each book I've read, I have written a dedication in it for you."

"What?" She says, surprised.

"The new bookshelf in mom's living room is filled with books." He waits for her to nod before continuing on. "All books for you."

"Harry," It's her turn to cry now, it seems.

"Thought about you just as much, angel."

"Do you think we did the right thing, letting each other go?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"It brought us together again. Sure it was the time capsule, but there is also Massachusetts." He reminds her.

"Isn't that wild?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Same residency."

"It was fate, angel. Like you said last night."

"Yeah, guess fate had a plan, after all, dove."

Harry chokes up, tears welling up in his eyes. "What did you say?"

"Fate had a plan."

"After."

"Dove," she breathes out, not even noticing she slipped it in; it came out like second nature. "You're my dove, my kind man, the love of my life."

Harry grabs her face and connects his lips to hers. It's not soft; it's fast and hot but full of love. She leaned back, feeling the heat in her cheeks. Harry chases her lips, not finished yet. She lets him kiss her as he pressed soft pecks on her lips, liking the feel of her soft lips.

"Is it too soon to ask to marry you?" Harry asks, trailing kisses down her neck.

"No, never too soon." She giggles as he kisses a soft spot right under her jaw. "If I recall, I asked you one too many times during high school."

Harry chuckles, nodding. "Should have accepted sooner."

She looks at him, not being able to contain her laughter, knowing very well he should have.

"Marry me." He asks, all traces of laughter gone. He holds his breath, waiting for a response.

"Yes, of course, dove."

Harry seals it with a kiss. She accepted, and yes, it may seem rushed, but they aren't getting any younger. Their love was put on hold, and now because the time is right, they get to pick up as if no time passed at all.

They are different people, but Harry and Y/N have only become more perfect for one another.

2000 DECEMBER - MASSACHUSETTS

Her eyes snap open, and she quickly sits up, throwing the blanket off herself feeling hot and unfocused, startling Harry making him drop the Pop-Tart he was eating to fall on his chest.

She looks back at Harry, sitting up with crumbs covering his mouth and half-eaten brown sugar cinnamon sitting on top of his black sweats.

Y/N can't help but laugh at the sight in front of her, her nightmare now pushed aside.

"You're laughing." He pouts. "You gave me a proper scare."

She frowns, "I had a bad dream."

"Yeah, want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head no, instead asking him an important question. "Why are you eating Pop-Tarts in bed?" She picks up the broken half and takes a bite, appreciating the strong cinnamon flavor.

"I got hungry, but I didn't want to leave you alone, and honestly, I'd never willingly leave your cuddles."

"Did you bring me my own?" She mutters, swallowing the last piece of his.

"Why, of course, I'm no monster."

"What time are you going in today?" She asks as she opens up the package handing him half since she ate his. He happily accepts.

"Noon."

She glances at the alarm clock and sees it is only nine am. She mumbles an 'okay,' settling herself to lay her head on his chest.

"How are you spending your day off?" His hand running through her hair, always wanting to be touching her in some way.

"In bed."

Harry doesn't like that. "Still feeling sick." He states.

"Yes, but I'm fine."

"Okay, but we do work in a hospital." He playfully reminds her.

She lets out a deep sigh. "I'll have Annie check on me tomorrow."

"Thank you." He kisses her temple, definitely leaving crumbs of food behind.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you too."

Y/N and Harry had come a long way from the Summer of 98'. They got back together and were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Their families were thrilled at the news of them getting back together and even happier when they learned about their shared residency location.

That Summer led them to where they are now; two years into their residency programs and one year into marriage.

Harry could not wait; he had wanted to take her to city hall for a quick signature but knew she deserved better. They were wed in the botanical garden under the beautiful flower arch she dreamed of. It was the wedding she always dreamed of; it was small and beautiful. Only their closest friends and family were in attendance. Their wedding photo; Harry gazing at her as if she put all the stars in the sky and Y/N smiling at the camera. It sits framed on Y/N's bedside. He decided it went there, so when he turns to look over at her, he sees all of her beauty laid out for him and the happiest day of his life.

Harry had fought her on changing her last name, wanting her to be called Doctor Y/LN because she worked for it and was a man who wanted his wife to shine and do all she set her mind to. Harry went as far as suggesting hyphenating but still no. She changed her last name to 'Styles.' Y/N told him she spent years dreaming about it in high school, even years later when he wasn't by her side. It's an honor to share his last name because one day, their future children would as well.

Y/N has a year left in her pediatrics residency, and Harry has two years to go. She has her fellowship to think about, which will add three more years; her focus on Critical Care Medicine. Harry has decided on Addiction Psychiatry which is only a year-long, but he's got his last two years to worry about first.

Life has been going well, they've had their fair share of arguments but nothing they can't fix. Harry can't say he doesn't love making up; it always leads to a good time.

They didn't know what life had in store for him but looking around at the photos they have hanging up, a picture of Mitch and Sarah's little boy Nathaniel who only gets bigger every time they see him. A photo of Sydney showing off her engagement ring, face full of tears but smile large; Zac off traveling the country smiling in his picture of him visiting the Grand Canyon part of his trip to visit each National Park and document his journey.

This group of six friends is living their dreams; at sixteen, none of them know what life would be like twelve years down the road, but if it wasn't for each of them having this friendship and deciding to bury a time capsule, they might not be where they are right not; happier and more in love than ever.

Harry and Y/N are filled with love and know life couldn't be better than it is; incredibly grateful to be in love and be loved back just the same.

Little do they know their love will soon have to be shared.

_____

Thank you so much for reading!

I love you and I hope you loved this story <3

#harry styles #timetravelathon #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry fluff #thank you for reading!

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phoebe-delia · 3 years

Note

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #drarry squad #kinda flangsty #potential breakup song #5 things #5 things fic

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paperpocalypse · 3 years

Text

significance.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” + 47. “I’ve been in love with you for years”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,118 words

Warning: Swearing, violence

His head feels like it’s been split open, the rest of his body feels like one giant bruise and the Handler’s daughter has her fancy leather boot on his fucking throat.

Five couldn’t be less surprised by his luck.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

He forces in just enough breath to answer her. “Eat shit and die …!”

The reaction is worth it. Lila lets out a furious cry, gritting her teeth and bringing her foot down even harder – and in doing so, changes her center of gravity. Opportunity. Five digs his nails into that damned shoe and pushes upwards. The sudden force sends her flying, and he can breathe again.

Fighting the ache in his bones, Five stumbles to his feet as she does the same. “Come on,” he pants, readying his stance as the woman turns to face him again. “What are you waiting for? Let’s finish this thing.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, sniffling. “This isn’t gonna be quick. You are going to suffer for what you did.”

Suffer? For Christ’s sake – Five scoffs and drops his hands. “Lady, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ronnie and Anita Gill.”

“Mean nothing to me.”

“1993, East London.” Lila continues to stare at him like he knows what the hell she’s talking about. “You hog-tied them and you shot them in the head.”

Five narrows his eyes; it’s very possible that she’s just bullshitting him. But despite the rationality of just ignoring her and going for the kill, he searches his memories anyway. 1993, East London. Hog-tied. Tables overturned, the pleas of a couple inside a tiny flat in the middle of the night. Yes, wait – he does remember. 1993, toys strewn everywhere – he told you to close your eyes but you didn’t – East London, two quick shots –

“We had no choice.”

“I know. But …”

“The flower merchants,” he murmurs. Five looks at her with wide eyes. “They were your parents …!”

“And they never did anything to anyone. They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

The Handler ordered him to kill Lila’s parents. Lila, who has powers like them. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Absorbing this newfound information, Five attempts to talk the woman down as he fills out the rest of the picture. “You’re right, alright? I killed them. But I killed a lot of people over the years. It was all just a job. Alright? That was never personal.”

At that, Lila laughs. “‘Never personal,’ my ass,” she sneers. “Yeah, I’ve killed – it’s always, always personal.”

“That’s why you’re not cut out to be an assassin.”

She yanks a knife out of her boot as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Bet your life on that?”

Right then, a shadow moves in the doorway to the barn. Five immediately knows who it is, and his heart seizes in his chest.

“Lila!” Your voice is firm and taunting.

Shit. Shit!

Without hesitation, Five lunges for the knife, only to find himself grabbing at air as Lila reappears behind you. The blade is pressed against your neck before he can even shout your name.

Five clenches his fists as he meets your eyes. Your expression is stony, hands stiffly grasping at Lila’s arm. Jesus Christ, just a little energy to blink – nothing –!

Fucking shit!

“Let her go.”

—

The bearded man smiles. “Sorry, no can do.”

The alley is frigid and dark, the air damp and rotting. He doesn’t move a muscle. In front of him, you breathe steadily, in and out, not saying a word. The steel barrel pressed flush to your temple mirrors the one against his.

“Just hand over your valuables and that briefcase, and we can be on our way.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice steady and cold. (It makes him proud.) “Everything stays with us.”

He looks at you. You blink.

Within the next half-second, he’s knocked your captor to the ground and the two of you are aiming the guns at their previous owners. They raise their hands almost immediately. Exactly like the exercise from his youth.

Another half-second, and both of you pull the triggers.

Five stares down at the corpse now lying on the ground. Then he straightens his tie and turns to you.

You’re still pointing the gun at the other target. His frown softens.

“[Y/n].”

Putting a hand on your arm, he notes how you stiffen, snapping out of whatever zone you had been in. You meet his eyes and breathe in sharply, then relax.

“We’re done.” You frame the question as more of a statement as Five takes the former thief’s gun from you.

“For the night,” he affirms, holding your gaze curiously. “You good?”

You wet your lips and tuck your weapon away. “I’m okay,” you eventually reply. He raises an eyebrow; your mouth twitches. “I just – well, you’re taking this whole assassin thing a lot better than I am. Pointing guns and shooting and killing for real, and – and all that pizzazz.”

“I was a member of the Umbrella Academy,” Five points out dryly. “Thirteen more years of formal training and being able to spatial jump gives me somewhat of an advantage.”

“… That’s true.” Still, you seem unsettled. “Five, you’re okay with this? We’re … killing people.”

“No. But we have no other option,” he says. “It’s only until I figure out how to get us back, alright?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Alright.”

The pair of you leave the alley, leaving the targets there to be found by the police. The fact that they had a gun pointed at your head should make him feel better about it. They were already criminals, too. Self-defense instead of cold-blooded “corrections.”

There’s still a bitter taste in his mouth anyway.

“You hold your own pretty well,” he murmurs after a while, trying to distract himself.

You grant him a small, knowing smile. “Thanks,” you say, taking his arm as the pair of you walk the rest of the way to the motel. “I had a good teacher while I was stuck in the ruins of the apocalypse.”

He hums. “Weren’t you lucky?”

Your hand tightens around the sleeve of his tailored suit.

“The luckiest.”

—

He’s going to kill her.

Teeth bared, Five starts toward her, only to stop short when Lila presses the blade harder against your throat.

“Not another step, Five,” she warns him, her grip tightening. “Or you’ll both regret it.”

“She’s not responsible for what happened. I was the one who killed them!”

“But she didn’t stop you, did she?”

Five struggles to control his rage. The knife is sharp and black underneath your jaw, ready to draw blood at a moment’s notice.

You inhale shallowly. “Lila,” you rasp.

“Don’t speak.”

“Look,” Five forces out as evenly as he can, catching the woman’s attention again. He can’t take his eyes off that goddamn knife. Five can almost feel the edge cutting into his own skin. “You wanna blame someone, blame the Handler, alright? She faked the kill order.”

“Bullshit! I saw the kill order. AJ Carmichael ordered it, and you and [Y/n] carried it out.”

“Lila, listen to what I’m telling you, alright? The Handler gave us the kill order. She came on the job, which she’d never done before.” He unclenches his fists with unwilling, trembling fingers. His mind is reeling. “You’re Commission. You know execs never go on jobs, but that day in London, she was there. Ask yourself why –”

“Stop trying to muddy the waters.”

Five swallows, pulse racing. He rips his eyes away from your neck to gauge Lila’s expression. Doubt is beginning to bleed into it, and he manages to keep his tone level.

Focus on completing the picture. No sudden movements.

“Think about it, Lila. It all makes sense.”

Lila’s grip on the knife relaxes by the smallest amount. She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “What?”

“She never cared about your parents. She was looking for you.”

What little is left of her anger melts off Lila’s face. For the first time, the girl looks completely vulnerable. And it’s not a farce.

“Why?” she whispers.

Come on …

“‘Cause you’re one of us.”

Lila whips her head around when Diego cuts through the silence, holding you even more tightly against herself. Five’s gaze snaps back to the knife again and he swears internally.

Dammit, Diego, you better have a plan!

“The Handler stole you, Lila. Just like our asshole father took all of us,” his brother explains carefully.

“No. It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. Because he didn’t have our parents murdered.” Diego approaches her, staying low to the ground, hands outstretched. “Listen to me, Lila. You were born October 1, 1989, the same day as all of us.”

The rest of his siblings close in on Lila, slowly, warily. The movement sends her into a panic, and she cuts a little into your neck. You let out half of a gasp and swallow the rest of it, but it’s enough.

Five sees red.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

“STAY BACK!”

“Five! Back off!” Diego shouts. Chest heaving and blood roaring in his ears, Five looks at him and then at your sweaty, frozen face – and against every fiber of his being, he listens and backs off, glaring venomously as his brother then turns to Lila again. “Lila? Lila, stop. Let her go.”

She turns her head from side to side, knuckles white as she keeps the knife against your throat. “No,” she chokes. “Diego, you don’t understand. They killed my parents. They took my life away from me.”

Five seethes. “For the last time, it was nothing personal –"

“And it was wrong. I know.” Diego’s eyes flit to Five’s, silently reprimanding. “You want to make them pay for what they did. But killing [Y/n]’s not gonna bring your parents back. You know that.”

“It’s not about bringing them back.”

He nods once, softly. “You’re right. It’s about justice. Honoring their memory.” Diego’s voice is gentle. “Trust me, Lila, I get it. I lost someone to the Commission too. She wasn’t family, but she was my friend, and I cared about her. She wasn’t supposed to die. She didn’t deserve to die. But she did.”

As Diego continues talking, Five keeps his guard up on the other side, watching and waiting for a contraction of a muscle, a single forewarning of violence. If another drop of your blood stains that blade, shit, he’ll kill the woman with his own two hands, Diego’s feelings be damned.

Tightening his jaw, Five shifts on his feet as he looks at you. You stare back with calm eyes – just like that night in the alley, but this time, with no signal for him to make a move.

Goddammit, they should’ve gotten you to safety by now!

“… Just think about whether taking another life would honor their memory. [Y/n] deserves a chance to start over, live a peaceful life with people she cares about. And so do you.”

Lila’s trembling. Yet, she refuses to budge. “If it weren’t for her and Five,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t need that second chance. I would have been all alone if Mum hadn’t found me that night.”

“But there’s a reason she found you. She’s using you, Lila. The Handler.”

“You’re wrong. She raised me.” Lila pauses, then asserts, “She loves me.”

“She’s dangerous,” Diego emphasizes. “And you’re scared of what she’ll do with all that new power. That’s why you dragged me to the Commission. Because I know what it’s like to love dangerous people.”

—

“Oh, my.” The Handler puts a hand on his shoulder, hovering behind him. “One hundred and forty-three kills on the simulation? That’s a new record. Very, very good, Five.”

Five bristles at her closeness, but he doesn’t move away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of unnerving him. “Thanks,” he says tersely.

“Tell me, Five. From what I’ve seen during your training, you’d be a lot more efficient in the field if you were a one-man team. Working alone is when you work best.”

“I’m partnering up with [Y/n].”

“And you’ve filled out the paperwork and everything, I know. I know. But I implore you to think about it logically,” the Handler tells him, leading him down the hallway. “[Y/n] has highly marked assessments, but frankly, they’re nowhere near your level.” She raises her eyebrows at him and blows out a stream of smoke. “Forgive me for assuming, but perhaps this is less about a partnership that would benefit the Commission and more about your personal … relationship.”

Five smiles thinly at her. “With all due respect, we’ve worked together for years. Almost forty years, in fact. I can assure you that our partnership will deliver more than satisfactory results.”

The woman just hums serenely, eyebrows still raised and cigarette holder between her lips as he faces her. Behind her, he sees you approaching.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

As he sidesteps the Handler to meet you halfway, your shared employer calls out to him, voice ringing through the sparse crowd of Commission drones. “You’re a dangerous man, Five,” she drawls, “and this is a dangerous job. If you want to protect someone, we won’t stop you, but don’t let it endanger this opportunity we’ve so generously provided. To the both of you.”

“Duly noted,” Five replies over his shoulder, walking away with you. He can hear the Handler’s heels click against the floor as she goes on her way as well.

“She’s suspicious about us partnering up, isn’t she?” you ask him lowly.

He frowns. “I would be too if I were her. But we have to stay together.”

“Well.” You reach up to adjust his hat, tilting it slightly. “In any case, I’m pulling my own weight in the field. Just like in the apocalypse. No one-sided protection.”

“[Y/n], this is different from the apocalypse. We’re not dealing with food shortages or bad weather – we’re dealing with people.”

“All the more reason for you to trust me.” Despite your usual controlled tone and mien, he sees the way that your eyes glint. “I’m kinda dangerous myself, Five. Especially for the people I love, and I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Five sighs.

“You’re so sappy, you know that?”

(Nevertheless, he finds himself mumbling those four words, just loud enough for only you to hear.)

—

“Difference is …” Diego glances around at their siblings, then looks down, “they love me back.”

“Shut up.”

“The only thing she loves is power. Now, the minute she can’t use you, she will turn on you, and deep down, I know you know that.”

She tilts the knife against your neck. Five sucks in a breath, his heart pounding.

“You don’t know me, Diego.” Lila’s voice is hoarse.

Diego steps closer. He lifts a hand to cover hers over the knife.

“Don’t I?” he whispers. “I know that we can be your family. If you just let us.”

Lila’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears. Hesitantly, she turns her head to look around at his family, and in that moment, Five has a cautious inkling that Diego’s words actually got through to her. She doesn’t resist when Diego pulls her hand gently.

When she releases you, he almost feels weak with relief.

Five murmurs your name as you stagger over to him; you grab his arms, and he raises his hands to hold your face between them.

“Shit,” he breathes, “[Y/n] –”

“I’m okay,” he hears you say, but his ears are ringing and your skin is cold and shit, your neck – delicately, Five tilts your head back, and you attempt to brush his hands away. “Five, it’s – it’s just a scratch …”

His fingers brush against a wetness on your skin. You wince, almost imperceptibly. He draws back to look at his hand, and when he sees the blood on his fingertips, your blood, the wave of relief crashing onto him abruptly morphs back into rage.

Before you can pull him back, Five lunges at Lila.

Gunshots echo throughout the barn.

—

You’re smiling.

—

He wakes up, gasping for breath.

“Oh, good! You’re still alive,” the Handler says, looming over him. Her lipstick is bright red through the dizzying blurs. “Lucky you. You got to see how this all played out.”

Grappling for air, Five tries to speak – tries to give one last word, to finally tell the damned snake to fuck off as he stares into the barrel of her automatic. But it hurts to breathe and he can’t. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts. His tongue feels like lead and his throat is closed up. All he can do is look.

But before she can pull the trigger, he hears gunfire.

Bullets rend flesh that isn’t his. Five’s eyes widen, stunned; the Handler gasps sharply. She turns. More gunfire.

She falls.

Shit, that could only mean.… Five struggles to lift his head, almost blacking out from the pain as the gunman approaches, crushing straw underfoot. A shadow falls over him.

The Swede silently tilts his gun down at his face, and he realizes: they are both the last ones. Everyone else is dead. The Swede’s brothers. The Handler. Lila. His siblings. You.

This is the end.

(This doesn’t have to be the end.)

… Five blinks, numb.

(You’re the one who got us stuck here.)

Unless …

(Seconds. Not decades.)

Seconds.

His lungs burn. Hope blooms in his chest.

(C’mon, Five.)

Concentrate. Hands clenching sluggishly, Five focuses on gaining back the feeling in them. Seconds, not decades. A familiar, electric buzz thrums through his bones, warm, crackling with energy. His hands begin to glow. Blue envelops them like they had so many times before.

It happens slowly, time reversing itself like molasses oozing back into a jar. The Swede lowers his arm and retreats. Bodies begin to rise. Five feels himself getting pushed up, and his feet touch the ground; he presses forward, running, refusing to look back. The sharp pains recede to a singular ache.

Seconds.

He breaks through behind the barn door with a gasp. Air fills his chest, full and crisp.

Immediately, Five looks back at you and everyone else, standing and breathing, and pats himself just to make sure.

Holy shit.

Spotting movement outside, Five leaps at the Handler just as she walks in, seizing her weapon and turning it on her. His finger curls at the trigger. She raises her hands in surrender, lips pursed.

Got you, you son of a bitch.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What Five said,” he hears Lila ask. He doesn’t dare look away from her mother, meeting her poisonous glare with an equally cold one. “Answer me! Is it true?”

The Handler takes in a breath. “Well –”

Before she can finish her sentence, blood sprays out from her chest. She collapses. Dead.

The Swede. Five stares at her body, gun lowering. There’s a pregnant pause, void of any air – and then in his periphery, Lila shoots forward.

Luther charges after her. “The case!”

“No!”

Diego tackles him to the ground. Lila disappears in a flash of blue.

One dead, one missing. Neither of which are you or his siblings. There might be hope for them yet. Rolling his shoulders, Five turns his attention to the rogue assassin, cocking his gun and pointing it at him. The Swede reciprocates.

Nobody utters a word, for fear that it may be their last. But as Five feels the weight of the automatic in his arms, he wonders, suddenly, just how much he has in common with this man. A forgotten humanity. The death of their families. The force of a person with nothing to lose.

Except in the Swede’s case, he has no chance of gaining back what he had lost.

This is the end.

Five takes his finger off the trigger, then after a brief hesitation, lets go of the gun.

“Enough,” he says.

Nothing happens at first. The only sign that the man heard him is how he looks away from Five, surveying the rest of the barn’s occupants.

Five returns his gaze firmly, muscles tense, when he meets it again. The Swede regards him for another moment, then finally speaks.

“Inte mer.”

He drops his weapon. No more killing.

—

After Vanya helps the kid and calms him down, she goes with him and Sissy to help them pack up. Everyone else exits the barn as well to rest up and say their goodbyes before leaving, save for Diego, who talks to Herb and Dot with you and Five before joining the rest of the group at the house.

As soon as everything seems like it’s on track, Five brings you straight to the bathroom before you can protest.

“Five, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

In a familiar turn of events, you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sulking as he cleans the rest of the dried blood from your neck. Five scowls as he inspects the thin, rough scab underneath your jaw. For shit’s sake, it’s more than a ‘scratch’ – but at the very least, the cut wasn’t deep enough to cause too much bleeding.

Obviously, he’d have preferred it if you hadn’t gotten cut at all.

“She could’ve killed you.”

“I know,” you murmur. He glares at you softly, and you reach over to hold his hand. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Five scoffs, shaking his head. “Worrying me? I was damn well past worrying when she –” At that moment, he makes the mistake of seeing the guilt in your eyes, and he sighs. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You shrug quietly as he opens a large Band-Aid. “That I had to do something to keep you safe.”

“At your expense?”

Your miniscule smile changes into a grimace for a split second when he sticks the bandage on, but it returns immediately after. “You would’ve done the same thing, Five.”

All he can retort with is a displeased huff.

Silently, you stand up and turn him around, urging him to sit down this time as you pluck another hand towel from the stack that Vanya had given the two of you. Five sits still, mouth shut and eyes watching, as you start cleaning his face. Your expression is tender. A familiar feeling wells up inside of him.

Suddenly, you chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s just – if I didn’t know any better,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly grimy spot on his cheek, “I’d think that you were a schoolboy that just got into a fight and lost.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, good thing that you do know better, because I obviously would’ve won.”

“Obviously.” Your eyes glint, like they have so many times before.

—

“How bad does it hurt?”

Your hand is soft in his as he glances at his wrist, propped up on a stack of books, then into the small fire burning a few feet away. “Not that much,” he answers. “Thanks for splinting it.”

“Thanks for talking me through it.” You breathe in, head on his shoulder, testing the words on your tongue before you continue. “I was worried. I’m glad it’s feeling better.”

A wrist sprain is nothing to write home about, figuratively speaking. It’s more of an inconvenience than an actual concern; Five figures that the injury will heal in a week, a week and a half at the most. Frankly, he’s more concerned about how much longer it’ll take to complete daily tasks in the meantime.

… You, on the other hand – well, he wonders if you’ve ever gotten anything more than a few cuts and scrapes growing up. The closest he had ever seen you get to panicking was after he fell today, and you’ve been wandering around with him for years.

In a strange way, Five thinks, he was glad for it. He is glad for you. Glad for your presence, your level head. He is glad for the way you hold his hand and talk to him during the day and after dark. And he is glad, secretly, that you want to protect him just like he wants to protect you.

“I love you.”

The words slip out, rough and unbidden.

Five holds his breath when they echo in his ears. You stop tapping your fingers over his skin. Perhaps that’s a bad thing. It was not a mistake, of course, and he isn’t going to take it back, but if that wasn’t what you were saying this whole time – shit. He lets go of your hand, his throat scratchy and strangely closed up.

But then – your fingertips brush his face. He swallows.

“I love you too.”

531 notes · View notes

thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

Text

You Are In Love

Loki x Reader

1989, epilogue

"You are in love, true love."

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 7,106

Warnings: some angst, some unreliable narrator, fluff, me being a hopeless romantic.

A/N: this is the very end- the epilogue, and it is based on the 1989 deluxe song You Are In Love. I really think this is important to the story despite it being an epilogue because I based some of the things solely because I wanted a scene here to happen, I needed that scene. Okay idk how this got so long, I'm sorry! Also, not me stealing quotes from my favourite book… I cried writing this.

A/N2: thank you to @chrissquares for all the incredible dividers she made for my series, and for @nacho-bucky who beta read it all and managed to put up with me. I appreciate you two so much, I love y'all!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

The room was dark and silent as you got into bed, playing the same thing that has been in your mind for weeks now. You heard him in your head, and saw him in your mind as you went to sleep. It hasn't been long since you first saw Loki, but he plagued your mind. Being asleep did not make him go away. You shut your eyes.

The wind felt cold on your skin but your palm was warm as he held you close. When you looked down you found yourself in a dark golden gown, a smile spread on your lips when you looked into his eyes and he took you to dance with him. You saw nothing but him as he twirled you around, your surroundings did not matter as the whole world stood in silence, the two of you were only focused on each other. You were wonderstruck, dancing around with him and looking at his bright blue eyes, you prayed he won't let you go. He only held you lightly with the palm of his hand and the arm around your waist but you felt enough.

He whispered in your ear terms of endearment and you could feel yourself blush. He twirled you around and out of his reach. You danced around all alone, until you turned around and saw Loki sitting on the back of a car, his hand inviting you. You felt your confusion go away as you climbed up to sit next to him, your jeans barely touched his black pants. Then he talked to you.

"Do you remember?" You heard his voice say to you and you turned your head.

"What?" You sat there when Loki talked to you.

"Look up." You heard his voice say to you and you turned your head up and looked at the stars, and your shoulders brushed. A shudder of warmth coursed through you as you saw the brightest star in the sky. You turned your eyes on Loki and the lights turned out.

You woke up in a shudder, heaving, you looked at the clock that mocked you. 1:58.

You turned to the other side of the bed and hoped sleep would take you quietly this time.

•

Loki walked along the bifrost, his heart was beating and racing, it didn't matter how many times he visited Heimdall, he was still anxious for his answer every time.

"Heimdall," Loki greeted the guardian.

"Prince Loki, are you going to ask the same question every time?" Heimdall looked over at the distressed prince. He remembered seeing him, when he was so young, so happy when he snuck him out at night so he can go to see the human woman he fell so hard for. He remembers Loki coming back in the morning with a smile on his face that he has never seen on him before; he remembers the young innocent prince showing him the necklace he carved especially for you, with his insignia on it; he remembers him being hopeful for the future- with you.

"I just want to know how she is."

Now he is an idiot.

"Just like she was the last time you asked me." Loki merely nodded, looking down on the ground. Heimdall waited for him to ask the other question he always asked.

"Is she- is she seeing someone?" Loki kept his eyes down, he held his breath.

"No." Heimdall tried to comfort the prince but he knew the answer won't do. Loki nodded to him, he never knew if he liked the answer or if he wanted you to find someone and be happy even if it is without him.

"Is she happy?"

"Yes, she is. She is happy and content," Heimdall stepped forward and put a hand on Loki's shoulder. "But it's been four years- don't you think there is a reason why she is still alone?"

"She just hasn't found-"

"She won't find someone who will make her happy like you did."

Loki refused to be selfish like he was in the past with you. Now that he understood what you asked him all those years ago at sunset, he refused to destroy your peace. Yet, he refused to forget you.

"However, your highness, she will not be available forever." Loki finally looked up at him, "and forever is not a lot of time for mortals."

"Then what am I to do about it?" Loki has told Heimdall a great deal about you, he never told his mother about you but since Heimdall was the only one who knew- Loki conversed with him after you had a fight, gushed to him about new midgardian stuff you taught him, and Loki knew that he didn't have to hide you from him.

"Do not sabotage your own happiness, it is not a selfish act if both of you will be happy from it. She will be happy to see you again, I can see that." Heimdall looked into the prince's eyes and hoped he could bring some sense to him.

He almost missed the way his eyes shone for just a moment, before the prince turned away to go back to the palace.

"Thank you, Heimdall, truly." Loki turned to him briefly before turning once again.

He wasn't as uncertain as he thought he would be; he pondered as he made his way across the rainbow bridge.

•

You woke up yet again alone, another sleepless night made you long for something you didn't have, leaving you tired. You reluctantly got out of bed, closing the curtains and concealing daylight and opting instead to turn on the lights. You had a long day ahead of you, so you shook the blue eyes that haunted you from your mind, you could almost see them in the shadow at the corner of your room.

It was just a trick of the light. You checked.

You walked out the door, not before taking a double look at the apartment, it was empty but… it felt wrong. You could almost see a silhouette, you must have been losing your mind, you thought, as you turned out the lights and walked to work. But right before you closed the door you sneaked one last glance, and you could still see it with the lights out.

Work had been tedious, Pepper was busy which meant that so were you, but at least you amused yourself in your breaks. Seeing the competitive supersoldiers spar on the mat sure could bring a smile to your face any day.

You weren't lonely by any means, you were happy with your new family that seemed to adopt you the moment you got the job, you were happy with your job, but from time to time you couldn't help but feel… hollowed. Something was not quite right, something was missing and you couldn't figure it out. Sure, you didn't have a boyfriend but that wasn't it. Every guy that hit on you just seemed wrong, you didn't feel the need to get one. You were satisfied and happy… was that enough?

You buttoned your coat to shield you against the autumn chill as you went back home. Happy suggested driving you, Tony basically commanded it but you sneaked out as he was arguing with someone on the phone, waving Happy goodbye as the elevator doors closed. You felt like walking today.

Autumn air swept past you as you walked, you looked through store windows at the TV, one reporter was talking about how there were sightings of the evil god of mischief. You stood there and stopped to look at it, could you have missed him? You remembered when you saw him at the Avengers Tower- when you first met him at the Tower- he left too soon, you fixed yourself in your own mind and watched as the reporter showed pictures after rambling about how dangerous it is.

Your heavy chest breathed again when you saw the photos- Steve's hair has not been like that in years, this was not recent. You shook your head and continued walking.

You remembered when he passed by you, you remember the chill of him that for some reason gave you warmth. And now in the cold weather you could feel it all over again on your way home. You could imagine it, and it was so real there, him being on your left, you could almost feel him breathing on your neck.

You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder. He wasn't there.

Long story short, you were sure you were going insane- having an unexplainable crush on a god you met once upon a time, what was it? Four year ago? You hoped your mind would stop listening to your heart this one time.

You met him one time, you talked a bit before he passed by you, meeting him was rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky- that is what you told yourself at least, when days passed and you remembered him but you didn't see him again.

You shook your head again, shaking him away, you were just chasing shadows and there was no point in that. You knew that and wished logic would calm your racing heart.

•

Loki stepped into the Allfather's throne room and dismissed all the other Asgardians that were there.

"My son, what are you doing?" Odin rose up before he saw the look on Loki's face and with a raised interest he sat down as Loki went up the golden stairs.

"I have a request, it is important to me."

"And you came to ask me to grant it?" Odin raised a brow and studied the god of mischief, doubtful with every moment that went by. This sure is intriguing.

"I am afraid you are the only one that will be able to fulfill my wish." Loki's thoughts were still messy in their silence, scattered in ways he didn't try to collect. He thought about it the whole way to the palace. Even when he was satisfied here, and when he and Thor became true brothers after everything went down… it still wasn't home. It isn't home- it never was since he met you.

"Well do tell me what made you so desperate that you came to me?" Loki took a breath in.

"My love." He breathed out.

"The mortal midgardian girl?" Odin seemed to understand the situation. He never thought it would come from Loki, he never thought anyone would come to him for it, especially not the prince. "What would you want me to do?"

"The one thing only the Allfather is capable of doing." Loki lifted his head up and looked at his father with determination. He was certain with his decision.

•

Loki walked the rainbow bridge feeling different and yet the same all at once- he felt new. But with one weight lifted, another dread took its place.

Heimdall nodded at him with a small smile and Loki found himself returning it, it reminded him of the first night he came back to Asgard after meeting you in Midgard. Heimdall always knew from the start.

He stepped into the Avengers Tower, knowing that by this hour you were probably back at your apartment- at home. He stepped into the living room and found the witch, the billionaire, and the captain there sitting around on the several couches.

"Loki?"

"Captain," The god nodded to him in recognition. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"What are you doing here?" the god walked around to stand in front of the three avengers.

"I've come to a decision."

"I used to want the Throne, father." Loki continued, "The very one you are sitting on, or the one I'd put on Midgard. As the rightful heir to the throne, and as the King of Jotunheim, I deserve that.

"I was born for it- and so, I used to want the throne. I used to think myself superior to everyone in the nine realms, the mortal midgardians out of all… that was until I met her, my love. When you met your love, father, it didn't change you. You caused ruin and shed blood and now you are sitting on a throne built on that in a world that now I am fit to rule." Loki did not let the Allfather speak in between. He deserved this, he knew that now.

"During the time you were away and under my spell, I made Asgard prosper… look how well it all turned out," he chuckled bitterly. "I used to want the throne but now I realize I just wanted to be acknowledged for my abilities, for my wit, instead of being shadowed to the side- all because you decided to pick up a baby and use it as political gain only to find it useless." Loki took a breath to close his eyes, he remembered it all, he remembered the day he found out about it all, about his glorious purpose his father planned for him.

"And Then I met my love, and she saw everything- all of that-inside me already without me having to prove it to her. She made me realize that I have nothing to prove to you- an abuser who calls himself king.

While Thor is my brother, and I acknowledge that I still am both Odinson and Laufeyson, this is not the home I thought I could make it out to be… by fixing everything else and making the people love me, fear me, acknowledge me. Even when my mother was here, I was not able to be fully myself, not here, not like I was whenever I'd sneak out of Asgard to be with her." Loki smiled, thinking about all of your moments together.

"Those were the sole moments where I felt what a home should feel like- though I never had anything to compare it to, and you made me think that somehow I should be grateful for you- for taking me here instead of dying in the cold, even though you were planning to use me as bait to gain advantage on your opponent.

Then I found her and she warmed her way into my heart and despite it all she still loves me and cares for me and I know that if I ever had a home… it wasn't on Jotunheim or here with my brother- it was with her: In a small apartment in Midgard, surrounded by mortals.

"And so, yes I am the rightful king of Jotunheim and a prince of Asgard, god of mischief… but I also have a home waiting for me in Midgard and I also am in love. And only now I realize all I want I can get, which is the home that I gave up on all those years ago- trying to make this home better. I don't want the throne anymore.

"So now, now I choose her."

"You decided to come back?" The witch leaned forward and asked him, he was about to nod when the captain spoke up.

"What about you saying that you want her to have peace?" Steve crossed his arms and rose up, "You said that as a god you won't be able to give her a peaceful life?"

"Yeah what changed in the last few years?" Tony continued sipping on his drink, casually looking over at the god with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, I came to a few realizations about her and myself which is why I am here now." Loki started, "now I can be what she needs me to be, if she will take me back."

"She still thinks of you, her thoughts are so loud sometimes." Wanda smiles at him, he is still wary with her after she saw inside of his mind. "How did you change then?"

"Well," Loki took a breath. "The ruling god, the Allfather, has the ability to revoke the immortality of a god. And so- I asked my father to take away my immortality."

They stared at him in silence, one in disbelief, one studying him, and one confused.

"So now if I stab you, you will die?" Stark asked and the god rolled his eyes.

"The Asgardian gods were never immortal, we are almost immortal, so even if you had stabbed me before I could have died- I however doubt you would have managed to do any harm to me." Loki dismissed the small man.

"Wait, what about your… magic?" Steve asked and one shrug later an identical Captain America stood in front of him, smirking.

"Patriotism, Justice, god bless America!" Loki shapeshifted back to himself before continuing, "I still have my magic, powers, and the rest of the qualities as the god that I am- that make me way above all of you- I am just not as immortal, and I will be able to live with her properly."

"So, you are like a supersoldier." Steve nodded in understanding, and Loki smiled slightly.

"Yes, but a lot more powerful and better."

Steve shook his head but let out a small laugh.

"So when are you going to see her?"

"Well, I think I wasted enough time already." Loki let out a chuckle, and he didn't even bother hiding the excitement in his blue eyes.

•

Loki hoped his excitement, as well as his nervousness, were hidden- he gave up using illusions around you a long time ago, and it was very long ago but he didn't want to use them now. This time he was going to make it right.

It was weird, not having unlimited time anymore. But his doubts about the decision stopped when you opened the door after hearing his soft knocks.

Your eyes were beautiful, they always were but he missed them terribly, now they were filled with a mix of confusion and excitement. He couldn't help the slight smirk that slipped out across his lips- at least he still had that affect on you.

You had a hard time processing who was at your doorstep, but you could already feel the butterflies blooming in your stomach. So long trying to suppress your weird crush. It seems to be inevitable now that he showed up years later.

When you saw his smirk you realized you must have been staring at him longer than you should have.

"Loki?" his name tasted weird on your tongue, you couldn't place the little spark that flew in your mind, making your head ache a bit.

He brought his hands up and with a light green glow he held blooming flowers in his hand.

"May I come in, love?" you could barely speak with the way his blue eyes shone, like moonlight against the darkness of the night like the suit he wore.

You nodded and stepped back to let him in.

You were certain that when he walked past you and handed you the flowers he had a certain glow to him, like an aura that was visible to the naked eye, it both calmed you down and overwhelmed you, so you looked away.

"These are my favourite, how did you know?"

He turned to look at you and you couldn't help but blush, wonderstruck at the little whispers you could almost hear his eyes hold, a silent question. You couldn't answer.

"I have magic, did you forget, dear?" Loki smiled when you locked the door and turned back to him. "I can read minds."

You laughed, and what a sound it was.

"That's bullshit, I didn't think about flowers now. Can you read what I'm thinking now?" you raised a brow at him, happy to call him on his bluff- you hoped it was a bluff, you'd rather the earth swallow you alive than if he could know what you're thinking while he is here.

"You are wondering what I am doing showing up at your door close to midnight." He took a step towards you. He wasn't wrong. "A little birdie told me."

You let out a nervous chuckle when you saw him standing closer now, but it turned to anger when you understood his words.

"Steve told you?" you went around him contemplating how to kill Steve, Natasha owed you a favor after all; you muttered, "That son of a bitch…"

Loki figured he will go with your answer, it is the easier answer. You came back shortly with a vase and the flowers in the water in it.

"Do not fret, those flowers are special, they have an enchantment on them so they will not die."

At least you didn't have to worry about that, he was so considerate and normal that you almost forgot about the odd situation.

"Why are you here?" You asked and clasped your hands in front of you.

"You told me to come to you if I ever plan to take on the planet again, so here I am." He smiled at you such an honest smile, and you didn't even know why he was so happy, but you knew that smile will linger in your mind like a tattoo kiss. It was so tempting to look at his lips for longer and imagine to yourself what his kiss would taste like. "If I'm honest, you've left quite an impression on me the last time we met."

"Oh?" you hoped the heat in your cheeks was not visible, you bit your lip. "Can I trust the god of mischief to be honest?"

"Of course you can, just trust me." His serious look contrasted your playful one.

"Why do only the untrustworthy people say that?" you mused and smiled at him, hoping to ease whatever tensions you felt brewing in his mind.

"Well, love, that is because the people that you know you can trust don't need to say it." He looked at his shoes and you took the time to really admire him now that he was up close and real.

"Well then, I guess you don't need to say it." You found pride in how he lifted his head and a sly smirk took over. "Do you want something to drink?"

If he was here, after all those years of only imagining him, you could ignore the odd situation just so you could make him stay a little longer this time.

"I'd like that, thank you." You invited him to your kitchen as you made yourself some tea.

"What would you like?"

"Coffee is good." He wondered how far he could take it with you, letting a gentle glow almost reach you when you turned around and he stopped.

"Coffee at midnight?" you questioned him, "Okay, what kind of coffee do you like?"

"I am a god, love, it doesn't affect me the way it affects you," he laughed when you rolled your eyes. "Pick whatever you think I would like."

You nodded at him with a shy smile. You turned away from him and made his coffee as he sat around you at the isle. You felt little tickles in your brain then. You tried to shake them off somehow but when they got stronger you winced at the slight headache.

"Are you okay, love?" god, you were already getting used to the pet name he gave you.

"Yeah, just a headache- nothing tea cannot fix." You laughed and turned back to him and the headache was gone, you couldn't help but wonder if he used his magic to heal your headache. It would be stupid to assume that though, so you stayed silent and took a sip of your tea. You gave him his cup of coffee and your hands brushed- it was one touch but you felt enough to know that he will linger on your skin.

"So tell me," you broke the silence that took over as he kept looking at you with soft eyes. He hummed and urged you to continue, "How can I help you take over earth? Where do we start?"

He laughed and you promised yourself to make sure he will laugh again. And you wanted to hold him, but you held back that urge and relished his familiar- no, comforting presence as you talked through the night.

•

From there you saw Loki around more, at work or when he would invite himself into your house at night or during your day off. You fell so easily into routine with him, he filled the space in your life that used to be vacant, you never really noticed it until he had to go to Asgard for a month to deal with a meeting. He made up for it when he came back though, walking you home that night and the next night, and the one after that…

It did nothing to sooth your crush on the god, it increased it if anything. Whenever you saw him, he would sooth the headaches you were getting lately, you could almost feel the gentle almost featherlike caresses of his magic- it had to be his magic, even if he never said anything, you saw it in his eyes.

You managed to handle it until he followed you around at work- and you were surprised when the Avengers did not even comment on it or flinch.

"You look lovely as ever, my love," he picked the necklace on your neck and your breath hitched at his closeness and the way his fingers brushed your chest and throat, "Always a sight to behold."

"Oh, Loki," you always stammered at his compliments that he shamelessly threw at you, "you're so sweet thank you, I- I have to go now, I need to go to Pepper- I have work, yes work."

You cringed to yourself as you turned around and down the hallway, only to shriek in surprise when Loki suddenly materialized in front of you, causing you to fall… almost.

Loki caught you just before you hit the ground, with a hand around your waist and the other holding your hand and bringing you upwards to him. You didn't dare say a word.

"You know that with a beauty like yours Asgardian princesses could never compare- and for your steadiness I'm certain I could teach you Asgardian ballroom dancing- to help you, of course."

As if it couldn't get worse, your cheeks were heating up, and you were caught in his eyes before he thankfully let you go.

"I assure you I am steady and not clumsy, a person appearing in front of me would catch anyone off guard!" you laughed it off.

"I am not a person, dear, I am a god." At the intense look in his eyes you clutched your hands to your side, holding in a gasp you just nodded and went around him to try and get work done.

If Pepper noticed anything, she didn't comment on it.

•

As the days went on, he became bolder and bolder and you couldn't deny that you loved him courting you this way and knowing that he only has his eyes on you. On some days he was bolder, on others you took the leap to get closer to him when you noticed he was having a bad day, and sometimes he would be so gentle with you the genuine way of it made your heart soar.

It was all gentle touches and intense eyes that you still saw when you closed your eyes in the dark of the night. It was the slowest build up that made you feel like he was always there with you, whether it was in your heart or soul or body, it surrounded you in warmness you didn't know you missed.

And then he asked you out, as you showed him your favourite spot in the park. He just laughed and smiled at you and when you asked why he held your cheeks and asked you out on a date. He wanted it done properly.

So now you stood at your home in your best dress- it was green, you found it in your closet and you liked how it matched the colour of the shirt he often wore.

The doorbell rang so you looked in the mirror one more time, seeing the dress and the necklace he seemed to love. You looked around the dimly lit room and the set table and once you were sure everything was ready- you opened the door.

And there he was in all his glory, you couldn't have stopped the smile you shone at him even if you tried, he seemed to have that affect on you. You could see royalty on him, you could feel it, even when he stood there with a simple black suit.

"Hello dear," he looked you up and down, remembering another night you wore this very same dress, only you didn't wear that necklace, not yet. "You look ravishing."

"As do you, I really like this suit on you." You brushed your hand on his chest, straightening the tie. "Come on in."

Loki stepped into the room, appreciating the memories he has of all of your date nights, even those that you had before the two of you got together. He appreciated every single one of them.

Then he once again looked at you, the candles giving you a glowing aura, making you shine and his breath left him speechless.

The light reflected the chain on your neck, the one he gave you all those nights ago, that faithful night.

"Loki? What are you hiding there?" you laughed at him as you tried to circle him and see what he was clasping behind his back. Only to see green lights as he made whatever it was disappear with a smug smile on his face. "Hey that's not fair!"

He put his hands on your hips and pulled you to him as you tried, and failed, to stay stern.

"You are dating a trickster, love, you brought this on yourself." He laughed at you as a giggle escaped you before you again tried to drop the smile that gave away your true emotions. "It's your fault that you love me!"

His laugh stopped when he saw the wondering look in your eyes and he realized what he had said. Then he backed away from you.

Shaking his head, he laughed it off before putting on a smile that you knew was a cover for his true emotions. He pulled out a golden box, you had never seen something like this before. You knew he was distracting you but chose to let it go- for now, at least.

He looked at you with gleaming eyes, urging you on as you held it and opened it.

You caught your breath when you saw a golden necklace laid inside it. It was fairly simple, but it was golden and even had a glow around it. The pendant of the necklace was a simple circle that held a weird S shaped symbol on it. You looked at Loki as he took it out and held it in his hand.

"What is it, Loki?"

"That, my love, is my symbol. Two snakes circling each other, biting each other's tails, and in a way- they symbolize me."

"That is beautiful, Loki, thank you." You traced the symbol delicately- it was intricate but you could tell it was hand carved. You let him put it on you.

"This way, you will have a part of me wherever you go."

You held back tears and tuned around to face him, jumping in and hugging him close.

"You were right before, you know, I've been meaning to tell you this anyway." You pulled back only by an inch but he went and sat on the couch, so you went ahead and sat on his lap, letting his arms circle you.

"What do you mean?" he asked nervously.

"I love you."

Norns, he was so afraid to tell you back then, but now he wasn't afraid, and all he had to do was wait. He was willing to wait until you were ready, he hoped the light spells he had been casting were doing their work well, he hoped it won't be long.

•

You woke up in your bed, smiling at the golden daylight, you turned around and reached for the other side of the bed, happy to see Loki was still asleep.

It was rare to see him like this- peacefully sleeping. You lightly traced his face, careful with the light bruises he came home with. They were already healing but you still didn't like seeing them. You convinced Loki to let you clean them up, he argued about how he is a god, and yet he let you do it anyway.

"Good morning, beautiful." He murmured, still half sleeping, he grasped your hand in his and kissed the inside of your wrist.

"Good morning, handsome." You smiled at him. "You said I have you for the week, right?"

"I'm all yours, my dear." He pulled you closer now, "I have a few ideas on how to spend these days…"

You laughed and let him kiss you, you were just happy to have him home.

It was a few hours later that morning that you got out of bed, groaning at your sore muscles and chuckling to yourself at the smell of the burnt toast, it was only Sunday.

You put on his shirt and stepped outside to the kitchen.

"Will you ever not burn the toast?" he shrugged at the comment but didn't reply as he tried to break an egg into the pan.

"This is ridiculous." He grumbled to himself. "After all this time and I still don't get it."

"You didn't try to do this that long." You chuckled as he finally gave up and used his magic. "You have only been here with me for like half a year now."

"Right," he fixed himself, quickly coming back to you and serving you your breakfast the way he remembered you used to like.

"Thanks, Loki." You kissed his cheek as he sat next to you. "But how about you take the first bite?"

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from smirking.

"Now, darling, there is no need for that."

"Sure there is, I'll be very amused." You laughed at the look he gave you and how he tickled your side.

"I am not amused."

"You know, for an Asgardian you sound so British."

"False, English people sound like Asgardians." He pointed a fork at you before he ate from your breakfast, you joined in only after he approved of it to your surprise.

You sipped on your tea, sighing at the perfect morning you got to enjoy. That was when you realized that you are in love. In love with a god. You read books after you met him, you knew that this wouldn't last.

"How are your bruises? They seem to be healing okay, do they hurt?" you brushed away a strand of hair out of his face.

"I told you, darling-"

"I know, I know, you're an immortal Asgardian god, you can handle wounds like these." You laughed and hoped he wouldn't see through it. That was the one sentence from the book you read that haunts your brain. It made you remember a sunset, but you've never been with Loki to a sunset, maybe you should go sometime.

"Actually, Asgardian gods are just almost immortal. But I am not immortal anymore." He said, sensing your anxiety, hoping that this information will make it all okay, hoping you will realize that this will last.

"What? Why not?" you should not be delighted by the news, you should be worried of him getting hurt now.

"I decided to give up my immortality, while I still am a god and I assure you I am just as strong as I was before," he took your hand in his and looked into your eyes. "I decided that I want a better, more peaceful, life."

"But why would you-" you shook your head.

"I had my reasons." He kissed the back of your hand,

You nodded to him and looked away, a sinister kaleidoscope of butterflies of hope rose in your stomach.

Maybe some things last forever after all.

•

"I am both terrified and excited." You held onto Loki's arm for support, praying to any god out there that you won't mess it up and stumble.

The gown you were wearing was golden, with a dark glimmer to it, Loki was matching you in his royal suit in black, green, and gold. Loki finally took you to a ball a year into your relationship, you asked to celebrate it here and he complied

Asgard was beautiful, though you were getting a bit lightheaded from it all, it got worse when you entered the ballroom.

"I told you." Loki leaned in to whisper to you as you took in the scenery.

"What?"

"You are more beautiful than any Asgardian princesses in their best dresses." Heat rushed to your cheeks at the compliment, remembering when he so casually said it to you at the tower.

Loki remembered the night he taught you to dance, the one he finally kissed you and told you those same words.

Loki made sure to keep you away from Odin, and put an armor of magic around the two of you, hoping it would ease your headaches. And then you danced in your own little world, around and around until you got tired and Loki took you home.

•

Half a year later you were going to sleep, Loki was right there beside you, holding you close to him as you laid your head on his chest.

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight… I love you."

"I love you too." Your lover kissed your head and then as you closed your eyes you felt the same tingles in your brain that you started to get whenever you went to sleep or even when you went to work.

Soon enough you fell asleep and your dreams took you along.

You wandered along places with Loki beside you. You were there with him on a high hill, staring at the sunset. "I'll treasure this moment forever." You heard him tell you but you didn't hear him- no, it was something else. You smiled at him and suddenly you were in your apartment, and you were smiling as he kissed you, you saw two paper airplanes flying around and he said- talked to you. "I told you my way was better." You heard yourself laughing at him and felt yourself bringing him back to a kiss. You were there with him as you ran through the trees until you stopped and climbed up, where was this again? "Come on, Loki, I now a place we won't be found." You giggled to him- no- you heard yourself giggling. Was this a dream anymore? With the growing headache this must be a nightmare. Since when do you have vivid dreams like this? Your apartment looked different as you danced around it with Loki. "I bet you'll look just as beautiful in an Asgardian dress. Like a true Asgardian goddess." But no- he couldn't have told you that there. You felt ecstatic as he leaned in to kiss you right there, it's your first kiss. No, it wasn't. You felt it all, you knew this was inevitable. Did you know that? Your head was spinning as you saw that golden necklace you found in your drawer. "It has my symbol on it, two snakes circling each other," biting each other's tails. No, you must have read it somewhere. Then you walked towards the spot in the park that you loved, at least that was familiar. "You will get a cold if you keep sitting in the rain, don't you have an umbrella?"Loki looked at you, he seems so much younger, you got shivers from his blue eyes. Your head hurt more and more, you didn't know where you were. All you felt was confusion. You saw the bifrost and there you saw the man with the golden eyes greeting you, he knew you- he knew everything. Did you know? "Do you remember?" Loki came home to you, with a fake smile which turned real when he said "I love you." He loved you. In Asgard yet again, why were you saying goodbye? "Promise you'll get me back, Loki." And then he bowed- but you already knew he was going to do that, the dream didn't have to tell you- "I'll see you around, my love." You remembered.

"I'm going to miss you, even if I won't know it." You did miss him, you missed him all along.

You waked, shot up from Loki's grip, with a hand over your mouth. You could hear the hushed whispers of memories in the silence of the bedroom; you could feel him on the way home even when you had nothing but his necklace; you could see it all now in a kaleidoscope of memories playing with the lights out. You were in love with him- you were in love with him over and over again. You never stopped loving him.

Now you saw it all: yes Loki was your lover, but before that- a lot of things happened before that, he was your best friend.

Loki woke up to the strange look on your face, rising up to be face to face with you. You paused before looking at him and he teared up at what he saw.

"You're my best friend." He saw you- his love- and now you saw him. And he knew what it was, you came back to him.

He took you in and held you close in a hug, laughing as tears ran both of your faces.

"So, 1989." He brought you in for a chaste kiss.

"What?"

"It's been 1989 days since the last time you remembered me." You chuckled.

"Took me that long?"

"It felt like an eternity." You tentatively caressed his cheek.

"Why did you give up eternity for me?" you asked him and he laughed as if it was obvious.

"The only way to survive eternity is to be able to appreciate each moment- and I couldn't do that, not without you." He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, "and now- now I get to spend my eternity with you."

You leaned in to kiss him once more, savoring it, you knew: You were ready to fall in love with him all over again.

You lost each other, but you found each other again, and somehow that was everything.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Captain Strong VS The Mockingjay

Written by: @nightlock-1989

Prompt 170: Superhero/Catburglar AU: The jewel-thief Mockingjay has evaded The Capitol’s superhero, Captain Strong, for long enough, and the Merchants of the city have started putting pressure on the hero to bring the thief in for justice. The only problem? The Captain is the alter-ego of teenager Peeta Mellark, and his elusive nemesis is his high school crush, Katniss Everdeen. [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

@thelettersfromnoone I loved your prompt and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. This will have multiple parts. I’m not sure how many but we have to find out what happens next!

Rated T for language

Captain Strong VS. The Mockingjay

“PEETA, WAKE UP!” a shrill voice shouts from the other side of my bedroom door. Ugh, the opposite of what I wanted to wake up to.

“I’m up,” I holler. The pounding finally stops.

I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom I share with my brother Rye. He’s styling his hair and his eyes widen at the sight of me.

“You look like shit, Peet,” he says.

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter dripped with sarcasm while I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Who did you sneak out to see last night?”

“I didn’t sneak out.”

“Yes, you did. You need to learn to be quieter.”

I lean my hip against the counter and point out, “Does it matter? Dad sleeps like the dead and mom takes enough sleeping pills that I’m surprised she isn’t dead. How she’s even awake right now amazes me.” I press my hand into the marble and hear a crack. Crap.

“What was that?” he asks.

I gently use my other hand to crack my knuckle.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “So which girl was it?”

“What girl?”

“The one you have been sneaking out to see?”

“I told you there’s nobody.” That’s a lie, there is. It’s the reason for all my sleepless nights.

“Fine, but one day I am going to wheedle it out of you,” he says with a gentle slap to my cheek.

“Driving yourself?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Good, because now that I’m a senior, I can be having a junior cramping my style.”

“You don’t have any style.”

Rye brushes past me and I lift my hand from the counter noticing the crack. Great… I’ll find something acrylic to break and blame it on that or something. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror before jumping in the shower. I do look exhausted. The bags under my eyes are making me look older than my sixteen-year self.

I decide I have enough time for a quick shower. The warm water is running against my back. I let the thoughts of last night roll.

In the last year, I have successfully defeated 9 supervillains. Not too bad considering I’m only 16 and have only possessed my powers for about as long. How a swarm of tracker-jacker stings caused me to develop super-strength and a host of other small powers I’ll never know.

The last 6 months, the Merchant sector of Panem has been hit with a host of robberies by a cat burglar called The Mockingjay. My mentor Haymitch says that from what he understands, she doesn’t possess any actual powers.

She’s been stealing things. I don’t condone it or anything but there are more severe problems that need to be dealt with than a bauble of Venia Stone’s. Since I’ve taken out The Crane, I find myself on a bit of a break which is why I’m sitting here, in Venia’s apartment, waiting for The Mockingjay. We have The Cornucopia Diamond in plain sight. I think it’s stupid, there’s no way she would be dumb enough to go for this. The most expensive item she has stolen has been valued at $150,000 and that was for a diamond and jewel encrusted white rose brooch from Mayor Snow’s penthouse.

This diamond is valued at $3.2 million. I sigh, sick of sitting in my corner blending in. I’m thinking about the first day of school I will be having tomorrow. I wonder if I’ll have any classes with—wait a minute, something is off. One of my other powers was slight intuition or something along those lines. I call it my mutt sense, pretty much since that time I realized I was being stalked by these weird hybrid mutts The Gamemaker sicked on me.

I slowly stand up. I may be good at blending in but I still stomp like an elephant. I slowly begin moving towards the other room when I spot her. I activate my forcefield. This is it; I’ve got her. I continue creeping towards her as she puts a ring in the pouch on her hip. She has on a dark gray, almost black skin-tight suit that fits her like a glove. It’s long-sleeved and has cloth draped from the arms that gives the appearance of wings. Her ass looks fantastic.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have a loud gait?” the voice says smoothly.

Shit…. She continues perusing the small jewelry box, pulling out a diamond tennis bracelet.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re not as stealthy as you think?”

“Never,” she says still rifling through the box.

“You’ve been caught, you can stop you know.”

“And miss out on a chance of battling Captain Strong? Absolutely not.”

Her hair is in a braided bun, black mask of feathers covering her eyes.

“Let’s just make this easier on ourselves.”

She turns to look at me and I get that feeling of intuition again. There’s something familiar about her eyes, even if I can’t get a good look at them.

“Now why would I do that?”

I approach her but she dodges out of my way. Damn, she’s quick. I stalk towards her and we dance around each other.

We somehow make our way onto the balcony, it’s fine though the forcefield is around the perimeter of the building. If she jumps, she’ll just bounce right back. Suddenly, she opens her mouth and the voice of an angel comes ripping out.

No superpowers, Haymitch? I beg to differ because that powerful singing voice of hers could bust through even my strongest forcefield. Oh, shit it actually has. The damn mockingjays are carrying her off the 22nd story penthouse before I know what’s happening. The fucking birds have actually stopped to listen to her.

“Let’s do this again sometime, Captain Strong,” she teases.

I’m in the science hallway heading to my first class of my junior year. Chemistry. The bell already rung about sixty seconds ago so I hustle. As I enter the classroom, Mr. Latier says, “Mr. Mellark, how wonderful of you to join us.”

“Sorry, Mr. Latier.”

“Take the empty seat,” he instructs pointing to the middle of the classroom.

I glance towards the table and freeze with terror. Me…. Peeta Mellark…. Captain Strong…. a Victor of Panem…. is about to face his biggest fear…. being close in proximity to his lifelong crush Katniss Everdeen.

#nightlock-1989 #thelettersfromnoone #prompt 170 #springtime edition 2021 #submission

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astrovian · 3 years

Audio

Richard Armitage interviews Harlan Coben for the Win audiobook (released 18/03/21)

Full transcript under cut

RA: Hi, I’m Richard Armitage. I played Adam Price in the Netflix series The Stranger, which was adapted from Harlan Coben’s novel of the same name. With me is the man himself, Harlan Coben, number one New York Times bestseller, the author of over thirty novels, including the one you’ve just listened to. I’m delighted to be talking to Harlan about his book, Win.

Okay Harlan, thanks for taking the time to chat about your audiobook and thanks for sending me a copy of the book. Um, it was so nice I ended up wrapping it up and giving it to my brother for Christmas.

HC: *laugh* You’re supposed to read it first, but okay, thanks Richard.

RA: No, I got the electronic version so uh, so I’ve had a good read. Congratulations, a great story. Brilliant, brilliant central character. I mean the first question I’m gonna ask is – because people listening to this have just been listening to the audiobook – are you, um, a big audiobook listener yourself?

HC: I – I go through stages, um, because my mind wanders, I sometimes have trouble focusing. But when I’m in a car, um, that’s most of the time that I’m- that I really love to use the audiobooks because it does make the ride just fly by. However, I’ve set up my life that I don’t have to commute to work every day, so I don’t have it steadily – it’s usually when I’m doing a nice long ride, I get a really good audiobook and time just flies by.

RA: And have you- have you got any favourite audiobooks that you’ve listened to recently, or any podcasts or what is it that floats your boat?

HC: You know, it’s funny. I still remember when I was a working man, way back when, when audiobooks were really first starting out and we had them on cassette tapes, I listened to the entire Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe, um, it was about thirty hours long, going back and forth to work for almost a month. And I still have memories of that experience, and it’s probably, well god, it’s probably 1990 I did that, 1989, something like that.

RA: Mm-hmm. Yeah, I mean I’ve got a- I’ve got a few journeys up and back from Manchester this year, we’re about to start working on Stay Close, so I’ll happily – I’m happy to take any recommendations of any good books, so maybe I’ll listen to Bonfire of the Vanitites.

HC: Well I tell ya, a lot of people – first of all, it’s a brilliant book, it’s maybe a bit dated, but I doubt that, um. I think Richard, I get more people telling me to listen to any book that you read.

RA: *laugh*

HC: I said, “Hey, I spend a lot of time with this guy, I’m about to do my second television show that stars Richard Armitage. No one I think has starred in two shows that I’ve done ever, so I get a lot of him anyway.” *laugh*

RA: You don’t need my voice in your head when you’re driving, that’s – that’s torture.

HC: That’s right, I’ll be hearing notes on, on scripts in my head if I hear you going. For those who don’t know who are listening, y’know, Richard starred in The Stranger, um, and now is going to be starring in Stay Close, uh, based off two of my novels which I’m sure you can get on audiobook.

RA: And on that note, what um, you’ve had so many adaptations now that have moved from page to screen – what is it like when you go through that process? When you’re – ‘cause you’re very hands on in the way that you kind of collaborate with not just the actors, but with the producers and y’know, the writers. I mean, you’re – you’re writing it yourself. Um, what is it like through, through that whole process, from starting to developing to seeing it kind of realised on screen?

HC: I think the key for me is not to be slavishly devoted to the novel. I think that’s a mistake that a lot of people who are trying to make an adaptation make. So, I go into it, ‘what is the best TV series we can make?’, if it’s true to the book, great. If it’s not true to the book, also great. Um, so I move my stories to various countries, we’ve changed characters around, we’ve changed motivations. Because they’re two very different mediums – a book is a book, and a TV series is a TV series. They should not be the same. One is a visual medium, one is not. Even, even um, audiobooks are slightly different um, than what you read. And they should be. Um, y’know, there’s a performance involved.

Also, because I’ve spent most of my life alone in a room coming up with writing a book, um, where I am just everything – I’m writer, director, actor, key grip. I don’t even know what a key grip is, but I’m that. Um, it’s really nice to collaborate. So um, you’ve worked with me, I hope you agree – I like to collaborate, I like to hear the opinions of other people and um, I really enjoy that aspect of it. I look at it like I’m – like I get to be captain of a World Cup football team, rather than being a tennis player where I’m standing there on my own, which is what happens with a novel.

RA: Yeah, and actually it’s the same when I get to narrate an audiobook, like you say – you get to be director, you get to be the cinematographer to an extent ‘cause you’re setting the scene, but one thing that I’ve – I really appreciated about working with you was having read your, your books and sometimes you’ll pass by a character that is useful to the, to the narrative that you’re telling, but when that comes to developed for TV or film you’ll take a bit more time to investigate that character, and you’re very open to treading those paths, which makes for a very kind of dense narrative with the screenwriter.

HC: Well that’s what I think we’re trying to do. If you think about The Stranger, um, y’know in the book the Stranger is a sort of nerdy teenage male.

RA: Mm-hmm.

HC: And that just – we even tried out some people, and that just didn’t work. And it was really my idea – and I don’t say it in a bragging way, I say it as a way to show how open we all are – to change the character from being male to being female. And once I saw Hannah John-Kamen do it, then I pictured her in a room with you in that first great scene in the bar, um, or at the club when she tells you the big secret, it just worked. Um, you have to be willing to, to sort of stretch your imagination all over again and re-think your story. Which is also fun.

RA: Yeah, and also I suppose because y’know, as much as we love a faithful adaptation of a novel, um what you don’t wanna do is just deliver the novel in screenplay. You want to, for everyone that has read it it’s a new and exciting surprise, and for everyone that hasn’t it’s, y’know, it’s gonna be the same. So, um, it’s nice to kind of have a, to have your audience ready for people who have read a lot of your work, and there were, y’know, a guaranteed audience of people that had, had looked at The Stranger but what you gave them was something really surprising.

HC: Yeah, it was a lot of fun. A lot of fun. And Stay Close, there’s a change in the ending to that which will hopefully shock everybody but especially the people who have already read the book, who will smugly think they know exactly what’s going on.

RA: *laugh* And me, probably. I haven’t read it yet. Um, so when you’re writing – I’m gonna double up on this question now, so when you’re writing, do you write in silence? Do you have any music playing in the background or are you – do you have like a, a kind of sacred writing space?

HC: Um, my routine is not to have a routine. Uh I, I do whatever works until it stops working and then I change up. It’s like I’m riding a horse really fast, and then the horse dies so I gotta find a new horse. So most writers will tell you ‘yes, I use this space, I do it at this time’. Um in the days before Covid, I would go to different coffee shops all the time, I would try out different… any place. Y’know, my favourite example is the end of – when I was writing The Stranger, um with about three weeks left to finish it, I had to take an Uber for the first time. This was a number of years ago. I had to take an Uber in New York City, and I felt really guilty about spending the money on an Uber and trying to justify it, so I was sitting in the back of the Uber and I was writing down notes, and I start writing really well. So for three weeks, I took Ubers wherever I went just so I could finish the book *laugh*

RA: ‘Cause that was the magic formula.

HC: Yeah, that worked! Then that stops working and then I have to find the new, a new place. So my routine is not to have a routine. If you’re trying to write out there, the key to anything is ‘does it make me write more?’ – if the answer is yes, it’s good. If the answer is no, it’s bad. It really is that simple.

RA: I’m gonna make a note of that for when I start writing myself. Um, do you – do you speak any of your characters out loud, your dialogue or your prose passages, do you say it out loud?

HC: The very last stage um, of editing. Okay first of all, no writer gets it right the first time. I know a million writers, I don’t know any writer who doesn’t re-write and re-write a lot. Well, I know one but he’s the guy none of us wanna hang out with, you know what I mean?

RA: *laugh*

HC: So um, the last stage that I do, and it’s usually after I’ve done all the editing with my editor and everything like that, we’re ready to go. I will sit in a room and I read the entire novel out loud to myself. Um, because what happens is, it’s a little bit like a musical score. Where you can – if you read it out loud, I can detect false notes that I may have missed along the way. Um, I can hear them. So the last step is that. I rarely y’know, I’m not – I’m not crazy, I’m not sitting there maybe talking out loud to myself, I’m maybe testing out lines by doing that, and I do that a lot when I’m helping with the screenplays on our shows. But um, for the most part that’s how I do it.

RA: So, in that case, would you ever narrate one of your own audiobooks?

HC: I did narrate one, uh, many years ago called Promise Me. What had happened is we had - my Myron Bolitar series we did seven with the same reader and he retired. I hadn’t written um, I didn’t write Myron for about five or six years it was. And so they said, ‘hey, why don’t you do it?’ which was a huge mistake in many ways. One, I’m not a professional. But two, the people who were fans of Myron Bolitar liked the first guy, and it felt to them liked they had tuned into their favourite TV show and every actor had changed.

RA: *laugh*

HC: It’s really difficult to re-do or start a series, uh, when people know the- the old reader. So um, I also figure- it was also, Richard you know this of course, so for people who don’t know, it’s a lot of work. I’m a guy from New Jersey. I speak very quickly, which does not go over well in audio. I don’t do voices. I would have to sit with a pillow on my stomach because uh, my stomach would sometimes grumble and that would be picked up- *laugh*

RA: Oh, yeah!

HC: By the microphone. And it took me um, a week to record it because – and I don’t know if this is still the case – but back then, the abridged version wasn’t just a cut up version of the unabridged, I had to do a whole different reading for it. So um, it was – it was a lot of work. Um, and it’s a skill that I’m not sure I’m best to do.

RA: Yeah, it does take a lot of stamina. I mean what’s interesting is, having gotten to know you, and when I, when I now read your work, I can hear your delivery, I can hear your voice. And there’s humour in the dialogue, and there’s humour in the as well, and I – it’s an instant ‘in’ for me, so I – ‘cause, ‘cause often I read and I speak aloud when I’m reading alone in the dark, I say things out loud but I think people approach it differently. But I definitely hear your voice in, in these characters. And I think particularly in Windsor Horne Lockwood.

HC: That’s so interesting because Win, I think of my heroes that I’ve had, Win is probably the least like me. I mean um, when you think about Adam-

RA: *laughing* You have to say that! You have to say that because he’s such a badly behaved person, isn’t he?

HC: *laughing* Yeah! ‘Cause I usually like to think of myself as more of like Adam in The Stranger, who you played, or some of the other characters that – the ‘I’m a father or four’ or those kind of guys. What I love about getting into Win of course is that Win is something of an anti-hero. Um, he sort of says and does things that are not necessarily prudent or appropriate, and he can get away with that. Um, so I really loved – I loved getting in his head, it was really an interesting experience. But on the surface anyway, he’s probably the least like me of any uh, main character that I’ve ever written.

RA: Yeah, I mean I- I relate to that totally. It’s a little bit like- it’s probably a side of you, you daren’t investigate, but- but when you get the chance to do it in a fiction um, you can tap into those things that we’re not allowed to do or say in your, in your regular day. But um, where did that character spring from? What was the seed that germinated into his story do you think?

HC: Rarely is this the case, but um, Win is actually – y’know, he’s the sidekick in my Myron Bolitar series but um, when I first created him I based him off my best friend in college roommate, who has a name equally obnoxious as Windsor Horne Lockwood the Third-

RA: *laugh*

HC: Very good looking, blonde guy who used to say before he would go out to parties when we were in college, he would look in the mirror and say, “It must suck to be ugly”. And so I took him and I tweaked him and made him more dangerous, uh and that’s how I, I kind of came up with Win.

RA: And does this person know that you’ve based this character on him?

HC: Oh yes! In fact, some people know who he is, he uses it. He’s still a-

RA: Oh, really?

HC: Owner of all these fancy golf clubs, he’s president of one of the most famous golf clubs, um, in the world right now. He looks the part. In fact, he one time came to one of my books signings years ago and um, he’s sitting in the back, and I tell people the story of how I created Win, and I say, “I’m not gonna tell you who, but Win is actually in this room right now”. It took the crowd about four seconds to figure out who he was, and he had a longer line to sign books that I did *laugh*

RA: Amazing. I mean I have to say, it’s- you, you start reading the story and thinking, ‘I don’t know if I’m gonna like this guy’ but he really grows on you, warts and all. I wonder how many people are gonna go into Saks on Fifth Avenue and go looking for the vault.

HC: *laugh* Yeah, no, I made that up. But there is place in Saks-

RA: I know, so brilliant!

HC: -but the rest of it is completely made up, this involves an app that you’ll read about when you- hopefully when you, when you read book. But yeah, it was fun to do an anti-hero where he makes decisions and does things that you don’t like, and yet you still wanna hang around with him. I always think the key to a fascinating character is not um, that he’s likeable necessarily, but that you wanna spend time with him. Not that he’s a nice guy, but if you were at a bar and you could sit with somebody and have a conversation with them and learn about their life, would this be a person you’d wanna do that with? And that’s sort of the test whenever I do a character. And Win, I think, passes that with flying colours. There are people who love Win and wanna be just like him and there are people who loathe him! But everybody, or I hope many people, are fascinated by him and his life.

RA: Well, also you’ve given him such an incredible kind of tool kit, like a skill set. I mean, I think everybody would look at that character and wish they could do the things he does, maybe not in the way that he does them, but I mean he’s- he’s exactly the kind of character that you’d hone in on, certainly from an acting point of view. I look at that and if I was, y’know, like fifteen years younger, I’d be leaping on that character to play. Which is, it means – it means he’s sort of relatable or aspirational in a kind of anti-hero way.

HC: I’ve heard this a lot, and I think it’s one of the most flattering things that I hear from my actor friends – I think everybody would want to play Win. I mean, I think the- it’s an interesting challenge, um, for a lot of actors. More so than even Myron Bolitar who is my lead series character. Um, everybody kind of wants to play win and kind of wonders who would play Win. Uh, and I take that as a – as a compliment.

RA: Are we gonna see more of him? Is he ge- are you writing more stories for him?

HC: My guess is the answer’s yes. I plan each book as it comes, so I never know until I’ve started. Is it gonna be a stand alone? Is it going to be a Myron Bolitar? Is it gonna be a young adult? Mickey Bolitar is now going to be a Win, and I don’t know until I – each book, y’know when I finish a book, I’m like a boxer who’s just gone fifteen rounds and can’t even lift my, my arms anymore, I gave it everything I had, I can’t even imagine fighting again or writing another novel. So I don’t know is the answer. Probably? I do wanna see Win again, separately or at least back with Myron, so I do think we will see Win again. But the book I’m writing right now is a sequel to The Boy From the Woods, which is the book that came out in 2020, so that’s what I’m writing now. Will I return to Win? Maybe. Maybe. We’ll see how- we’ll also see how people react. Not that I would work necessarily off of commercial interest, but it people really love this book, y’know, we don’t live in vacuum, that would probably somewhat influence what I do.

RA: Right. I mean, because so many of your- your books are being developed and being snapped up to be turned into film or television – I mean, Myron Bolitar is, is a recurring series waiting to happen, and then you’ve got your spin off of Win – I, I- I wonder if, y’know when your first ever, uh novel, did you write with kind of cinema television in your head? Is that something that as modern storytellers we can even avoid? Um, did you ever dream that these would ever turn into sort of film and TV?

HC: Well, everybody dreams, but there’s sort of two answers to it. The first answer is when I’m writing a book, I never ever, ever, not for one second do I think ‘Ooh, this would make a really good movie’ or ‘Ooh, this would make a really good TV series’ because that’s the kiss of death for a book. It really is. It’s, it’s- it’s just a disastrous thought, and if you’re out there writing really don’t try it, because it’s, it’s a big mistake. At the same time, to be realistic and honest, I grew up watching TV. Who didn’t? That’s my – I mean this is what we grew up with. To pretend you’re only influences – y’know you ask a writer ‘What’s your influences?’ “Oh, Shakespeare and Proust and Yeats” – come on. You watched TV growing up. And so that’s an influence on how you tell a story. To deny that is silly. So writers today do think in terms of cinema more just because they grew up with it. Where writers of a different generation did not, so they wouldn’t have that influence.

RA: Yeah, I mean I- I think this all the time – it’s impossible to even de-program your brain not to imagine scenarios in terms of cinema. I mean I- I often think about sort of Victorian novelists that didn’t have y’know TV, and their trying to describe something that they’ve never seen or experienced. And we have references for so many things – I mean it’s almost impossible not to, we’re- we are and will always be influenced by one or the other, especially in the written word. But I- I find that it means that you can kind of uh, put aside the investigation and just get on with the storytelling. And maybe go even a little bit further. It’s like instant access. Y’know, I know exactly the world that you’re talking about when you’re y’know at the beginning of Win, but- but y’know at the same time I felt there was something very Agatha Christie like about the um, the backstory of uh, of this book, I really liked the fact that there was a historic event that was really informing what was happening right now.

HC: Well, y’know when I start a book, there’s- I’m always- I have a bunch of ideas and I’m trying to think which ones are going to go in the story, and it ends up being several. So for example, in this book, I wanted – I’ve always wanted to do an art heist. Y’know, like the Gardner Museum Heist, where they still haven’t found the paintings that were stolen, the Vermeers and the Picassos that were stolen in that particular – I can’t remember if it’s Picasso now, I know it was a Vermeer – um, stolen in that- that, heist in Boston years ago, I wanted to write a book about 60’s radicals – the Weather Underground and what would happen to people who were involved in that so many years later. I also wanted to write something about a kind of Patty Hearst-type character who was a famous kidnapping here in the 70s. So those were like three of the things that I wanted to like – to delve into. And I ended up delving into all three *laugh* which sometimes happens.

Oh, and the last one I wanted to do – I always wanted to do um, a hoarder that was actually someone famous. There was actually um, something of a case of this in New York City where somebody died who was living in a top floor of an Upper West Side building, and it ended up being the missing son – not really missing, but had just kind of gone off the rails – of a very famous American war hero. And so, I took all of these aspects, which would seem to make three or four different novels, and I make it into one novel if I can. It’s not that different from – again, I’m referencing um, um – The Stranger y’know, because you’re here and provably a number of the people listening to us have seen The Stranger on Netflix, but it’s the same thing with The Stranger a little bit, where I had a lot of ideas for secrets that could be revealed by the Stranger, and each one could have been a separate novel. And instead, the challenge is put them all in one story and find a way to hook them together.

RA: Yeah. I mean, it’s rich in a way that when I- I’m reading it and the producer head in me is saying ‘gosh, this is gonna be a great TV show’ ‘cause you know, you’ve got the present day, you’ve got the near-past and the um, the heist story, which uh, is kind of crying out for – you just want more of it, which is brilliant in a book. When you’re – you’re leaving the reader wanting to know more and wanting to, to know more about that family and what happens to them. It’s – it’s the perfect recipe, really.

HC: And so much of it does come from your life in ways that you don’t expect – right now, maybe a lot of people are watching this uh, the Aaron Sorkin movie about the Chicago Trials from the 70s, Abbie Hoffman, who is played by uh, I think Sacha Baron Cohen played him in, in the movie. When I was in college at Amherst, Abbie Hoffman was on the run, um, but he still showed up one day at our college and gave a speech, then disappeared again. And boy, that stuck in my head always. Man, I’d love to write a character that’s kind of like Abbie Hoffman. ‘Cause he had that charisma even then, y’know on stage he was funny as heck, I must have been eighteen or nineteen um, when I – when I heard him speak. And so that – I never consciously back then, I didn’t think that, but every once in a while those experiences come to head and you wanna write about it.

RA: Mm-hmm. You’ve been writing for quite a few years now-

HC: *Laugh*

RA: -you’re – I don’t know if you can even remember what it was like when you first stated your very first book. Um, and some people have said that books are like children in a way, you sort of rear them and then the more you do, the more familiar you are with that process. But would you – I mean, it’s difficult for you to answer this, but would you say you have a favourite book that you’ve written?

HC: I don’t have a favourite book that I’ve written. Um, this – this sounds self-serving, but it’s usually the book, the most recent book, that I like the best. Um, it’s a little bit like – and the way I try to explain this is – maybe you wrote a paper, an essay when you were in college which you thought was brilliant. You remember that moment in school and you wrote a paper and you thought it was brilliant and you find it now and you re-read it and you go, ‘wow, this wasn’t good after all’. It’s not that it’s not very good, it’s just that you have sort of moved on and you’re not that sort of person and so you see all the flaws. So in the older books, which I don’t re-read, I see all of the flaws. I always think, y’know even if you think of yourself, what you thought ten or fifteen years ago – you sort of go ‘ugh, what did I know back then, I’m so much smarter now’. So the same thing a little bit with books, where I think I’m learning more and the current book is better. One of the interesting experiences of working on these adaptation is having to go back and read a book – in some cases we’re doing one, the next one I think uh comes out in France for example, is Gone for Good, which I think was released in 2002! Or 2003. So I wrote it twenty years ago. And to have to go back and read it now, I’m always kind of cringing at some of the stuff-

RA: Mm-hmm.

HC: -some of the stuff I’m kind of thrilled with, like ‘wow, that’s an interesting twist. You don’t have that kind of ending anymore’ and some of it I’m like, ‘wow, why’d you go there?’ so it’s an interesting experience.

RA: Yeah, I feel the same. I very – I, uh, very early on in my career I would watch my work back in quite a lot of detail, thinking ‘I’m gonna learn something’ and then as I got older it was – it was almost unbearable to just do that. And I actually haven’t been able to do that, but it’s because when you’re – when you’re first starting out you throw everything you’ve got into that first breakout role that you do, and then your realise that you’re always in danger of repeating yourself and you think – ‘gosh, people are gonna suss me out that I’m only capable of doing one or two things’, but you live in hope that you can, y’know, find that one thing that you can completely reinvent. Y’know I still hope for that.

HC: I still think that everyone who I’ve ever met who is successful at what they do has imposter syndrome. If you don’t um, you’re prob- you have a false bravado and you’re in trouble. I always say, “only bad writers think they’re good”. The rest of us really suffer with that, and really questioning and always think we’re gonna be sussed out. And I can tell you, um, Stephen King sent me a book not that long ago because he’d nicely put my name in it and wanted my reaction. But even Steve, after all his success and whatever else, he still worries about the reaction, that he’s as good as he used to be, that people will still like it, he’s – I know him. He still worries about it. And when you stop, that’s when you’re in trouble I think as an artist, when you’re starting to doubt what it- when you don’t have the doubts, you start having an overconfidence that you sort of got this. It’s a little bit like my golf game, frankly.

RA: *laugh*

HC: There’s moment’s when I’m about to swing, y’know, I’m gonna be okay and then you get out there and you stink all over again. So-

RA: Yep

HC: -you’re constantly trying to get better and so I imagine it must be difficult to look at your old roles and you – you’re kinda cringing, right? You see all the mistakes you’re making. You see through you so to speak, right?

RA: Yep. Absolutely.

HC: And then someone will come up to you, right, and they’ll say, “Oh, my favourite thing you ever did was-“ and then they’ll list something you did twenty years ago, and you want them to pay attention to what you’re doing now *laugh*

RA: Yep. Yep. Seeing through you is, is one of the things that is quite haunting because I do, I see through me. I can’t shake myself off, if you know what I mean.

HC: Well, you are very cool, you don’t watch any of it until it’s all over. Uh, that’s correct right? You never watched any of our rushes or I remember trying to tell you that you’re doing great and all that-

RA: No, I watched, I watched the first shot-

HC: -and you had not seen any of it and I watch you every day when you’re on set working on our shows and I’ll comment if I see something or whatever, to either you directly or the director, uh, and most of the time I’m – I’m complimenting you, but you don’t – you don’t know either, because you’re not watching, you’re not getting lost in that.

RA: Yeah, I don’t like to watch or be somebody that studies myself to much, I don’t think that’s my job. I think my job is to be inside the character looking out, rather than the other way around. I leave that to the experts like you and the director.

HC: Also, I think it’s- I think if you start worrying about what – you’re right – and also you don’t have the distance. This is always an issue when I – I first start watching the cuts of the first episodes, and I read the book while I’m editing it, while I try to take time between my writing it and then seeing it, I have to sort of put myself in the position of being somebody who knows nothing about this, and doesn’t come in knowing the story already that I’ve already read or seen a thousand time. How do I keep it fresh in my head when I’m trying to be objective and watching it so we can make edits. Uh, both on the screen or on the page.

RA: Mm-hmm. What draws you to crime/thriller? What – I mean is that – I, I can’t often imagine you writing a romantic novel, but what is it that draws you to this particular genre?

HC: Well, y’know to me it’s uh, not really a genre. It’s more like – it’s a form. It’s more like saying it’s a haiku or a sonata.

RA: Mm-hmm.

HC: And within that form I can, and hopefully have, done everything. Um, I think The Stranger for example is more a story about family, uh, and the secrets we try to hide, rather than it is about who killed who – y’know, the mystery angle of it.

RA: Yeah.

HC: One of my most, uh well-known books, my first bestseller, was a book called Tell No One which was made into a French film starring François Cluze, and that’s really a love story, it’s about a man who’s madly in love with his wife and eight years earlier, she was murdered. And then eight years passed, he gets an email, he clicks the hyperlink, he sees a webcam and his dead wife walks by, still alive., And the pursuit, the wanting to get back, the hope for full redemption is really what drives the story more than ‘who killed who’.

RA: Mmm-hmm.

HC: So different stories do different things. But the great thing about the form of crime fiction is that it compels me to tell a story. I’m not getting lost in the beauty of my own genius, my own kind of navel-gazing. I have to continue to tell a story and entertain you. So any of the themes that I wanna tell, any of the things I wanna discuss, has to be slave to that story. And I think that’s probably a rich tradition. If you think about Dumas really, wasn’t that all crime fiction? Even Shakespeare is mostly crime fiction.

RA: Yeah.

HC: Most great stories, if I ask you to name a favourite novel that’s over a hundred years old, Dostoevsky, whoever, you will find that there’s almost always a crime in it. There’s almost always a crime story.

RA: I mean it’s one of the things that I get very excited about, um, I mean obviously I haven’t read your entire canon but I – there’s a signature, or a theme that you love to play on which is this idea that – that um, the people you know aren’t telling you everything about themselves, or that there’s something to hide and that in our modern world, with technology, we have this sort of ability to – to sort of lead multiple lives of truths or lies. And it’s something which I think we immediately recognise. ‘Cause I think we – we’re living that, that reality, and it’s a theme that I really enjoy about your writing.

HC: Well, first of all, thanks. Second, um, there’s a lot of things we’ve heard about the human condition. One of my favourites about the human condition that I used to write, is that we all believe that we are uniquely complex and no one knows the inside of us. And yet we think we read everybody else pretty well. We all think we are uniquely complex and the person across from us, we can kind of figure out. They’re not quite like us. Um, and that’s something I love to play with when I write. Because you’ve gotta remember that everybody is uniquely complex and on a humanity level, and on an empathy level, I raise my kids and I’m always teaching them that every person you see, the richest, the poorest, the happiest, the saddest – everybody has hopes and dreams. Just think that, when you see a stranger on the street, when you’re going to interact with somebody, when you’re getting angry at somebody, whatever it is – just remember, they have hope and dreams. Um, small little thought, but it helps me create a character as well.

RA: There’s also a- a kind of very strong level of self-deception involved, which I think can be quite surprising. Because you always read a character and go, ‘I’m not like that’ or ‘I would never do that’ and then if you really think about it, we – there’s a truth we tell ourselves about ourselves which isn’t always honest.

HC: Well, exactly. It’s really come to fruition in the world the last few years, where I kind of joked that I’ve been working too hard on making my villains sympathetic, the villains in today’s world don’t seem to be very – very complex at all.

RA: *laugh*

HC: But for the most part, people don’t think they’re bad guys. Even the bad guys don’t think they’re bad guys.

RA: Yeah.

HC: They have some way of, of justifying. It’s one of the great things about human beings, or one of the most prevailing thing about a human being, is we all have the ability to self-rationalise, to self-justify. Um, and so I’ve always tried with my villains, and I hope that I did it in everything that we’ve done together, to try to make even the villain – you may not like the villain, but you get them. I don’t really write books – I don’t write books where the serial killer is hacking up people for no reason, that doesn’t really interest me. I prefer the crimes where you can say, ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t have done it maybe, but I can see why that happened. I can see if I was put in that position, um, where I may have done something similar’. That to me is a much more interesting villain than somebody who’s just cruel and evil.

RA: Yeah. Um, final question actually, is – I mean, as a listener/reader yourself – are there any other authors whose books you love and just go back – I mean, you’ve mentioned Stephen King, um I’m with you on that one – but are there any other authors who really kind of inspire you and, and y’know, like a little guilty pleasure reading for yourself and not for work?

HC: Yeah, well the problem always is that I start listing authors, and then someone will say, ‘well, what about so-and-so who’s a friend of mine’, and then I say ‘oh shoot, I forgot – I forgot that one’.

RA: *laugh*

HC: Y’know I saw recently that it’s the eleventh anniversary of the death of Robert B. Parker, who wrote the Spencer novels, if by any chance you haven’t found the Spencer novels, and I don’t know how popular they are overseas – they’re fantastic, wonderful detective series. Um, so that’s one guy I would go back in time and try to find for audio. But I actually like Philip Roth a lot on audio, even though he doesn’t do crime fiction. I’m a big Michael Connelly fan and I like Lee Child, um and Laura Lippman. Y’know, I could sit here just naming um, people all day. I’m always curious also – who is reading – who does it because of the reader and who does it because of the writer. I know there’s a number of people who will listen to anything you read, Richard, because it’s you. Um, which is really quite nice, but it’s interesting the combination of the audio reader. I have Steven Weber, he’s been reading most of my novels, though I’ve had a female lead – a woman named January LaVoy who’s fantastic – and I think Weber captures my voice. He sounds a little bit like me, we both have a similar background, similar sense of humour, so part of it with the audio is also the match you end up making.

RA: Yeah. It’s interesting, isn’t it? Because I certainly find I don’t often get to read something which is purely my choice, I have a stack of things that are work-related, or that I’m about to record. So I don’t think I’ve – I’ve chosen a book recently which is just been- I don’t know how I would pick something, it’s usually a recommendation, so I’ll certainly have a look at the Spencer novels, they sound – they sound brilliant.

HC: Yeah, and they’re fun – there was a TV series in America for a while called ‘Spencer for Hire’ – this is s or going back to the, I guess the 70s or 80s I think. Um, those were not great, but the novels themselves were sort of – Raymond Chandler to Robert B. Parker to the guys who are working now. So he’s a huge – he was a tremendous influence on most of your favourite crime writers. I said in his obituary eleven years ago, I said, “90% of writers admit that Robert B. Parker was an influence and 10% lie about it”. So um, if you can find Robert B. Parker Spencer novels that would be a good clue for everybody out there.

RA: Brilliant. Well, that just about wraps it up. And uh, thanks for talking to me. I really enjoyed the book and no doubt it will be another best-seller and fingers crossed it ends up as a TV series.

HC: Well, thanks Richard, and I look forward to seeing you work on uh, Stay Close. I know that uh, Armitage Army out there *laugh* that – your, your loud uh supporters and fans who just adore you are going to go gaga cause you get to play somebody quite different from Adam in The Stranger. Um, it’s-

RA: Yeah. Looking forward to it.

HC: Yeah, it’ll be a lot of fun. Thanks very much.

#this was actually more interesting that I thought it would be #sorry the audio ain't great I had to compress it a lot #it is longgg #richard armitage #harlan coben #win

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