#i also knitted two jumpers last month

[whenthewallfell]

very, very slowly working my way through a hand sewn quilt

[randomquadballpun]

Knitting beige cabled socks Johns jumper inspired socks?

A while back I read @calaisreno fanfic 'Ravelling' after stumbling across it on Tumblr. Apart from being beautifully written, it also really hit a chord for me, since knitting is what kept me somewhat sane over the last 2 years and has been a massive help just by keeping my hands and my mind busy.

Ever since I got into knitting bigger projects, I have been flirting with the idea of doing more fandom inspired knitting, since fandom is another big part of my everyday life. But knitting materials are expensive and I only want to knit clothes that I truly love and will get a lot of wear out of, and so far no bigger fanish project has ever appealed to me enough to make the commitment.

For some reason - before reading Ravelling - it hadn't even occurred to me that socks are right there! So just like John in this fanfic I too want to slowly start a fandom inspired sock collection, because that just sounds like a lot of fun.

I am starting off very beige. I found a pattern for an oatmeal jumper inspired sock and the same weekend I went out to shop for some groceries and came across the ideal beige yarn for the purpose. It was basically faith.

This has been my first time knitting a sock from the toe up (if we ignore the at least three times that I unravelled parts of this sock before I was happy with it) and I really like doing it this way! The yarn, while inexpensive and nice to look at, was a bit of a pain to work with though.

Overall I am not 100% sure how much this really resembles the actual oatmeal jumper, but even if it doesn't, it's still a very comfy and nice cable knit sock, just in time for the cold months and it has a special meaning just for me.

The problem with socks, he decides, is that people have heels.

John in Ravelling

While I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment (even though this heel really wasn't that bad), there is an even bigger problem ... which is that people have TWO feet.

So I will post this here mainly to hold myself accountable to actually starting and finishing sock number 2 at some point (even though my mind has already merrily skipped further down fandom knitting lane and is now ogling 221 B wallpaper patterned socks or a Moriarty skull tie pattern). But I am sure I will return to oatmeal sock number 2 in 2-3 business months, just to discover that I have completely forgotten how I made the first one!

Wish me luck!

(And go and read Ravelling if you haven't yet. Go reread it if you have! And if you have the time and the spoons for it, go and create something!)

[furmity]

Winter wardrobe

Last night I dreamed of getting a wonderful pair of shoes.

So it seemed auspicious to go to the op shop... I found an excellent pair of black sneakers with irridescent snakeskin patches! (Also a sealed deck of Swedish playing cards.)

I went home and picked up the project that's been burning a hole in my sewing pile since spring. The thick black wool trousers I waited 8 years for the Second Hand Gods to provide me, one size too big. I managed the alterations, I'd just never put the waistband back on. So I hand- stitched it today and I have The Much Awaited Dream Trousers in time for winter.

Then the faithful cotton turtleneck I dyed myself, seeing its fifth year but needing a seam repaired under the arm. I also noticed it was unraveling a little at the neck, so I did what I could.

I stitched two pinprick holes on the arm of last year's big purchase knit top. Absolutely one of my favourite things I've ever owned. I should learn how to repair knits properly.

Then a cardigan button which hasn't fallen yet, but threatens to. Then I darned a hole appearing at the cuff. This is a fine- knit thing that unravels if you so much as look at it, it gets darned a lot. It's starting to look really interesting, what if I still had it five years from now, made entirely anew with patches of yarn?

I buy an outfit every autumn- winter, spring- summer change. Mostly secondhand. Once a year I buy an "investment item" (in a cost per wear sense) or pay someone else for complex alterations. Sometimes I even make things from scratch, and one year I completely went over a jacket with embroidery while I anxiously awaited my exam grades.

This season I have a "new" jacket with a hood! I don't have anything with a hood! A "new" scarf to replace the pashmina sullied by the Lurker. I bought some brand new gloves because though I have practiced very much I cannot yet nålbind satisfactorily even stitches. The trousers are new even if I bought them nine months ago. Funky sneakers (while chunky boots are trendy the Gods have not seen fit to provide, though they are my preference I'm turning into a sneaker person).

I need a jumper, a good insulating thing that isn't too bulky under my coat. I don't know how I, known woolly jumper lover, have arrived at a time in my life when I do not have a single good pullover. I saw a lovely one today, but acrylic need not apply (aside from reducing plastics, I have an inordinate horror of synthetic fabrics catching fire and melting on my skin).

Last year I got some pants that look great but the fabric is comfortable for three weeks in a year. I will make a pattern from them, and make something to replace the linen pants I tore in February.

What you've also got to accept is that the best piece will appear at the end of the season, when the weather's all wrong to wear it. Just to have you thinking all summer about how great your Much Awaited Dream Trousers are going to look!

[louis-arssets]

25 Days of Drarry - Day 7

Day 7 of 25 Days of Drarry

Prompt G -- Jumper and a Mug of Coffee

Image Description: A plain white mug of milky coffee sits nestled among a crumpled knitted jumper on a bed. The foam on top of the coffee is in the shape of a heart. The jumper is primarily made of red wool, with white flecks on the sleeves and body. Brown, tan, black and green tones are visible also, but no image is discernable. The bedclothes are plain, warm-white in colour.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Cheating (not between Draco and Harry), Fluff, Mentions of sex

Read more under the cut or here on AO3.

Christmas is stupid. Happy people are stupid. Love is stupid. The whole fucking world is stupid.

“Fuck all of this shit,” Harry grumbles and tears up another photo of him and Alex. His eyes are cried out but his cheeks are still wet. He picks up his wand and levitates the photo crumbles into the crackling fire. Next, he picks up the bottle of Firewhiskey and swallows a big gulp. He feels the burn all the way into his stomach and he enjoys it. Enjoys every feeling that is different than the utter betrayal he’s been feeling for the last two days.

“‘Alex is a douchebag mate, what are you doing’, yeah thank you, Ron I realize that now,” Harry continues to mutter to himself. He kind of knew that Alex is bad news. Harry met him at the Leaky two months ago and they hit it off. Alex was charming, he paid Harry compliments and made him feel… sexy. He also managed that Harry’s thoughts didn’t constantly evolve around his gorgeous and clever and brilliant Auror partner with whom he was desperately in love. So he took Alex in, let him fuck him into the mattress, and said yes when Alex asked him if he wanted to be his boyfriend.

Unfortunately, did the first night end up as the only night in which Alex’ focus solely lay on Harry. The months after that were spent with talking about himself, his booming career as an entrepreneur, his money, and his famous douche friends. The sex was good though, so Harry stayed.

Until two days ago when Harry went over to Alex’ penthouse in central London like he did most nights for a round of sex and maybe some food prepared by Alex’ in-house cook, and he found his boyfriend in bed with the ex-boyfriend.

It’s not that Harry’s been in love with Alex. It just fucking sucked that apparently, no one cared about him enough to want to be with him. Romantically. And the person Harry was in love with was just too fucking far out of his league.

So he called in sick and spent the days wallowing and nursing his hangover before he started drinking again at night.

Unfortunately, all the photos he had of Alex were now destroyed and he had nothing to do but drink. He picks up the bottle again when a knock sounds through his flat.

“Potter!” a familiar voice booms through the door and a shiver crawls down Harry’s spine. “Open this door this instant, you prick!”

Harry sighs. He decidedly does not want to open that door, but he knows that with his Auror partner his own opinion doesn’t matter much when it comes to situations like these. So he pushes himself into a standing position with the bottle still in his hand. He sways a little while he makes his way to the door but he’s confident that he can pretend to be a little soberer than he actually is.

“My god, you’re fucking drunk, aren’t you?” Draco Malfoy sneers as soon as Harry opens the door. “And you reek. When was the last time you took a shower, you imbecile?”

He crosses the threshold and walks straight past Harry who can only watch and try to ignore the longing that is piercing through his body.

“‘m not drunk,” he slurs, and okay. He hears himself.

“Like fuck you are not,” Draco answers and turns around. His long black coat is open in the front, showing of his tight black pants and the light blue button-down shirt tucked into them. His short blond hair is styled in a fancy quiff and his steel grey eyes are narrowed. He looks dangerous. He looks delicious. Harry is in so much trouble.

“Wagner is currently sitting in holding cell number three, in case you’re interested.” Draco shrugs off his coat and drapes it over the arm of Harry’s couch.

Harry furrows his brows. Sure, he’s drunk but he thinks he can still hear things correctly. “Why is Alex in holding?”

Draco’s lips tug up in a smirk which is so attractive that Harry feels his cock twitch in his dirty joggers. Merlin, he’s a fucking mess. No wonder he has no chance with a man such as Draco.

“As soon as I saw him I knew that something was fishy about that dick. Unsurprisingly, Ronald agreed and officially ordered that Wagner was to be investigated. We forged a little witness claim from someone who obviously wanted to remain anonymous so we had a ground on which we could start, just before you ask.”

Harry closes his mouth again. It’s most definitely not smart to talk about forging important documents and manipulating cases but that’s just how Draco and Ron operate. First as the most successful Auror team in DMLE history and now as close friends, since Ron accepted the new position as Head Auror and Harry became Draco’s new partner. They were a force to be reckoned with.

“Anyway, turns out that we were right, of course. That ex-boyfriend you saw is also his business partner in his little side hustle. ‘Entrepreneur’ apparently is his fancy way of saying that he’s working on an elaborate muggle-wixen-drug organization. Well, not anymore, since we arrested him. So, congratulations on breaking up with a criminal.” Draco grins and reaches for the bottle in Harry’s hand. Harry watches how he puts the bottle against his lips and takes a swig, head thrown back and long, elegant neck exposed. “Was a fucking party in the office today. Of course, you would know that, if you’d shown up.”

Harry rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle back out of Draco’s pretty hands. “I am sick.”

“Yeah, and I am the next president of the United States. At least invite me if you decide to empty a few bottles of the good whiskey I gifted you, you traitor.”

A small smile creeps onto Harry’s face, he can’t help it. “Wanna drink with me?”

Draco grins again. “You go shower and I will open a nice bottle of wine, just to give your palette something different. We’ll meet back here in ten, got it?”

Harry nods. “Got it.”

**

“You know,” Draco slurs next to him and nudges him with his shoulder. They are slumped together on the couch, Draco’s shirt unbuttoned halfway, his quiff a mess. Harry feels hot in the places of his body where they are touching and his eyes are caught by Draco’s intense gaze. “I always thought that you and that Wagner guy weren’t a good match. Criminal or not.”

Harry shrugs, brushing even more against Draco. “He was a decent fuck.”

Draco rolls his eyes and sits up a little. He turns to Harry and Harry already misses his warmth. “If you want a good fuck, a really good fuck you should start looking somewhere else.”

Harry huffs a laugh. “Yeah? And where, pray tell, should I start that?”

“Merlin, Potter. You really are as stupid as you are hot,” Draco growls and before Harry can start thinking about the meaning of that sentence there are suddenly soft lips on his own and a warm body in his lap.

He moans obscenely and immediately grabs Draco around his waist, pulling him closer until their crotches align and they both groan into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco sighs between their kisses. Everything feels hot and Harry’s brain is mush. He can’t think. Can’t do anything other than continue to kiss this gorgeous man in his lap.

“Fuck me,” he moans into Draco’s neck where he started to lick and suck the pale skin.

Draco sits back a little. There’s an obvious bulge in his trousers and Harry feels his mouth-watering.

“You sure?” Draco asks, eyes glazed over from alcohol and lust.

Harry nods before Draco even stops speaking. “Yes, yes, Merlin, Draco. Please fuck me!”

“Okay,” Draco whispers and climbs from Harry’s lap only to haul him off the couch and grab him under his arse to hoist him up. “I’ve got you, love. I will make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Please,” Harry cries out and burrows his face in Draco’s neck. Somehow, Draco manages to carry him into the bedroom and throw him onto the bed without any incidents. There’s a feral look in his eyes and Harry’s cock is as hard as it’s ever been.

Draco watches him for a few seconds and then he moves. Everything after that is lost in hot kisses and swift fingers and a delicious burn inside Harry that makes him forget. There’s only Draco, nothing else.

**

Harry feels like nothing when he wakes up and the flat is empty. He can’t say that he is surprised because he is not. He realizes that it was Draco who initiated everything the night before. He also realizes that Draco has called him hot, that he called him love… But that was the heat of the moment. They were both drunk, they both (apparently) found each other attractive and they both wanted it. That was that.

Harry’s not angry at Draco, in contrary, he is so very grateful that the other man came over and talked to him, told him to come back to work and that Alex was not worth his time.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though. Finally, Harry’s gotten what he so desperately craved, something more with Draco. But now that he knew how it feels to be with the other man it just hurts even more knowing that he won’t have it again. Or at least not in the way he really wants it. He’s so desperately in love it’s ridiculous.

After a bit of wallowing in his empty bed, Harry gets up, takes another shower, and wanks to the memories of last night. It was, without a doubt, the best sex of his life. Nothing could and would ever compare, he knows that for a fact.

He pulls on clean clothes and sorts out his living room, magics the dishes clean and steps out onto his balcony, into the open air for the first time in days. He takes a few deep breaths, watches how his breathing is visible in the cold December air. He should owl Ron and Hermione and ask them if they should have dinner together. He needs to get his life back on track. He sighs and turns around only to nearly have a heart attack when he sees Draco standing in his living room, holding two to-go cups in his hands and wearing a ridiculous Christmas jumper under his, once again, open coat.

“Merlin!” Harry shouts and presses a hand against his chest. “You scared me.”

Draco smiles a small smile and makes a step forward. “I told you I would be back after my visit to the Christmas bazaar in Teddy’s school. He told me to tell you that he misses you and wants to go flying again. Which, really Potter? That boy is four.”

Harry can’t stop the grin that is forming on his face, steps into the warm room, and closes the balcony door. “He loves it and how am I supposed to deny that angel face anything?”

Draco laughs. “Fair enough. How are you?” he asks, voice softer now, and hands Harry one of the cups. The strong smell of coffee hits Harry’s nose.

“Better now,” he says without thinking. He feels how his cheeks turn red. “I mean--” But Draco interrupts his poor try to deflect with two sure steps and closes the distance between them, pressing his cold lips against Harry’s.

A soft sigh leaves Harry’s mouth, his lips parting to invite Draco’s hot tongue. He cannot believe that this is happening.

“Is this really happening?” he whispers when they part slowly. “I thought last night was just… I don’t know. You were gone this morning.”

A soft, warm hand is pressed against his cheek, his chin tilted upwards so that he has to look into Draco’s earnest grey eyes.

“I told you I would be back,” he repeats.

Harry scrunches his nose. “When?”

The famous smirk grows on Draco’s face and Harry’s knees feel weak. “After orgasm number three I believe. When I walked into the bathroom to get a wet towel.”

Harry grins. “You can’t believe that I was coherent enough to understand what you were talking about at that point.”

“And I take pride in that.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry laughs and presses another kiss onto Draco’s lips. Apparently, they do this now. Do they?

“I love you, Harry,” Draco whispers. “I want to be with you. I am sorry that last night happened because we were drunk, it’s not how I pictured my first time with you.”

“I regret nothing,” Harry whispers. “I can’t believe that you… I’ve been in love with you for months. I never thought you would… love me.”

“Of course, love,” Draco smiles a soft smile. “I always thought you were out of my league, to be honest.”

Harry huffs a laugh. “This is ridiculous,” he says. “Now come and kiss me more and take my clothes off.”

“Your wish is my command,” Draco whispers. His Christmas jumper lands on the couch, the two to-go cups are levitated onto the coffee table and Draco and Harry land, once again, in bed.

After, Harry thinks that he loves Christmas, he’s never been this happy and he loves Draco the most.

Day 6 -- Day 8

[cappsikle]

backfired // fred weasley

Pairing: fred weasley x reader

Summary: after a prank gone wrong, fred seeks warmth within your arms

Warnings: not that I can think of! - except that the ending is trash I’m so sorry. Also I can’t tell if I accidentally wrote Fred ooc so I apologise if I did.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: this piece is for @weasleysflowr‘s follower celebration!! thank you so much for letting me participating! This is actually my first time joining a celebration or writing event, so I was so stoked to do this! Congratilations on getting 300 followers, you deserve it <3

This took so long that Ayli is actually now at 400 followers!! So another celebration is in order! Congratulations 🥳

Prompts: “i’m not moving, your lap is comfortable” and “is that my sweater (jumper) you’re wearing?” 

tags: @ryeryemilani @a-little-too-much   just ask to be added!

Please reblog and comment!

----------------

If there was one thing that could put a dampen on Fred’s day, it would be a prank gone wrong, and that’s exactly what happened. It was quite a shame, really, as both Fred and George had worked really hard on this particular prank. Everything was set perfectly, all the ingredients had been gathered, and everyone was in their proper place. That was, until Snape came looking for Filch claiming there to be an emergency. By the time the twins realised that Snape was in the place the prank was set to place, it was too late, leaving the seething professor covered in a sticky green goo, smelling like a dung bomb. They would’ve laughed, as the sight was quite humorous, but that victory was very short lived when Snape caught sight of them, immediately appointing them two months of detention.

Usually, the twins weren’t ones to care if they got detentions, but they had received two months, with Snape, no less. Yeah, Fred was in a foul mood. That's how he found himself trudging his way back the common room with hunched shoulders, a frown set deep on his face. George broken off the path to go find Lee to explain how badly the prank backfired. Fred was ready to just collapse on the couch and sulk for the rest of the day, not having any energy to keep up with the evening activities. That was his plan, but all thoughts of brooding left his mind when he walked through the portrait hole and saw you there, sitting curled up on the couch with a book in your hands.  

Fred stopped at the entrance and took a moment to admire you, and the way the fire reflected off your face to the point where you looked like you were glowing. He took notice of the way your eyes skimmed across the pages, practically being able to see as the words you were so invested in sunk into your brain. He watched as you bit your plump lips in anticipation at a particularly exciting part of the story. And lastly, he took notice of the knitted jumper sat upon your shoulders, his knitted jumper. Suddenly, all feelings of frustration and defeat left his body, replaced with a more happier and lighter feeling. His heart thudded against his chest as butterflies swarmed in his stomach. Fred loved seeing you wearing his clothing.

You still hadn’t noticed Fred watching from the side, too engrossed in the story playing out in your mind. You were just getting up to the climax of the story, your heart racing as you impatiently read over the words. But you were interrupted when you heard someone clear their throat, followed by, “is that my jumper you’re wearing?” your head snapped up in alert at the source of the voice, your heart chattering for a different reason. Your cheeks filled with warmth at Fred’s words, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.  

Fred smirked at your flustered state watching your movements closely as you close your book and smile sheepishly at him. “Uhm... no...?”

“Are you lying to me?”  

You hesitated for a second, finally coming clean with a sigh, “...yes”. you looked down at your lap sheepishly. In all honesty, you knew he wouldn’t mind, claiming on various occasions that he preferred to see you in his clothing. However, you took it upon yourself to sneak into his dormitory and steal this jumper right from his trunk.  

Fred smiled to himself at your confession, opting to tease you more because, well, that’s who he is. But before he could get another word in, you perked up again, a glint of mischief present in your eyes as you asked, “So? How did the prank on Filch go?” And just like that, his sour mood had returned at the remembrance of the failed prank. Fred’s smile dropped from his face, carrying himself to the couch and practically flinging himself to sit.

He glanced at your lap, moving his arm to take one of your hands in his, just wanting to feel the comfort he usually felt when holding your hand. He took a moment to just admire how small and soft your hand was compared to his. You linked your fingers together, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. A look of concern passed your features briefly as Fred let out a groan, whining in frustration. “It didn’t go well. Snape came out of nowhere and told Filch he was needed elsewhere, which ended up in the prank going off on him. We’ve got two months detention now!”

You nod in understanding, lifting your free arm to run your fingers through his soft hair. In front of the fire, it was almost like his red locks had lit aflame. “I’m sorry your plan backfired, love. But two months detention isn’t that bad compared to what it could’ve been!” You tried to sound hopeful, wondering if your words had any effect on his mood, but you realised that probably wasn’t the best thing to say as Fred gave you an incredulous look.  

“Please, enlighten me! How could have this ended any worse?”

You sat and pondered for a moment, not actually being able to come up with another option. “Ok, you’re right. It couldn’t have.”  

“Seriously?!” you giggled at Fred as he bent down to lean his head on your lap, pressing his face into your knees. “You’re no help, you know that?”

You knew he was joking, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his behaviour. “Just think, both you and George will come up with an equally as good prank, one that won’t fail on you, and you’ll be out of detention in no time.” you brought your hand down to his head again, raking your fingers through his locks, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails as you do so.

Fred sighed deeply at the sensation, your fingers causing delightful shivers to run down his body. His favourite thing ever was when you played with his hair, and while he’s never admitted that he gathered you already knew. He didn’t respond to your last statement, preferring to just sit in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the cackling of the fire and each of your slow and steady breaths. After a moment or two of Fred laying in your lap and you opening your book again, he broke the silence, “oh, and by the way, I’m not moving, your lap is comfortable.” 

You smiled to yourself as you turned a page, returning your hand to his head, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Fred shifted his body, so the back of his head was against your legs, and his face was facing towards the ceiling. He brought the hand in his hair to his lips, kissing your knuckles as you put your book down. “You know I love you, right, love?” 

You smiled again and leaned down to connect your lips with his before mumbling against them, “and I love you too.”  

——————

I hope you all enjoyed this! Don’t forget to like, reblog and comment!

- Mills <3

[omgbubbletea]

Dating George Weasley Would Include

Let’s get one thing straight, it doesn't matter what house you're in

Sure, it would be a bonus if you were in Gryffindor because that would mean he wouldn't have to sneak into your common room to be with you 

Blood status also doesn't matter to him

If he loves you, he loves all of you

The reason you and George are together is all thanks to Fred 

He had grown sick and tired of George constantly talking about you 

How pretty you were 

How nice you smelled 

How he felt butterflies every time you smiled at him 

The boy must have been in-love or something

On the other hand, Fred had found out you had feelings for George by constantly bugging you on the subject till you cracked and told him

Being the oblivious pair George and you were, neither of you had realised the others feelings 

This is when Fred decided to take matters into his own hands 

His plan consisted of locking both you and George in a janitors closet until you both confessed your feelings 

He had told you guys to meet him in this particular closet for an emergency meeting

With the two of you being so ignorant, you walked into this closet, wondering where Fred was and why he had chosen such a weird place to meet 

As soon as you guys crossed the line, that’s when Fred had locked the door 

“Fred! what are you doing? Let us out!” (you and George started to yell)

“If you guys want out, then there’s something you should get off your chest first”

You both knew instantly what he was talking about 

Fred’s plan was almost fool-proof except for the fact that both you and George had your wands and could just alohomora your way out 

Oh, wait...

Fred had known you too well and knew you both always left your wands in the dorm during free time before dinner 

“Fred this isn't funny”(George was starting to get on edge)

“Do you hear me laughing?”

The closet was small(but who said you found it a problem(; )

A couple of minutes passed 

“Look (y/n)...”(George began to say slowly)

“I- I like you”

“I like you a lot, more than a friend probably should”(was that his heart pounding in his chest George could hear?)

At that moment your head shot up to meet his gaze 

Did he just confess his feeling to you?

Did he feel the same?

Hope began to form in your heart 

“George...”(he was ready for his heart to be broken)

“I’ve felt that way since I first met you”(a smile began to break on your face)

When I tell you that that boys smile lit up the room 

Nothing more was shared at that moment except for a hungry kiss 

He had been craving your lips for awhile now 

Of-course the moment only lasted so long before Fred swung the door open

“Ew, gross guys!”

The two of you just grinned 

If you are not in Gryffindor, then your days usually consisted of sneaking into the others common room

It’s a usual thing

Cuddling on the couch 

Playing board games 

Your friends(and others in your house) are used to seeing George around 

Surprisingly, you guys have never been caught(thanks to the marauders' map)

He’s always waiting outside of the common room so you guys can walk to breakfast together

You guys always sit next to each other in the great hall

If you are in a different house, he will walk you to your common room at the end of the day and give you a kiss goodnight(which usually gets a bit heated)

Pet names

Darling and gorgeous are his most used

You can’t help but get butterflies every-time those words roll of his tongue

“Well hello gorgeous” 

Small forms of PDA

Hand holding 

Arm around your shoulder 

Arm around your waist 

Temple kisses 

Cheek kisses 

Knuckle kisses 

He LOVES it when you play with his hair and just melts into your touch 

I have a theory that the twins give the BEST hugs

Bear hugs that engulf you

Hugs from behind where he pulls you closer to him

(and he’s always so warm...like what?)

You love wearing his jumpers

Yes, they are always baggy on you

You love the smell of them though(strawberries, vanilla and a bit of a smoky hint)because it’s just like having George there

He gives you one of his jumpers to keep so you would stop stealing all his other ones

It’s your favourite item of clothing and you always wear it to bed

Your first “I love you” came out of nowhere

The two of you were in the common room studying for an upcoming test

You should have been in your bed by now but of-course this test was more important than your exhaustion

With papers strewn across the table and your hand cramping from writing, you continued with your work, although George had stopped

Suddenly, you had become aware of him gazing at you

“Can I help you?”

“It’s nothing, you’re just...so beautiful”

You couldn’t help the blush that bloomed on your cheeks

“I love you”

The phrase was just audible

You had looked up in shock unsure if you had heard right

George was yet to comprehend what he had said when it all hit him

“Oh (y/n), I’m sorry! It just sort of slipt out- I didn’t mean to say it- I mean I want to say it because I love you but not that-”

You just chuckled at his constant rambling

“George, calm down, I love you too”

“I don’t want to make you se- wait, what did you just say?”

“I love you too”(you said it gently)

“Really..?”(he didn't sound too convinced)

In gesture, you gave him a sweet kiss, melting into the moment

It seemed to calm his mind

Spending summer and Christmas at the burrow

Molly loves you 

She knits one of her famous sweaters for you for Christmas  

If you are muggle-born(or even half-blood), Arthur loves when you tell stories about muggle life 

When Ron was younger, he had a BIG crush on you 

Now when he thinks about it, he just gets embarrassed

Ginny looks up to you(and thinks you're a bad bish)

You and Ginny love to have sleepovers together and gossip about all the people in Hogwarts

You also get filled in on all her latest “love life” with Harry  

Fred is one of your best and closest friends 

He is happy that George found someone to make him happy 

You’re Fred’s wing-women(although he doesn't agree because you haven’t done the best of jobs)

You guys love to tease George together 

Although it’s mainly just Fred teasing you and George 

“Can you guys get a room?!”

It was in those moments that Fred may have regretted locking you guys in that closet 

As much as he loves you, he does get a bit tired of hearing George talk about you all-day(nothing changed since he confessed his feelings for you)  

Lee is also a close friend to you 

It was only inevitable for you guys to bond with the twins being best friends with him

Many times have the two of you tried to get back at Fred and George with a prank 

Sadly, the twins somehow always manage to know what you guys are planning 

Let’s just say they prank you guys twice as hard for trying to outdo the masters 

The twins are always playing “light” pranks on you 

From dying your hair bright pink

To slipping a small amount of love potion into your drink 

It’s always a risk being around the two of them 

They love to get you involved in their pranks 

This usually means standing guard though):

You remember this one time in potions when you were first learning about amortentia

There was a fresh batch of it at the front of the class and everyone around the room was trying to get a whiff 

“Do I even have to ask what it smells like to you darling?” 

You closed your eyes and gave a sharp inhale 

“Vanilla, candy apples and amber” (you had said it so innocently)

George’s face was painted in horror 

“What?!” 

He was in disbelief because he KNEW he didn’t smell of amber or vanilla 

“CEDRIC?!” (the twins spoke rather loudly in unison)

“But- I- wha-”(George began to stutter on)

At that point, you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer 

“I’m only joking!”

When I tell you how quick that boy calmed down 

“Oh thank Merlin”

That was revenge for staining your teeth blue for a whole week!

In all honesty, the pained look on George’s face when he realised you may not love him pained your heart 

On the other hand, Fred thought it was hilarious 

(If) you play quidditch for Gryffindor, then you are a chaser, otherwise, you are whatever position you got placed into 

If you are not in Gryffindor, then you are always watching the quidditch game and supporting the twins(unless it’s your house playing)

He loves to find you in the crowd 

You’re his #1 fan 

Steamy kisses after the game

If they win the game then it’s going to be a lot more than kissing(;

He has ended up in the hospital wing a couple of times because of the game

It has never been too serious but you still can’t help but worry for him 

“You know, even with a black eye and bloody face, I’m still the better-looking twin”

Fred just cracked up 

“He must still be a bit loopy from all that pain killer”

If you don’t play quidditch, then George has defiantly tried to teach you

It didn’t go too well

You ended up falling off the broom at only 1 meter off the ground

Face-planted into the grass

Ended with you having a dislocated jaw

George felt guilty for the rest of the month and wouldn't stop apologising

Meanwhile, Fred had fallen on his ass from laughing too hard

Trips to Hogsmeade

Raiding Honeydukes

Dates at the Three Broomsticks

Drinking enough butterbeer to get tipsy 

Lots of puns and dad jokes 

You were once learning how to produce a Patronus in DA when someone had just spelled a deer

You looked over at George to see him struggling a bit with the spell

And that’s when the awful pun left his mouth

“Oh deer, I just can’t seem to produce a Patronus” 

You tried to hold in your laugh 

“Shove off Weasley”

He takes you to the Yule Ball

It’s a magical night 

Full of dancing 

Screaming the lyrics to the songs playing 

Drinking fire whisky that Fred had smuggled in

Drunk snogging to the point where Snape found you guys and took 5 points off each of you 

Dancing around the common room 

Sneaking into the kitchens to steal food 

Tickle fights(I feel like George is very ticklish)

Swimming in the Black Lake on a dare 

Snowball fights in the winter 

He never fails to make you laugh

He is more of the shy, reserved twin 

Sometimes you just have to remind him that he is loved and noticed 

He will compare himself to Fred and it will never be positive 

You will reassure him and hold him for however long he needs

If what he needs is a good vent then you are ready to listen no matter what you are doing 

He is more important 

He is also more of the jealous twin 

Don’t get me wrong, he won't go all psycho boyfriend when he sees another guy talking to you 

He respects you and knows you would never leave him for someone else 

But if there is flirting going on or the guy is trying to make a move 

Let’s just say his temper won't last long 

“Hello darling”

Que passionate kiss between George and you 

“Sorry mate, she’s already taken”

You had never seen a guys face go paler 

Or seen George go so smug 

He always knows what to do when you're sad

He will listen to your every last word if you have to vent 

Or he will hold you in his arms for hours while whispering sweet nothings into your ear if all you want to do is cry it out 

By the end of it, you can't help but feel just a little bit better because of him 

He loves to hear about your day and you can’t deny that he is the best listener

He low key has separation anxiety  

He LOVES to spoon

Definitely the big spoon

Although he can’t help but love to be the little spoon sometimes 

“Hey um...Do you mind if we?...”

“You wanna be the little spoon?”

“Yes please...”

He’s smiling on the inside 

He may be a little shy in public but he’s a freak in the sheets if you know what I mean(;

He’s usually top but it drives him crazy if you switch rolls 

I feel like he’s a hair puller?

Will always make sure you’re comfortable with everything 

Super gentle at times 

But also can be rough... 

Would never do anything that would hurt you 

Lots of cuddling after 

He loves to give you flowers just to see you get all flustered

One time he stole flowers from the school grounds

Little did he know, Mcgonagall had seen the whole thing

“Mr Weasley, are those flowers from Professor Sprout’s greenhouse?”

The look on his face was a dead give away

“Funny story actually Professor...”

Let’s just say it wasn’t the funniest of stories

Braiding his longer hair 

Showers together 

Piggyback rides to class

Studying in the library with Fred(but he usually just gets bored and leaves)

He reads to you 

Basically he is perfect in every way and will love you till the end 

[thedistantdusk]

Expectations

For the Hinny Christmas Fest, so kindly organized by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves​! Got this one in just under the wire! :D Thanks to @floreatcastellumposts​ and @kmi-kmi​ for giving it a look over for me! Rated a soft T for references to sex. On AO3. 

________

Molly Weasley is a lot of things. But she’s not an idiot. 

Even if she hadn’t once been a teen in the throes of a serious relationship on the heels of a war (which, incidentally, she was), she did raise seven children. Seven Gryffindor children. Seven Gryffindor children who, by default, have each thought themselves far more competent at sneaking around than they truly are.

As such, she’s fairly certain of when Harry and Ginny became... intimate... this summer. Not that she wants the details. Her interest is limited to ensuring that her daughter — that all of her children, Harry and Hermione most definitely included — are well-informed on the inherent risks of what they’re doing. The knowledge of their intimacy was just one of those things that even the most oblivious of parents would have found impossible to ignore. In the span of two days, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went from “taking long walks in the garden” to feigning yawns and calling it an early night at 7 PM. Besides, Ron and Hermione had already been to Australia by themselves; only a moron would truly believe their nights were strictly filled with knitting caps for house elves. 

And as has been said before, Molly is a lot of things... but she’s not a bloody idiot. She knows some might expect her to maintain a puritanical stance on sex (as if she hadn’t birthed seven children of her own). She knows some might have disagreed with her stance on letting things unfold as they did. But as she’s learned over the past year, happiness — true happiness — is hard to find. 

After months of thinking she’d never see happiness on her children’s faces again, she first spotted it in Ginny’s eyes last May. Back then, it was a creeping, hesitant sort of look... the type that dipped its toes in the waters of joy for a split-second before retreating like a frightened doe. 

But as the weeks progress, she sees it more and more often — and not just in Ginny’s eyes. She sees happiness in the lazy quirk of Harry’s lips as Ginny takes his hand beneath the table. She sees it in the bobbing of Ron’s Adam’s Apple as Hermione descends the stairs in a sundress. She sees it in the way Hermione let a sandal dangle from her toe as she tilts her chin towards the sun.

By now, the four of them have coupled up properly, just as she suspected they would. It was in equal parts charming and bittersweet, but Molly knows better than anyone that there’s nothing quite like a war to rearrange one’s priorities. 

And when she considers all of that, plus the fact that certain fractals of darkness will never truly leave them (just as they’ll never truly leave her)... who would she have been, really, to snatch such joy away?

So, yes, Molly spends the summer fully aware they’re intimate beneath her roof. But after the plague of chaos and confusion and uncertainty and fear that followed their family for close to a year, she honestly prefers them beneath her roof then in a tent somewhere, filled with cat piss and loneliness. 

However — and Molly admits this part makes her a bit cheeky — she does enjoy the unnecessary pageantry they go to over the summer to conceal what they’re doing. The four of them actually think they’re good at hiding it, even as Harry rakes his eyes over Ginny’s... erm... back. Even as she Hermione parades around the kitchen in Ron’s old jumper. Even as she hears, each night, as Ginny’s feet land in the attic as Ron’s land in Ginny’s room. Alas, the whole thing is too hilarious and contrived for her to spoil, so she simply doesn’t. 

But then the girls return to school after a summer that’s both agonizingly long and tenderly fleeting. Harry and Ron find a flat together and enter training. What remains of their lives returns to normal, even though Molly feels she’ll always be picking up the piece of a puzzle that can’t be solved. 

She keeps herself busy as fall turns to winter, though. She volunteers with Ministry relief efforts. She writes to Ginny often. She makes an effort to try harder with Fleur, to rebuild her relationship with Percy, to assist George if she can, to stay close with her husband. She knows her life will forever be separated into two parts: before and after. She knows that the remainder of her days will contain a deep-seated longing that tinges her world with shades of gray. This is a unique type of pain, she knows… the sort of pain only a mother can feel. The sort of pain that takes her breath away if she lets it. 

But she also knows the best way to keep moving is to maintain the traditions that made them a family in the first place. 

So she sticks to holiday routines as Christmas approaches. Waking early. Cleaning the house. Decorating with tinsel and paper chains. Preparing for everyone’s arrival. Christmas will never be the same… not without him. But if only for George’s sake, Molly knows she needs to try. 

She suggests that Harry spend the night on Christmas Eve, just so he isn’t alone; she assumes (correctly) that they haven’t quite got the nerve to ask if Ginny can spend the night at the flat instead. By now, Harry is essentially an overnight Christmas fixture anyway; even when they do get up the nerve to ask, Molly expects he’ll continue to stay over. Or so she hopes so, anyway. The alternative still makes her feel a bit broken, but she’ll cross that bridge when it comes. 

So when Harry, Ron, and Ginny head upstairs after a night of festivities on Christmas Eve, Molly assumes they’ll be back to their old tricks. Hermione’s spending the night with her parents, but it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if she apparates in. After all, they think they’ve got a foolproof plan that’ll last through everyone’s departure from school. Announcing she’s been aware of this plan the whole time would only spoil things… and Molly doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. Not this year. 

After a half-sleepless night, Molly rises early on Christmas Day. She continues to stick to routines, to never deviate from what she can control; today is a day that could be especially miserable, if she lets it. So when she emerges from the toilet at half past seven, she doesn’t expect to see anyone in the cold, dark corridor. From the amount everyone drank last night, she assumed their switching-bedrooms routine would be pushed back, just a bit. 

Then again, it’s not just anyone she sees in the corridor, his foot poised on the step leading to the attic. 

It’s Harry. 

Sleep-tousled, disheveled Harry — and as much as it makes her cringe to admit, he does look… more relaxed. 

At least until they make eye contact. 

For the life of her, Molly’s never seen anyone transform so quickly from chuffed to terrified. Any hint of relaxation slides from his face, his back going rigid. Harry freezes, stock-still, his white-socked foot still poised on the step, his eyes filled with the sort of blinding terror she hasn’t seen in seven months. If it weren’t for that, really, she’d find the whole thing humorous. But seeing as how she’d rather not see that look on his face again, she opts to take pity on him. 

After a bit of gentle prodding, that is. 

“Harry, dear,” Molly says softly; she’s certain Ginny’s still asleep, but it’s best not to chance it. “Wherever are you going so early in the morning?”

Harry swallows and awkwardly moves his jaw like he’s forgotten how to speak. “I’m, erm,” he starts, his voice torn between graveled with sleep and high-pitched with terror. “I’m… going to the toilet?”

Molly can’t help the smirk that crawls to her lips as she nods to her left. “You’ve just missed it, dear.”

Shit. 

Harry doesn’t say the word, but it’s written across his face, plain as day. He shifts his weight, his face blanching even more; she can almost see the wheels spin in his head as he thinks of another excuse. 

“I’ve… erm. Sleepwalked?” 

Molly’s smirk broadens to a full-on grin as she crosses her arms over her chest. Is that how he’s going to play it? In that case, she’ll keep up the ruse, too. 

“Oh? What an unfortunate affliction!” she exclaims, hoping she’s masking her amusement with feigned concern. “You’ll need to see a healer, Harry. How have you managed to make it down such steep steps in the first place? It’s remarkable you’ve stayed safe so far! In future, I really think—“

But when Harry cuts her off, it’s not with another excuse; it’s with a remark that’s hasty and blurted, but ringing with truth. He just blinks, sets his jaw, and gives her with an expression so endearing, so honest, that it makes her entire Christmas. 

“—I’m going to marry her, Mrs. Weasley,” he interrupts, removing his foot from the step as he turns to face her… and right in front of her face, the hollow fear in his eyes fades into sharp nobility. 

He draws a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, even as Molly’s head spins, even as her heart leaps to her throat, even as his words breathe more life into her soul than she’s felt in months. 

“So I’m sorry if this”— he gestures to Ginny’s room— “is weird. Really, I am. But please, believe me when I say I’ll do the right—”

But Molly has no idea if he says another word. She’s even too taken aback to correct him on the Mrs. Weasley bit. Because she can’t stand another bloody second of Harry having to justify himself… not when she’s thrilled that he’s in her life. That he’s in Ginny’s life. That he’s saved their lives. 

Not when he’s just confirmed what she’s always hoped and dreamed for: that he would truly, properly join their family. 

She’s not even aware of her feet running towards him, of the delighted squeal from her mouth as tears of joy stream down her face. All she feels is Harry relaxing against her shoulder, his arm awkwardly patting her on the back, even as she continues to jump and shriek.

“Not erm… anytime too soon?” he manages, through her hysterics. “I just didn’t want you to think—”

Oh, please! 

Molly pulls away from the hug with a sharp glare. “Harry,” she says firmly. “Of all the things I’ve thought about you, doing the wrong thing never even crossed my mind. So I’ll hear none of that. I just…” She trails off, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be so serious so fast! But of course I’m happy, dear. So happy!”

Harry gives her a fervent nod and a smile… and unless she’s very much mistaken, she can see the hint of a tear in his eye too as she pulls him in for another hug.

Marry her.

He’s going to marry her! Harry Potter is going to marry her daughter! He’s going to stand at the altar, his green eyes brimming, the cause of his scar a distant memory. Molly can envision Ginny in white, her red hair gorgeous in contrast, her face split into a smile she can’t contain. Or maybe none of that will happen. Right now, Molly doesn’t really care. All she knows is that they’re to be married... and the thought alone is absolutely beautiful, isn’t it? That something so lovely could come from a year so dreadful?

In truth, Molly did expect this — eventually. After all, she spent months observing how Harry looks at Ginny. She’s seen the softness in his eyes and the protectiveness in his jaw. It’s clear he loves her; Molly just never expected she’d be given permission to properly call him her son in the same year she lost one. 

And as she cries and hugs him, Molly is happy for two things: that her family will soon be even bigger and happier than she’d ever hoped... and that her daughter (approximately ten meters away) has always been a very heavy sleeper.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Serendipity - Part I. (Harry Styles)

a/n: i am BEYOND excited to share this story with you guys! i’ve been working on it for over a month now if not more and what started as just a oneshot, slowly grew into this massive fic. i really hope you’ll love the story of Harry and Lis bc im obsessed with them haha. please feel free to share your thoughts and reactions about the chapter and the fic itself!

pairing: Harry x OC (Annalise Lloyd)

word count: 8k

SERIES MASTERPOST  ⚫️ my masterlist  ⚫️  come and talk to me about Serendipity!  ⚫️ consider buying me a coffee!

Serendipity (n.) Finding something good without looking for it.

There are people who plot out their New Year’s Eve plan even months before the last day of the year, making sure they will be celebrating the upcoming year at the best party possible. And then there are the folks who just ignore it until the very last moment and end up spending at a random place with even more random people.

Harry Styles desperately wanted to be the first kind, but unfortunately often found himself falling into the second case scenario. With his busy schedule and endless ocean of his upcoming projects, he never really had time to think about the last party of the day and usually ended up just tagging along some of his friends wherever they headed to. This year was no different, having to work up until even the last few days of the year, Harry had little to no thought about where he would be when the clock strikes midnight.

Just about a day before it, one of his old high school friends, Griff hits him up with a text if he would want to join them for the celebration at the pub he opened not that long ago. Harry didn’t think twice to accept the invitation, finally checking one more thing off his list, so he won’t just stay at home, and pathetically fall asleep at ten.

It’s nothing big or fancy, Griff assures him in the morning when he rings his friend up to ask when he should arrive and what he should bring.

“Nothing, ey? Just come and ‘ave a good time with us,” Griff tells him, though he already knows Harry won’t show up empty handed.

 December 31st

A little before seven Harry opts for a quick shower before he dives deep in his wardrobe to find something to wear. He is torn between wearing a fancy outfit or something cozier, but eventually stands up for the latter, putting on a pair of light washed jeans, a simple white button up and a seaweed green knitted jumper under his coat. He doesn’t pay much attention to his hair, his curls falling around his head in a messy, warm brown halo. It’s been raining all day, it wouldn’t have had any use to try to tame them.

Slowly but surely, Harry feels the buzz in himself, excited to see his old friends and maybe meet some new people while having drinks and just relaxing. He grabs a bottle of fancy whiskey from his bar and heads out around eight.

Griff is one of the few people Harry stayed in touch with after his career launched so abruptly, the two of them often met up whenever Harry was around, having a pint together, just chatting up. Griff bought an old pub a few years prior and completely renewed it, opened at the beginning of the year, Harry was there at the opening party, he had way too much to drink, but he surely had a great time.

“There he is! My favorite arrogant son of a bitch!” Harry immediately hears as soon as he steps into the pub that’s already quite filled.

The tall lad makes his way through the groups of guests until he can envelop his old friend in a warm, brotherly hug as Harry chuckles at the name he just called him. Griff always loved that line from Harry’s song and never missed a chance to call him that. He doesn’t mind though, keeps that playful side of their friendship he always adored so much.

“Good to see you, mate,” Harry smirks at him. “Here, this is for yeh.” He holds out the pricey drink and Griff shakes his head at him.

“Told ya not to bring anything!” he sighs but accepts the gift anyway, knowing well Harry would just sneak into the back anyway and leave the liquor on his desk. “We ‘ave a nice evening ahead of us. Got food, drinks, everything’s on me, take what yeh want,” Griff assures him as the two of them walk further inside.

Harry sees a few familiar faces, high school friends, kids from around the neighborhood that are now grown adults, just like him, but there are quite a lot of guests he doesn’t know.

“C’mon, yeh need t’ ‘ave a welcome drink with me,” Griff grins as he pulls Harry to the bar and fills up two shot glasses generously. Harry doesn’t even bother to ask him what it is, he just takes the glass willingly and after they clink in the middle they both send it down.

Harry grimaces as the hard liquor burns down his throat, Griff never played around with the soft drinks, he knows what hits the best and fastest and Harry figures it’s one of those drinks that would have him crawling on the floor after two more shots.

It doesn’t take Harry long to mix and mingle, get into conversations and meet new people, just enjoying the welcoming and warm atmosphere of the party. He is pleased to see that people treat him just like any other guest, rather than a famous person and he is beyond thankful for that.

Near the bar, Griff has set up a quite rich buffet table filled with all kinds of snacks and food. It’s way past ten when Harry shuffles over there feeling his stomach growling. He grabs a paper plate and his eyes roam everything that’s set on the table. Humming to himself he decides to opt for the delicious looking fries, his mouth drools just at the sight of them, so he puts a generous amount to his plate before his eyes spot the bowl of peas. That’s exactly what he needs to go with the fries.

He goes a little overboard, but he couldn’t care less. Once he is satisfied with his meal he puts back the spoon that was sat in the bowl of peas, right when someone reaches for it. Glancing up his gaze meets a pair of warm brown eyes and a shy, but playful smile. Harry can’t stop himself from smiling instantly as the woman takes the spoon and fills her plate with peas. He looks down and sees that her plate is filled with the exact same things: fries and peas.

“Excellent choice,” he smirks teasingly and her eyes snap down to her plate before she sees the similarity on Harry’s plate. She lets out an airy chuckle before she tugs her chestnut colored, wavy locks behind her ears with her now free hand.

“Mother always told me to balance the junk out with something healthy,” she admits, the corners of her mouth curling up as she blinks a little shy under Harry’s burning gaze.

He always knew he had an eye for pretty things and he never dared to deny himself from admiring them once he laid his eyes on something he found breathtaking. She was by far the prettiest thing he has seen in quite some time, so he doesn’t shy away from taking in her figure in front of him. Delicious looking curves dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a sheer shirt with a top underneath it, the front tugged into the waist of the jeans. Her hair looks effortless, but he can tell she probably spent some time forming the natural looking waves before coming here. The thin eyeliner makes her eyes appear more cat-like and her long lashes dance around with each look she pays him.

“You want to—um, sit?” she stammers nodding towards an empty table near the buffet, a soft blush tainting her soft skin. Harry absolutely adores the hint of innocence in her features.

“’fcourse,” he nods and follows her.

The two of them move over to the table and sit down with their meal, Harry sneaking a fry into his mouth right away.

“’M Harry, by the way,” he says, realizing he hasn’t even introduced himself just yet. Some people tend to look at him weird whenever he does it, as if it should be common knowledge to know who he is, but he never takes it for granted. Luckily, she doesn’t find it funny or weird that he introduced himself.

“Annalise. But everyone just calls me Lis,” she explains and holds out a hand for him, which at first looks a little odd and he can tell she regrets the motion, but he appreciates it, even finds it cute. So before she can pull her hand back he takes it and gives it a soft shake. “So what brings you here tonight?” she asks as both of them digs into their food.

“Griff invited me, saved me last minute, didn’t have any plans.”

“How do you know him?”

Harry finds it amusing that she didn’t bring up that a famous person like him would probably have tons of invitations to fancy parties. He hates when people assume that his social life is blossoming at all times, packed with parties and events to attend every day.

“We went to high school together. Stayed in touch through the years.”

Lis nods with a small smile before her eyes return to the plate in front of her.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Oh, um… Well, Griff and I had a blind date like ages ago, but we both figured out pretty quickly we are never gonna be more than just friends. But that we are perfect for. Have been meeting up every once in a while. I was kind of in the same shoe like you, wasn’t planning on coming out tonight, but… I was forced to,” she admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Y’ don’t like to go out?”

“I—uh, don’t really have the time,” she answers, clearly a bit nervous at the topic so Harry decides to just drop it.

The two of them sit there, just talking and eating and with each passing moment Harry finds himself more and more enchanted by the woman sitting on his right. The way she rambles sometimes, how her nose scrunches whenever she is laughing hard, how she likes to keep tugging her hair behind her ears all the time, are the smallest things but they easily catch Harry’s attention.

Besides, she is not just the looks, also an amazing company. Easy to talk about anything, even the riskier things too. She doesn’t shy away from giving her honest and raw opinion, but also doesn’t attack if someone thinks differently. Instead, she is open to other point of views, seeking opportunities to learn and grow. It’s a mindset Harry values highly and feels like it’s hard to find it. But on this evening in his mate’s pub, he found a gem, it feels like.

The plates soon get swapped to beers and Lis is getting giddier with each gulp, which he finds amusing, especially because she lets her thoughts slip without thinking about them and it allows Harry to look into that pretty head of hers easier.

He doesn’t fail to notice how his heart flutters every time she touches his arm or hand whenever she is deep in a story. The warm touch of her soft hand is sending him into trembling and he is glad they are sitting because he surely would be having a hard time keeping himself up on his feet. She is just the kind of person that wraps others around her fingers without even trying or noticing.

Though it’s only been over an hour since he first laid his eyes on her, he feels like he has known her for ages. The connection built up fast and smoothly, sweeping Harry right off his feet. He’s got it bad for her and he already knows he wants to see her again once this night ends.

“Oh, it’s almost midnight!” Annalise gasps snapping out of her thoughts, a hand snapping to Harry’s upper arm. The crowd is starting to buzz, getting ready for the count down.

“C’mon, let’s get some champagne,” Harry tells her and helps her up from her seat.

They head to the bar and each of them grabs a flute filled with the sparkly alcohol. They stand a little to the side, but still mingled in the crowd of guests. Harry can feel his hands getting sweaty as he thinks about the countdown. Every fiber in his body is aching to kiss her, even though he knows it’s quite crazy knowing the fact they have known each other for only two hours. But he just can’t help it, she has a spell on him with just one look, making him act like a teenager in love.

Annalise peeks up at Harry with a lazy smile, the drinks have made her a little lightheaded, but she is nowhere near being drunk. Her thoughts are absolutely clear and they all focus on the man standing close to her.

Harry watches her bite into her bottom lip and he wonders if she is thinking about the same thing. If she’d be mad if he kissed her when the clock strikes midnight or slap him right across his face. He notices as she draws a deep breath, eyes looking around before they return to him.

“Get yo’ drinks, lads!” Griff shouts from somewhere behind the bar and those who haven’t picked up a glass quickly work on the problem.

Then the countdown begins.

“Ten!... Nine!... Eight!...”

Annalise glances up at Harry and her cheeks blush when she catches him already looking at her. She wishes she had her beer so she could hide in her glass from his burning eyes.

“Seven!... Six!...”

Harry turns so his whole body is facing her and takes just one tiny step towards her. When she doesn’t back away from him, he takes it as a sign that she might want the same thing as him.

“Five!... Four!...”

She looks straight up at him with a sheepish smile and pushes herself against him right when his free hand finds its way to her waist. She sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t move while Harry is aching to taste her plump, soft lips.

“Three!... Two!... One!... Happy New Year!”

The crowd cheers as one, guests are clapping and screaming, welcoming the new year with high hopes and full of planes for the new chapter that just started.

Harry and Annalise lock eyes and while everything around them is a full chaos, he feels like a bubble of silence and tranquility is surrounding them. Harry sucks in his breath, lips parted as he doesn’t break his gaze with hers. There’s a moment of hesitation, but the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he can’t let this moment go to waste.

Fuck it! He tells himself before he leans down and his lips meet hers in a soft, warm and breathtaking kiss.

He is a man who believes in magic, in things he can’t explain rationally, he is a man who doesn’t try to pull reality into everything when something odd happens. When his lips meet hers, he is swept right off his feet with just that tiny touch. It’s not a demanding kiss, very restricted and shy, but it still makes his insides tremble for her, almost falling to his knees right in front of her.

There’s a moment of hesitation from her side, when their lips are just touching in a little awkward way, but it fades into nothing before Harry could wrap his head around it, her lips parting as she lets him deepen the kiss, a soft moan slipping out of her throat that brings a knot to his stomach.

The moment is so vivid, raw and intoxicating, he wishes he could bottle it up and open it to have a taste of her anytime later, keep her in his pocket just to have her lips glued to his like this whenever he needs to be grounded or taken away from the world. His fingers dig into her waist, pulling her close to his body, hoping to just merge into her, become one with the woman in his arms.

She softly glides her hands up his arms, through his shoulders before they stop at the back of his neck, digging into his soft curls, while never breaking the kiss. Their lips stay melted together, tongues and teeth clashing, they are a hot mess in the first minutes of the new year.

The cheering slowly dies down and the usual buzzing of conversations and laughter replaces it, but the two of them are still busy with each other and it takes quite some time to pull themselves out of the bubble they created.

“Happy New Year, Lis,” Harry smiles down, lips swollen, eyes glistening from the joy that’s filling up his veins. She glances up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” she whispers, biting into her bottom lip, coming off the high this little make out session gave her.  

One hour passes by, then another and the party is starting to slowly die down. People are flaking out the door, the crowd is getting smaller with each door opening.

Harry and Annalise remain in the corner of the place after their kiss, a barrier that’s been noticeably present before has come down as Harry has his arm swung over the back of her chair and she lets herself lean against his side. There’s something so calming and tranquil in just being so close to each other, sharing thoughts and stories while his fingers graze on her shoulder gently and her head always falls to his shoulder when she laughs on something. He loves her laugh, it could easily light up any place and Harry can’t help but feel sorry for the people who don’t see her shine. So many guests didn’t get the chance to get to know her, but on the other hand, he is a bit selfish, he wants her all to himself. No one else should have the honor of making her laugh or bringing a smile to her perfect lips. He wants her all to himself, even if it makes him sound like a mad man.

After she leaves to the restroom, she comes back with her phone in her hands and a tired smile playing on her lips.

“I, uhh—called an Uber. I really should get going,” she tells him and he wants to make her stay. He wants this evening to last forever, but he can’t ask her to stay longer than she wants, so he just slowly nods.

“I’ll walk you out,” he offers, but it’s more like a fact.

The two of them find their coats on the packed rack, Annalise says goodbye to the handful of people she knows, hugging Griff before they head outside to wait for her car to arrive.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Harry mumbles, shoving his hands into his coat’s pockets, feeling like a nervous teenage boy talking to his crush. She glances up at him with a smile, but there’s something clouding her eyes he can’t really put his finger on.

“Me too,” she assures him, a pair of headlights turning the corner and they both look in the approaching car’s direction before facing each other. “It was really great meeting you, Harry. Take care of yourself in the new year,” she tells her, but he doesn’t like the weight of her words. It sounds like a proper goodbye, like she is bracing herself to never meet him again, but he can’t let that happen.

“Can I—Uh, can I have your number? I would love to take you out sometime.”

The car stops next to them and she nods in the driver’s way to let him know she’s the one he is supposed to pick up. Taking a step to the backseat, she looks back at Harry.

“I’m really sorry, Harry, but we can’t.”

Devastation washes over him, her words are like a punch into his stomach each. Why is she rejecting him? Did she not enjoy the evening? Did he say something stupid? She seemed to be having a great time, so why can’t he see her again?

“What? Are you sure? Because I really loved tonight and would love to see you again.”

Annalise opens the car door and shoots him an apologetic look. He has never felt this helpless in his life, than at that moment, looking at the woman of his dreams escape from his reach.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t get into… whatever it is you want from me. I really am sorry, I wish it was different.”

“But I just want to see you again. I thought… You didn’t feel like it was something special?” he breathes out, feeling the world crashing down on him with each passing moment.

“I did, but I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Take care, Harry,” she sighs, clearly not happy about her own actions and he doesn’t understand why she is fleeing away like this.

He stands there, completely frozen as she gets into the car and shuts the door open. Their eyes meet through the window one last time before the car starts moving and she falls out of his view. He stares after her until the very last moment, when the car disappears at the end of the street, leaving him in pieces from the major rejection he just suffered.

He stays out there until his nose and cheeks turn red and his ears are freezing off, part of him wishing that if he just waits she’s gonna magically reappear and tell him it was just a joke. He can’t believe he met such a wonderful creature and had to let her go like she didn’t flip his whole world upside down under just a couple of hours. Does she know how much of an effect she had on him?

She probably doesn’t, he thinks to herself, because then she wouldn’t have left so abruptly and without a trace for him to find her again.

When Harry returns to the pub, he is met with a tipsy Griff, shoving a pint into his hand immediately.

“Ay, saw you hanging with Lis all night!” he teases Harry, but the mentioning of her name just makes his heart ache. However, knowing that Griff is friends with her, he is ready to use him as a way to get to her.

“Yeah, hey, you have her number?” he asks, trying his best to look as innocent as possible, but Griff sees right through him, even with all the alcohol in his body.

“Sorry, mate. F’she didn’t give it to ya, I won’t go against her.”

“I’m begging you, Griff. I need to see her again!” he sighs in despair, ready to do anything he can to get to her.

“Y’not the first bloke to fall for her magic. I know what it feels like, but I can’t do anything, sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders, giving an apologetic look to his friend before he joins another conversation.

Harry could scream from the frustration, the urge to punch something or someone is growing with each passing moment, but he has to realize there’s nothing he can do at this point other than accept the fact that he met this wonderful woman, had the best night with her and then was forced to watch her walk out of his life before she could even become part of it properly.

Harry starts to realize that what he thought about heartbreaks is nothing compared to the feeling Annalise left in his heavy heart.

There has to be a solid reason for what she did. Or did not do.

Endless theories about Annalise flood his mind through the days following that night when he was forced to watch her leave on such a bitter and painful note. Harry couldn’t stop himself from making up the most ridiculous cases just to give himself a possible peace of mind, but neither of them brought him enough comfort to forget about her.

His best shot was that she had a boyfriend, or even worse, a husband. This was the only version that sounded somewhat real and believable, though he just knew she is not the type of woman to cheat on a significant other.

How would you know? You spent just one evening with her, she could be a serial killer for all you know! Harry’s rational side was always quick to shut him down when his thought swirled around the idea of knowing her well enough to assume anything about her.

As the days dragged by him in a painful pace, he slowly had to realize it’s going to be a question in his life he’ll never get an answer to, so he just has to learn to live with the thought of the woman that got away.

The end of January rolls around faster than he could comprehend, February comes and he finds himself spending his days mostly in the studio, cooking up new music. Studio sessions are his favorite. That’s his element, he feels safe and comfortable, surrounded by people he trusts and enjoys creating his art fully. In the new year, he has also been eager to pick up a new hobby so he has been trying himself out in knitting and painting recently, finding both of them just a tad bit too hard for him just yet, but they were enough to get his mind off of the one woman who was constantly occupying his thoughts following New Year’s Eve.

Sitting in an armchair in the studio, he and his bandmates are listening back to some recordings they did today and he is trying to find that one thing that keeps throwing him off whenever he hears the song.

“I think it’s great,” Mitch states once the recording ends, and Harry agrees, it is great, but not the best.

“Maybe we could tone down the keyboard a little through the bridge, give more space for the guitar,” he contemplates, but really, he is just shooting in the dark, not sure what it is that keeps him on edge about the song.

“Why don’t we have a break?” Sarah suggests with a warm smile, seeing how everyone is keen on leaving for a little, except Harry, who is still fixated on mastering the song. But he agrees to have the break, however while everyone gets ready to leave and grab something to eat from the diner that’s around the corner, Harry stays where he is, eyes glued to his notebook.

“You’re not coming?” Charlotte asks him and he just shakes his head.

“No, not that hungry.” He looks up and shoots them a short smile and though they all can tell he could use the time out, they know him enough already that he won’t leave before he finds what’s not right.

“Alright. We’ll be back in an hour,” Mitch informs him and he dismisses them all with a nod.

He stays right there, going through the lyrics a few more times, making tiny changes in hopes that it’ll fix it all, but he can feel himself growing frustrated. Doesn’t matter how hard he is trying, he realizes his brain needs a break. Letting out a defeated huff he leans back, looking around in the empty studio. He doesn’t feel particularly hungry, but he could use something to snack on. So grabbing his coat he locks up the studio and heads out to the nearby Tesco they usually run out during sessions.

He is still humming the melody to himself when he walks in, a pair of sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, his famous curls hidden under a green beanie. He doesn’t bother to get a cart or basket, just strolls inside and roams down the aisles, trying to decide what he desires.

He settles on some kind of canned tea and a protein bar, but before he heads towards the cash registers, he wanders down the aisle where they keep cereals, looking around aimlessly. It’s the middle of the day on a weekday, most people are at work at this hour, so just a few other customers are lingering around, filling their carts. At first, he doesn’t pay any attention to the figure a little further down the aisle, his eyes are glued to the shelves, but then he just mindlessly glances to his left, his brain not even processing what, or who he is seeing at first. Then he takes a double take and his stomach drops to the tiled floor when he recognizes the woman, deep in her thoughts to decide which cereal to buy.

Annalise is standing just a few meters away from him, looking just as beautiful as he remembered, wearing a pair of simple jeans, light blue sneakers and a white jacket, her hair is in a loose ponytail on the top of her head.

“Lis?” he calls out, as if he thinks she is just a ghost. Taking a few steps closer he watches as her eyes fall from the products on the shelves to him, then they widen and her lips part in shock.

“Harry? Wha-what are you doing here?” she asks and Harry is quick to read the panic out of her tone as she looks around cautiously.

“I’m… shopping?” he answers with a soft chuckle, holding up the items in his hands.

“Haven’t seen you around here.”

“The studio we use is nearby, I drop by sometimes. But today is clearly my lucky day.” Even though her reaction is giving him doubts, he can’t hide his joy upon seeing her again, fate clearly playing on his side this time.

“Uh, yeah?” she lets out an anxious chuckle, her eyes often wandering off him, as if she is waiting for someone to show up and it just fuels Harry’s rich theories about her.

“So, are you here with your boyfriend?” he boldly asks, deciding to just go for it. Annalise’s eyes widen once again, but not in a way that makes him think he just busted her, it’s more of a confused one.

“Boyfriend? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you basically ran away from me that night, I figured you had someone and that’s why you didn’t want to give me your number.” He tries his best not to sound petty or bitter, though that’s exactly what he’s been feeling ever since she left that night.

“Harry, that’s… not the case.”

“Okay, so does this mean you’ll give me your number this time?” he tries and he is so busy with her presence, he doesn’t even notice when a smaller frame runs past him down the aisle.

“Mommy! I want this!”

At first, he doesn’t even register that the little boy is talking to Annalise, he dismisses his presence, eyes still fixated on her, but then her gaze leaves him and turns down to the boy, holding up a bar of chocolate.

“Honey, that’s too big. Choose something smaller, alright?”

It takes Harry a few moments to put one and one together. This kid just ran up to her, called her mommy and most likely not on accident since she answered him, very much talking to him like his mother. Though Harry can’t see his own face, he knows it fell, shock completely taking over him as his thoughts finally add up. Annalise looks back at him in panic, completely puzzled about what to do or say.

“Benji, go get another one, a smaller one while I talk to my friend here,” Annalise softly tells the boy.

He turns to Harry, eyes meeting his as he cocks his head to the side, examining the shocked adult standing in front of him.

“Who’s this?” he blurts out.

“Just a friend, alright? Go get your chocolate,” she urges. Benji gives Harry another look before nodding and running off, leaving them alone once again in the cereal aisle. “Harry, I-I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Are you married?” is his first question, taking her by surprise.

“What?”

“The father. Is he your husband?” he urges, eager to clear the picture. Annalise shakes her head.

“No, we were never even married.”

He feels relief washing over him. At least at this point he doesn’t feel like a homewrecker. If he found out she wasn’t only a mother but also married, and that she cheated on the dude with him, that would have crushed him. But it’s one less thing to worry about on a long list.

“Okay, it’s fine. You are not married, it’s all good,” he breathes out and it brings her a smile through this absurd situation.

“You thought I was married?”

“Or at least had a boyfriend, yeah,” he nods, hands on his hips as he licks his lips. He surely had a mini panic attack, but he can feel the life coming back into his body.

“Do I come off like the kind to cheat that easily?” she asks with raised eyebrows, but she didn’t take it as an offense, she more like finds it funny rather than hurtful.

“No, not at all! I was just trying to figure out why you rejected me and this was my best shot!”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just… I didn’t know how to tell and I didn’t really think you would want to see me again after that night.”

“I think I made it clear that I wanted to when I asked for your number.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you just wanted a hookup and that’s just not what I can do.”

“Because of…” he gestures towards the boy that jolted down the aisle just a few minutes ago.

“Because of Benji, yeah.”

“Alright, it’s understandable, but I did not just want a hookup, and that’s still not what I want,” he clears, his words certainly surprising her. This is definitely not what she was expecting when she came down to get groceries today.

“Harry…” she breathes out, already feeling guilty that she is about to turn him down once again. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a single mother with a six year-old and you are… you.”

“I don’t see your point,” he truthfully answers.

“I’m not some model you chatted up at some award show, who is living her best life, traveling the world just like you. My days consist of work, doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking, doing first grade homework, going to football practice and watching cartoons. We are polar opposites.”

“No, just our lifestyles, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get closer.”

“Is that really what you want?”

Harry is about to answer right when Benji emerges again, proudly holding up a bar of KitKat in his hand this time.

“This one! This one!” he declares, stopping next to Annalise.

“Okay, put it in,” she nods and the little boy throws the chocolate into the cart with a beaming smile. Her eyes flicker back to Harry, who is now staring down at Benji, who is seemingly not that interested in him at the moment, his attention is more focused on the cereals on the shelves.

She is aware she can’t really push this conversation, but she also doesn’t want Benji to hear it.

“Benji, can you get me three apples? I’ll go get paper towels in the next aisle, alright?”

“Three?” he asks holding up three fingers to make sure he heard her right.

“Yes.”

Benji nods and runs off once again, while Annalise grabs a random box of cereal off the shelf and starts pushing her cart, Harry walking along with him.

“It’s nice that you want to prove that you are fine with whatever baggage I come with, but I’m not stupid, Harry. I know I’m not the jackpot and I’m not naïve, I’m not trying to make myself believe that I’m easy to date when I’m clearly not.”

“You act like you are the only single parent out in the dating field. I genuinely don’t think that it’s that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, that’s what you are saying now. But then we would get more involved, you’d grow frustrated that I can’t just go after you whenever you feel like it, or that I would have to cancel on plans because Benji is sick or has homework to do that he needs help with. Or that my Friday night consists of playing board games, then watching whatever cartoon Benji is keen on seeing and I’m in bed by ten while you probably spend these nights out with your friends, hopping from one bar to the other. And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t, that’s exactly what you should be doing at your age… at our age. But for me, it’s just different.”

She is not talking just out of theories. She has tried to date, several times, but it was always kind of doomed from the beginning. Men in their mid-twenties don’t want to be a stand-in dad, though it’s completely not what she expects. But as time went by, they all grew tired of having to deal with a kid in the relationship and they all ended up leaving and she can’t even blame them. It’s not what they want in life at this point, but she can’t be what they wanted her to be so slowly but surely she gave up on finding a man before she turns thirty and her peers start to get into the whole idea of having a family that’s already been her reality since she was eighteen.

And the situation is even more complicated with Harry. An international rockstar is definitely not the right person for her and vice versa. She can only imagine what some lowlifes would think when they found out he is dating a single mother. People can be cruel for no damn reason and she is definitely not in the right mindset to be humiliated just because she is a mother.

The two of them move down to the next aisle so she can grab the paper towels along with some dish soap. Harry is keen on making her understand that he is still very much interested and he has nothing against her being a mother. It was just a little shocking to find out this way, instead of hearing about it from her.

“I think you have an unreasonable picture in your head of what my life is like,” he explains. “Yes, I do travel a lot and I go to parties, but it’s not what I do most in life. And I’m not expecting you to turn your whole life around for me.”

“Yeah, but dating me is kind of me asking you to turn your whole life around for us,” she simply says and he is stunned at her words, having nothing to bring up against them. “Look,” she sighs. “I appreciate the effort and everything, but I want to save you the time, just like I originally wanted to. I know that it seems reasonable now, but once you get involved, it’s a whole different world, I’m telling you. And while I would love to give you the chance to prove me wrong, I still have to think about Benji. I can’t just drag someone into his life and then have them leave when they figure out it’s not what they want after all. He needs stability around him and it’s enough that he can’t get that from his father.”

Harry has a million questions roaming in his head that he is dying to ask. Mostly about the father, because if he is not in the picture, he can’t imagine what kind of scumbag he is for leaving someone like her. But he keeps them all to himself, especially when Benji appears again with the three apples, putting them into the cart with a proud smile. The boy turns to Harry this time, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Who are you?” he asks. Harry looks down at him and pushes everything else into the back of his mind as he hunches down a bit, holding out his hand for the boy, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

“I’m Harry, your mum’s friend. Nice to meet you.”

The boy doesn’t hesitate to take his right held out, his small hand almost getting lost in Harry’s big palm as they shake hands like two adults. Harry is stunned by how confident he is, unlike most kids his age.

“I’m Benjamin Lloyd,” the boy introduces himself smiling and Harry can see the resemblance now clearer than anything. His smile is certainly his mother’s and the shape of his eyes along with his chin are the exact same as Annalise’s, leaving only a few traits that must have been inherited from his father.

Benjamin lets go of Harry’s hand and turns back to his mother completely unbothered by the man he just met.

“Mum, are we staying on the playground a little?” he asks as they all move down the aisle, heading to the cash register.

“Uh, yeah, we can stay for a little, but you need to do homework when we get home. Mrs. Conrad sent me all the work you missed today so we have to catch up on everything. You got away with faking sickness this morning, but you are doing the work you missed.”

Benji doesn’t fuss about having to do work, he knew this would happen when he faked to have a tummy ache, he nods understanding the importance of doing his homework and Harry is amazed by how great his behavior is. Most kids his age would have thrown a tantrum over what Annalise just said, but not Benji. He is like a small adult, Harry thinks.

“I honestly don’t see why you still have to push me away completely. Did you not enjoy talking with me?” Harry continues as they stand in line, Annalise putting everything to the belt from the cart while Benji is busy playing around the poles that separate the lines.

“Of course I did!” she sighs.

“So then why can’t we just continue? See where it goes?”

“Because that’s just not how things work for me,” she says with a soft, sad chuckle.

“What, you can’t have friends?” Harry asks innocently as Annalise finishes packing, puts a divider on the belt so Harry can put his items behind hers.

“Oh, so you just want to be friends?” she asks raising her eyebrows, seeing through him easily. Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, a cheeky smile stretching across her face that makes her chuckle.

“For now, yeah?” he tries to sound convincing, but it’s more of a joke.

The cashier starts to scan her items so she pushes the cart over to the end and starts packing everything back, Benji still climbing on the poles, completely oblivious to the conversation happening around him, or he just chooses not to listen.

“You are unbelievable,” she shakes her head at the man in the line. The cashier finishes up with her items and she taps her card on the terminal, pushing the cart away a little.

Harry is scared that she’ll flee the moment she gets the receipt and leaves before she could go after her, but for his biggest surprise, she just pushes the cart a little away from the cash register and starts packing her items into totebags. Benji runs up to her and she gives him his KitKat without a word, the boy happily tearing the packaging open, snacking on the chocolate.

Harry is quick to finish with his items, catching up with Annalise as the three of them head out of the supermarket.

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, I haven’t felt like this with anyone in a long time, Lis. I loved talking to you, I feel like we had a connection, and I think you felt it too. I would hate to waste whatever we had so I’m offering you my friendship. I want to hang out, spend time with you, just as two adults enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more, if that’s what you really want for now. And we can see where it heads later. How does that sound?”

They reach her car and Benji runs to the backseat, tearing the door open while Annalise opens the trunk and she is surprised to see Harry help her pack her bags into the car, but she doesn’t protest.

“I really don’t know…” she sighs.

“Come on! Just friends. Give it a try! I have a great feeling about it and I promise to be very careful. I understand that you need boundaries because of Benji and I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable in any way. But you do have to realize that you need to open up at one point. You can’t use him as an excuse forever.”

“I’m not using him as an excuse!” she points out, but she can feel how that’s not the whole truth.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lis,” Harry smirks, pulling his phone out of his coat’s pocket and unlocking it he holds it out for her once she has closed the trunk. “I’m just asking for your phone number, not to travel the world with me. You can decide to block me later if you change your mind, it’s nothing serious, alright?”

Annalise’s hesitation is clearer than the light and in any other case, he would take offence at it, but not with her. Harry is keen on proving to her that he meant everything he said and that he is willing to take a chance with her.

Chewing on the inside of her cheeks, she glances back at Benji, who has climbed into his seat in the back of the car. She is fighting with herself, bringing up all pros and contras until she finally caves in. Grabbing the phone from Harry’s hand she types her number in and gives herself a ring so she can save his number as well. She hands the device back and Harry’s smile is so wide, she almost wants to punch him in the face, but she can also feel the excitement running through her veins.

“Great. You won’t regret it, Lis,” Harry beams shoving his phone back into his pocket. His hand reaches for her arm and gives it a gentle squeeze as he doesn’t want to try anything further with her at the moment.

“I better not,” she mumbles shaking her head before turning around to buckle Benji in. When that’s done she pays one last glance at Harry who stands at the car next to hers, watching her get behind the wheel and back out from her spot. He waves at her happily and she just nods in his way before turning around the car and driving away.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Harry rages through the phone, his anger only met with a soft chuckle from Griff on the other end of the call.

“Mate, I told ya, s’not my place! She didn’t tell ya, so I didn’t either.”

“You saw how hooked I was on her! You could have, no, no… you should have told me!”

Harry was quick to run back to the studio and called Griff right away to load everything out on him. He felt betrayed that his friend didn’t let him know this small little detail even after seeing him all crushed after she left without a trace to find her. He gets his reasoning, he does, but it still doesn’t stop him from being so bloody mad at his mate.

“Sorry! I really am sorry! But I know how protective she is over Benji. I was not gonna betray her like tha’.”

Harry takes a deep breath, paying up and down the hallway in the studio, trying his best to calm his nerves. It’s an unfortunate situation as a whole, he sees that clearly, but the frustration how it had to go down at the end is getting the best out of him for sure. He is not mad at one specific person, because everyone was doing what they thought to be the best, but everything added up to be such a shitty outcome, or at least on Harry’s side.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he huffs again, putting aside his burning emotions.

“Okay, okay. Sorry to snap at you like that, it was just… a lot.”

“I get it, don’ worry about it,” Griff assures him, glasses clinking behind him somewhere, he is probably working at the pub as they are speaking. “She gave ya her number now, right?”

“Yeah, she didn’t want to, but I talked her ears off,” Harry chuckles lowly. He could still feel the excitement that rushed through him when she finally gave in.

“M’happy for ya, mate. But please be bloody careful. She doesn’t need any shit right now, has enough on her plate.”

“I know. I’m just trying to be her friend first, that’s all.”

“Alright. Swing by the pub sometime soon, if ya want.”

“Sure thing. Bye Griff,” Harry smiles before ending the call.

Walking back into the recording room, all eyes snap up to him and he stops in his track.

“What?”

“The hell was that about?” Sarah questions, asking in the name of everyone in the room. They all just heard his rage outside and now are dying to know what it was about.

“I uhh—I found her,” he simply says and watches all his bandmates gawk back at him with wide eyes.

“What? Did you like, hire a private investigator or something?” Charlotte asks, making Harry chuckle as he shakes his head no.

“No, I ran into her at Tesco. Well, her and her… son.”

His last word washes out the whole room, everyone stops breathing for a moment as they stare back at Harry who has that ‘yeah, you heard me right’ look on his face.

“A son?” Mitch asks snapping out of his shock. “Like a proper kid?”

“How do you not have a proper kid?” Harry asks him with a look.

“I don’t know! I’m just… surprised. How old is the kid?”

“Like six or seven. She said something about being a first grader.”

“Didn’t you say she is a year younger than you?” Sarah asks, as everyone is doing the silent math in their head.

“She is, with one year. Or that’s what she told me.”

“That makes her, what, like eighteen when she had the kid? And what about the father?” Charlotte trails, still trying hard to put the picture together.

“She didn’t say much, but from what I understood, he is not really in the picture. So at least she is not married or something,” Harry adds, still open about the relief he is feeling about that information.

“This shit is twisted,” Sarah huffs. “So what’s gonna happen now? Did you ask for her number again?”

“Ask?” Harry chuckles bitterly. “I begged, Sarah. I was ready to be on my knees in the middle of a bloody Tesco.”

A round of laughter runs through the room and the mood finally eases a little after the shock that just set in. It wasn’t the fact that Annalise had a son that sent everyone over the edge, but rather that she didn’t say a single word about it and how it all surfaced.

“And did she give it to you?” Mitch prompts and Harry nods, a shy smile stretching on his lips as the two girls start clapping and cheering.

They all saw his long face after New Year’s Eve, it couldn’t be missed how he was moping around for weeks. He told them all about this girl he met, who completely blew his mind just before breaking his heart. Now that she was found and gave him just a small crumble of information about her to him that makes him able to contact her, the change is visible. That little sparkle in his eyes is back and that’s all his friends wanted to see.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Sarah asks as Harry walks over to one of the armchairs and makes himself comfortable.

“Now… I’ll try not to scare her off. Hopefully she won’t push me away and at least let me be her friend.”

“Friend? Is that what you want to be?”

“Of course not,” he sighs, his head dropping to the back of the armchair. “But this is all I can do for now.”

They all just nod, tasting his words and letting everything that just happened sink in. Harry is doing the same, he has a lot to think about and figure out, but there’s one thing he is one hundred percent sure about: he will not give up on Annalise.

NEXT PART

-

TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@stylesfics-xx​​ @dontworrysunflower​​ @mariamuses​​ @bookwormandtea​​

[marvel-sluts]

Christmas with the avengers

pairing: avengers x teen!reader, Peter Parker x reader.

warnings: maybe some swearing?

summary: your first Christmas with both the avengers and with Peter, what could possibly go wrong?

a/n: merry Christmas everyone! this is absolute shit but I wanted to write something Christmassy, I hope you all like it!

******************

you hadn't been part of the avengers long when you started dating Peter, causing this to be your first Christmas with the both of them.

you get dressed in the matching Christmas jumpers you and Peter both had, because apparently it was tradition in the avengers tower to wear Christmas jumpers on Christmas day, so you had both agreed to wear the matching jumpers. (see gif)

you pulled on a pair of jeans and tied your hair up in a ponytail, with a small peice tinsel wrapped around your hairband. you did light makeup with f/c (fave colour) of eyeshadow.

you walk out of your room in the avengers tower and bump into Thor and Loki, heading to the kitchen.

"hello lady y/n, you look ravishing. I love your jumper." Thor said smiling at you.

"thanks Thor, you look good too." you say smiling at him.

"I like the tinsel" Loki muttered to you on the way past. you and him had become quite close over the past few months you have spent at the tower, but it still shocked you that he would say something like that with Thor around. normally he was a lot quieter in the shadow of his older brother.

"thanks loki." you say cheerfully, getting into the lift with them.

when the three of you get to the living room and kitchen you go your separate ways. Thor to the kitchen, no doubt to raid the cupboards of poptarts and you and Loki to the living room. you take a seat next to your boyfriend and smile at him.

"you look amazing" Peter says, looking at you lovingly.

"so do you." you say giggling.

"I know" he said, pretending to do a hair flick. but failing miserably and accidentally hitting himself in the face.

you laugh at him, and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that you can never resist. "sorry love" you say before kissing his cheek where he hit himself.

both of you head to the kitchen and after collectively deciding on cereal for breakfast, you go back into the living room with bowls full.

just as you both sat down on the sofa at your previous spots, Tony came in with Morgan trailing behind him, also wearing matching Christmas jumpers. "Merry Christmas everyone!" he says, sitting next to Steve and Bucky on the sofa.

Morgan runs over to you and attemps to scramble onto your lap. after realising what she was trying to do you help her get up and she sits on you happily.

Morgan had begun to like you in the short time you had been here, you were good with kids and would often play with her causing you two to become immediate friends. she was your little partner in crime and the pair of you would often adopt Loki to help prank Tony and Steve.

"I know its Christmas but there is a lot to get done, Pepper, Wanda and Bucky are on cooking duty first and then we will rotate, check this peice of paper that was kindly provided by Bruce for the timetable. everything else should have been done already."

"I can't wait to see what I got from Santa!" Morgan squealed excitedly, eyeing the pile of presents under the tree.

"I'm offended" you say dramatically, "are you not exited to see what I got you?" you asked laughing.

"yep, I'm exited for all the presents!" she said before getting off of your lap and running into the kitchen to 'help' with the cooking.

after half an hour of chatting and crimes cookies Nat decided she was bored.

"who wants to play Christmas games?" she shouts holding up a box. you glance at the box before bursting out laughing.

"o-deer! really?" Sam said, laughing at what happened last time you played it.

"do you remember Rhodes last time, he looked like he was going to take off." Scott said laughing.

"erm, excuse me. but who won?" Rhodes said pointing to himself. "this guy, so don't get ahead of yourselves." he said.

"I personally think I'm gonna win this time" you say sticking your tongue out at Rhodes.

"not gonna happen doll" Bucky called from the kitchen.

"just watch me win" you say.

everyone comes in from the kitchen and takes a break from cooking to play.

you all take turns having the antlers and throwing the hoops, when both you and Peter had finished you both collapsed on the sofa. he put his arm around you and you nestled your face in his chest, breathing in his warm sent.

after Nat announced that the winner was Wanda (everyone thinks she used her powers, although she swears that she didn't) you changed around kitchen duty, next up it was you, Peter and Steve.

Vision had mysteriously disappeared from the cooking rota, despite the fact that Wanda had been helping his cooking skills he couldn't seem to get any better.

you got started on the brussel sprouts, how anyone could eat them was beyond you but apparently some people *cough* Sam *cough* liked them.

Peter had gotten started on the stuffing, making the mixture and rolling it into balls. whenever he would walk past u he would kiss you on the forehead, or whatever part of you that was facing him at the time. Steve was watching this behaviour and wasn't sure to find it cute or disgusting.

Steve was getting busy with the mashed potatoes and checking on the turkey every once in a while.

a gasp echoed through the kitchen as you burnt your hand on the oven attempting to check on the turkey per Steve's request.

"what happe-" pete asked trailing off when he say u nursing your hurt hand, "oh baby, are you okay? did you burn it? don't worry it will be okay. I'll get some ice for it" he said, completely freaking out.

you watching him frantically searching for some ice for a minute before saying "don't worry petey, it's fine. it's only a burn. and it doesn't hurt that badly" you say giggling at how concerned he was.

"but what if it gets infected? or if it swells up?" he asked finally managing to find some ice and putting it on your hand.

"honestly, you kids." Steve says rolling his eyes and chuckling. "are you sure you are alright y/n?" he asks, his eyebrows knitting in concern.

"yeah I'm sure" you say, smiling up at him.

"okay" he says checking on the turkey himself.

you checked the clock "our shift ended five minutes ago! those little fuckers didn't tell us!" you say taking off the apron. you go into the living room and find Morgan and Loki laughing on the sofa.

"I'm truly sorry Lady y/n, it was my shift next and I didn't want to do it." Loki said, smirking at you.

"your not sorry" you say.

"no, your right, I'm not" he said, grinning again.

you roll your eyes and resume your earlier position on the sofa, Peter sitting next to you.

"secret santa!" came a shout from the doorway, you looked up to see that it was Tony. he was carrying the secret santa presents in his arms and Clint and Rhodes were behind him also carrying armfuls of presents.

Morgan jumped up from her seat next to Bruce squealing excitedly.

"don't we have to wait for our special guests to get here?" Pepper asked eyeing Tony.

"oops I forgot, yes we do" Tony said putting down the presents bashfully.

"what special guests?" you ask, having not heard about this at all.

"you will see" Tony said, with a shit eating grin.

about ten minutes later a knock was heard at the door.

Vision gets up to answer it and you soon here a shout from the doorway.

"do not fear, Christmas is saved. for the overrated king of wakanda and his amazing and beautiful genuis sister is here!"

"SHURI!" you and Peter both yell in unison.

"it is I" she said flicking her hair (and actually succeeding) before running to hug the two of you.

"not that anyone has noticed but I'm also here" Doctor Strange says from the doorway.

Tony and Bruce look up from talking to T'Challa and go over to shake hands with Strange.

"presents now?" Morgan asks, tugging on Tony's trouser leg.

"yes sweetie, go over and open some of them." Tony says. patting her on her head and sending her on her way.

everyone gathers around the tree and watches Morgan open her presents from santa. when she has finished you give her a wrapped package with some art supplies in. she jumps up and hugs you with a massive grin on her face.

then someone (you guess Scott but your not sure) yells secret santa.

everyone gets the presents they had gotten for their secret santa, you had gotten Thor and after asking for help from Peter you ended up making him something. when it was time for you to give thor his present you presented a wrapped up package. it was a knitted jumper with tiny hammers and lightning bolts on it.

he opened the present with a massive grin on his face and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

"thanks you Lady y/n, I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"your welcome Thor" you said, smiling up at him.

when everyone was done with the secret santa, you had received a few scented bath bombs and a silver snake ring from Natasha, some people trickled out to go and help in the kitchen.

you handed Peter a package wrapped in red paper, "here you go Petey" you say.

he takes it and opens it, you had given him a watch with the millennium falcon on the inside of it.

"thanks baby, I love it!" he says hugging you tightly and kissing you square on the lips. "you will get yours tonight" he says with a grin.

not even five minutes had passed when a yell was heard from the kitchen.

"you idiot, you were meant to take out the turkey while we were opening the presents!" Sam yelled.

"well its not my fault that the timer didn't go off!" Clint yelled back.

"FRIDAY, did you set the timer like I asked you to?" Sam asked.

"you never asked me to set a timer sir" FRIDAY replied.

"shit" Sam muttered kicking the table in frustration.

after a few minutes of chaos Steve managed to find a ham in the back of the fridge, everyone decided that the ham was the best thing to have so you cooked it up and it didn't get burnt.

everyone gathered around the table, the food was delicious, and you almost couldn't tell that there wasn't a turkey.

"hey Bucky, could you pass me the potatoes please?" you asked. piling your plate high with good food.

once everyone was done eating you all sat in the living room and put on a Christmas movie.

you and Peter wanted to watch the muppets Christmas Carol but you both were outvoted and you ended up watching the Nightmare before Christmas.

Tony got the movie set up and you curled into Peter. an hour later when the movie was finished you were still in the same position, you were very happy next to Peter with him stroking your hair lovingly. you buried your head further into his chest until you had to upstairs to bed.

Peter offered to carry you and you glad fully accepted, completely worn out from the chaos filled day.

when you had both gotten up to your bedroom he presented a wrapped up gift from his pocket.

"I'm not done with you yet y/n" he says with a grin on his face.

you open the package and inside find a box. upon opening it you find a beautiful silver heart locket. you open up the locket to find that Peter had already put a picture inside, it was a picture of you and him on Valentines day, on the date that he had set up for the two of you.

"omg, Pete I absolutely love it!" you say with a massive grin on your face, "can you put it on me?" you ask.

"turn around" he says, taking the necklace from you and clasping it up. "all done"

he spins you around and you land in his arms, he kisses you passionately and you kiss back just as fiercely. the kiss was filled with passion and promises.

that night you fall asleep in his arms, with a massive grin on your face.

you couldn't have wished for a better Christmas, even if it did include burnt turkey.

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: Thank you to the lovelies who nominated Strange Tides, Baby Blue, and moi for the 1D Craft Awards 🌊🐚 If you have the time and feel like spreading some love, go vote for your fave fics and authors here ✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 5! x

Tuesday, 7 July

“I’d say you’re doing quite alright for someone who has just gotten into knitting,” Bessie said, looking at Y/N’s creation over the rim of her glasses. “What technique did your mother teach you again, sweets? ‘Cause you’re a natural.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Y/N answered honestly, taking her blue square back. “Are there different types of knitting styles?”

Bessie’s laugh was warm and joyous, looking out at Camila, Florence, and Barb, who smiled at Y/N. Though Y/N had been scared of being judged by these women for not knowing how to properly knit at first, there was nothing but kindness and appreciation in their eyes. It seemed they really were just happy to see the beginning of Y/N’s knitting journey. They had all been beyond helpful, taking their time and being patient with her as she learned the ins and outs of knitting. She was still not sure what she was making, but she was knitting a bunch of squares to start off, and she would see where to go from there.

“So,” Florence said, turning her attention back on the knitting in front of her. “What do you think of St Ives thus far, Y/N? Is it living up to your expectations?”

“You’ve been here a month now,” Bessie said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. And Y/N couldn’t believe it herself. Time had flown by so incredibly fast it did not seem quite real. It seemed like only yesterday she had checked in here and met Bessie, or when she ran into Harry and started their little thing. It just did not seem real that time had gone by this fast. In a month’s time, summer would almost be over and she would have to start thinking about checking out and finding out what to do next. Going back home to Winchester was out of the question, but she didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

Y/N took a deep breath, telling herself not to think about that now. Debating what to do after she checked out of The Roaming Crab Inn could be done at another time, not while she was knitting with four lovely ladies. For someone who had lived her whole life with a plan laid out for her near and far future, Y/N was awfully relaxed about the prospect of the chapter of her life that would start once she left St Ives in August.

“I love it here,” she answered truthfully, finding some red yarn so she could start knitting a red square. “I’ve met so many people while staying here, it’s been amazing.”

“It’s been fun to meet Harry’s family as well,” Barb said. “If your name comes up in conversation when we’re at the chess club, Jessa won’t shut up. She’s so proud Harry’s dating such a lovely lady.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, both because she took pride in that compliment but also because she knew Jessa wouldn’t think of her like that when she and Harry “broke up” later.

“Speaking of people you’ve met, my son tells me you went to the pub with him, Harry, and their little group.” Florence looked at Y/N, smiling. “Did he invite you to his birthday this Saturday?”

“Yeah, Harry told me we were invited,” Y/N said.

“Dax and Harry have been close ever since Harry came to St Ives. He even slept at the lighthouse for close to a month after Harry’s father got lost at sea.”

Y/N stopped knitting. When she looked over at Florence again, the older woman was already knitting so she didn’t notice Y/N’s sudden interest. She looked over at Bessie who only gave Y/N a nod as to confirm what Florence had just said, and in that second Y/N was very happy Bessie knew her and Harry’s relationship was only pretend.

“The day they found the empty boat was absolutely horrible. All of St Ives in mourning. Remember it like it was yesterday,” Camila went on, sighing dramatically. “Devastating time.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Bessie chimed in. “It is such a sad time to reminisce about.”

“Yes, no reason we should think about such things,” Barb went on. “I’m sure it’s a touchy subject for Y/N as well, seeing as Harry is so close to her.”

Y/N focused entirely on her knitting, not really wanting to say anything in regards to Harry’s dad. She knew he died, but she hadn’t really questioned how that happened. For some reason, Y/N had assumed he had been sick, but knowing something happened to Harry’s dad while he was at sea… she didn’t know how to feel. Was it worse to have a loved one be sick and know the end was inevitable and close, or to have them ripped suddenly and unexpectedly out of your life?

“I’m sorry for bringing the mood down, girls,” Florence said, letting a bright laugh escape her lips. “Maybe we need some tea to brighten up our mood some?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Bessie said, getting up from her seat. “Y/N, dear, would you give me a helping hand?”

“Of course.”

Y/N got up and followed Bessie inside to the kitchen, the three others chattering away as the two started making a new batch black tea. Bessie busied herself with finding some mugs, her sugar, and milk, as Y/N just stood beside the kettle and waited for it to finish boiling. With her arms crossed, her mind wandered off to all those times Harry mentioned his dad and his death, not once had he mentioned he was sick, so Y/N didn’t know where she had gotten that idea from. She knew it was not something she should be speculating or thinking about, but right then, she could not help herself.

Instead of thinking about something so tragic, she forced herself to think about Dax’s birthday party the coming weekend. Harry had only mentioned it in passing yesterday, but Y/N was already looking forward to it. There wasn’t much else she did now anyway besides knit, read for the UCAT, and lie about being in a relationship. Throwing some partying into that mix seemed like a bit of fun.

Saturday, 11 July

“I’m about to do it,” Y/N said, eyes on her laptop screen in front of her. Her white summer dress blew a little in the wind from the open window beside her, but the breeze was welcomed, as it always was in Cornwall.

Harry looked up from where he was going through some bills on his couch, wearing his red knitted jumper along with a pair of short dungaree shorts. Y/N was sat on the other side of his tiny house in the windowsill beside his bed. It was big enough to fit her, her books, and laptop, it was kind of her spot now.

“I’m really about to do it,” Y/N repeated, more for her own sake than for Harry’s - who was a little confused and sat with his mouth open, waiting for her to elaborate – because she simply could not believe she was doing this.

“What?” Harry asked after a while, and when Y/N met his eyes, he blinked a few times as if readying himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Apply for the UCAT exam.”

Last week, Y/N had taken Harry up on his offer to study for her UCAT exam at his place. She came over Friday, and upon seeing her walking up to his house around 8:30, Harry walked toward her on the gravel path. She didn’t know why, but she liked that he did that instead of just standing stoic and just watching her. It made her almost feel urgently desired at his house when he did that.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted as they fell into step beside one another. “Report time?”

“Yeah, just walking around and checking everything.”

She smiled. “And so you walked over here to check on me?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Y/N wanted to laugh, but Harry was looking at the gravel in front of him, lips sucked into his mouth as if telling himself to shut up. He walked her all the way into his house, telling her to make herself feel at home. She sat down by the round table and placed her books out before her, sighing a little to herself as she opened the first one to the page she’d left off on last time. Before going about his day of lightkeeper chores, he made her a cup of tea and told her to help herself to anything in the fridge. He left in a hurry to report, and Y/N didn’t see much of him till two hours later, when he came inside to look through some paperwork.

The rest of the week, she’d popped by almost every single day and then stayed for hours on end. Though she’d mostly been studying, she had also stayed a little longer just to hang out with Harry. She felt safe on Clodgy Point, with Harry, who, once she got him talking about something he found interesting, would talk someone’s ear off. It was so nice to hang out with someone her own age. Someone who would curse and who didn’t need to gossip all the time. There was something so relaxing about Harry’s presence and his little bungalow that attracted Y/N. She simply could not study in her own room anymore, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. He’d meet her on the gravel path and walk her to his house before he went off to report, every single day without fail. She always looked forward to seeing him there, a sight that made the moors around her seem less turbulent and the world a little more colourful.

Though she sat by the door the first two days, she ended up in the windowsill after a while. When Harry caught her there, he asked if her bum wouldn’t get numb from sitting there all day, to which Y/N jokingly said not to worry, she could just bring a cushion next time, though she always forgot. She didn’t mind though; she liked that windowsill so much that her sore arse didn’t bother her. It also seemed Harry liked that his windowsill was being used, because at one point, he brought his Super 8 camera out, taping her doing her work in the windowsill.

On Monday, something happened that took Y/N’s breath away. Harry walked into the house, zipping his mouth shut when their eyes met as if to tell her he didn’t intend on interrupting her. He made himself something to eat for lunch and sat by the round kitchen table, minding his own business and looking out of the window beside him every now and again for some sort of entertainment. Once he was done eating, he washed his plate up and then, instead of walking back out to work, he walked over to his piano. Y/N immediately sat up a bit straighter, resting her hands on her bent knee as she watched Harry open the piano chair, pull a notebook out, and then sit down once he closed it.

Harry’s hands hovered over the keys before he slowly started pressing down on them, producing the softest melody Y/N thought she might have ever heard. He moved along with the piece, feeling the rhythmic waves take over his body and guide him through the history that melody held. It was clear Harry had some sort of attachment to that piece. Y/N didn’t know how carefully musicians played, how much attention and care they gave to each of the pieces they performed, but there was something graceful and almost intimate about watching Harry perform that piece. Y/N simply could not put her finger on it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Once he was done playing that specific melody, about to start the next one, Y/N opened her mouth, “What’s that piece called?”

Harry looked at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows some as if he hadn’t heard her right.

“Is it well-known?”

“No, uhm…” He furrowed his brows some, looking at the dresser stood beside the piano where a few photos were placed. “I wrote it myself?”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it’s a few years old.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. “Does the piece have a title?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Saving Grace,” he explained. “It’s got a dual meaning.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I was 20 when Grace was born. Until then I hadn’t really been around babies, so it took some getting used to when Grace was around most of the time. It had only been my dad and me for a long time, then Jessa came into our lives, which ultimately brought Gracie.” Harry looked out the window Y/N sat in. “It had been a very… content life till then. Nothing spectacular, Dad and I really did love each other and were best friends since before Mum left us when I was 6. But…” He trailed off. “But then came Jessa and Grace, and they truly changed all that. They made us so happy.”

A warmness that was not due to the hot temperature outside, made its way like a wave down Y/N’s body.

“Grace became my little person, you know? Though I worked at St Ives Bakery and had friends, I still didn’t know what I wanted to really do with my life. I was about to apply to study music at uni, but… I dunno, I just didn’t. Grace became my purpose for a little while. I earned money so I could take her places and buy her ice cream, or I taught her how to walk, talk, and we did everything together.” Harry turned back to the piano, playing the first few notes slowly. “This melody came to me when I watched her walk without trouble around the moors outside, she was looking at flowers and she was so happy. The melody tries to capture that moment and how perfect that day was.” He stopped, glancing at the sheet in front of him. “She was two years old.”

“So, essentially, you try to capture feelings and moments in your music?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any other pieces?”

Harry chuckled, looking over his shoulder at her. “You know, the reason I started playing was to help you concentrate. Piano music is great for that.”

“Sod my work, I want to know more about your music.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, turning his body in her direction now. “I’ve never heard you say that word before! Never heard you speak like that!”

Y/N laughed, but persuaded Harry to play a few of his other pieces before he went back to work.

That Saturday when Y/N brought up the exam, Harry hadn’t played any piano. He sometimes would, both to calm himself down, but also to help Y/N concentrate. She would sometimes take breaks just to listen to him, but his playing really did help her focus. Harry was doing some of his work in the house that Saturday, probably to keep her company, but she was very happy he was there. She needed someone to talk this through with.

There was an instant pull to the edges of Harry’s lips, something that he didn’t have to think about, it was instinctive and genuine. A slight breath left his mouth, almost like something of a chuckle, a relief of sorts that made her all hot. He smiled and got up from the couch, a reason for his movements as if he moved a little easier now that he’d just heard that.

“Are you really?” he asked, taking his tea mug and nodding at Y/N’s beside her. She picked it up and handed it to him.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I feel like it’s stupid to study for an exam if I’m never going to take it.”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

“So, I’m just gonna do it now.”

Harry put their mugs down, filling up the kettle before making another round. Y/N liked that he just assumed she wanted another cuppa. She liked the fact he made her this hot beverage that took a long time for someone to drink up. That he made her several a day. She really liked that.

“I’m thinking, you’ve been reading for weeks and you clearly know the material, you might as well,” Harry said.

“There’s just… I dunno…”

“What?”

“No.”

Harry was quiet, so when Y/N looked at him, he was already looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Both knew she wouldn’t hold back once she’d already started saying something.

“I’m scared I won’t show up.”

Harry frowned. “Why? That something is gonna come up?”

“No, that I’ll just oversleep on purpose or find any possible solution so I won’t have to go. Maybe my brain will refuse to revise the entire week before it, I tended to do that in school. When I have an opportunity to, I make things hard for myself.”

Harry plopped two sugars into her cuppa. “I won’t let that happen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “How, you’re gonna carry me out of my room and to your van, then drive me to the exam?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, looking back at the laptop in front of her as Harry walked over, putting the tea down beside her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I think you should just do it.”

“I know I should, but… once I sign up, it’s all happening. It’s not just something I’m thinking about doing, it’s actually happening and there’s a date I gotta work toward.” She sighed. “It’s not just a dream anymore.”

“It stopped being ‘just a dream’ the second you bought those books,” Harry said, sipping his tea as Y/N looked up at him where he stood beside her. “When you started reading, you knew what you were doing and yet you did it anyway.”

She studied him for a second, meeting his eyes the second before she turned back to the laptop. “Guess you’re right.”

“I’m right.”

She flung her arm out, hitting him just across his knee. “Cocky.”

“No,” Harry giggled. “I’m correct. You should try being it sometime.”

“Tone it down!”

Harry laughed, walking back over to his paperwork again. He sat working for a bit longer, finishing his tea before he put everything back in the folder and walked back out of the house and to the lighthouse. When the front door slammed shut, it was like Y/N was slapped out of a sort of trance. She had just been looking at the UCAT website, mouse hovering over the ‘Register and Book’ button, mind somewhere else completely. She remembered what Harry said, how registering and taking this exam wouldn’t make this dream of hers reality all of a sudden, she had done that herself when she started deliberately revising for the UCAT.

She clicked the button and made herself a new user on the website. Reading through everything carefully, Y/N felt her heart picking up speed. It was dawning on her that she was really doing this, despite everything, she was finally registering to take the test. The next few minutes as she took all of this in, she completely forgot where she was. All she knew was the information being fed to her. The wind, the sun, the fly flying around her head, nor whatever Harry was doing was any of her concern. She focused entirely on registering and booking a date. A fee of £75 had to be paid, and though Y/N would never have thought about paying that kind of money before, she hesitated now.

She didn’t have a job, her parents weren’t providing for her anymore because… well, she wasn’t talking to them, so she only had the money on her one card left. Though she was sure she could afford the test fee, there would come a time when she couldn’t. Money had never been a problem until now. This hadn’t been something she thought about before, it hadn’t been a problem then because her parents were filthy rich, but she recognised this now. However, this test had been on her mind for years and it was something she really wanted to do, so spending money on it wasn’t something she needed to feel guilty about. Y/N paid the fee and sat there staring at her screen as a ‘Thanks for your booking’ popped up on her screen. Her test was September 10th. That was in two months. In two months she would be taking the UCAT.

She got up from the windowsill, shaking her clammy hands to dry them some, a shaky breath leaving her parted lips as her heart galloped inside her chest. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real. She was doing the UCAT exam. This was her first big step into dentistry. She was actually doing what she had been dreaming of doing for years now.

She had no idea what made her do it but she walked out of the house, instinctively walking towards the lighthouse. Harry was already halfway to the cottage from the lighthouse, halting a little at Y/N’s abrupt exit. She stopped when she saw him.

“I did it.”

Those three words took a few seconds for Harry to comprehend, but when he did, he gave her the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face. His eyes completely disappeared behind his cheekbones, crinkles appearing beside them, and his crooked smile was accompanied with his brilliant dimples that breathed light and meaning into every situation they were present in. The sight of it made her own appear and she put a hand over her chest, feeling her heart still going hard against her ribcage. Harry must have not thought a lot of it, because he nearly opened his arms, but they quickly fell to his side. Next, he went to give her a high five, but that almost seemed inappropriate because it was such a huge moment to Y/N.

But Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry had opened his arms for her just now. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted her close like that to congratulate her on what she’d just done. And, the part of her that hadn’t really experienced someone’s noticeable pride in her like this before, wouldn’t mind at all. That’s why she ran towards him, and the two seconds Harry had to prepare, Y/N both saw the visible shock at her sprinting for him, but also a sort of jubilation like it was an honour. Y/N threw her arms around him and Harry quickly wrapped her in his, a breath of relief skimming her neck and making goosebumps run through her entire body. She laughed as Harry picked her off the ground, groaning in triumph at the news of her finally having signed up for the UCAT.

She leaned her head against his, smelling that same perfume on him that she remembered smelling when she wore his knitted jumper a few weeks ago. Her theory had also been right: Harry was an amazing hugger. His grip was tight and she was sure he closed his eyes, really immersing himself completely in the person he was embracing. Fingers spread out across her back, the tips of one just touching her shoulder blade and the other on her waist, squeezing her slightly for a few seconds before letting her down again.

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Harry said, and Y/N tightened her grip.

When they finally let go of one another, Harry ran inside and came back some seconds later holding his camera, said he needed to document this. Y/N did a few poses that made Harry laugh, then proceeding to run out into the field beyond the lighthouse. She felt absolutely ecstatic as she ran around, grinning and jumping, her arms held up high and her heart soaring. After all this time, she was finally pursuing this. If she was able to do something that terrified and excited her like this, then what else could she do? Part of her felt like she could do anything now.

Porthgwidden Beach was like Harry described it: small. Once Harry and Y/N arrived at the tiny car park above the beach, Y/N stopped for a moment to take in the beach that wasn’t even a fraction of what the other two major beaches of St Ives were. Some Tiësto song was playing somewhere and the beach was crowded, all guests of Dax’s birthday party. The Porthgwidden Beach Café seemed to have been booked for the occasion as well, people around their age all sitting grouped around the table with their bottles and cups. No one seemed to be going crazy on their alcohol, which reassured Y/N some because it had been a while since she had been drunk, a glass or two of anything would make her very lightheaded and giggly. She had brought with her a bottle of wine in her tote bag, Harry seemed to be relying on his mates having brought drinks. If not, Y/N wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of hers with him.

Y/N had left Harry’s place not long after she signed up for the UCAT so she could get ready for Dax’s birthday party in her own room. She wore a dark green column midi skirt along with a white tee shirt and some short heels that she regretted wearing the second her and Harry stepped out into the sand. He looked over his shoulder at her once he noticed her struggling a bit, offering his hand for her to hold so she could take her heels off. While she did that, she took the liberty to study him again. His outfit was simple, yet effortlessly hot. High waisted mid wash denim jeans, a baggy black tee shirt tucked into them, along with some white socks and black Converse. Y/N had a theory Harry would end up taking his own shoes off by the end of the night too.

The two had met on Island Street where they knew none of the other partygoers would venture. That way, people would’ve seen them walk together all the way to the party, assuming they must’ve spent time at Harry’s place before coming here. They had discussed this plan over a last cuppa tea before Y/N left earlier that day, Harry had seemed very happy with himself for coming up with that one. And as they stood there, Y/N holding his hand while taking her shoes off, they heard some loud whistles followed by a “There they are!”

Looking over, they saw the birthday boy making his way over, arms spread wide and the biggest grin on his face. “My boyo!”

“Dax, not now-“

But the man didn’t listen. He hugged Harry to him, causing Harry to take a few steps, resulting in Y/N losing her balance. With a squeal, Y/N almost fell face first into the sand again, but Harry was fast to bring one hand under her armpit and the other to her hip. He dragged her toward him, her torso flat against his. She saw Harry’s eyes on her face in her peripheral vision, felt his breath on her cheek.

“Oi!” Dax laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Got a bit carried away seeing this hunk.” Dax put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to jump right out of his trance and let go of Y/N, as if couples didn’t normally embrace each other like this without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Dax,” Y/N smiled before picking up her shoe, shoving the pair into her tote bag along with her cardigan and Harry’s red knitted jumper.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Harry said.

“You know, I expected you to be the first one here.” Dax crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Harry.

Harry furrowed his brows at Dax. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t your best friend’s birthday important to you?”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Oh, my word, Dax.”

“I’m just a joke to you.”

“You sure are.”

“Look who it is!” Ellie called, grinning as her and the rest of Harry’s little gang made their way over. “You made it!”

“We were starting to think you two wouldn’t come,” Amir said, his hair in the most effortlessly pretty bun at the top of his head. “Too busy?” Amir wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re too caught up in people’s sex lives for it to be normal, mate,” Harry said, taking the cup Fatima offered him. “Cheers.”

Something about Harry referring to him and Y/N’s sex life made Y/N’s cheeks feel awfully hot. Even though their joined sex life was non-existent, it still got to her. Maybe it was the way Harry always dodged those questions so the two wouldn’t have to answer any awkward queries they had absolutely no idea about. She didn’t know, but she rummaged through her bag so people wouldn’t see how flustered she suddenly got.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Amir said.

“Well, don’t,” Jo chimed in, their smile mocking and Amir only huffed in response.

“By the way!” Dax exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going Terraland next week, you coming this year, Y/N?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in question. “What’s Terraland?”

“Theme park in Helston, we go every year towards the end of the summer vacation,” Jo explained. “Harry here-“ They gestured at the man standing beside Y/N. “-Doesn’t like Terraland.”

“I do,” Harry protested. “I like laying by the pool and not doing shit. I don’t particularly like it when you force me on rollercoasters.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ll come if Harry decides to.”

“Brill! All of us are coming, maybe a few others,” Amir said.

“So, it’s like an adventure park with rollercoasters and such?” Y/N asked

“That and pools, very much the kind of thing you visit when you’re on vacation in, like, Spain,” Harry explained. “But it’s in Cornwall.”

“Good for a group of grown up kids, ey?” Dax grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Come, Y/N, babe.” Ellie linked her arm with Y/N’s, taking Y/N off guard, but she didn’t stop Ellie. She looked at their arms and smiled a little. “Let’s get you a cup so we can get this party started.”

“Love your skirt, by the way,” Fatima smiled as they reached a table with tons of cups and napkins.

“Ahh, thank you. Haven’t worn it in a while, so I felt it was fitting to do so today.” Y/N glanced down at her skirt, running her hand over it before reaching for a cup.

“Ellie and I were saying the other day that you’ve got such a sophisticated sense of style, you need to take us shopping.”

“Could use a few pointers,” Ellie agreed, watching Y/N as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Really?” Y/N screwed the cork shut before putting the bottle away, smiling at the two girls. “I mean, it’s not that good-“

“-Out of respect for what Harry said, I will stop you before you discredit yourself,” Ellie smiled back.

Y/N laughed. “What about respect for me? Respect me wanting to discredit myself for having a mediocre clothing style.”

Both Fatima and Ellie joined in on the laughing and the three girls walked away from the table so they could hang out by themselves. Though St Ives had around 11,000 inhabitants, Y/N was sure a lot of the guests weren’t locals. Maybe friends from University or friends-of-friends, everything to get a good party going. Judging by what Fatima and Ellie told Y/N, this was an annual thing. Dax Rose held a massive birthday party and absolutely everyone was invited. Bring your own alcohol, bring a friend, and bring a smile, and you were welcomed with open arms. People were sitting in the sand or by the café, others were just standing around, some were dancing, and a group was also taking a swim and joking around in the water. Y/N genuinely liked the atmosphere; it was just really freeing and nice. People wore whatever they wanted, laughter could be heard everywhere, and it just seemed like everyone wanted to have a good time.

Though anyone could come join the party – something that made her look around her a few too many times -, there were still enough people there to notice something suspicious going on.

Fatima, Ellie, and Y/N stood just talking for a while. It was really nice to talk to some girls her own age again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that. She had some good friends at school but once they had gone off to University or moved away from Winchester, she fell out of touch with most of them. Y/N knew it wasn’t personal, she quite liked the fact her friends had acquired new lives for themselves, being happier and more fulfilled. But she had missed just standing around chatting nonsense. The conversation didn’t hold much significance, there wasn’t much crucial information going around, or any sort of seriousness attached to it, just some mates having a chat. Y/N found herself wondering if Fatima and Ellie would come if she asked them out for lunch one day.

“I saw this documentary the other day, it’s on iPlayer,” Ellie said. “It was super interesting and disturbing.”

“Oh?” Y/N said, tipsy at this point and just holding the cup of wine in her hand, not wanting to drink more in case it would make her dizzy and very giggly.

“Yeah, it was basically about all these people who committed gruesome murders in the UK, and who go free now.”

Y/N looked up from her cup with wide eyes and at Ellie as Fatima gasped.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what it was called…” As Ellie started thinking, a shadow appeared beside Y/N and she jumped. The tall red-haired man standing beside Y/N only smiled at her, holding a hands up to indicate he was friendly.

Fatima clicked her tongue. “Are you trying to give her a heart attack, Cam?”

“No, I’m sorry, darl,” the man said, looking at Y/N as he held a hand out for her to shake. “Just saw an unfamiliar face and thought I’d introduce myself, is all. I’m Cameron.”

Y/N took a huge breath, meeting Ellie’s eyes before looking at Cameron and shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he mused under his breath, nodding his head as his hand fell to his side again. “Haven’t seen you around here before, Y/N.”

“I’ve only been here a month now.”

“Too bad we didn’t meet earlier, then.”

Y/N’s eyes widened a bit, the compliment taking her off guard. She only chuckled some, wrapping both her hands around her cup as she looked down at the liquid in it.

“When did you come back, Cam?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Two weeks ago. Are you on vacation here then, Y/N?” Cameron didn’t even spare Ellie a look, his undivided attention on Y/N as she continued to stare at her drink.

But suddenly a pair of black Converse appeared beside her bare feet. She felt a hand on her lower back, a warm and comforting pressure that slowly trailed its way to her waist, wrapping his fingers around her curves and bringing her toward him. Her figure fell against his, fitting against his side as if they’d done this before.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re trying to pull, Cam,” Harry said, his voice steady and a little darker than normal. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol he had drunk this far or it being late, Y/N didn’t know, but she knew she liked it.

Cameron was quiet for a second. “Your girlfriend? Mate, you got a girlfriend?”

“This is her,” Harry continued.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to my girlfriend.”

Cameron smiled, as if he couldn’t believe Harry, but he met Y/N’s eyes. “I apologise, I didn’t know.”

Y/N nodded, not really knowing what else to say or do. Cameron looked at the other three, saying a quick goodbye before buggering off. As he disappeared, Harry’s hand slid back around her waist as he came to stand in front of Y/N. She felt his touch along her forearm, rough fingers caressing her with such sensitivity as if he was afraid of crossing a line. Whenever he touched her like this, she could tell by the rough skin of his hands that he wasn’t used to being gentle like this; wasn’t used to being careful when touching someone else. His work made him have rough skin and maybe even a rough touch, but he was always so incredibly cautious when he reached for Y/N.

He slid his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers as she wrapped them around him. Their eyes met and upon seeing him in front of her, seeing him this close, she felt her eyes widen a bit. Though the entire reason why he was doing this was because there were people around watching them, it still felt like everyone was intruding on a special moment between the two of them.

“You okay? Saw he made you jump a bit,” Harry said, hooded and glassy eyes searching her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just came up out of nowhere,” Y/N answered, offering a smile because she knew Harry’s concern was genuine.

Y/N wasn’t sure if Ellie or Fatima noticed Harry’s slight hesitance because by the sound of it, they were chatting amongst themselves, but Y/N did. Harry leaned in, eyes on hers till he closed them. Every single hair on Y/N’s body shot up as Harry pressed his lips gently against her cheek. He was covering her view of Ellie and Fatima, so the two couldn’t see the immediate shock on Y/N’s face. Their conversation halted, she was aware of that, but all her attention was focused on Harry’s lips and how hot her entire body got in the matter of a second. She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing his skin. Harry pulled away, resting the right side of his forehead against her left for a few seconds. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating, how clammy her hands were. Could he tell she wanted to reach for his neck and hold him there, but she was carrying her cup and her other hand was already holding his? Could he feel her breaths on his neck like she could feel his? Did he want to stay like that, safe in each other’s company and unbothered by everyone else, for the rest of the night?

“I’m sure there are taxis driving about town if you two wanna go home,” Ellie said, and Fatima cursed her right away.

Harry took a step away from Y/N, clearing his throat as a familiar redness came to his cheeks. His hand was about to fall away from hers, but she gripped his harder, not ready to let go yet. He gave Fatima and Ellie a tight-lipped smile before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, the muscles in his face relaxing.

“El, I need a refill,” Fatima said, and though Y/N couldn’t read their faces yet, she could kind of tell what that meant.

“Let’s go get you a drink then. See you two in a bit.” Ellie and Fatima walked off, falling into conversation right away.

Harry made sure they were completely alone, that no one was eavesdropping before he said lowly, “Sorry if that was too much, I just… I just thought it’d look good, you know? To kiss my girlfriend- my pretend girlfriend around other people just to underline that we are… you know…”

Y/N nodded, biting her lips together as she watched Harry continue to try and find his words.

“Also, sorry if you wanted to chat to Cameron, I’m… I don’t want this to get in the way-“

“-I didn’t. I don’t.”

Silence stretched on, eyes on one another as the party continued around them. They didn’t have any regard for it as they kept their attention on one another. Y/N had answered so quickly and so honestly that it made her nervous when Harry didn’t say anything. Because it was true that she didn’t want to talk to Cameron, she didn’t know who he was and would probably never see him again. But she knew who Harry was, and she wanted to see him all the time. There was a comfort in his presence that settled over her like a warm, safe blanket. She liked being around him. She didn’t want to be near Cameron or anyone else.

“Do you think people think we’re a couple right now? Are we believable? Is this believable?” Harry mumbled.

Y/N giggled. “Well, you just kissed my cheek out of nowhere, I’d hope it’s somewhat believable and that they think we’re a couple.”

Harry laughed, looking down at their hands. “Yeah, it’s kind of… it’s kind of easy, isn’t it?”

Y/N frowned. “What is?”

“Being like this with you. I might feel like a right idiot when I take your hand or kiss your cheek, but you don’t make me feel like one.”

She smiled.

“It’s natural. Not that… that being in a relationship with you and acting like this is natural, I didn’t mean it like that, but it’s-“ He stopped himself looking up at her again as he bit his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “-It’s like joking about with a friend and just having fun, feeling comfortable.”

“Yeah?”

“You know… I hope I don’t sound like a melt and I’m probably only able to say this ‘cause I’m a tad tipsy,” Harry said, and Y/N giggled. “But you’ve become one of my best friends. If not best friend, a very good one. Like… dunno, I can talk to you about anything, I don’t feel weird being silent around you, or saying or doing stuff that is weird, and I-I feel like you might feel the same way about me. At least I hope so.”

Her smile widened. “I do.”

He let out a small breath and Y/N chuckled.

“It’s sad that when this ends it’ll look weird if we remain friends, won’t it?” Y/N hated that she was thinking and talking about a time in the future they both knew was coming, but avoided talking about at all costs.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do exes stay friends without it being weird to a degree? If you start dating someone for example, will our friends expect us to act a certain way, and if they do and we contradict their theory, will that make them suspicious of us?”

Harry furrowed his brows a little.

“I want to hang out with you and it’s sad to think that in August, we might have to part ways and never talk again ‘cause it’ll look… weird. Dunno, I haven’t really gone through this before.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Neither have I.”

Y/N laughed.

“I mean, I’ve gone through a break-up, but not like this.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to my ex since it happened.”

They were quiet for a moment as Harry digested Y/N’s choice of words. “You haven’t talked to your ex since you broke up either? Like, at all?”

“He, uhm, he’s sent me texts, but I don’t want to talk to him.”

Harry must have noticed how little Y/N wanted to talk about her ex, because he looked down at their hands again and let their conversation end there. Y/N held her cup out for him and Harry took it, looking at it. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she wanted any more of it, but she shook her head. He poured it out in the sand.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” Harry asked after a little while, wiping something off the corners of his mouth with his free index and thumb.

“The party?” Y/N met Harry’s eyes and then searched for Ellie and Fatima, she’d have to find them later. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like your friends.”

“There are a couple more who want me to introduce you, so we’ll have to do that later if it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the now empty cup. “And are you enjoying yourself in St Ives?”

Y/N smiled. “I am, it’s fun.” As she laid extra pressure on the last word, Harry looked up and as she raised her eyebrows, he knew she was referring to them and their fake relationship. He chuckled and Y/N watched him.

“Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

She was unsure what he was referring to, but she said, “More.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered, folding her hands.

“So, you’re… you’re staying?” Pause. “Right?”

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows at Harry, studying his face to try and find some sort of explanation to that utterance. She slowly opened her mouth, and said, “Staying?”

“Here.”

“On the beach?”

“No.”

“In St Ives?”

Something that could be interpreted as a nod happened, but no words left Harry’s lips. Instead, he continued to look at her, eyes searching her face as if he could find her answer somewhere there. A slight breeze blew past them, making a curl come loose and hang in front of Harry’s eye. He quickly pushed it away, not letting anything prevent him from seeing Y/N fully as she realised what Harry meant. Y/N felt his fingers brush her arm on their way down.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Harry didn’t say anything or nod this time around. Their eyes didn’t waver, looking at each other and not daring to look away. Y/N didn’t register till then how close they were standing. When the wind blew from behind Harry, she smelled his familiar scent and it made something inside her flutter. It was instinctive to look down at his lips, just as instinctive to look up and feel her breath hitch somewhere in her throat as she saw his lips part. Unapologetically, Harry’s eyes did the same that Y/N’s had done just a few seconds prior. A fire-hot shiver ran up her spine as he glanced at her lips, taking a step forward so that their hands rested against one another. Y/N wanted to look at his lips again, but she simply could not look away from his eyes. He was so close and she didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to look away.

“Do you think we’re believable now?” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to answer, she was waiting for something unspeakable; something that couldn’t be put into word for fear of the reality of those words being too raw, too true. She felt his curl against her forehead. His breath on her nose. Her body prickling with anticipation and confusion, unable to properly decipher if what was going on was all part of the show or if this was genuine. Harry was too respectable to make a move, and Y/N was too perplexed to do anything. If she kissed him, how would he feel? Would he take it as her being genuinely interested in him, or that they were just doing it to seem like a genuine couple? And if she kissed him, would she interpret it as her genuinely fancying him, or would she do it just to feed into their façade?

Before she could think about anything else, someone shouted something above the music and everyone else talking. It seemed to have caught quite a few people’s attention, because the volume on the beach lowered considerably. Harry tore his eyes away from Y/N and looked in the direction of the commotion. Y/N did as well, craning her neck to see beyond the group of people that were hugging and crowding what looked to be a new guest. Harry froze in front of Y/N and she looked at him, then back at the group.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“My…” Harry mumbled, pausing for some seconds. “Emilia.”

Y/N looked back at Harry. “Emilia?”

Harry nodded.

“Your ex?”

“The one who lived in Munich for two years, yeah.” Harry ran a hand through his hair before he met Y/N’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her since she came back, think she came back sometime last week.”

“Do you want to go say hi?”

“I…” Harry glanced in Emilia’s direction again, clearly thinking it over thoroughly. “I mean… yes, but… she’d meet you as well. She’d have to.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Dax won’t be able to keep himself from bringing up the fact that I have a new girlfriend. Pretend girlfriend, but… you know…”

Y/N nodded.

“If she knows I’m here and I’m with my new girlfriend, she’s gonna wanna meet you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Why would she want to meet the person you’re supposedly being intimate with now?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide for a single second before he composed himself, blinking himself back to reason. “Dunno. Emilia is very sociable. Just like you.”

“But she’d meet the person you’re with now, I don’t see why she’d want to meet them.”

“Maybe she’s happy for me, maybe she wants to meet someone who supposedly makes me happy,” Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds. “I know you said she didn’t want to be with you ‘cause it affected her mental health, and I get that, but leaving you when you were at your lowest is still an awful thing to do.”

Harry glanced at Y/N.

“And then not talking to you for two years after just sodding off to Munich. She doesn’t know what you’ve been through since then, do you think she’s gonna care now?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Y/N, I loved Emilia.”

“I’m aware, but the people we love don’t have to love us back the same way we love them. One part always ends up loving more, feeling more, doing more. We can’t choose how much we love someone, and we don’t have a say in how they love us, but the fact of the matter is that if you love someone, you act like it. You let them know.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just bit the inside of his cheek and continued to look at Y/N.

“I’m fully aware you loved Emilia, probably still do, but it doesn’t sit right with me that she just removed herself like that completely. You’re not a toxic person, you were just going through a rough time.”

“Harry!” Amir shouted, waving Harry and Y/N over. “Harry, mate!”

Harry watched Y/N for a few more seconds, probably either debating what she’d just said or losing every shred of respect he had for her, Y/N didn’t know. He nodded in the direction of everyone and the two started walking there, strolling the distance in silence. She didn’t know how she was supposed to interpret said silence, if it was a good kind or if he just didn’t want to talk to her for the rest of the night because he had taken offense to what she’d said.

When they reached the group, they made space for Harry and Y/N, and the first thing Y/N noticed was the brunette standing on the opposite side to the circle from them. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw Harry and she smiled at him instantly, clearly happy to see him after two years of no contact.

“Hi,” she exclaimed, crossing the circle, and giving Harry a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said. “How was Munich?”

“Amazing, I’m moving there permanently after University, I’m sure.” Emilia stepped away from Harry and immediately, her eyes fell on Y/N. “And this must be the girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N’s eyes met, Harry raising his eyebrows in a quick “told you so”, which made Y/N smile some before turning back to Emilia.

“Yes, I guess I am. And you’re the ex.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked from Y/N to Emilia and back again. It was evident that the rest of the group, and quite a few others as well, were watching this interaction with keen interest. They were probably waiting for one of them to start a fight and the other one to feed into it, something Harry would step in to stop and take sides, which would ultimately just end badly. It was clearly something a lot of people thought would be great entertainment. But Y/N kept her cool, not wanting to sound passive aggressive or make Harry uncomfortable. Though she was not impressed with Emilia’s past actions, she wasn’t about to judge her solely on them. Y/N hoped she was right not to.

“I am, it’s been so long since I’ve seen Harry.” Emilia looked back at Harry, considerably smaller than him, looking up at him through her lashes. “That rain check you were talking about, you could make up for it by walking me over to get a cup?”

Y/N looked at Harry, about to open her mouth and ask what rain check Emilia was talking about, but she realised it was none of her business. And questioning Harry like this in front of everyone would just feed into everything everyone wanted. So, Y/N just crossed her arms over her chest.

“Actually, we’re about to leave,” Harry said, giving Emilia a small smile.

Emilia pouted. “Really? It’ll only take you a minute.”

Harry opened his mouth to inhale hugely, looking over at Y/N who hoped he could tell she didn’t like this. But Harry met Emilia’s eyes again, taking a step back and Emilia grinned as the two started walking towards the table in the middle of the beach with all the cups. Y/N watched them, how easily they fell into conversation and how eager Emilia was to talk to Harry again. While witnessing this, Y/N kept reminding herself of what Harry had said earlier, about her becoming one of his closest friends. She hoped repeating that moment to herself would prevent her from getting hurt and sad and angry, but it didn’t. When turning back toward the gang, she realised both Ellie and Dax were watching Harry and Emilia as well. And upon taking a look around, she realised Jo, Amir, and Fatima were as well. Y/N didn’t know for what purpose, but if Dax’s tense jaw was any indicator, it couldn’t have been for a particularly good reason.

Why would Harry do that? Though Y/N wasn’t in a relationship with him, it was still embarrassing for her to have to stand there and wait for him. She felt ridiculous when Fatima met her eyes again, giving her an apologetic smile, one Y/N – Harry’s fake girlfriend – didn’t deserve, but she appreciated it nevertheless. Because despite everything, this hurt. She dug her nails into her upper arms as she stood there, mad at Harry for the first time ever. Though it had been gormless of Emilia to ask in the first place, Harry hadn’t really needed much persuasion.

As Emilia and Harry’s voices got louder, the gang started up a light conversation that Y/N pretended to be part of. She only gave Harry a slight glance before looking back at Dax who was talking, the guy not giving the returning two any of his attention either. Y/N wondered if Dax thought the same way about Emilia’s behaviour as she did, but then again, it wasn’t like Y/N could take Dax aside and ask him that. If Y/N sought Dax out to talk about Harry’s ex, it wouldn’t look good.

“Ready to leave?” Y/N asked, reaching into her tote bag for her cardigan. Some of her passive aggressiveness was detectable in her voice, she hoped no other than Harry picked up on it. She was still tipsy so she blamed her incapability to hold back on that.

“Yeah,” Harry said, standing very still as he watched Y/N put her cardigan on. Once it was on, she smiled at everyone, and then looked at Harry as he directed a “See ya, yeah?” at everyone. Though Dax was visibly sad the two were leaving, he seemed to know why they were bailing because he didn’t ask them why or stop them. Y/N put her shoes back on and the two started on their way back up the hill that led to the car park.

It was unexpected when Harry reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers so slowly and so deliberately that she felt it in every single one of her cells. Though it was nice to feel him there, she had to bite her lip from saying anything as they walked up Burrow Road. The second they were out of sight and alone, Y/N let go of his hand. This wasn’t something Harry would’ve usually paid much attention had he not heard her passive aggression just a few moments earlier.

“Is it Emilia?” Harry asked.

It was stupid how the only time Harry managed to be blunt and upfront was when he knew he was in trouble or if someone was annoyed with him. At least Y/N thought so.

She straightened her back, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself. “What about Emilia?”

“Is that why you’re all… mad? Dunno if mad is the best word.”

“Think it describes how I’m feeling perfectly,” Y/N said. “’Cause I’d say I’m mad with a dash of disappointed.”

Harry looked over at her, frowning again. “Why?”

“Why am I mad you walked over there with Emilia?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders exaggeratingly. “Call it intuition, call it paranoia, call it whatever you bloody want, but I think she wants you back now that you’re not broken up about your Dad anymore.”

Harry took a few seconds to say, “I’ll call that stupidity.”

The laugh that left Y/N was anything but friendly and warm. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Why are you so mad about this anyway? It’s not like we’re…” Harry stopped himself, looking over at Y/N who refused to look at him. “It’s not like we’re a couple.”

“It’s still embarrassing. I was left standing there while my boyfriend walked off with his ex. You don’t even want to admit that what you did was stupid.”

“’Cause it’s not, we just walked down to that table so she could get herself a cup.”

Y/N sighed, running her hands over her face. “Yes, it’s an innocent act and I probably have no right to act like this, but I’m being a friend. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Being a friend, looking out for me?”

Y/N looked at him, seeing his set jaw and piercing eyes. “Why wouldn’t I look out for you?”

“Right now you just seem mad I hung out with my ex.”

She glanced away again, so frustrated with him that she felt like screaming. They reached Back Road, Y/N walking straight ahead to take the quickest way back to the Inn, Harry was turning right to Clodgy. “Interpret it any way you want, Harry. I’m being truthful when I tell you I just want what’s best for you.”

There was a pause as Harry watched Y/N cross the road. “You’re just gonna leave like that? You don’t wanna talk it out?”

“You don’t understand where I’m coming from, Harry!” Y/N exclaimed as she faced him, turning her back on the dark alleyway behind her. “What’s the point?!”

“Y/N, it’s not like I’m making out with Emilia in front of everyone!”

“I know, but that small act of just walking down there has a lot of meaning! She wants to make up for lost time!”

“You’re just reading too much into this!”

“And you think the best of people who hurt you!”

“She left for her own good, don’t blame her for that!”

“I’m not! I just think it’s odd to not check up on you in those two years following your breakup when you were clearly having a tough time when she left!”

“Oh, my days, Y/N.” Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“I know you want to see the best in everyone, but I’ve experienced people fucking me over ‘cause I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Multiple times. I’m not doing that again, I’m-I’m just not. And I don’t want to watch that same thing happen to you.”

Harry blinked when Y/N cursed, but quickly regained himself. “I can take care of myself!”

“I’m just being a friend and looking out for you, I’m sorry if-“

“-And what if I don’t want you to look out for me as a friend?!”

Y/N was about to answer, but she felt something brush against her back and then a figure moving out of the dark alleyway behind her. Her heart skipped a beat and the next thing she knew, she felt it in her throat. She jumped out of the way, stepping just in the crack between two cobblestones and stumbling away from the stranger. The man looked at Y/N as she regained her balance, about to reach his hand out to help her when Harry rushed across the road. Y/N managed herself, but she took another step away from the stranger who genuinely looked baffled as to what had just happened. Y/N put a hand over her heart, feeling it beating furiously. Calm down, calm down, calm down, she told herself, feeling safer the second Harry put a hand to her upper arm.

“You alright, miss?” the man asked, looking at Harry who was standing beside Y/N, making sure she was okay.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, doing her best to give him a smile. “I’m just a bit jumpy. And a tad drunk.”

He laughed joyously before continuing on his way, and the second he turned away, Y/N’s face fell. Harry noticed and turned her to face him, squeezing her shoulders so she’d look at him. She balled her hands into fists as she felt her heart beating hard, calming down from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“You’re okay,” he said, recognising her reaction from that first time she read to him in the grass beside the lighthouse.

Y/N nodded, meeting Harry’s eyes and telling herself it was all fine. She would be fine. Harry was here and nothing would happen to her while he was here. She continued to look at him till she was calmer, but the thought of walking down that dark alleyway now made her want to hurl. However, she didn’t have any other place to walk and she had to get back somehow. Maybe she could call Bessie and talk to her, or maybe she could find another and maybe longer route back. But then she’d be out in the open longer than she initially wanted to.

“Have you always been like that?” Harry asked, the question curious and without any hint of judgement.

“Like what?”

“Paranoid.”

Y/N smiled a little as if that would brighten the mood that had fallen considerably. Slowly, she nodded, averting her eyes from Harry’s. “I like being prepared for anything, for any possible outcome.”

Harry didn’t remove his hands from where they rested on her shoulders.

“So, I either make them up, or if something happens unexpectedly, my brain does this thing where it tells me that the worst possible thing is happening, and I need to escape.”

“What’s the worst possible thing that can happen?”

“In any scenario?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N watched as someone turned every light in their flat off, wishing she was in her bed right now. “That my Dad finds me.”

Harry stayed quiet.

“He terrifies me. Always has. I know he won’t hurt me, but… he’s a bad man, Harry. A very bad man.”

“He won’t come here, Y/N. You’re safe in St Ives.”

Some part of her laughed at that, but when she met his eyes, she knew he genuinely meant it. If Harry was there, he would not let anything happen to her. No matter what. Even if they had a disagreement the second before her Dad showed up. But her father knew where she was and if he wanted her back, he would do what he could to get her back. A lighthouse keeper wouldn’t stand in his way.

Y/N felt her bottom lip starting to wobble at the thought of it, and she put a hand in front of her mouth when the back of her eyes started to sting.

“Hey,” Harry said, squeezing her shoulders. “Let’s go back to mine, yeah? You won’t have to be alone.”

She met his eyes, blinking a few times as she processed his offer. “Yours?”

“Yeah, if you’re a bit shaken up, I thought you might… might not want to be alone.”

Without really registering what she was doing, Y/N was nodding her head to answer his question. “If you’re sure I won’t be a burden in any way-“

“-Flower, you’re never.”

She almost thought she heard him incorrectly. Flower. She had never gotten a nickname before. Her friends back home used to call her ‘babe’ and her mother would sometimes call her ‘sweetheart’ and Bessie referred to her as ‘dear’, but never this one. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded.

Harry wrapped an arm around her and held her to him as they walked through the city. He hummed to The Power of Love as they strolled, keeping the empty and quiet streets of St Ives alive as long as they were walking through them. Y/N looked about them, staring down alleyways and streets, sometimes being too afraid to even to study the shadows or look to make out silhouettes in the darkness. Harry’s humming kept her grounded and reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Once they were walking along the road up to Clodgy Point, Harry let go of her, letting her walk by herself. It was starting to get a bit chilly when the winds of the moors started up around them, so Y/N reached for Harry’s knitted jumper in her tote bag and gave it to him. He was a bit taken aback by that, seemingly having forgotten it was there, but he thanked her, the only two words being uttered at all on their 30-minute walk up to the lighthouse.

Harry unlocked the door and walked in first, turning the light on the coffee table on as Y/N locked the front door. He opened a window to let some air in, then took his jumper and shoes off. Y/N did the same, wrapping her arms around herself. She was aware it had been Harry’s idea for her to stay here, but she suddenly felt like she was intruding. This was his space and his bedtime routine. They had walked off most of their drunkenness, so when Y/N tripped over her own feet a bit, it was purely from exhaustion. Harry was almost about to reach out and catch her even though he was across the room, but his dedication to help her made her chuckle a little. Harry smiled at the sound of it.

Y/N put her tote bag on one of the chairs, putting her cardigan over the back of it as well.

“I…” Harry started, making Y/N look over at where he stood by his dresser. “I have a few shirts and stuff if you wanna freshen up some.”

Y/N chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Realising he probably didn’t make sense, Harry let a breath escape his lips as well. “I meant, if you wanna have a shower, I’ll lend you a tee shirt.”

The thought of showering in Harry’s space seemed almost a bit surreal, but for some reason, also completely normal. She spent so much time here and with him that in a way, it was weird that she hadn’t showered here before. She slowly nodded her head, and Harry opened a drawer, pulling out an old tee white shirt with a small Elton John logo on the chest.

“Towels,” Harry said, walking over to his tiny bathroom and turning the lights on for her. “They’re here, and I got everything you might need in the shower. There’s an unused toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

Harry gave her a smile before closing the door. Taking a breather first, the next thing Y/N did was get undressed and take that shower. She washed away the argument with Harry and the reason why it was cut off so abruptly; tried to soak herself in everything else that happened tonight that made her entire body warm. When Harry kissed her cheek; the way his hot lips felt against her skin, how the thought of that moment alone made her feel some type of way. She knew Harry only did it so everyone would think they were a couple, but her cheek was tingling.

She got out of the shower, drying herself off, and putting Harry’s tee shirt on, her skirt under it. Yes, the two were starting to get comfortable around one another, but she wasn’t sure if they were just there yet. Last thing she wanted to do was walk out there in her knickers and one of his tee shirts, then make him uncomfortable in any way. Though she felt like a raisin since she was not doing her usual post-shower skin routine, nor any hair products for her hair, she told herself she’d do it tomorrow when she was back to the Inn.

She walked outside to see Harry laying in his bed, his small telly that was stood by his couch, turned around so he could watch a rerun of an old Would I Lie To You episode. When the bathroom door opened, he instantly looked in her direction, placing his hands on either side of his form as if he got ready to get up. Their eyes met and his eyes fell to her tee shirt, where the material hugged her waist firmly. He met her eyes again, swallowing thickly before he gestured beside him at two glasses of water.

“One by the window is yours.”

“I’m literally so thirsty, thank you.”

Harry smiled, walking past Y/N and into the bathroom, going to take his own shower. Y/N sat down in Harry’s bed, nuzzling under the covers and taking a hold of her glass. She brought it to her lips, sipping it till it was empty, watching the telly as she did. She got up for a refill, drank half, and then just continued to watch the telly for a bit. The light in the room was dim enough so she could easily fall asleep, and she almost did drift off against the headboard, but then Harry exited the bathroom and woke her up with a start.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She smiled, sinking down into the pillow. “Almost went off to dreamland there.”

“Soz.”

“I’m a light sleeper, it’s not your fault.”

Harry nodded, walking over to turn the lights off, the only light in the entire little cottage now being the light from the telly. He strolled over to the fridge and took a cucumber out. Y/N watched him as he brought a knife out, cutting it up in half.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Just brushed my teeth.”

“So did I, but after I’ve been out, I usually eat half a cucumber before bed.”

Y/N stared at him.

“What?”

“Just… just a cucumber? Nothing else?”

“What else? Do you spice your cucumber? With what?” Harry looked at his little box of spices by his stove. “Onion granules?”

Y/N laughed, placing her hands on the duvet above her stomach.

“I actually had jalfrezi leftovers after we went to the pub a few weeks ago,” Harry said as he came over to the bed, giving Y/N half the cucumber. “So I dipped my cucumber in that and ate it.”

Y/N grimaced. “Were you still pissed?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “I just like cucumber and Indian food.”

“Fair enough.”

Harry picked up one of his quilts and sat down in bed beside Y/N, draping it over himself so she could have the duvet for herself. He bit into his half of the cucumber, completely unfazed as his eyes fell on the telly. Y/N tried not to laugh, but he looked so incredibly cute, munching on his cucumber and smiling at something Rob Brydon said. He must’ve noticed her not eating, because he looked down at where she laid in bed, raising his eyebrows.

“You weren’t hungry?”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.” Harry took another bite. “I love it.”

That made her smile and she took a bite of her cucumber as well, Harry watching her as she chewed and then swallowed.

“Well…? Your verdict?”

“It’s just a cucumber.”

Harry rolled his eyes, making Y/N laugh again. “You’re humiliating.”

“Says the person who eats half a cucumber before bed!”

“I’m quirky!”

Laughing again, the two fell into comfortable silence as they watched the rest of the Would I Lie To You episode. Though the idea of eating half a cucumber hadn’t been very appealing to begin with, it did make her feel a bit better. She didn’t know she’d been hungry till now, the cucumber and the two glasses of water had done a well enough job to fill her stomach up before bed, so she didn’t bother asking Harry if she could make herself a toastie. Instead, Y/N found her eyes falling shut, her entire body relaxing completely. All the worry and the paranoia and the fight earlier all came together now, making her so tired she could barely stand to keep her eyes open. Her entire body ached with the effort it took to stay awake. She stayed as close to the wall as possible, where she could look out across the dimly lit lightkeeper house.

Y/N felt the move as Harry reached out to the windowsill. He sat back, screwing the lid open, revealing a balm of some sort. He rubbed his middle finger in it, slowly sliding it along the thick balm till his finger was wet with it. Y/N bit her bottom lip. For some reason, she thought he was going to smear it across his own lips, some sort of cream to help keep his lips moisturised. No, instead Harry dragged his finger under his eyes. Not directly under his eyes, but along his cheekbones, slowly and gently.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked through a yawn.

Harry looked away from the telly and at her. “Face cream.”

“You put it on before bed?”

“It helps me sleep, it’s made of lavender and apricot. Both are supposed to help you fall into a deep sleep.”

“Can I try?”

“Yeah.” Harry handed it over, leaning his head back against the headboard, watching Y/N as she smelled it.

“Lush.”

“It is.”

Y/N rubbed her finger in it, putting it along under her eye. She was aware Harry was keeping an eye on her, but she pretended to find the programme incredibly interesting right then. She heard a slight chuckle.

“Not directly under your eyes,” Harry said. “Not there.” He leaned over, taking a delicate grip of her wrist and moving her hand down. “Here.” His hand moved upward to cup hers, his little finger, ring finger, and middle finger hooking themselves tenderly between her thumb and index. His index rested on top of hers as he guided her hand slowly and gently, tipping his head to the side to rest against the headboard while he concentrated. She didn’t dare look away from the telly, too overwhelmed to do anything but let him help her.

“Then the other eye,” he mumbled, telling her what was going to happen next. Because without warning, he dipped his finger in the balm Y/N was holding, swirling his finger slowly around till it was moist. When he did that, she simply could not help herself, and her eyes fell to look at his hand, taken aback by what was happening. However, she didn’t move or tell him to stop when Harry brought his hand up, sliding it over her cheekbone. Soft, slow, graceful. A prickling hot sensation followed where he touched, slowly spreading through her entire body. She looked away from the balm and at Harry, the second she did, he glanced back at her. A slight breath left her lips, Harry’s eyes falling to them. She sat up, finding the lid and placing it back on the balm. She handed it back to Harry.

Harry took it, placing it back in the windowsill before he got up from bed. Y/N lay back down, quickly checking the pulse on her neck because she knew her heart was beating hard. If it beat hard enough, would it somehow make the bed creak? Was it possible her heartbeat made her entire body shake like that? Just in case, Y/N switched so she was laying on her side. She watched as Harry turned the telly off, the room falling into complete darkness. Y/N closed her eyes, realising for the first time in a minute or two how sleepy she actually was.

It took a second or two before she felt the bed move and creak as he sat down. He shuffled till he was comfortable laying on his side facing her. Only reason she knew that was because she heard his content sigh and felt his breath on her face. It had been quiet for a minute or so before Harry whispered her name.

“Hm?” she asked, opening her eyes slightly. She could not make out much, but she thought she might’ve seen him looking at her. That might also just be her imagination playing tricks on her.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me and I’m sorry if it was embarrassing for you when I did that.”

“I’m sorry I criticised her for leaving you when it was bad for her mental health, I just know that it can’t have been easy to have been in your shoes just then, so that break up can’t have been easy to deal with on top of everything else.”

Silence stretched on for a few seconds. “It wasn’t. But I don’t blame her for leaving if that was what was best for her.”

Y/N closed her eyes again. “Okay.”

She felt the bed move again as Harry found a new position that was more comfortable. The pillow she rested her head on moved a bit, she reckoned he slung his arm over the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry said, voice slurring now as well.

“Night.”

“My alarm will go off at 3am, by the way.”

She smiled. “I know.”

She heard him let out a slight breath, sounding like a small chuckle, and the next thing she knew, she was having the slumber of her life.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 27 September, 9PM GMT!

Vote for ST here ✨

A HUGE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​ 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @summerfeelng 🌊 @watermelonsuger​​ 🌊  @withallthelove-a​​ 🌊 

[1ddotdhq]

🖕Mon Sept 28 ‘20 👓

First things first: see ya Psycho! Music Week published an article confirming Syco’s “low-key” demise. Music Week tells us two interesting things - the first is that “artists from [Cowell’s] TV show will now be free to sign to any label, with Sony no longer enjoying first refusal”. The second interesting tidbit is that “all Syco Music employees and artists have now either been redeployed within Sony Music, or have left the company”. Happy days!

More like busy days - for Harry, at least! He was seen yesterday evening in LA, taking pictures with a fan. He was wearing a mask (sexy) and a mini hair clip (less sexy, but adorable nonetheless). We can take this as an indication that pre-production for Don’t Worry Darling is likely underway, and as he’s the lead male role (!!!!!!), he has RESPONSIBILITIES and so he had to be there before the day of the actual shoot. Your intern spent a few hours reading up on film set guidelines, so I’m going to tell you that at some point between the UK, Italy, the UK again, and LA, Harry got himself screened and tested negative for COVID, as is mandatory to do before entering a film set. These sets are closed, and any visitors must also undergo screenings, as far as I could tell. Anyways, hopefully that keeps him safe and busy for the next few months! 

His Grammy campaign is ALSO underway, as his team told Music Week that they’ve “got a few more things up [their sleeve] for the rest of the year, but [we’ll] have to wait and see”. Is it the Golden video? I bet it’s the Golden video. Some more information about Harry’s accessories also became available to the public today: his custom vampire wife blue HS bag was VERY custom-made, apparently, as he specifically requested that color blue for his initials (the letters are normally done in a ~golden~ thread, which makes it funner, imo). In case you’re curious - it IS the same color as his Light’s Up costume, the Vespa, the room that Falling was shot in, and on and on and on. He does seem to rather have a fascination with that color, doesn’t he? Almost like...he gets so lost inside it? Can you believe it??

Hahaha okay moving on: Zayn ALSO keeps on keepin’ on to make Z3 a more tangible reality: he registered two new songs today: “Different” and “Look At Me Now”. And even #better (last time, I promise haha) - “Better” was featured on Amazon Music’s “song of the day”! I have to hear the songs before I say anything about it, but I do sort of hope that things will be “Different” this time around - “Better” - and that he’s telling us “Look At Me Now”. To use twitter terminology, I’m manifesting good things for him.

Liam had a feature in Esquire Mexico, where they talked about his early aspirations as an Olympic runner changing into his decision to give up running to focus on music. I wish they had talked about this a bit more, because I can’t expect that was an easy decision, but also, he would have been around 14 when he made it. That’s a BIG responsibility for a kid, and I want to hear how he felt about it then, and how he feels about it now, some thirteen years on. About his music career, he says: “The effort is what really counts. Having tried it was fundamental, but also understanding that if it didn’t work, it just wasn’t for me”. He does, however, attribute his success to his obsessive attitude (hmmm). At any rate, you’re a JOY to have around, Liam, so I’m glad it DID work out!

The feature also came with PICTURES, of course, in which he looks better than anyone reasonably has a right to - I have to keep reminding myself that if I want to stay impartial, I can’t be attracted to any of them, but DAMN did Liam test my resolve in these! They had him in glasses and a knitted hoodie/jumper/sweater thing holding a guitar on the cover photo. There are other pictures in which he’s wearing half undone button up shirts and too cool for school shades and looking moodily off into the distance (while holding his guitar) and a few where he’s looking pensively down in a blue paisley shirt and glasses (whew!). I think it’s the glasses that killed me, tbh, but go check them out, because I’m certainly not doing them justice! 

In some sunny news, Free My Meal popped up again to thank Louis for raising awareness for their cause, calling him a legend (we been knew, but it’s nice to see!) and using hashtags like “#noshame” and “#justask”, and I have to say - sometimes, you would be surprised at how kind people can be if you ask. ALSO, I am bringing this charity up literally ANY TIME I have the opportunity to, because I think it is doing phenomenal work, and I wish there were more programs like this one.

I also have a little bit of a Clown Car update for you: yesterday, Nick Gordon posted a “#theysaidyes” picture, featuring both Briana and Freddie, and captioning with a quote from...wait for it...When Harry Met Sally!!! He then went on a comment reading spree, liking such comments as “Although you are not the real father, you will be the best father, believe me” and “*** **”. I...am actually speechless, which never happens to me. AND THEN! Briana followed and account called “thepropertybrokers” which is an “Investment Property Specialist” account in Beverly Hills. Are you...going somewhere, girl? Don’t be shy, *** **. 

And, hmmm, let me think - what day is it? Oh, yeah, the 28th, I almost forgot! You know who DIDN'T? Paul Higgins, former One Direction bodyguard and bona fide Tour Dad, who went around Instagram liking “Happy Anniversary, Harry and Louis!” posts, including my favorite, which was captioned: “Happy 7th anniversary love birds! 28th September 2013 - it’s so great to see how two beautiful friends finally did it!...”. Yeah, guys, nothing to see here, they’re just celebrating 7 years of a beautiful and committed BROMANCE, doncha know? 

[lilymoonstars]

How do I love Thee?

Chapter 2 - New Gal about Town

Note: This story will be centred around female parker and male Cas. This will also contain spoilers so please proceed with caution!

Suitable for teen audiences and up

With a gratifying thud you dropped the last box on the floor in the living room which was currently doing an incredibly good impression of a junkyard. A sea of boxes and pieces of furniture now filled every space, it was a hoarder’s paradise. It didn’t seem possible for two people to have so many possessions, much less that it had fit in the old apartment.

“Mum?” you called walking back through the house, taking care not to bump anything. No answer. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore either. Nothing had been unpacked but an open box of baby photos and a trail of Styrofoam peanuts scattered up the stairs were useful clues. Sure enough when you got to her room, she was sat on the floor encircled by photos.

“Really? I turn my back for one second and you’re trying to commune with the seventh circle of hell?”

Her sniffling grew louder as she handed over a photo. “I j-just can’t b-believe it. How can m-my b-baby be starting her s-senior year? Your bum u-used to fit in the p-palm of my hand a-as I r-rocked you to s-sleep. N-now your bum doesn’t fit in my palm anymore and you’re all grown up and soon you won’t need me anymore!” She broke off suddenly dissolving into wails.

The photo was of you at 6 months old, wrapped up warm against the Boston winter chill. Try as she might to get your attention, she failed miserably but had the biggest smile on her face as she pointed at the camera. Her eyes shining with pure love and happiness. Both of you together like always.

“Mum, this is exactly why I gave you kitchen duty,” you sighed.

She looked up from the floor with her best puppy dog eyes on full display. Damnit.

“Come on. We both need some fresh air and it’s about time we went exploring too. Plus, I seem to remember someone promising me a shopping spree!”

“I guess I did,” she laughed. “Phew, moment over! Let’s go get my baby some new threads!”

Your insides curdled in embarrassment. “For both of our sakes, please never say that again.”

***

Arms laden with bags filled to the brim with school supplies, you headed to the small boutique next to the library. Crimson Beech was much larger than it had appeared the other night, the past two hours had been spent exploring the main promenade of town. A small bell tinkled overhead as the door opened. The shop was small but had modern furnishings. Sunlight poured through the glass storefront illuminating the pure white décor inside. Clothes filled the shelves inside, offering a lot more choice than you expected. Squeezing past two girls in the centre aisle, you headed to a pair of faded blue ripped jeans.

“They would go great with these!” A girl said enthusiastically at your side. In one hand she held a deep red crop top that crossed over at the bottom. In the other was a quilted black leather jacket embossed with gold studs. “The red will compliment your hair beautifully,” she promised, “trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

It was a little more daring than your usual choices. The over-sized white jumper and faded jeans you had on paling in comparison. However, the whole point of this move was for a change and maybe this was a good first step. It definitely screamed ass-kicking confidence.

“I’m Phoebe by the way,” she introduced herself.

“I’m Parker, I’m new around here,” you offered with a small, awkward wave.

“Trust me sweetie, we don’t get new blood round here often. Everyone in town knows who you are.”

Heat flooded your cheeks at her words. Any hopes of you had of blending in unnoticed disappeared.

“Parker! What do you think about this?” Your mum asked holding a purple dress and long, knitted cream cardigan. It looked very cosy, perfect for the autumnal weather outside. Taking it from her, you headed towards the changing rooms. A few minutes later you walked back over to your mum with a twirl.

“What do you think?”

“You look stunning Parker! Very pretty and smart. Go get changed and we’ll pick up some food.”

“Wait! I have one more outfit I want to show you!”

Locking the door, you were pulling on the outfit Phoebe had helped put together when there was a knock at the door.

“Just a second!”

“Parker, I’m sorry. I just had a call from my boss, he wants me to come in for a de-brief on one of my cases.” A credit card slid beneath the door. “Take my card, my treat. Love you!” She shouted, her footsteps receding down the corridor.

Pocketing her card, you went to the larger mirror at the end of the changing rooms, hoping Phoebe would be around for a second opinion. Pulling self consciously at the bottom of the top you worried if it was a little too much. Your red curls cascaded past your shoulders as you freed them from under the jacket collar. It was a little wild but taming it was a losing battle. Phoebe had been right though; it did go well together.

A low whistle sounded from further in the store as you made eye contact with the boy in the mirror. A wolfish grin covered his face as he stalked towards you. He was completely unashamed as his eyes roved over you from head to toe. “Much better, this one is my favourite.”

Your face burned. How long had he been there?

“Not too long,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

That had been out loud!? If there was ever a time for the ground to open and swallow someone whole, this was it. He looked at you like a predator with their prey as he took his lower lip into his mouth. He prowled ever closer, his black combat boots thudding against the wooden floor. He dressed in black head to toe save for the white shirt that stretched across his chest under a black leather jacket. The only colour on this was his silver-lilac hair, pairing well with the silver piercings in his left eyebrow and ear.

“If you stare any longer, I’ll have to charge you. My eyes are up here New Girl,” he drawled. His voice filled with smug satisfaction.

Over his shoulder, you spotted the two girls from earlier whispering and giggling behind their hands and anger sparked inside you. “So are mine but that didn’t stop you.”

His grin stretched even wider. “So, she does speak,” he murmured inching closer to your face, “I was worried that I’d stunned you so thoroughly with my beauty that you’d never recover.”

“No, you almost suffocated me with your overwhelming ego, but I think I’ll make a full recovery.”

A bark of laughter burst from him, ringing through the store. “Oh, New Girl, I like you. Something tells me we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.

“Cassius, turn your you-ness down a few notches,” Phoebe warned.

His face soured. “I’ve told you not to call me that.” He spit at Phoebe before focusing back on you. “Get the outfit New Girl,” he said, twirling one of your curls around his finger, “It suits you.”

A little dazed, you didn’t notice him leave.

“Don’t mind Cas, he just likes messing with people. In a few weeks he’ll move onto someone else.”

Blankly nodding at her, you bought your outfits and headed to the hospital. The whole way trying to convince yourself you’d be happy if he did.

***

Like everything else in this town Crimson Beech hospital seemed much bigger than a town this size needed, the outside showed that it spread over several floors. Glass doors opened with an exhale leading to a skylit covered atrium. The smell of bleach hung heavy in the air as porters bustled patients back and forth, trolley wheels squeaking across the linoleum. A large, stone staircase led to the open balconies above. To its left was a reception area with plush leather seating, making up a generous waiting area. The staff looked rushed of their feet. There was already someone in the waiting area and you sank into one of the leather seats opposite.

“Umm excuse me, can you help me? I’m a little lost.” A friendly smile lit up his face, so unlike Cas’s earlier.

“Sure, where abouts do you need to be?”

“I’m not sure to be honest! My mum’s the new medical examiner, I’m trying to find her office.”

“You must be Parker! I’m Gabe, nice to meet you!”

Blinking in surprise you weren’t sure if it would ever stop feeling unsettling that everyone knew who you were. After his initial excitement, he must have registered your look of surprise.

“.. That was a weird thing to say when we haven’t met wasn’t it? Let me start again, I’m Gabe. I volunteer for Dr Lewyn on the children’s ward. He’s your mum’s new boss. He said that you’d both be arriving soon.”

There was something endearing in his awkwardness. He exuded a warmth that immediately put you at ease.

“The medical examiners’ office is om the 3rd floor, I’ll take you there.” He said leading you to the elevators. “What do you think to Crimson Beech so far?”

“It’s taking some time to adjust; I’m not used to strangers knowing who I am. The town seems very charming though it’s like something out of a fairy-tale.

“Just wait until you hear some of the stories of the towns founding. Legend has it that Crimson Beech was discovered by vampire hunters. Honestly!” He insisted at the look of disbelief on your face.

The elevator doors slid open into another lobby as Gabe led you down another corridor. “How about you? Have you always lived here?”

“Born and bred. My ancestors go all the way back to when the town was founded.” He stopped outside a door half-way down the corridor. “This is your mum’s office.”

“Thanks Gabe.”

“Wait,” he called, causing you to turn back around. “You’ll need someone to show you around on your first day. If I get your number, maybe we can arrange to meet?”

Giving a mock gasp, you placed a hand to your chest, “Gabriel! Was this all a ploy to get my number?!”

His mouth open and closed comically for a second until he finished lamely, “I’m senior class president, it’s my job.”

Taking pity on him, you called yourself from his phone before handing it back over. “I’m expecting one hell of a tour,” you teased before disappearing inside.

“Speak of the devil, here she is! Lewyn this is my daughter Parker,” she introduced as you shook his hand. He looked to be about your mum’s age but there was something about his piercing blue eyes that seemed ancient. A coldness that eclipsed Gabe’s earlier warmth.

“I’ll leave you to it Terri, I’ve already taken up too much of your time already. Thank you again for coming on such short notice. These animal attacks are becoming concerningly frequent and with losing our last examiner so unexpectedly, we were really in need of some help. Nice to meet you, Parker.” With a slight nod he turned and left the office.

“So? What do you think?!” She squealed, spinning in her chair, “I can’t believe it’s all mine!”

“I’m really proud of you mum.” you told her honestly.

“And you heard what Lewyn said! There’s been a series of mysterious attacks that need investigating!”

“That’s funny, I heard animal attacks.” A warning tone colouring your voice as she waved your concerns away. “Mum, no. Don’t start this again. This is what happened last time and why we’re here now.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” She said as she enveloped you in a hug. “I’m just excited to be working cases again. I promise it won’t be like last time, ok? Now let’s go get some take out and watch a rubbish movie, yeah?”

As she gathered her things and ushered you to the door, you really wanted to believe her and if it hasn’t been for the case files that peeked over the top of her bag as she locked the door, you may have.

Note: Thank you all so much for your likes and comments on the stories so far! It's lovely to hear that you're enjoying the story so far!

As always, you can also follow the story on my Ao3 account: How do I Love Thee? - Chapter 1 - MemphisBelle - Choices: Immortal Desires (Visual Novel) [Archive of Our Own]

[lulu-zodiac]

Title: You'll Know All I Haven't Said

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, Pining, AU

Summary: Cas has always had an unnerving knack for knowing what Dean wants the most, even before Dean knows it himself.

If you want to be added to my fic tag list, let me know! <3

.

Cas always gives the best presents.

Dean knows it’s something to do with his unnervingly observant nature, the way he’s so tuned into the people around him. Or maybe just Dean. The thought makes something unfurl in Dean’s stomach that’s feels a bit like fear, or anticipation maybe. It happens a lot when he thinks of Cas, these days. Which is a lot, if Dean is being totally honest. Cas is his best friend, has been since they were both eight years old, so it’s normal that he occupies a lot of space in Dean’s head. It’s just that these days – sometimes it’s so much that it scares Dean, just a little. Because he knows there isn’t much time left where Cas will be a daily fixture of his life; next fall, they’re both heading off to college and everything’s going to be different.

That’s why, Dean tells himself, he’s spent so much time trying to think of what to give Cas this Christmas. It’s hard to top Cas’s gift-giving skills. He has always had an unnerving knack for somehow knowing exactly what Dean wants, even before Dean knows it himself. Not that Dean would tell him, but all his most treasured gifts over the years have all been from Cas. A wonky, handmade wooden impala car Cas made in his Dad’s workshop when he was twelve. Zeppelin concert tickets the Christmas they were both fifteen. Last year, an anthology of Neruda with Cas’s scrawling writing on the opening page, which Dean has read more than the poems the book contains (not that he’d admit that to Cas).

The only problem with Cas being so amazing at choosing gifts is that Dean always feels under pressure to match Cas’s presents, give him something that he’ll treasure as much as Dean treasures the gifts Cas gives him. And the thing is, Cas is hard to buy for, hard to read, a lot of the time. Even though Dean spends more time with Cas than anyone else, and spends even more time thinking about Cas, he’s never quite sure what’s going on in his head. And that makes it difficult, because Dean so wants to make this last Christmas before they both go their separate ways special.

The thought of not being around Cas every day makes his whole chest ache, so Dean tries not to do it. But sometimes it just creeps up on him and it’s like having a bucket of ice water poured over him, a constant knife in his chest that twists deeper and deeper as it gets closer to the time he knows they’ll have to say goodbye. It’s not just about parting ways – Dean knows there’s no way he and Cas won’t stay best friends. But it's like there's also something that Dean's always been waiting for that might not get to happen, that graduating and leaving for college might get in the way of, and even though Dean has no idea what it is he’s waiting for, the idea that it might get pushed aside, might never happen, is somehow unbearable.

After a week of agonising over options, it’s finally Christmas Eve and Dean is standing on Cas’s doorstep, breath clouding out in front of him in the frosty air. There’s small parcel in the pocket of his leather jacket that he fiddles with nervously as he waits, feeling the bumps of his own bad gift-wrapping skills. His stomach flips over inexplicably when the hall lights flicker on there’s the sound of keys in the lock.

“Dean,” Cas smiles, quiet but sincere, and stands back to let Dean in. Dean is hit, as he is not infrequently these days, by how good-looking Cas has become. He’s not built but he’s lean, strong-looking, with a kind of grace about the way he carries himself. Tonight, he’s wearing an indigo knitted sweater that he got in a thrift store with Dean last year, and it makes the blue of his gaze feel infinite as it sweeps over Dean, familiar and warm.

“Hey,” Dean smiles stupidly, suddenly feeling self-conscious as he steps into the hallway. It’s warm and smells faintly of incense and home-baking, but they don’t linger, heading straight up the stairs to Cas’s room as usual.

“Very festive,” Dean remarks as Cas closes the door behind them, noting the multi-coloured fairy lights Cas has strewn around the window, glowing softly and casting the room into muted colours. Dean secretly prefers Cas’s room to his; he’s spent so much time in it over the years that it feels just as much like home, maybe even a little more because it has Cas in it.

“Thanks,” Cas is standing by the door, arms folded across his chest as he watches Dean inspect his bookshelf, run his fingertip along the spines. “There’s a new one there for you, if you want it.” His expression is uncharacteristically unreadable. Not that Cas is easy to read – not by any stretch of the imagination. But Dean’s spent a long time mapping out his different expressions and mannerisms, and it’s not often these days that he’s faced with one he can’t place at all. This one is not unfamiliar, though. It’s one he’s noticed playing across Cas’s features increasingly often in recent months, generally when he glances up and catches Cas off guard. It’s an expression that niggles away at the back of Dean’s mind when he’s trying to get to sleep at night, gets under his skin.

Dean looks reluctantly away from Cas and back to the shelves, eyeing them more closely. His hand pauses on an unfamiliar hardback, Bluebeard by Vonnegut. “This?”

“If you want it,” Cas says, and Dean thinks he detects a note of apprehension beneath the warmth, a kind of distraction, as though he’s thinking about something else, which is a sharp contrast to his often unnerving focus that’s usually directed Dean’s way.

“Thanks,” Dean takes the book of the shelf and flips through the pages, catches a few flashes of Cas’s dextrous scrawl.

“Don’t – don’t read my notes now,” Cas crosses the room, takes the book from Dean’s hands and closes it. “Not when I’m here.”

Dean eyes him curiously. One of his favourite things about Cas lending him books all the time is getting to read Cas’s private thoughts filling the margins. “Is this my Christmas present? Not like you to forgo the fancy paper and the chance to upstage my gift-wrapping skills.”

A smile pulls at the corner of Cas’s mouth, his eyes crinkle with quiet amusement even though the nervousness doesn’t dissipate, Dean notes. “No, it’s not your present.”

“Then where is it?” Dean asks, glancing around the room – but there’s no sight of a gift. Just the soft glow of the fairy lights and Cas’s notebooks on his desk, a couple of jumpers hanging over the back of his chair, the little cactus Dean gave him for his birthday two years ago sitting stoutly on his bedside table.

“You’re very demanding,” Cas admonishes, handing the book back to Dean and crossing the room to sit down on one end of the window seat, curling up like a cat. There’s a twinkle of amusement in his blue gaze, but he pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands, something Dean knows he only does when he’s nervous. The thought makes a pang of nerves curl through Dean too, although he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know why it feels like they’re waiting for something.

“Well, you’re very mysterious,” Dean counters, flopping down on the other end of the window-seat and pushing one of his socked feet playfully at Cas’s. “And unnervingly good at presents, which is why I’m so particularly demanding today. I’m expecting great things. How is that you always seem to know exactly what I want?”

“I very much hope that’s true this year,” Cas says, quiet in a way that makes Dean catch his breath, inexplicably nervous too. He’s looking down, still fiddling with the stray thread from the cuff of his jumper. His expression is uncharacteristically vulnerable in the soft light, messy dark hair and wide eyes so blue that they make Dean’s heart fumble a beat in his chest when Cas suddenly looks up, holds Dean’s gaze. It’s very quiet, the space between them. Dean feels very aware of his heart, doesn’t know why it’s suddenly going quite so fast. “You go first,” Cas says, low, eyes intent and full of something, and it takes Dean a moment to remember what they’re talking about.

“Oh – yeah, okay,” he stutters, feeling his cheeks flush as he fumbles in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the package he’d wrapped earlier. “Look – don’t get too excited. You know I’m not great at presents, but I wanted to do something special, because you know –” he breaks off, trying to push down the sudden sharpness in his chest, “This might be the last Christmas we spend together, and I don’t want you to go forgetting me when you’re off being all genius at some school I’d never be able to get into.” He thrusts the present unceremoniously at Cas. “Badly wrapped as usual, sorry,” he adds, as an afterthought.

“Dean,” Cas is holding the wrapped present, but he’s not looking at it. He’s looking at Dean with the kind of familiar, earnest sincerity that makes Dean’s heart ache, that he’s going to miss so much. “There is no chance of me ever forgetting you,” Cas says slowly, and the something in his gaze deepens, turning into something that makes Dean feel simultaneously as though he wants to look away and never look away again. The space between them suddenly feels intimate, theirs. Just the two of them, the way Dean always aches for when it’s not.

“Thanks,” Dean says, gathering himself, but his voice sounds unsteady to his own ears, like he suddenly feels. Off-kilter, dizzy, like they’re both spinning into orbit. “Okay, okay, open the goddamn present already,” Dean mumbles, awkward, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Cas keeps looking at him like that, and he’s afraid of how much he wants to find out.

Cas looks at him a beat longer, before dropping his attention to the present, unwrapping it carefully with his long, dextrous fingers. There’s a moment when he pulls the leather-bound album out of the shell of wrapping where Dean feels hot all over, embarrassed by his own sentiment. He digs his nails into his palm, watches as Cas opens it and goes still, reading Dean’s inscription. There’s a long pause, and then he turns the first page, and then the next and the next, looking at the photos of him and Dean that Dean has collected from over the years: the two of them togged up in winter coats and red welly boots, making snow-angels in Dean’s back garden; Cas aged ten with a tearstained face, watching as Dean puts a band-aid on his grazed knee; both of them on their first day of middle school, Cas moody with pins all over his jacket and scruffy converse sneakers, Dean grinning with his letterman; Cas, windswept and smiling two summers ago, lying on a sandy beach and gazing up at Dean with that a hint of that something Dean can’t get out of his head now.

Cas finally looks up at him, eyes so blue it hurts to look at them. “Thank you, Dean,” his voice is slightly hoarse. “This –” he breaks off, swallows, turning the album over in his hands. “This must have taken you ages.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean mumbles gruffly, cheeks heating up. His heart is racing, and he wants to change the subject, take the focus away from how intimate the present suddenly feels now that Cas is holding all their memories in his hands. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m glad you like it, but you know I can’t handle chick flick moments. Come on, your turn. Where’s mine?”

The unreadable look is back on Cas’s face with more intensity, combined with something Dean definitely recognises as nervousness now. Cas’s chest is rising and falling more rapidly, eyes wider than usual, cheeks slightly flushed as he holds Dean’s gaze, almost like he’s steeling himself for something. “Okay,” he says, seemingly more to himself than to Dean. Okay, close your eyes.”

“What?” Dean blinks.

“Close them,” Cas says, with slightly more authority, but Dean can see the way Cas’s fingers are trembling where he’s still holding all of their memories, their whole friendship in his hands. Cas glances down at it unreadably, like it’s suddenly fragile, and then back at Dean. He swallows, repeats, “Dean,” quietly imploring.

Dean closes his eyes. Cas’s gaze and the fairy lights all fade into to soft shadow. Vision gone, Dean suddenly feels very aware of the proximity between them, the almost imperceptible warmth of Cas beside him, the way their thighs are pressed lightly together. Dean has a sudden urge to nudge his closer to Cas’s, to close all the gaps and feel how warm Cas really is. He breathes in, suddenly breathless, and is overwhelmed by the smell of Cas’s skin, familiar and musky, a hint of the patchouli incense he always burns when he’s working. The smell of home. Dean’s heart is suddenly racing so hard it hurts. “Cas?”

Cas is silent. There’s a pause that might be a single heartbeat or the whole last ten years, and then there’s warm, tentative pressure against Dean’s mouth. Cas’s lips, silken soft and hot, brushing tenderly, slowly, against his. Cas’s hands cupping his face, rough and warm and trembling, holding him still as the world spins away into nothing. Cas’s breath, gentle and unsteady against Dean’s mouth, punctuating the kiss.

Dean’s eyes fly open, and the first thing he sees is blue. Deep, exhilarating blue. Like the sky at that moment just between dusk and darkness. And then he’s drowning. He ducks forward and captures Cas’s mouth again with his, stomach somersaulting at the stifled sound Cas makes, like he thought Dean wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t want this. The heat unfurling deep Dean’s chest intensifies at the way Cas’s hands grab at the front of Dean’s shirt, clumsy and desperate, the way Cas shifts closer, all warmth. Cas’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect, tongue twining with Dean’s as they kiss, pressing so close together that their noses nudge together, that Dean’s not sure who’s heartbeat belongs to who anymore.

When they break apart for breath, Cas’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dark and shining. He’s so beautiful Dean aches with it.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas says, voice low and heavy in a way that makes arousal curl through Dean. His eyes are full of quiet happiness, and that something that Dean hasn’t been able to get out of his head for months. It’s wonderful to finally know what it is, to know that it is this. Dean feels like he’s floating.

“Merry Christmas,” Dean echoes, dazedly, and his voice sounds as rough as Cas’s. He shakes his head, smiling in disbelief. “I told you that you always know what I want before I do,” he pauses, “Though, amazing as all the others were, I think this present might just top the list.” Dean is vaguely aware that he’s grinning giddily, heart still pounding.

“I wasn’t sure you’d like it,” Cas admits, looking down, and Dean catches a hint of the nervousness Cas was full of earlier, that makes sense now. Dean feels a rush of warmth for him at the courage it must have taken to cross that line, to take a whole ten years of friendship in his hands and do what Dean never had the courage for.

“Hey,” Dean reaches out, twines their hands together. It’s reassuring the way he can feel Cas trembling a bit too, reminding him they’re both in this together, it’s just the two of them, the way Dean likes it best. “Cas. It’s the best present I’ve ever had,” he says, honestly. Cas looks up and smiles at him, brighter than the lights above them, than anything Dean’s ever known – and Dean suddenly has to rethink his words, because Cas looking at him like that, so full of love and happiness, is better than anything Dean could ever have imagined.

.

[theroyalsims]

NATALIA WARNS: EXPECT THE TESTS WILL BE NEGATIVE, BUT DON’T BELIEVE IT

Miss Anouelle certainly has a knack for stirring the pot!

This morning, The Rennaux Tatler issued a follow-up to their explosive article last month which “revealed” that Prince Jacques could very well have a lovechild, a “secret princess,” with one of his former flames. The most recent article features a direct quote from Miss Anouelle (the “secret princess” in question), which claims that negative DNA test results should be expected, but not believed: 

“Look, I’ve already accepted that the truth will not be revealed because, quite frankly, look at who I’m going against? Two of the most powerful and high-profile royal families in the world. They can order as many DNA tests they would like, but those test are nothing but lies. 

They have everything under their thumb. When I flew in to donate my samples, I felt like a criminal. The police and the palace people were everywhere. I knew right then and there that these tests will be useless and not at all credible. But this pathetic display seems to show just how scared they are of the truth. Look at all the trouble they’re going through, just to discredit one person.”

(Above: Practicing for Princesshood? Natalia waves and poses photos for her adoring public.)

Despite the seemingly disappointed tone of Miss Anouelle’s quote, she was spotted walking around town -with a bodyguard in tow- looking happy and pleased. She even took the time to wave to some onlookers who were snapping her photos. 

(Above: Prince Jacques, who is currently in Champs les Sims, was seen arriving at St. Pierre Hospital for the collection of his DNA samples.)

Meanwhile, across town at around the same time, Prince Jacques was spotted entering St. Pierre Hospital to submit his DNA samples. The hospital, which was selected by Miss Anouelle herself, is the last of the three facilities that were tasked to collect and conduct the individual DNA tests to determine Miss Anouelle’s paternity. The results are expected some time within the week.

Miss Anouelle’s most recent photos also struck a chord with both royal watchers and fashionistas alike. Online, people couldn’t help but comment that for two consecutive days, the alleged “secret princess” has been photographed wearing the same outfits both Crown Princess Anya and Princess E have worn in the past. 

(Above: Crown Princess Anya (L) was seen wearing the oversized knit jumper when she arrived from Sulani last month. Yesterday, Natalia (R) was seen in Rennaux wearing the same jumper (albeit in grey) and tights combo when she had her samples collected for the DNA test.)

One commenter wrote: “This woman is obviously deranged. Look at her cosplaying as CP Anya and Princess E. That’s just really sad.” Another rather critical comment read: “Her arms and legs must be so sore from all the social climbing she’s been doing lately.”

(Above: Who wore it better - Princess E (L) first wore the striped button down mini-dress weeks ago. Natalia (R) was spotted the exact same dress (but in pink) today.)

However, Miss Anouelle also has some loyal followers. One comment in support of Natalia read: “Why criticize someone for wearing sumthin sum1 else wore. It happens ol d tym. Y’all being petty.” Another pro-Natalia commenter wrote: “Anya and E aren’t the only people who can afford good clothes, so I don’t see the issue. Nat rocks those outfits better, IMHO.”

One can’t help but wonder how CP Anya and Princess E feel about their alleged “little sister” taking hints from their fashion choices? We’re betting Princess E, especially, isn’t very happy about it!

[angeli-marco-writes]

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆  Tom Holland - Just Friends?  ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

A/N - posting for the first time in forever, this time with a Tom Holland imagine that’s already been on my wattpad for a loooong time. Go check that out though, angeli.marco because I have whole ass collections on there rather than just the odd few one shots. 

Warnings - drinking, very light mentions of drugs, swearing. Also its like 5k words so it’s long as well.

Summary - you and tom have been best friends for a long time and inseparable for just as long. The boys welcome you as one of their own, and you’re basically a part of the family. That’s your main issue, because when you begin to harbour feelings for your best friend, you’re not sure if he feels the same.

YOU AND TOM HAVE AN INTENSE FRIENDSHIP, there’s no denying it. In fact, the intensity worries his family, it all happened so fast.

The two of you met about a year and a half ago at your local supermarket. You were just going shopping for some food as you moved to London, and you saw Tom there. You recognised him, but you of course didn’t want to be a bother, so you began to hyperventilate in the bread aisle, thinking you were alone, just when Tom poked his head around the corner. 

“You okay, Miss? You sound like you’re dying.” Those were his very first words to you, and you couldn’t even look him in the eye when responding.

“I-I’m fine, tha-thanks Mr Holland.” Could you have been any more awkward? 

However, Tom, thankfully, found it endearing, and to this day he still does. A day hasn’t gone by for the last 18 months that the two of you haven’t spent together. Within a week of meeting, you were on first name terms with all of his family and friends, and every second of your lives are spent in each other’s company, simply platonic though - at least for him.

He spends his time with you on pranks, swiftly followed by an apology cupcake (never handmade, at least not by him), and in the evening, he hauls you up to the roof of your apartment building or a spot on his house to get drunk and look at the sky. It’s what you love about him, he incorporates everything the both of you enjoy into your daily lives and it creates this brilliant, inescapable routine of happiness and hangovers, and almost every morning that you wake up with him on the other side of his bed or yours, only to find him half hanging off it, you feel this intense happiness in your chest. That feeling is immediately shut down when you realise that to Tom, you’ll be nothing more than his friend. And in a few months, your whirlwind friendship will be over and he’ll be a stranger to you, a big star you stalk on Instagram, he’ll never be your Tom.

Today, you’d planned to go over to his house as soon as you woke up after spending one of your only ever nights apart, since his parents were out with Paddy, meaning it would only be you two and the boys, whom you also got on well with. He left his door unlocked when he knew you were coming over, something else that confused you, and why would he want you over whilst his parents were absent? Yes, he’s a 23 year old actor, but he’s still a mummy’s boy. You trusted that nothing would happen even though you secretly hoped it would.

On your walk to his house, you text him and get a reply almost immediately, though not what you expect.

YOU - Nearly there :)

TOM - I nicked his phone baby, see you at the door. Harry x

You smile in spite of yourself, shutting your phone off and shoving it in your back pocket with the elegance of a hippo, stumbling over his drive before you even reach his front door. You take a heavy sigh while gathering your dignity, looking up at the house. In the attic, Harrison’s sitting in the window seat, his head in his hands while holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear, another fight in paradise apparently, Sam is in the front room, Tom’s in his bedroom (more precisely in his wardrobe), and Harry is nowhere to be seen. That can only mean trouble.

You open the door and kick your shoes off in the porch, closing the front door as you cautiously open the second, only to be tackled and restrained. Your hands are held behind your back with a strong arm winding around your waist and hot breath fanning your ear.

“Surrender your sweets, baby, or I’ll text your mum from Tom’s phone.” Chirps a voice, cracking a little because you know he’s trying to keep a straight face. How does he always know?

“My back right pocket, be careful or Tom will kill you for laying a hand on me.” You say, and the smirk in your voice is obvious. Within seconds, you’re freed but pulled to the ground by a laughing Harry, laughing so hard his cheeks are a magnificent red and his breathing laboured. “Lovely to see you too Harry.” You say, passing him the packet of skittles that you always carry with you. He takes them gratuitously and stands up first, pulling you up off the floor much to the disappointment of a scowling onlooking Sam, and you race up the stairs to Tom's room. 

“Knock knock,” Upon entering, a childish grin is all over your face.

“Did you get my phone off Harry on my way up here?” Tom asks solemnly, not moving from his position virtually inside his man-sized wardrobe. You flop down on his bed which just happens to be far more comfortable than your own, and sigh.

“No, Harry threatened me with it but he loves me enough to hand it over if you want me to get it.” You grin, your eyes glued to him, but he just doesn’t move. “You okay?” You ask and he nods.

“Yeah course baby, why wouldn’t I be?”

There’s something up that you can’t place, so to snap him into action you mention something guaranteed to get Tom riled up. “Your brother trapped me on my way in, if I hadn't made him laugh he would’ve been grabbing my arse to get hold of my sweets.”

Tom spins on his heel, leaping onto the bed beside you. He starts to trace a calloused finger down your face and neck, only stopping at the neckline of your jumper. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

A lump forms in your throat. His touch electrifies your body, making your mind go lax, but you can’t be complacent. You’re just friends, right?

“Of course he didn’t. Now what are we doing today?” You roll off the side of the bed and away from Tom, folding your arms secretively across your chest. You look out the window at the houses across the street, watching cars go by and seeing the leaves flying in the gusts of wind that come every so often, London really can be pretty.

Tom stands up and follows you, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. He places a hand on your shoulder and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. “Did Harry hurt you? Tell me, please.”

You smile sadly, shaking your head. “He didn’t, he never would, I promise, I just don’t feel great today,” This ends up being the wrong thing to say, because Tom proceeds to place his hand on your forehead and then the sides of your neck, followed by a chaste kiss to your head which makes your whole body feel weightless. His lips are so soft.

“You haven’t got a temperature, maybe Sam’s lunch will make you feel better.”

For the next two hours, the two of you sit a little too much of a respectable distance apart on the sofa while watching your favourite show, LOST. You don’t talk much, but you find his baby brown eyes looking at you and his mouth gaping like a fish every so often, making a fiery blush heat your face and neck. Harry decides to sit in the empty space between the two of you, shortly followed by Harrison who sits on the arm of the sofa with his arm around your shoulders, only leaving when called to help with the lunch by Sam.

“Harry, can you piss off please?” Tom says after a string of continually failing attempts to push his brother from the sofa space between the two of you.

“Why, so you can sit with your girlfriend?” Harry teases, once again making the wrong choice with an already aggravated Tom. The pair leap to their feet, neither wearing slippers, and start legging it around the house.

You can hear the painful thuds of the pair no doubt slamming into walls and leaving dents, the harsh skids of the tiled floor when their socks fall down their heels, the shrieks and yells of disdain between the brothers, and finally the crash, crack and groan sequence of them piled on the floor, with Harrison entangled in them - you can tell from his posh sounding squeak of despair.

Begrudgingly, you stand up and leave the comfort and warmth of your sofa crease and make your way to the kitchen where Sam is blatantly ignoring the existence of his brothers and their imbecility. 

“Smells good Sam, sorry about them, it’s my fault.” You say absently, crouching down to untangle the pile of tangled limbs.

“Yeah,” Sam responds with a snort, “it is your fault, they keep fighting because they’ve fallen so madly in love with you and can’t decide who should have you.”

His words make you stop dead in your movements and cause an eerie silence to settle over everyone. For a solid, lengthy minute that feels like an hour, no one moves or speaks or breathes, and you’ve never been so confused in your life. Slowly, you stop trying to help the boys and you stand up.

“I- um, he was joking baby.” Tom stammers, watching you stand up to leave. What is it with that nickname making you feel things? 

“Yeah, slip of the tongue love.” Sam adds, leaning over the stove to catch your hand on your way out. You turn to face him, only to have him shoot you an apologetic glance.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll be upstairs, come find me when you’ve grown up.” You say finally, closing the kitchen door on your way out.

As soon as you’re securely in Tom’s room, you clasp your hands together and release a long held groan of desperation, sliding down the back of the door. Circumstance is killing you, why can’t life just be simple? You look around Tom’s room at all of the framed pictures of the two of you hung from his walls, propped up on his window sill, and a special one in a heart on his bedside locker. Since you met, he’s been your one and only. You haven’t even thought about another boy, well, man. What Sam said has to have been a coincidence, Harry can’t like you, or so you tell yourself. It’d be far easier to date Harry than Tom, but it'd ruin your friendship with them both. You let out another groan and sprawl yourself out on Tom's bed. It’s so familiar to you - the duvet, the mattress, the smell that can only be described as Tom, your makeup stains on the pillows, just everything, including a dress of yours in the wardrobe in case you need to get ready at his house. 

Your eyes flutter closed and your mind spirals back to the day you met. Even then you were surprised at how laid back he was, until it came to his brothers.

──⭒─⭑─⭒──

You look all around your new apartment for a snack, but there’s nothing. Literally nothing except for frozen rice. With a disgruntled moan, you grab your coat and walk down the five flights of stairs to get out of your new building, and walk in the cold London weather and wind to the nearest supermarket. You look inside before entering, and it thankfully seems to be relatively empty, so you shrug off your hood and go inside, only to be met with the sight of your favourite actor, the gorgeous new Spider-Man, Tom Holland. You suffer an internal debate of whether to talk to him or not, and decide against it when your lungs and mind decide to conspire against you.

You quickly run into the bread aisle and think of anything possible to calm you down, but your lungs still don’t want to work, causing your every breath to come out as a laboured whistle. You begin to browse the loaves in an attempt at normality - wholemeal to white, rolls to wraps, but your overdriven brain won’t stop reminding you that your celebrity crush is literally feet away, scrap that, about one foot now since he’s come around the corner.

“You okay, Miss? You sound like you’re dying.” he says to you half jokingly, smiling crookedly at you.

“I-I’m fine, tha-thanks Mr Holland.” you stammer back, immediately face palming and turning away from him, but he’s just laughing at you. “I was hyperventilating because I saw you, even more suave and gorgeous in person.” You say as an attempt to recover, and he seems flattered.

“A fan then. Nice to meet you, now let's shop because this place closes early on Sundays. '' he laughs and swoops up your basket that you’d forgotten about and left strewn across the aisle. 

You follow wherever he walks, watching the way his calves tense when he leans up to the top shelves, the way his arse clenches when he’s deep in thought, the way he smiles at you like a newly rehomed puppy whenever you compliment him or try to be humorous.

Towards the end of your shop, you haul him to the alcohol aisle and pile spirits and mixers into your basket by the gallon. “Game recognises game. Wanna get pissed and watch the stars?” He asks, examining a strawberry vodka that you threw into your basket that just so happened to be mainly alcohol with only a couple of essential food items.

You’re more astounded and taken aback than you can ever remember being, but with one look at his beautiful face you agree with a little too much fervour, subsequently knocking your hair free from its bun and making Tom laugh again. You get the urge to elbow him but withhold in order to preserve this new friendship. While you pay, Tom texts his brother who parks outside and collects the shopping from Tom, but not without warning you that he can be a little tactile. You brush him off with a smile and lead Tom back to your apartment.

He insists on carrying all of your shopping bags into your building and convinces you to take the lift up to your flat, wherein you dump everything but three bottles of alcohol before he’s dragging you up the roof and unscrewing a bottle of echo before you even have the door open.

He collapses through the door and out into the fresh air, taking your hand in order for you to follow suit, though a little more gracefully. He passes you the wine and finds a dry piece of roof, upon which he places his jacket down and crashes onto it.

“How come you’re not treating me like a celebrity?” He asks, pulling you down to sit beside him. You think for a moment and eventually shrug, your eyes trailing back to the sky.

“Because you don’t act like a celebrity I suppose.” You respond, taking another swig from the dreadful bottle of wine. “You act like a normal guy, doing grocery shopping, helping me shop, bringing a minging fan such as myself back to my flat and insisting on drinking with me. You act like a nicer version of every other lad our age.”

He leans over you, engulfing you in a hug and grabbing for the vodka and coke. “I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

The next morning, you find the two of you hungover and fully dressed on top of your bed, glass liqueur and wine bottles decorating your floor. All you remember is going shopping, meeting Tom, and getting incredibly drunk while stargazing. Too drunk to viably do anything besides sleep and throw up, the latter of which you hope to god did not happen.

Tom stirs soon after and just hugs your stomach while groaning and rubbing his head, complaining that he’s never going to drink again - which you know will last approximately twelve hours.

You proceed to eat a make-do breakfast, followed by a heavy dose of paracetamol before Tom walks you to his house. He helps you up the step and just shouts, “this is my new best friend, we’ll be in my room!” 

You see his family's scepticism from down the hall, but Tom doesn’t seem bothered about them or calling you his new best friend, and that's how it all begins.

──⭒─⭑─⭒──

“Lunch!” Comes Sam’s voice from outside the door, snapping you out of your reverie, followed by a click and some footsteps. He sits down beside you on the bed, stroking your hair. He doesn’t need to ask if you’re okay or not, he’s just exceptional at reading people, and he really genuinely cares about everyone. He sits you up and hands you a plate with the kindest smile. You don’t need to tell him how you feel, he can tell that you’re confused and tired and in love with his brother - that happened fast.

“They’re locked in the dining room with Harrison. Honestly, forget about them, my brothers are complete dickheads.” He says, sliding you a plate.

“Trust me, I know. They’re worse than that, I think that's why I love you and your family so much.” You sigh deeply, a tear forming in your eye as you rest your head against Sam’s shoulder and he wraps his spare arm around you. He’s a friend to you, one that isn’t messing with your feelings.

A rap on the door breaks your and Sam's discussion, and Tom enters with his back hunched and frowning. “Hug?” Is all he says. Maybe it's best if you don’t discuss it and go back to normal with both your Tom and Harry, maybe the intensity will die down and you’ll be able to go five minutes without each other.

“Hug.” You say, clambering your way off Tom’s bed and subsequently melting into his grip. He hugs you tighter than ever before, borderline crushing your shoulders and temporarily preventing you from breathing, but hearing the steady thrum of his heartbeat inside his chest is enough, feeling his chest and arm muscles tense and release around you makes you forget what this was all about, it just makes you crave his smell to be all over you, makes you crave his kisses on every inch of your body and not just your cheeks; being this close to him makes you crave the parts of him that you’ve been denied, flaws included.

“I’m gonna leave before something worse starts, catch you downstairs baby.” Sam says, collecting your plates and leaving you chuckling into Tom's chest, still reluctant to let go of him, and he seemed to feel the same. You tilt your head up a little so you’re at the perfect angle to examine every feature of Tom’s face - everything from a tiny part of his face that he missed while shaving, the twinkles of his eyes, his decidedly haywire eyebrows. You lose track of the time that you remain in his grip, but it feels right, with this being quite probably the longest you’ve gone without speaking and your first form of disagreement.

“I love you baby.” He murmurs, squeezing you momentarily tighter before holding you at arm's length. Baby, the nickname that all the Hollands and Harrison insist on calling you, but it ignites a raging fire of longing in your veins whenever Tom says it, especially when it follows those three words.

“You too, T” You reply with a faint hint of sadness tugging at your heart, so you jump up when his back is turned and scruff his hair. “Piggyback please.”

Tom proceeds to give you a purposefully bumpy piggyback down the stairs and out to his garden, where the other three are huddled suspiciously close around a collection of golf clubs. You climb down from Tom’s back and glance up at the winter sunshine, making Tom look borderline ethereal with his smile illuminated by Sol, Norse Goddess of sunlight. He looks perfect, and that's what kills you, you wouldn’t deserve that level of perfection anyway.

You waste the afternoon away by playing back garden golf with a twist, if you miss three shots in a row then you take a shot, it does not end well. The boys swiftly get too competitive and have to drink, leaving you the only sober one between four tipsy lads in their early twenties, and their level of intoxication makes it easier for you to continually beat them.

Early evening comes by, and Harrison seems on edge, making him run upstairs to the attic to answer a phone call, no doubt from his girlfriend. The four of you watch him from the garden - his sighs turn to yells, and his yells soon turn to crying into a pillow.

“Who’s turn is it?” Tom asks, and you raise your hand. You turn to take one last look at the three brothers, all with the same sad smiles and fretful eyes, and you run up all the stairs to the attic where Harrison is now just standing blankly, staring at a wall. Instead of asking or making him talk, you do what Sam did for you, just hug him.

──⭒─⭑─⭒──

You wake up in Tom’s arms after a long nap on his sofa post-golf, the other three boys asleep on the sofa beside yours. You smile at the sight, gently nudging Tom awake despite your not wanting to stir him. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps despite his snores. His eyelashes always flutter and his nose twitches while his hair creates all sorts of patterns on the pillows he lies upon.

“Let’s go to the roof, you grab the wine.” you say, watching his perfect brown eyes open and a smile instantly grace his lips upon the sight of you. 

You grab some blankets and make your way to the second floor bathroom window where you leave the window propped open for Tom. Just outside is a patch of flat roof that permits the two of you to sit or lie there, stargazing and getting drunk, you’ve even fallen asleep there once or twice, not to mention the mildly illegal substances that you’ve smuggled in.

Tom arrives minutes after you just as night is properly settling in. The stars twinkle in the sky as far as the eye can see, certain stars shining brighter than others and those are the ones that you and Tom have studied over the past year.

“Nigel’s on fire tonight!” He exclaims, pointing towards a star just south-west of Sirius. You stifle a giggle, looking at Tom who passes you a bottle of nice red wine, a rarity for the two of you. 

“It's Rigel and you know it.” You return, laying your head on his broad shoulders. He lies his head atop yours, placing kisses to your hairline. You involuntarily let out the faintest hum of agreement, turning your focus away from the longing that’s filling every pore of your body and returning it to the stars which you worship so profusely. You take a swig of wine, handing your bottle back to Tom who just places it down and turns to you.

He looks solemn, business like, this is a Tom that you’re not a fan of at all. “What Sam said earlier…” He starts, but you turn away from his gaze to trace the whole Canis Major constellation with your eyes, focusing on Sirius to will yourself away from crying. Just the thought of what Sam said being true makes you simultaneously joyful and sullen, it makes you want to reach for the stars and cry, but most of all, it just makes you sick, and you know it's not the wine talking.

“Don’t say it, Tom.” You begin. “Don’t you dare start to talk to me about that when I’ve been so painfully in love with you since the moment we met, don’t act like you can brush off what he said as a joke, because if you don’t want me then maybe Harry does.” 

You know it’s wrong to be saying all of this, so wrong, but all of a sudden, your mouth stops doing what your brain tells it to, and your heart takes over. 

“God. And for a second there I had hope as well, maybe that's the worst part. Or maybe the worst part is that we haven't been able to spend a second apart, and the only time we did was when you were too embarrassed to follow me after Sam had a slip of the tongue. You can’t blame your brothers, Tom, the same way that I can't blame the alignment of stars and planets for us never being together when it’s my fault for not being enough. But none of that even scrapes the level of longing I have for you when you kiss my cheeks, when you hug me, when we play fight, when we sleep together, when you just do something as simple as calling me baby. I can’t talk about this anymore, so leave or tell me to go, or you can stay here and we really can act like this never happened.”

Unsurprisingly, he chooses the latter, but there’s a certain rigidity and tension in his movements, made worse by the dark cloud looming over the two of you after your unladylike outburst. You want to apologise, go back in time and take it all away, but you surrender in the only way you can, you cry. Just a single tear cascading your cheek before Tom wipes it away and lays his pinky finger just over yours on the roof, pressing down a little to let you know that it's okay and he doesn’t love you any less, at least that’s how you interpret it .

You remain on the roof, unmoving, side by side, staring at the stars for what feels like hours. You finish the wine in silence, barely brushing each other’s fingers with every touch and too full of scepticism and fear to meet each other's eyes despite how much you crave getting lost in Tom’s very own chocolate rivers.

It's getting late now, really late, and no doubt the boys are all awake inside and curious as to where the two of you are hidden, no doubt assuming that you’re up to something forbidden. You dare to turn your neck and look at tom, only to see him staring at you longingly, his lips slightly parted and his cheeks tinted rosy, and that’s not just from the cold night air

You smile in spite of yourself, but it's a shy smile, one full of uncertainty, but nonetheless you take one deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut, and you turn to face him again, only to find his eyes still trained on you.

In a sudden leap of faith, you reach your arm across his body to grasp the side of his stomach and you turn him full bodily facing you. The stars reflect in his eyes, dancing around and twinkling, almost as though they’re cheering you on, so you do it. You tilt your face slightly and lean towards Tom, capturing his lips in the most intense kiss of your life. His hands grip your waist and pull you closer to him, chest to chest so that you can feel the gradual synchronisation of your racing hearts. He only has to nudge your lower lip with his tongue for half a second before he’s granted an enthused access. His tongue sweeps your mouth, dancing with your own in a fight - not of dominance, but of passion. 

Your kiss extends and passes through so many emotions and the pressure and urgency of it changes so often that it's hard to keep track. Lust switches to desperation, then do admiration and candour before returning to a long denied flame of passion, and finally, love. The way his lips massage your own is magical, the way he tastes fills your senses with a satisfaction that gets swiftly replaced with a yearning for more, the way he loves you drives you crazy and relights the longing that you feel in his arms.

His lips slow down and apply less pressure to yours, allowing the two of you to gasp for air however subtly it may be, but only for a second before he kisses you one final time, filled with nothing but a deep and unrequited adoration, until you told him, and it became true.

You stay perfectly still while gathering your bearings and breath, your nose nudging Tom’s and your clammy foreheads pressed together. You daren’t open your eyes for a while, not until his mouth gently ghosts over yours in what can be described as nothing less than an exchange of breath. Now you know what he tastes like, you never want to stop tasting him.

Before you can even open your eyes though, you hear a round of applause and cheers from down below. You look at Tom with terror etched on your every feature until he squeezes your waist a little tighter, and just that gesture screams trust me. So you do. You look down to the garden to find Tom's parents, Sam, Harry, Paddy, and Harrison all applauding the two of you - even Tessa is there, barking and howling at you.

You let another tear escape while a burning blush prickles at your cheeks and ears. You move your hand from Tom's waist to his shirt and pull him closer, one final kiss before you settle your head in his chest.

“You really love me then?” He asks incredulously, though part of you can tell that he’s joking. You nod your head and hear his heartbeat increase in his chest.

“I’m in love with you too, since the day I first laid eyes on you.” he whispers, holding you as close to him as possible. You don’t even need to look around to know that the stars are twinkling in their own form of applause for the two of you, and your instincts tell you that both Harrison and Mrs Holland are both probably crying while the others pretend to be sickened by you, but they’re secretly happy you got together.

“Not just friends?” You ask tiredly. 

“Never just friends. I love you, I promise.” You smile at his words

“I love you, T.”

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]