#I hate that I’m even doing this like get out of my fucking brain no like I hate it so much I can’t even express

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

omg just read ur long sleeves fix it was sSOOOO GOOD! if u write part 2 i will be tuned in & reading ☝️☝️

i miss you, i'm sorry- r.c. x reader

part 2 of long sleeves!!!

OMGG IM SOO GLAD YOU LIKED IT <3

warnings: swearing angst (?) mention of drugs, rehab, and reader is so fucking codependent, like girl?? anyway, this is horrible y’all i cannot for the life of me write a happy ending so i tried my best 😞 can you tell i’m depressed LMAOOO? YALL SHES DEPRESSED TOO 😔 but seriously if i could make it happier hmu, i won’t get mad i promise. i’m new at this whole writing thing 🤠 not proofread cuz i wanted to post this already so tell me if there are big mistakes and my first language isn’t english so sorry if there are errors

disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

ps: sorry this took so long, i've just been busy with school and my dad has been sick for a few days now so i haven't had time.

I'M ALSO HALFWAY DONE THROUGH THE FLASHBACKS FOR NO BODY, NO CRIME. i just haven't had the time fml. hopefully tomorrow 🤞. ok enough whining and into the story 🥁

want it, so i got it, did it, so it's done

making the bed started playing and the first line felt like a punch to the gut. i hated when life kicked you when you were already down.

i quickly changed to a cheery workout playlist that felt more mocking, in a sense, but decided it was better to not relate to the lyrics than listening to my despair sing back to me.

after that day in tannyhill, i'd decided to start running at night. in a silly way i thought that maybe running would burn away my pain in a healthy way. though how healthy running on barely any sleep, with nothing but depressive thoughts in my brain, was beyond me.

still, at least this way i felt like i was doing something. that i was taking action instead of moping. that doesn't make any sense. ugh, shut the fuck up. i really didn't know whose side i was on half the time.

the night sky was clear, making the stars wink at me as if they knew something i didn't. the sea breeze caressed my face, combing its fingers through my hair and drying away my tears.

running equated crying but by the time i got home i would be so exhausted that i couldn't even think. which was, of course, the ultimate goal. not think of him.

six months had passed and it didn't hurt any less. on the contrary, all i could think was how i'd abandoned him. probably when he needed me the most. two weeks after our breakup, sarah called me to tell me that rafe was terribly sick and they were taking him to the hospital. i'd debated whether i should tell her what had happened but she then said that she was aware of the situation and that i shouldn't go see him. she was only letting me know and, in a way, it felt like she was blaming me.

that was the last time i had contact with the camerons, town gossip and my mother becoming the only ties left between us. he'd gone to rehab and was apparently taking better care of himself, his family supporting him every step of the way.

fucking hypocrites. ward never cared when i told him about his son's addiction, instead saying that i should keep quiet, that everything would be okay. rose only cared about new shopping places to spend the family's money. sarah had started spending time with her new boyfriend and barely came home and wheezie was far too young.

so that left me. it had always been me, but when word got out of how bad rafe he was, they then played the card of ignorance and became the holy family.

i took a deep breath and slowed down to a jog, unaware of where the fuck i was. i looked at my surroundings for the first time and of course, i was in front of tannyhill. the gates were close but i could hear muffled voices on the other side. stepping closer to listen like the eavesdropper i was.

i looked through the bars of the gate, only to see him or well his back. he was with ward, who was lowering another suitcase to the ground. i frowned but i then heard his voice saying my name.

Ward turned his head sharply in his direction, "you are not seeing her again, alright? she's the one that got you into this mess in the first place." oh so the asshole blamed me.

he turned to face his dad and i gasped. his hair was buzzed and he looked older, healthier. he looked good but i couldn't help but feel like this was a different person entirely. i felt a slight pang in my chest because i'd been the one who had insisted on him leaving his hair longer and now he'd erased that too.

his voice interrumpted my thoughts, "dad, that is not true and you know it." why was he defending me? in a way what ward said was true. i'd left him alone that night.

his father stepped closer to him and put his hands on his son’s shoulders, “son, trust me when I tell you that it is best for you to stay away from her. don’t set yourself up for disappointment. We know where that led you.” Ward then kissed his forehead like one did to a child in a condescending manner.

Ward then picked up the suitcases left and turned to enter the house, leaving him standing there with a strange expression on his face. He lifted his gaze and somehow found mine, like they always did. I’d forgotten how we always sensed the other, no matter how much time had passed. My heartbeat sped up, causing me to quickly turn around and ran away from him as fast as I could.

“He is such a good father to those kids, especially Rafe.” Vanessa, my mother’s friend said, swooning over ward. Like god, he’s married, get a life.

Either way it seemed like every corner of this island is haunted. Ever since he’d come back as a stellar young man, all the women at the country club started obsessing over him, but more so his father. They practically held him as a saint and it only made my blood boil.

I felt my mothers gaze on me when his name was mentioned, noting the way I flinched and seemed particularly interested in the half eaten strawberries on my plate. They continued to chatter, causing me to tune them out and look at my surroundings for a distraction. Big mistake.

The doors had opened as if on cue, and there he was with a new found confidence that was unfamiliar to me. Before I could look away his eyes found mine, quieting everything around me, dèjá vu flooding my body. We looked at each other for what seemed an eternity until ward came up behind him, clapping his hand on his shoulder to turn him away from me. The colder version of his son’s eyes bore into mine in a warning. Stay away from him.

I looked back down at my plate no longer interested in my food. My eyes welled up and I knew that if i stayed a minute longer on this table I would start sobbing or worse.

“Mom? I’m not feeling well so I’m going home,” my voice quiet in her ear and she realized what I meant.

She nodded, “take the car, ok?”

“It’s ok, I can walk home.” I needed to clear my head and driving wasn’t the best idea.

“Are you sure?” The concern in her eyes made my heart wrench.

“I’m sure, mom. Thanks.” I stood up and voicing my goodbyes, leaving the club as fast as I could.

The sun was out and the sky was clear of clouds, a stark contrast of how I felt inside. I walked down the path, golf carts filled with kooks passing me by. All of them chattering about the next party or newest deal they had closed.

I kept walking and walking until I reached the boardwalk, which was thankfully empty. I sat down on the edge, swinging my feet over the water with the girl staring back at me and somehow looked as if she was drowning.

The wind carried the sound of footsteps behind me, my body tensing as his perfume arriving along with his shadow looming over me. The drowning girl hid away, leaving me alone. I almost begged her to take me with her.

“Why do you always run away?” my heart sank and then restarted when I heard his voice. For the first time in months, I heard the world clearly again. I hadn’t realized the power it had over me. Didn’t you?

Who was I kidding? He would always be my favorite person, everything about me was shaped by him. My favorite color was blue, my favorite smell was his cologne, my favorite taste were his lips, my favorite sound in the world was his voice, his body my favorite thing to touch. But most of all, his soul.

I took a deep breath before lifting my gaze to his. The knot on my throat made it hard to speak, “Who said I was running away?”

He scoffed before sitting down next to me. “I know you. Or at least I thought I did.” His tone sounded reproachful, his eyes searching my face. this time i really looked at him, gone were his red, glassy eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks but most importantly, the anger that had felt permanently etched into his features every time he looked at me.

the buzz cut now made his features more prominent, his body was stronger and not as skinny as when he’d been living off cocaine and god knew what else.

he looked more like the rafe i’d met forever ago, but there was still something that wasn’t quite there. his innocence. which wasn’t the one of a child, but more so the type of innocence that comes with ignorance. the type where you think you can get away with anything and that bad things only happen to somebody else, but never to you. no matter how bad you behave, you genuinely believed there would be no consequences.

and the boy in front of me knew how untrue that belief was.

“rafe, i—” the knot on my throat became worse, preventing me from talking further. great, now here come the waterworks!

i turned my face away so he couldn’t see my tears but it was too late.

he took hold of my face, “look at me.”

i tried to jerk away but it was no use. i had no other choice but to cry silently while he judged me.

“im going to talk and you’re going to listen, understood?” his voice now held a tone of authority i’d never heard before.

that’s kinda hot. dude, now is not the time.

i nodded because what the fuck was i supposed to do?

he turned so both of his hands held my face now. then he did something i wasn’t expecting, he leaned in and kissed my forehead for what felt like an eternity.

when he pulled away his gaze held mine, with a force stronger than any physical restraint i could possibly be held in.

the tears were flowing freely so i probably looked like a drowned cat at the moment.

“im not mad at you, ok? i hope you know that i never asked for you to not visit me. i know it was my dad that didn’t want you near me, but i swear that the only person i ever wanted by my side was you.

“i won’t deny that i was furious when you left me that night. i only got worse because i didn’t have anyone to stop me, or at least try to. i felt like you were the last person that still believed in me, who would always be beside me. and i took you for granted.” his words felt like a knife through my heart. i abandoned him.

“rafe, im sorry. i shouldn’t have left you like that. not when you needed me the most.” my words barely made sense but he somehow understood. he always did.

“no. you did the right thing. i hurt you, i told you that i hated you. when all you’d ever done for me was love me. i’m sorry, ok? if you hadn’t left then maybe i wouldn’t have gotten help.” he lowered his hands to his lap, my face burning where they had been resting.

“i know you tried to help me. that you talked to my dad about how i was and i know that he dismissed you. he only took me to the hospital because i overdosed and he didn’t want the island to know how ward cameron’s perfect son was a drug addict.” he laughed in a humorless manner, “hell, he even paid everyone at the hospital to keep quiet. that didn’t help much, frankly. gossip always finds its way.”

i wanted to say something but i could tell he wasn’t done so i waited until he felt ready.

this time his voice was hoarse, making me realize he wanted to cry too. i couldn’t take it anymore because nothing could hurt me more than seeing him in pain.

“rafe?” i murmured. he looked up with a broken expression causing me to wrap my arms around him. i felt him tense for a second before he hugged me back tightly.

my shirt got wet with our tears and we clung onto each other like a lifeline, with rafe repeating my name like a mantra. after a while, we pulled away and he held my face between his hands like before, only this time much gentler.

“i miss you, im sorry.”

“i miss you too, rafe.” i fell back into him, resting my head on his shoulder. we sat silently for a while before he spoke.

“can we at least be friends?” the question caught me by surprise.

“you’ve always been my best friend, rafe. but again i’m sorry for not being there, i should’ve done more.”

“no, you couldn’t have. it was the way things were supposed to be.”

he played with my hair like he used to, “you’ve always been my best friend too, kid.”

i punched him playfully at the name, making him chuckle. i pulled back to see his face and i wiped away the few tears that were left with my hand. he fell silent, leaning into my touch, “i love you, you know? not being close to you drove me insane. and it makes me so happy to see that you are healthy, at least physically.

“i want to help you in any way that i can and i want to be there from now on, if—“ his lips crushing onto mine cut me off before i could finish. his hands were in my hair, holding me in place as if afraid i’d run away again.

only i knew i wouldn’t. not this time. he groaned when i bit his lower lip, softly. he ran his tongue along mine before i let him in. i sighed into the kiss and pulled him impossibly closer. our lips explained more than any words that came out of them ever could. i separated from him to breathe and he only kept kissing my cheeks, jaw, neck until he reached my collarbone where he rested his head with quick, short breaths.

“i love you too,” he said. i touched his hair and ran my fingers over the short strands.

“i like your hair, by the way,” i murmured.

he laughed, pulling back. “really? i got it because i thought you would hate it.”

i rolled my eyes, “are you serious? either way, you look good with any haircut.”

“i wasn’t exactly planning on this to go like this. in my head, i was going to confront you and tell you all the ways i’d been miserable but that went away when i saw you that night by my house.”

“oh.”

he chuckled, “yeah. oh. anyway, i was telling my dad how i was going to ask why you never visited me and that’s why he said what you heard.

“i then realized it had been him and as if life liked playing tricks on me, there you were at the gate with a sad expression. yet before i could say anything you left running. i wanted to go after you but my dad called me inside and i didn’t want a fight that night. so i waited until i saw you today and when i was going to ask you to talk to me, again my dad came along. but then i saw you leave and i figured it was now or never, so i excused myself and he was so busy talking to the others at the table that he didn’t notice.”

i scoffed, “well, i’m guessing he noticed by now.”

he laughed, “yeah.”

we fell silent but i still had one more thing to ask, “how did you know i was here?” though i think i already knew the answer, after all i hadn’t exactly been surprised when he came. more like a sense of having your intuition confirmed.

“remember the night we met? i was alone and drunk, saying i was going for a night swim when i saw you sitting here alone. which should’ve alerted me that you were a weirdo but between your beauty and the alcohol, those thoughts went to shit.”

i blushed slightly, “i’m not a weirdo, jackass. i’d had a rough night.”

“i know, kid. i’m just messing with you and besides, i might’ve drowned that night if you hadn’t been here,” he smiled fondly but a bit sad as well.

“so, that makes me your knight in shining armor?” i grinned.

he scowled in mock annoyance, “how dare you mock a damsel in distress?”

i chuckled and felt a heavy weight lift off my chest. i felt lighter than i had in a while, and all because of him.

“my apologies, dear.”

he took my hand with a smile and brought it to his lips for a kiss, before placing it against his cheek.

“but to answer your question, we always find each other,” his words sinking in. that was true. we always did as if there was some invisible string tying him to me.

“you’re right. although you’re still not beating the stalker allegations,” i teased.

“ugh shut up, it was one time!” he groaned.

i burst out laughing, “you followed me for a whole day! that’s some stalker behavior type shit.”

“c’mon, kid. i wanted to give you your bracelet back and i didn’t know where you lived,” his eyes widening in a too innocent way which caused me to narrow mine.

“a bracelet that wasn’t even mine. plus you could’ve just given it to me when you first saw me,” i crossed my arms in front of my chest with a raised brow.

“oh c’mon, but where’s the fun in that?”

i pushed his shoulder, playfully only for him to laugh and hug me.

“i really just wanted to know if you were with someone else, so i wouldn’t make a fool of myself.” he whispered in my ear.

“you could’ve just asked,” i rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

“i wanted to be cool about it, ok? i had a reputation to maintain,” he joked but i knew he was a little serious. he’d been the epitome of a rich, arrogant, country club boy.

“i thought you were such an asshole.” who the fuck wears shades inside of a convenience store? you guessed it: rafe cameron.

he gasped in mock surprise, “you’re just saying that because you had the hots for me.”

“pfft, sure buddy. i think you’re projecting a little,” i laughed.

“i never said i didnt,” this time his tone was a little too serious making my heart beat faster.

“can we try this again?” he asked shyly.

i pondered for a moment before answering, “yes, but i want you to let me help you this time, ok?”

he moved his head to look me in the eye, “i promise.”

“ok, but wait. what about your father?” i’d somehow forgotten how he hated me now. or maybe always had.

“what about him? i’m an adult, i can make my own decisions. besides it’s none of his business. he’s the one that got us here in the first place.” his tone was now angry, which was rare when he spoke of his father. it was usually filled with frustration and sadness when it came to him. and i knew how important his father’s approval was to him.

“rafe, i don’t know. he’s still your father and i don’t want to come between you two,” i lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill.

he was silent for a moment before lifting my chin with his finger, frowning when he noticed my expression.

“you’re the love of my life. i’m not losing you again, ok? he’ll have to understand and i will talk to him. i’ll tell him how things really went down. plus, he isn’t innocent in any of this either.”

pursing my lips, i nodded. “ok” i didn’t really believe ward would be capable of changing his mind, but if it made rafe happy then i would try and compromise.

rafe searched for my eyes with a soft smile, “i love you.”

i returned the smile, “i love you too.”

he then got up to his feet, reaching his hand down to help me stand. after a few more kisses and a hug, he took me to his truck. we drove around with no particular destination in mind but with the sole purpose of being by ourselves without prying eyes and judging remarks.

i hoped deep down that i wasn’t making a mistake and that everything would be ok.

and as if on cue, “everything is going to be ok.” i turned my head in surprise at his words.

“don’t act so shocked, kid. i know you better than i know myself.” he then lifted my hand again and kissed it like he’d done on the boardwalk.

i chuckled and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. with the windows down, the ocean breeze, his hand drawing circles on the back of mine, and the soft music playing, i felt myself float away.

“sleep, angel. i love you.”

and then i woke up.

JK JK IT’S NOT A DREAM.

or is it? HEHEHEHEHE

ALSO WHY IS SHE SO CODEPENDENT??? LIKE GIRL STAND UP (says the one who wrote her 👯‍♀️)

anywayyyy, if you made it this far THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU!!!

please feel free to write comments or whatever, i love talking to you all 💞

and if you liked this check out my other stories!!

im currently writing a murder mystery kind of story and i only have two chapters for now, but i will make flashbacks with like text messages and diary entries and stuff. i’m trying to make it as if the reader is part of the investigation (I HOPE IM DOING A GOOD JOB) and i already have how i want the story to end but writing it is the hard part. like how long do i make it?? i don’t want to rush it but i really want to finish it because the characters take a mind of their own when i write. does that make sense? prob not lol

div creds!!- by @anitalenia

[28harryssunflower]

The call that changed everything

The first time you met Harry Styles, you knew you hated him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was Harry Styles - world-famous singer, certified heartthrob, and, unfortunately, your sister’s best friend’s little brother. It wasn’t even because of his celebrity status. No, it was something much simpler.

It was him.

The cocky, self-assured way he sat in his chair when you walked in, completely at ease like he owned the place. The way his green eyes flicked up and down as he took you in, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. The way he didn’t even bother standing up to introduce himself, instead raising an eyebrow as if he had already decided you weren’t worth the effort.

“So this is the one you were raving about, Gem?” he drawled, barely sparing you a glance as he took a sip of his drink.

You folded your arms, unimpressed. “And this is Harry Styles? Thought you’d be taller.”

Gemma snorted, but Harry? His smirk only deepened.

“Feisty. That’s cute.”

Your teeth clenched. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a pet, Styles.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, love. Even pets are less annoying than you.”

And just like that, the war began.

From that day forward, it was a battle every single time you were in the same room.

Harry made it his mission to get under your skin, and unfortunately, he was really fucking good at it.

“Y’know,” he mused one night, watching you struggle to open a bottle, “if you asked nicely, I might help you.”

You scoffed, gripping the cap tighter. “I’d rather drink air.”

“Suit yourself, love.”

Or the time he deliberately sat next to you at a group dinner, leaning in way too close as he murmured, “Noticed you’ve been wearing a lot of black lately. Mourning the loss of your personality?”

You turned to him with a fake smile. “Noticed you’ve been wearing a lot of rings lately. Compensating for something?”

Gemma groaned. “Would you two just make out and get it over with?”

“I’d rather choke,” you said at the same time Harry muttered, “Over my dead body.”

It never got better. Only worse.

Every conversation turned into a verbal sparring match, a game of who could get the last word. Sometimes, fate was cruel, and you’d find yourself stuck together, forced to tolerate each other’s existence.

And then, one night, everything changed.

You weren’t sure why you called him.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the weed still lingering in your system. Maybe it was the way your room felt suffocatingly empty after the things your ex had said to you.

“You’re just… not pretty enough.”

“Maybe if you lost some weight, you’d be more my type.”

“You should wear makeup more often. Might help.”

The words echoed in your mind, looping over and over, each syllable digging into your skin like barbed wire. Your vision was blurry, a mix of tears and intoxication, and before you could think about what you were doing, your fingers were already dialing.

The call barely rang twice before he picked up.

“What do you want?” Harry’s voice was laced with its usual arrogance, like he was already preparing to throw some smug comment your way.

But when you sniffled, a quiet, pathetic sound, he paused. “Wait… Are you crying?”

You let out a broken laugh. “No shit, Sherlock.”

There was a brief silence. Then, his voice softened - just a fraction. “What happened?”

And, for some reason, you told him.

Through drunken slurs and quiet sobs, you spilled everything - how you caught your boyfriend cheating, how he humiliated you before you left, how you felt so fucking stupid for believing you were enough.

When you finished, all you heard was silence.

Click.

He hung up.

You let out a shaky laugh, dropping the phone onto the floor beside you. Of course. What did you expect? Comfort from Harry fucking Styles?

But then: A knock on your window.

Your hazy brain struggled to process it as you pushed yourself up, stumbling toward the sound. And when you pulled back the curtain, your breath hitched.

Harry stood outside, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated before fumbling with the lock, struggling to slide the window open. After a few failed attempts, he sighed and did it himself, slipping into your room with ease.

“Why are you here?” you whispered, still dazed.

He rolled his eyes. “Because you called me, dumbass.”

You expected irritation in his tone. Expected him to mock you, to make some smartass remark. But instead, he just crossed his arms and looked at you properly.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Come here.”

You didn’t move, too stunned to understand what was happening. But then he stepped forward, pulling you into his arms, and you.. you broke.

You buried your face into his shoulder, gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline as the tears came harder, raw and unfiltered. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t tease. Just let you cry until exhaustion took over.

You woke up with a pounding headache and the unmistakable warmth of someone beside you.

Your mind scrambled to catch up, still foggy from the night before. But before you could process anything, nausea hit you like a truck. You bolted upright, gagging.

And before you could even make it off the bed, a bucket was shoved in front of you.

A hand pulled your hair back as you emptied your stomach, shaky breaths filling the room. When you finally finished, exhausted and miserable, a glass of water was pressed into your hand.

You blinked up, still dazed.

Harry. Sitting on your bed. Watching you.

You stared. He stared back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked.

He sighed. “You called me.”

Memories came rushing back all at once, and your face burned. “Shit. I- I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. Just… eat something today, alright?”

Then he left, just like that.

You thought that would be the end of it.

But then…

Harry: Have you eaten?

Harry: Drank any water?

Harry: Don’t make me come over again.

You didn’t know why he was checking in on you. But you didn’t hate it.

You were almost ready to leave.

Your outfit was picked with careful precision - something a little more modest than what you used to wear to parties. Something that hid the things your ex had made you feel insecure about. Your makeup was heavier than usual, too. Dark eyeliner, extra foundation, lips painted in a shade bolder than you usually dared to wear. A mask, in a way.

You were just slipping on your shoes when there was a knock on your bedroom door.

“Coming!” you called, expecting your sister. You pulled the door open, and froze.

Harry stood in your doorway, arms crossed over his chest, brows slightly furrowed as he took you in.

Your stomach twisted.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharper than necessary.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes flicked over your face again before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Harry-“

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the edge of your bed.

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Just sit down.”

His tone wasn’t teasing or condescending. It was… something else. Something you couldn’t quite place. Against your better judgment, you did as he said, watching as he moved toward your dresser.

He grabbed a makeup wipe.

You stiffened.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped in front of you, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers before carefully swiping the wipe across your cheek.

You flinched. “Harry, stop-“

“Shh.”

You glared. “Did you just shush me?”

“I did. Deal with it.”

You huffed but didn’t pull away as he continued. His movements were slow, almost cautious, as he wiped away all of the makeup, revealing the bare skin underneath.

When he was done, he took a step back, looking at you properly.

You felt… exposed.

“There she is,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You swallowed hard. “Harry, I-“

“You don’t need this,” he said, holding up the makeup wipe. His voice was softer than you had ever heard it. “You never did.”

You looked down, fingers twisting in your lap. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.”

Your head snapped up.

His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “That asshole made you feel like you weren’t enough. That you had to change yourself to be what he wanted.” He exhaled sharply. “But he’s fucking wrong.”

You didn’t know what to say. So he kept going.

“You don’t need makeup to be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself. And you sure as hell don’t need some dickhead’s approval.”

Your throat tightened.

“And another thing,” He reached for the oversized hoodie you were wearing. “Why are you dressed like this? Where’s the confident girl who didn’t give a shit what anyone thought?”

Your fingers clenched around the fabric. “I just…” You hesitated. “I don’t feel comfortable wearing the stuff I used to. He made me feel like I shouldn’t.”

Harry’s jaw ticked. “That’s bullshit.”

You didn’t respond.

With a determined look, he turned toward your closet, rummaging through the hangers before pulling out a red crop top and a white skirt. He held them up with a nod. “Wear this.”

Your stomach twisted. “Harry, I-“

“Just trust me, okay?”

You hesitated.

Harry. Harry fucking Styles. The same guy who spent months making your life hell. The same guy who seemed to take pleasure in pissing you off. But… also same guy who showed up at your window in the middle of the night when you needed someone the most.

Something in his expression made your resistance crumble.

“Fine,” you muttered, snatching the clothes from his hands. “Turn around.”

To your surprise, he obeyed, covering his eyes dramatically as you changed. When you were done, you swallowed your nerves and turned toward the mirror.

Your stomach churned as your eyes flicked over your reflection.

It was… different.

You weren’t used to seeing this version of yourself anymore. The one who didn’t hide. The one who didn’t feel the need to shrink herself down.

You shifted uncomfortably, fingers brushing over your exposed stomach.

Harry’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You look perfect.”

You turned, lips parting slightly.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You don’t need to worry. You’re beautiful.”

Your throat tightened.

It was one thing to hear compliments from random people. It was another to hear them from Harry.

You didn’t know why, but you needed to hear that.

And he must have known. Because for once, there was no teasing. No smugness. Just sincerity.

You swallowed thickly. “Thanks, Harry.”

He nodded.

A beat of silence passed before he clapped his hands together. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You frowned. “Wait- where are you going?”

He smirked, back to his usual self. “You’ve got a party to get to, yeah?”

For some reason, the idea of him leaving didn’t sit right with you.

Before you could overthink it, the words slipped out. “Do you… wanna come?”

His brows shot up.

You quickly backpedaled. “I mean, it’s probably not your scene, but-“

“Sure,” he said, cutting you off.

You blinked. “What?”

He chuckled. “I’ll come.”

For some reason, that made you nervous.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. Something different.

Maybe… you and Harry weren’t enemies anymore.

The house was packed, music pulsing so loud you could feel it in your chest. Bodies swayed to the rhythm, laughter and conversation blending into the intoxicating energy of the party.

And somehow, Harry was still by your side.

You had been drinking - maybe a little too much. A few shots in, and the world had taken on that warm, hazy glow, everything slightly funnier, slightly easier. Harry was drinking, too, but not as much as you. You could tell by the way his gaze stayed sharp even as he leaned against the counter, whiskey in hand, watching you with mild amusement.

“Y’alright there, love?” he asked, smirking as you set down your empty shot glass a little too hard.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it when you say it.”

“That so?” His grin widened. “Think you secretly do.”

You huffed, opening your mouth to argue, but before you could, someone called out:

“Truth, dare, or shot?”

The group had gathered in the living room, bottles scattered around, everyone already giggling as dares and drunken confessions were tossed into the mix.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’m in!”

You plopped down onto the floor, Harry following with an amused shake of his head. He sat beside you, stretching his long legs out, his knee brushing yours. You ignored the way your skin tingled at the contact.

The game started off lighthearted. Someone had to text their ex something embarrassing. Another had to take a shot off someone’s stomach. A guy ended up running around the house in nothing but his socks.

And then it was your turn.

One of your friends smirked, eyes flicking between you and Harry. “I dare you to make out with… Styles.”

The room erupted in oohs and laughter.

Your heart lurched - whether in excitement or horror, you weren’t sure.

Harry turned to you, eyebrow raised, lips curling into that infuriating smirk. “Well?”

Your face burned.

You could do it. It wouldn’t mean anything. Just a stupid game. Just lips and pressure and-

Nope.

Before you could talk yourself into it, you reached for the nearest bottle and poured yourself a shot, throwing it back without hesitation. The group booed in disappointment, but you ignored them, setting the glass down with a satisfied smirk.

Harry chuckled beside you, shaking his head. “Didn’t know you were scared of me, love.”

You shot him a glare. “I just didn’t want to waste my energy on you.”

“Sure.”

Somehow, the night ended with Harry in your room.

You weren’t sure how it happened. The walk home was a blur of drunken giggles and playful shoves. One minute, you were stumbling inside, and the next, he was leaning against your dresser, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“So,” he said, crossing his arms. “Why’d you take the shot?”

You blinked, swaying slightly before plopping down onto your bed. “What?”

“Earlier. The dare. Why’d you take the shot instead of kissing me?”

You giggled, drunk and lightheaded. “Because we’re supposed to hate each other.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Supposed to, yeah.”

You nodded dramatically. “It would’ve ruined our whole dynamic.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Exactly.”

There was a pause.

Then, before you knew what was happening, he was closer. His presence loomed over you, his gaze flicking down to your lips, his expression still unreadable.

You didn’t know who moved first.

One second, you were staring at him. The next, his lips were on yours, and your breath hitched at the warmth of his mouth, the way he tasted like whiskey and something undeniably Harry.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, as if neither of you could believe it was actually happening. But then your fingers found the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer, and suddenly, it wasn’t slow at all.

It was heat and urgency and something dangerously addicting. His hands skimmed your waist, his fingers teasing against the exposed skin beneath your crop top. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your whole body shiver.

Somehow, you ended up tangled together on the bed, laughter and whispered insults breaking between heated kisses. It was messy, chaotic, but fun. Neither of you knew what the hell you were doing, but you didn’t care.

You were definitely supposed to hate each other.

So why did this feel so right?

You woke up with a dull headache, your body sore in the way that only came from a night of drinking - and other things.

For a moment, you didn’t move, your brain still foggy with sleep.

And then you noticed it. The warmth beside you.

Your eyes snapped open, and your breath caught when you saw him.

Harry.

Lying beside you, his bare chest rising and falling steadily, his face relaxed in sleep. His curls were a mess, his arm draped lazily across your waist like it belonged there.

Your stomach twisted. Oh shit.

You shifted slightly, and that’s when reality hit you.

Harry had seen you like this. Just like your ex had. And your ex…

“You’re just not pretty enough.”

“Maybe if you lost some weight-“

“You should wear makeup more often”

The memories slammed into you like a freight train, panic rising in your chest.

You needed to get up. Needed to cover yourself, hide, before Harry woke up and realized that-

“Stop.”

The word was groggy, but firm. You froze.

Harry shifted beside you, cracking one eye open, his morning voice thick and raspy. “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop.”

You swallowed. “I-“

“Don’t.” His hand moved to your waist, fingers tracing absent patterns against your skin. “I already know what you’re gonna say, and it’s bullshit.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t-“

His lips cut you off before you could finish.

Soft. Slow. Reassuring.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re perfect. Just like this. Always have been.”

Your chest ached, but this time, it wasn’t from insecurity. It was something else entirely.

You didn’t have the words to respond.

So you just kissed him again.

[goldkirk]

I would love to understand why my brain and body are desperate to not shower in the safety of my own home but perked up at the offer to go shower at the gym that’s full of people I don’t know and men who could pin me and locker rooms with open doorways and less control over cleanliness than I can get in my own apartment. Something something the years of swim practice and swim meet locker room showers being safe I guess?

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[nonsensechemicals]

crying whenever i talk about Cookie9 because all my friends have these interesting and unique theories on them while i take everything too literally and they all just stare at me like “dude… uuugh we r TIRED” <-they dont actually say this they are very kind to me but i can Feel It

[luna-the-cretar]

How do people with executive dysfunction take pills at a consistent time every day? I can have my phone scream at me that I need to take my pills, and my body will still be like “but…no…”

[clowningcrows]

accidentally took a fairly objective step away from myself today and went. oh shit. i’m like REALLY hard on myself aren’t i?

[genderfluid-druid]

“what happened to him?” “he read a book so bad he returned it to the library a third of the way through, but now his brain won’t stop chewing on the potential it had 😔”

[peapod20001]

Did sleeping help

No </3

[teethgnashing]

i need to stop talking abt body image issues with people who don’t have a double chin

[badolmen]

So funny how trauma will just kick you in the fucking teeth with the most random triggers.

[no1ryomafan]

SRW is such a funny thing for me to think about cause it’s like “wow a trpg game that’s been ongoing for decades that really encapsulates how huge and significant mecha is to japan by having every and all mecha been featured in this giant crossover that also has really cool attack animations that replicate the shows they’re from well, with new original content for some shows sprinkled in as well” at first glance then I proceed to be salty by going “oh wait the main show I like in here is only ever used for one iteration which they end up butchering and all the other mechas I’ve liked have shown up maybe once because I’ve liked the ones that had to flop in Japan- also this game caused tags to be unnecessarily filled with crossovers and people acting like they know a series just because it was in SRW thanks I hate it” and this cycle is only a constant because I haven’t actually played a SRW besides 30s demo for a bit 💀

[milo-is-rambling]

I am so high I love you dabs I love you big bong rips I love you huge heavy bong I love you only having 20 dollars to my name and no plans but getting high and ignoring it I love you oh no I’m thinking about it

[hellfireeddiemunson]

sick of making plans with a specific friend only for her to not reach out abt actually hanging out until the afternoon after i’ve waited all day to hear back from her or for her to just cancel last minute entirely after i’ve again waited all day to hear back from her

[seilon]

man im really fucking bad at hanging out with people no wonder i have like two friends

[jocelynships]

Me: I have motivation to draw!

My hand: Yeah we’re not going to cooperate with you

Me: :/