#i have wanted to shake them by the shoulders and warn them bc summer weather in ireland is usually atrociously rainy and unpleasant

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

Someone has a dream to wear a long white dress to dance in Irish fields and I don't have the heart to tell them that they really don't wanna do that for a concert there...

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

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

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

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

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption 

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

pls rb to share! <3

17 December 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The person in front of you was Harry Styles. 

The person who had your heart. 

The person you were deeply in love with still. 

The person who was your ex boyfriend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shopping for yourself?” Harry asked. 

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

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

“Night in?” 

“Hmm, yeah,” he nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what?” Niall asked confusingly. 

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

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

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

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

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

And you were wondering the same. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N-” 

“Harry.” 

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

“You go first,” you told him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You?” Your brows raised. 

“Yeah-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What are you doing?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve, my love.” 

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

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

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Okay, lover boy”

For @bfharry boyfriendathon!!! A trip to Paris with your loving boyfriend Harry!

this gif bc sweetie! but also bc this is the coat he’s wearing :)

We’ve got fluff, (a little) angst, and smut for y’all and music always. I love Paris, was actually there this time last year so I was feeling nostalgic! Also Harry in Europe is always A+++ Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is ALWAYS appreciateddd

Word Count: 5.2k | Warnings: some self-doubt, oral!male receiving, mentions of sex, language? 

-

Summer in Paris. The most romantic place in the world with the loveliest weather. Except, the weather wasn’t exactly lovely. But it was quite romantic and that’s what you decided to focus on. Harry and you had flown off to get away from the world by living in the South of France for the Summer. First, you had begged Harry to spend a good three days in Paris before heading to the countryside. He had obviously agreed. Today was your second day.

“Love, wake up,” Harry cooed softly in your ear.

You stirred in the plush bed and slowly sat up in the mess of sheets. You rubbed at your eyes and when you blinked them open you saw Harry standing before you. He was already dressed in striped trousers and a striped shirt under a sweater vest and seemed to have run out to bring you coffee in bed. He crossed to perch on the bed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Your body leaned in to receive the sweet peck of his soft lips.

“Good morning, love, y’look ravishing” he sighed sweetly as he pulled back from your face. You rolled your eyes and scratched at your disheveled hair.

Moving your head in a circle around your neck, you laughed breathily at all of his sweet words, “I look a mess, but thanks, H.”

“You don’t,” he protested, sliding his hands around your shoulders and moving to lay on top of you on the bed.

You giggled and wriggled in the sheets as he began to pepper kisses along your face, neck and collarbones. “You’re absolutely stunning. Like always.”

The pair of you rolled around in the bed, exchanging kisses and caressing each other tenderly. Then you heard the rain and sat up.

“Har...is it still raining?”

He sighed and sat up with you, pushing his mused curls out of his face with one hand while his other was wrapped around your waist. “Sadly, yes. But we can still go out and explore. I know how excited you were to finally be back in Paris...”

Your head turned to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing softly, “It’s alright. I love the rain, can’t get me down.”

“Yeah, we can just take umbrellas and have fun with it.”

“No, no umbrellas. Want to run from awning to awning. Get stuck in the rain and be drenched. With you.”

Your lips had curved up into a smile as you spoke. Resting your head on Harry’s warm body, you imagined the day that the two of you were about to set off on. It wouldn’t be perfect and that would be okay. It was going to be what the two of you make of it therefore you wanted to make it magical. You sat up to meet Harry’s eyes as he cradled you in his arms. His face held a soft expression, one filled with love as he looked down at the woman he had grown to love more than anything. It wasn’t fleeting, it was constant. He loved you.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ then,” he laughed and shifted along the bed, sitting you up more. The hint of teasing in his voice was exciting and made you want to listen to him.

You pushed out of his arms and bounced up, your shirt sliding to cover the top bits of your thighs. “Alright!”

-

“Okay, maybe one umbrella would have been a good idea!” Laughing in disbelief, you duck beneath the awning of the cafe across the street from your hotel.

“It’s really coming down...but you said,” Harry grins down at you and swipes at a strand of your hair that was already drenched from the rain. You swat at his chest, his yellow knit sweater vest dry as he removes his large blue coat. “Hush.”

The cafe plays a love song in French and you hum along softly as you seat yourselves. Harry’s hand instinctively envelopes yours as your other free hands begin to leaf through the menu. His hand is warm and soft as it entangles itself with your own, which squeezes his in response to the brushing of his thumb over your skin. After placing your order, you watch the rain hitting the pavement and the light city traffic before you. Harry only has eyes for you, his gaze never leaving your figure. He takes you in, the way you’ve done your hair, the necklace you picked out - the one you always wear, the way you decided to wear no makeup since you planned on getting wet in the rain.

Bringing him out of his adoration, the waitress brings your drinks and he watches you say something sweet in french before he also says a ‘merci’. You sigh in contentment and shift in your seat after taking a sip of your espresso. Your eyes meet with Harry’s over the top of your small cup and you giggle at how extremely small the same cup looks in his hand. His dimples appear as he mirrors your expression. Then at the opening chords of the new song beginning to play, you perk up, immediately recognizing “Aline”, a clichely French song, but a favorite of yours nonetheless. You place your cup down and begin to sing along. Harry watches on, sipping his espresso and allowing you to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to the rhythm. You tip your head back and mock scream out the words, your french accent changing how your voice normally sounds.

“Is that a love song?” Harry asks at the finish of the song. He never bothered to learn French, despite having a couple of girlfriends who had been able to speak it.

You wet your lips, dried from singing, and shake your head slightly. “No, not really. It’s about heartbreak... Aline - the girl - is gone, I guess, and he’s drawn an image of her in the sand. But rain washes that away as well and now he’s twice as sad”

“That could still be considered a love song. He still loves her, right?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

You hum, pondering the question, never thinking about what made her like the song so much to consider it a favorite. Harry stares intently, he loved talking to you about music. It was two of his favorite things put together.

“You won’t take ‘I just like shouting Aline’ will you?” Harry shakes his head, and you continue, “I guess I like it because it’s so tragic...and a little pathetic. Like, that sounds harsh, but this guy, he’s so in love with someone who’s already gone that he cries over her image washing away. He says he’s aching he’s so distraught and it’s just, it’s so relatable.” Harry stares at you, eyes soft, knowing you have more to say. Sitting so that your back is straight, you work to put your thoughts into words. “He’s calling out her name ‘Aline’ in hopes she will return to him and it’s just like you never want to feel that way in your entire life. But there are times that you do and you’re the pathetic guy crying over sand and watching it wash away into the ocean.”

“I will never make you feel like that, love,” Harry shifts your hands and brings them onto the table, leaning closer, a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“You never would on purpose, I know that. But that feeling it’s human insecurity, that’s the little fears I keep tucked away in the back of my mind, it’s how I’d feel if I ever lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me,” he leans fully forward to bring his lips to yours. His lips easily brushed over yours, connecting perfectly as they always did. Your hand rescinds from his grasp and you place it on his chest, pushing him back slightly, “I know. Now enough with the mushy. Sights to be seen, clothes to be soaked!”

Laughing together, Harry settles the bill as you gather your things. You help Harry put his heavy coat back on after he finishes with the money, your lips pecking his as you fix the lapel. His lips curve into a smile against yours and his eyelashes flutter in excitement, never getting tired of the feeling of you.

-

You had finally arrived at the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, where you had been meandering through the city to all day. Before you had arrived Harry and you had stopped in a chocolatier, a perfumerie, and another cafe - pair of you appreciated good coffee. Harry had begged to stop at a boulangerie to pick up bread, but you had insisted that you could stop at one on the way back to the hotel later, otherwise the bread would get all soggy. Eventually, Harry had agreed even though his argument was that he would eat it before it got soggy.

Running around with a canvas tote on your shoulder filled with the goodies you two had picked up was exciting and you spun around on the grass, your head tilted to the rain and your arms and bag flying out around you. Harry grabbed your waist and then slipped a hand up to cradle your wet hair. His hand carded through the tendrils and you tilted your face to look at him. His own wet chestnut hair flopped onto his forehead as he smiled down at you. You threw your arms up to hang on his shoulders. It was only you two out in the rain and you laughed as you watched a single droplet run the length of Harry’s nose. Craning your neck, you kissed the tip of his nose before it could fall.

“I love you,” Harry says only for you, completely unprompted.

“I love you, Harry,” you respond, lovingly.

“No, Y/N, I love you,” He repeats. Your wrists drop as your arms retract and your hands rest on his strong shoulders. You lean back slightly, confused. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He starts to shout and picks you up by the waist, spinning you around in circles, slightly off the ground now.

“Harry!” You squeal, incredulous at his behavior. You loved it, but he wasn’t usually like this in public. Hand holding and short hugs, usually. Small pecks, at most. Shouting declarations of love, never - until now.

“Ok! I get it, lover boy,” You roll your eyes as he sets you down, placing kisses all over your rain soaked face. You tuck your head into your chest, feeling heat rise to your cheeks from his words and actions despite the cooling effect of the rain.

He smiles and leads the pair of you towards the Eiffel Tower. Halfway there he stops and snaps a few photos of you grinning, drenched in front of the site. Then you make him pose as well. He smiles for a few and then pretends to lean against it, which makes you roll your eyes again while you move to the perfect spot to make it look realistic.

You begin to move to head towards the tower again, but his hand snakes around your wrist, stopping you from moving. The rain was at a soft patter now, but you still were getting tired of being in it. Your brows raised expectantly at your boyfriend who was smiling adorably at you.

“Selfie.” He said simply.

“Harry...”

“C’mon. It’s romantic. Not like there’s anyone around to take it for us.”

You shrug and fold into his chest as he slips out his phone. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your head rests on the upper part of his chest as one of your hands slips underneath his coat and the other goes to rest on his sternum. Your entire body is pressed against him, as he adjusts his phone trying to get both your faces in it along with a good portion of the Eiffel Tower. You both smile at your reflections that are beginning to smudge with raindrops and you ruffle your hair trying to look slightly disheveled after a few snaps. Then, Harry groans sadly, “These aren’t working.”

“I actually have an idea,” you say excitedly as the rain slows to a complete stop, “You okay with your phone possibly getting some water damage?” Harry nods, unsure, as you pluck the phone from his hands. You stroll a few feet away from Harry and pluck two of the boxes of chocolate out of your bag. Mumbling to yourself, you set up the boxes like a makeshift stand, “Please don’t get ruined, mes bonbons.” Then you swipe to the video choice in the phone’s camera and turn it on. You place it gently against the two boxes, so that the image contains Harry and the Eiffel Tower behind him. Then you race back to Harry, your sneakers splashing the puddles as you move.

“You’re brilliant!” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and sways you back and forth. “Smile at the camera, lover,” you pull from his strong grasp and wrap a single arm beneath his coat again, fingers pulling at the warm fabric of the sweater vest beneath it. He smiles down at you before turning his focus to the phone a little ways off. He tightens his arm around your shoulder and pulls you off your feet slightly, causing one of your legs to kick out slightly. This video is going to be so weird, you think to yourself and laugh as you straighten back up. You turn your face to Harry and scrunch it up at him. He smirks back at you and then leans down to kiss your cheek.

After you mess around a bit in front of the camera, forgetting for a minute that you're recording and having a small makeout session, you run back to your set up and gather your things. Harry comes with you this time and hugs your waist from behind you. He smiles at the camera one last time before you press the red button to end the video; the last clip being his face smiling brightly while you’re laughing breathlessly at him, both sets of eyes filled with love and joy.

-

There’s a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. It’s really beautiful and classy, perfectly French. Harry decides it’s the perfect place to have dinner, despite its upscale interior and your complete dishevelment from the rain and lack of preparedness in your outfit choices. As well as, the fact that it’s really early and the French don’t eat until much later in the evening so you’re the only ones there. Harry knocks on the door still and the pair of you are seated after he tells them who he is.

You comb lightly through your wet hair and you shuffle your vans together, uncomfortably. Harry, while dressed down still manages to look effortlessly chic, his trousers and yellow sweater vest with a striped dress shirt underneath is still passable as nice, especially if you ignore his own vans. In your haste you had dressed cute, but not necessarily upscale enough to where you felt like you fit in in that moment. Your wet hair wasn’t helping to calm your nerves as the well dressed waiters moved around you, placing things at your table. Your nervous hands smoothed over the plaid skirt and frumpy brown sweater you had beneath your navy trench coat that almost mirrored Harry’s only missing the colorful bobbles.

“Hey,” Harry notices your fidgeting and reaches out across the table, motioning you to place your hand in his outstretched one. You oblige reluctantly, shifting in your seat. Money has never been a problem for Harry since the pair of you began to date which wasn’t a bad thing. You had a job that allowed you to live a comfortable lifestyle, as well, just not quite to the extreme that Harry was able to. Normally, it didn’t bother you, but right now you felt very out of place, feeling unwelcome in Harry’s life. Harry can read exactly what you’re thinking as all these negative thoughts race through your mind. The odd sense of fear that the pair of you had talked about creeping in, the thought of losing him because you couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Like you had told him earlier, as well, you hope to never feel that way, but sometimes it’s there. And right now was one of those sometimes.

His finger traces the familiar pattern over the back of your hand as he holds it tight. “You deserve to be here just as much as the next person. You look lovely.” He smiles at you, trying to convey just how sincere he is being. You release a breath and try to relax at his words, knowing ultimately that he was right. He always knew exactly what to say and you smiled at him and whispered a small ‘thank you.’

-

“If I Fell” begins to play in the restaurant and John and Paul begin to serenade the empty room. The host had placed you in the furthest back room by the windows, allowing you and Harry to stare out at the city as you enjoyed the food and leaving you completely alone except for when the waiter would come and check in. The two of you had just finished the third course and were watching the clouds shift along the skyline.

Harry sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chair, straining his neck to the side, the tendon on his neck straining, causing your eyes to flicker up and watch the way he clenched and unclenched his strong jaw. You were in awe. “How did I get so lucky?” You say suddenly, your voice wistful, eyes a moment away from misty. Harry hums, jade eyes flitting back to your face, lips curving into a curious smile. “To be loved by someone like you, by you. How’d I get so lucky?”

Harry blushes at your words, the smile growing larger, overtaking his features. “Love, if I could list all the reasons I love you...God, we’d never leave this restaurant. Let’s just say I’m the one who’s lucky.” You pouted at his words, feeling cliche but also, totally and completely in love, so much so that you didn’t care about what you looked like as you stood up and leaned over the table, crashing your lips to Harry’s. He leaned up quickly to meet your lips over the small table. One of his hands flew to your soft cheek and held you close as your lips locked, tasting sweet from the champagne the two of you had been enjoying.

-

“Today was perfect, H.”

You glanced up to look at Harry’s face as he held you in his arms, walking slowly down the street. He walked slightly behind you as he braced himself around you, he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t touch enough, feel enough, breathe enough, where he would feel satisfied.

His eyes flitted down to meet yours, the jade of them sparkling under the cloudy sky save for the moon that had pushed its light through finally. “Yeah it was.”

Reaching the hotel, the two of you scampered up to your room and threw everything down the minute you got inside. The rain had mostly dried from your clothes, but you still couldn’t wait to take them off and get into something clean and warm.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry calls to you as he unpacks your bag, separating all of the items the pair of you had bought today - including the baguette he had finally gotten on your way home. Your head appeared from beneath your sweater as you pulled it from your body, leaving you standing in your bra and skirt.

“Together?” Your voice was calm since Harry and you occasionally showered together and were capable of keeping it tame, but there was a hint of excitement too after spending the whole day constantly within each other’s grasp.

“Sure, why not? Then we can get in bed and try the chocolates we bought today sooner,” he shrugs, making his way towards you, tossing a box of chocolates on the bed for later. He licks his lips and smirks down at you. “I like the way you think...but no funny business, lover boy,” you tease and run a finger down the center of his chest, only his dress shirt covering the toned body beneath. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them as your words come out rather jokingly. “No promises,” he breathes before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

In the bathroom now, Harry closes the door despite the lack of need for privacy. For some reason your heart is beating extremely fast, nerves springing forward at the urgent prospect of intimacy. Your heart always beats a little faster whenever Harry and you are together like this, but right now it’s going especially fast. The love you have for him, the passion, it’s never faded. Everytime is like the first time, maybe even better than the first time if you really think about it because now he knows you and you know him. It’s not about the novelty or the exploration, it’s about the adoration and the feeling each other’s touch ignites within you. So, right now, as the pair of you undress each other before you shower together, your heart is beating so fast because this isn’t lust or fleeting passion it’s eternal intimacy and deep devotion.

His fingers softly and nimbly release the clasp of your bra and then reach around to slip the straps down. It slides down your arms and falls to the ground and Harry watches you as you now move to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. You’re pressing close to him, feeling cold and slightly vulnerable despite being safe in Harry’s presence. The movements are tender, only the sound of your breathing and the rain that started up again bringing any noise to your interaction. Your hands flit down to the buttons on his trousers, your fingers shaking only slightly from the chill. Harry’s toned arms rise up to rub your upper arms, noticing your shivering as you undo the buttons and zipper. After his zipper is undone, you move your hands down to your side, where your own zipper is located, but Harry pushes your hands away, silently telling you he could do it. Sighing, you turn from him and turn the shower on, hoping that it will warm up quickly. Harry follows and presses up against you, his large arms encircling your frame, warming you instantly. He kisses the tip of your left shoulder tenderly and then rests his chin in the dip between your shoulder and neck. He breathes you in, taking in the moment, committing it to memory. Your hands rest over his gently and you feel yourself tilting your head back and basking in his embrace.

“We should probably get in,” Harry whispers after you had been standing there for far too long, simply holding each other. “Yeah,” you respond wistfully. Stepping in, you instantly place a kiss on Harry’s neck once he’s in. He looks at you questioningly, “I thought you said-” “I couldn’t help myself, you look like an angel.” He tucks his head at your words and then looks at you with love filled eyes, “Giving me a toothache with how sweet you are to me.”

He takes the bottle of shampoo the pair of you had brought and begins to massage it into your wet hair. You close your eyes in contentment at his actions, you loved how gentle Harry was and how he always insisted on washing your hair when you showered together. As he works on the hair you take the bar of soap and begin to rub it across his prominent pectorals, the suds show up and glisten across his tan skin. You smile to yourself as you pass over the two swallows and then travel down the center of his chest and bring the soap over the butterfly. Harry lets out a breathy laugh and you mutter, “Always so ticklish…” But you don’t mind. You rub some of the soap on your hands and then rub back over the same places on his body, spreading out the suds, while Harry moves to wash his own hair. This time your hands travel further down his body, your soapy fingers massaging Harry’s bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over the tense muscles from walking all day. Harry releases a heavy sigh, your movements releasing a pressure he hadn’t realized was there.

Your hands travel inwards and dance over his two fern tattoos causing Harry to shudder again. This time you say nothing, focussed on tracing the patterns and being so close to your lover. Finally, you remove your hands from his body and rinse them of the soap, grabbing a washcloth, you finish cleaning his arms, neck, and torso. Moving slowly, you drop the washcloth and Harry’s breath hitches, knowing what you’re intending to do. Harry starts, “You don’t-” but now his voice is completely caught in his throat when you put your hands on his length.

He’s already semi-hard, and it stiffens immediately in your embrace. He has to actively think about not getting hard whenever you’re naked around him, especially when you bathe together. He thinks you’re sexy, of course, but the intimate touches you share under the water is what really does it for him. However, he knows it’s not a sexual moment usually and doesn’t want to press himself upon you. Today, though, you want to take care of him. “Hush, I want to,” you say as you pump your hand languidly, blood rushing to his tip instantly. He groans as you stare deeply into his jade eyes. You were beautiful and wonderful to him. He didn’t know how he had found you, but he was happy that he had.

Then you slip down to your knees, legs folding perfectly as you continue to stare up at Harry. His eyes widen, realizing only now that you intended to use your mouth. One hand flies to your freshly cleaned hair and the other trails down the side of your face, taking in your beautiful face that is now in front of his hard member. Slowly, you bring your tongue to lick over the now angry red tip of his dick. Harry hisses as you open your mouth fully and begin to bring him completely inside. Your eyes never leave his as you descend until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big, really big, but after all this time you know how much you can take and you sit there for a moment. You let his weight rest in your mouth, he’s warm and you enjoy holding him this close.

Harry groans, “Please,” and you begin to move, seeing the strained look on his face.

Bobbing your head, you take him in and out of your mouth with ease, sometimes taking extra care over his head sucking specifically there. Your movements make Harry moan out and grasp at your hair, keeping it from your face as you work him over. His hips buck into your mouth the faster you take him in your mouth, but he tries to remain still, wanting you to be in control. One of your hands grasps his thigh, over his tiger tattoo, while the other runs over the parts of his dick you can’t take into your mouth. Harry is always vocal, but right now he’s at a loss for words. He feels so loved and cared for in that moment, it’s quick to his release. Your hand on his thigh feels him beginning to shake a bit more and his hips are stuttering more erratically.

He whines out, “I’m close,” and you pull back until your lips are only over his head.

Your tongue flattens over the slit of it and then swirls around it. You suction your lips around his head and suck hard, your hand pumping quickly, your eyes still never leaving Harry’s face. He had closed his eyes a while ago, but opens them up slightly right at his moment of release. He bucks his hips one last time as you moan around him at the feeling of him inside your mouth. His orgasm wracks through him and you continue to suck, trying to take up every last bit.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers, chest heaving and head hanging low as he stares down at you.

The water is still running in the shower over your erotic image. You swallow and pull off of him, placing a gentle kiss to his head before standing up, whispering something inaudible to just Harry’s dick. Harry takes your hands in his and kisses you hungrily as you stand up. The taste of himself still on your lips. His arms are wrapped around your waist and one of his hands cups your ass cheek needily.

Against your lips, he growls, his voice deep and accent thick, “Let me take care of you now.”

You giggle and place your hands on his wet chest. “You don’t need to. I just really wanted to make you feel good.”

“But making you feel good will make me feel good, too,” He whines, pressing you into him more.

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, “But we’re really wasting water now and I want to try the chocolates we bought. You can make me feel good in our bed, this porcelain really isn’t the most comfortable.” You’re completely enjoying Harry’s eagerness to give to you after he had just received, but you were starting to prune from the water and wanted to lie in bed with fluffy robes with him.

He huffs but nods. He kisses your lips a final time and begins to climb out of the shower. “Fine, but I know none of those chocolates can possibly taste as good as what I really want for dessert.”

“You can have your dessert soon enough...Okay, lover boy?”

-

Wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace, you fall asleep under the Parisian sky. His lips ghost over your collarbones as his head is tucked into you. You sigh in contentment as his hands draw a familiar pattern over your skin on top of your hip. Your mind flits over the moments of today and settles on this one right now. Harry wrapped around you, your legs entangled, warmth surrounding you. It’s peaceful. You’re blissed out from the chocolates and love Harry made to you.

Your eyes flutter open for a moment to look at Harry. His curls and the side of his face are all you can make out in the dim lit room, the moon’s light peaking through the sheer curtains. The slope of his nose is prominent, as well as the stubble beginning to grow on his jaw and cheek. His little moles decorating his otherwise smooth skin. He nuzzles further into you and you feel his stubble rubbing slightly against you, scratching lovingly onto your skin. It feels nice as your eyes close once again beginning to drift off to sleep. But you know no dream could possibly be better than the feeling you have right now, with Harry.

-

💛 love y’all (also I really didn’t proofread so like I maybe contradict some shit I say bc I wrote this over weeks lmao)

[sneezefiction]

making up for lost time

Daichi x fem!Reader - Scenario

@miss-rin​‘s request: “Where Daichi reunites with the reader several years after highschool... She’s messed up from her last relationship, but wants to try again.... With a fluffy ending though, please!!”

a/n: eeee this was really therapeutic to write. i know it’s a little on the longer side of things i usually post, but i wanted to set it up well. enjoy some angst to fluff Daichi content bb <33333

warnings: break ups, cheating, low self esteem, slight language, general angst

wc: 3350

---

It’s strange. Staring at your textbook, your fingers brushing against its textured, thin pages, you hadn’t noticed the tiny droplets forming on the sheets below. Only when you recognized its salty taste did you realize you were the source. You lean back, using the table to tilt your chair onto its back legs, balancing there for a minute to keep your tears from staining anything else on the desk.

With all the mentions of bonds and fusions, somehow chemistry homework has brought you back into the reality of your current life crisis. 

It’s not like you hadn’t expected tears, but did they have to overtake every aspect of your life? 

In public. Walking through the park. At 4 in the morning.

It was cruel, really. 

That even after a year of complete distance, everything insisted on reminding you of him.

---

Your ex was supposed to be a one night stand. A ploy to get over a deeply established crush. You were running from young, uncertain love, pushing it down, and drowning it all in heavy doses of pleasure. But weekend-after-weekend, your interactions with this mystery hookup turned into regular flings.

From there, you allowed something deeper to develop.

You started sharing with him.

Lying on the bed, limbs entangled, panting subsided. You released small thoughts and simple secrets into the dark of the night. Maybe he would capture those words, pondering them, making a space for them in his mind. Maybe he would let them drift by, like white noise and formless background music. 

But it didn’t matter. You spoke anyway.

Nights passed and you would let out more gentle, whispering comments. Insecurities, dreams, stories. 

And at some point, he started responding. Listening. Mulling over your words. Whether you meant for it to happen or not, things grew personal. He became your stand-in security blanket, pulling you in and showing you his own little world. You didn’t care if it was fabricated and make-believe.

Because for the first time, it seemed like someone reciprocated your words and actions. You were no longer relying on past passions and feelings because you were so busy drowning in the touch of a stranger. He gave you endless chances to let go of your greatest love and high school infatuation. And you took each one.

You pushed yourself to like him. You asked him to be exclusive. He agreed.

Because his touches were soothing. The way his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you into his chest and whispering dirty, sugar-coated words into your ears. It made you feel wanted. Needed. Like maybe this could be the one. Like maybe you didn’t need the brown-eyed boy from so long ago.

Yes, your ex’s hold on you was physically tight…

But his intentions were loose and undefined. Eerily disconnected from the reality you had pictured yourself in.

In the back of your mind, you knew something was off. The puzzle pieces that tied your interactions together were either damaged or missing. Information and stories didn’t match up.

At some point, he started coming home wearing the scent of sex and perfume. Fragrances that didn’t belong to you. All of the staying out late and leaving the bed early... He was clearly cheating on you. 

But ignorance is bliss... and you were swimming in it.

You now realize he only told you what you wanted to hear. Little, white lies iced with sweet, generous promises.

What did you expect? That he actually needed you? Why would this stand-in boyfriend be any different?

Finding him on top of a girl in your bedroom should’ve cut you deeper. It should have left you with your knees collapsed and your fingers painfully digging into the carpet. You could have screamed and cried, kicked something, at least outwardly shown your pain.

Yet all that came over you was a dizzying numbness. So you shut the door, closing yourself off to their shocked expressions. Cutting yourself off from another failed love attempt. A worthless endeavor.

---

You’re still fighting a losing battle against hot, streaming tears in the library.

You wish the tears stemmed from the breakup. It would be a logical justification for your pain. Yes, it would be easier to cry over something present… or at least something sensible.

But fate is fickle and so are your emotions. Fragile and nostalgic.

Because you aren’t choking on sobs in the campus library over that unloyal asshole. 

No, your mind was fully centered on Daichi. The one person who had actually made you feel whole. Who regularly told you how much he wanted you.

You could’ve drowned in his warm, honey-glazed gaze. He drew you in, submerging you in a euphoric, blissfully intoxicated state. 

Memories flittered back to you. How he would always comfort you, using his firm shoulder as a pillow during after school hours to cry or sleep on when life began to smother you.

How he snuck up behind you in the schoolyard, grabbing you by the waist, lighting a fire inside you that filled you with warmth and made your stomach do somersaults. It was playful. Lighthearted. So very Daichi.

And you wanted more. More than platonic. More than best friends.

His touches were nothing like your ex.

It was like gentle floating fireflies, blinking and flickering in a field at dusk. Consistent but surprising. Sensitive, feathery, and comforting. Not at all greedy or dismissive.

You didn’t have to think twice about it. Daichi still remained in the softest parts of you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. He isn’t coming back to save you. To take you by the hand and rekindle whatever it was you two had shared back then.

Because Daichi wasn’t ready to commit.

He had told you how he felt. How he wanted you so badly that it physically hurt him. That he wanted to be there for you, by your side, hand-in-hand.

But he just wasn’t ready to follow through. Not with graduation and change so near in sight. Not with the possibility of losing you just as soon as you’d become his.

You knew he was right. College shifted you two into completely separate directions. 12 hours to be exact.

You and Daichi were at the right place at the wrong time.

But as you drifted, the words morphed and manipulated themselves in your mind. They echoed a tone that claimed that you were the faulty one. That you weren’t ready. You weren’t lovable enough. He didn’t want to commit to you.

So naturally, you equated it with not being enough for him. That it was some silly, unfounded puppy-love. Just a bunch of hormones and high schoolers.

So you tried to bury your longing for him, making countless mistakes in the process. 

You had changed. This was your life now. Broken, exhausted, and weathered.

In defeat, you close up the heavy, tattered textbook, gently maneuvering it into your backpack and take your leave from the softly lit library. You’ve suffered enough for one day, so you may as well give yourself a break from studying.

As you make your way out the door, you feel an unexpected buzz in your back pocket, your phone lighting up with a notification. You reach a hand back to check it.

3:47 pm - sawamuradaichi38 followed you

You stop abruptly, feet planted in the doorway, eyes processing the words before you.

“Shit.”

Daichi…

High school Daichi.

The “I was just crying over how much I hate missing you 5 minutes ago,” Daichi.

You hadn’t spoken in over a year and suddenly this? 

It was out of the blue, not to mention at one of the most pitiful moments in your life. 

Broken up, red-eyed, and still helplessly in love with his brown-eyes. How could someone so wonderful have such disastrous timing?

You receive a rude awakening, the door to the library smacking you in the face, drawing you out of your thoughts and leaving you rubbing the now red spot on your forehead, the phone still clutched tightly in your palm.

Leaving the doorway, you spot a park bench and take a seat outside, your thumb still hovering over the “follow back” button.

It takes some persuading, but eventually you convince yourself it will be fine. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to him.

It’s just a simple “follow back.”

It also wouldn’t hurt to see what he looked like.

So you click.

And there he is. Several month’s worth of photos, flooding your eyes.

Party streamers, candids, squinted smiles, polaroid photo-shoots, flushed faces from tipsy weekends, throwbacks… and your heart is pounding at the sight of just how mature he looks.

He’s developed a flattering tan over the summer, giving him a golden glow. The deeper tone has either made him look more toned or he’s gained muscle in the past couple of years. Both are very likely.

You proceed your scrolling, subconsciously looking for any signs of being in a relationship, before you’re startled by another ‘ping’ noise.

Damn this stupid app.

To hell with media.

Why did he feel the need to message you? Is he messing with you, right now? 

But the questions don’t keep you from opening the text.

Nerves settle in.

3:55 pm - Daichi: Y/n!

3:55 pm - Daichi: I’m in town for a while and I really want to see your face.

3:56 pm - Daichi: Only if you want to though… I know it’s been a long time.

How is it possible that your hands are already shaking? It’s just Daichi.

Just Daichi.

What the actual hell, Daichi.

3:58 pm - Y/n: Heya! I’d love to, but I have so many questions???

You have more than just questions.

4:00 pm - Daichi: I’ve got answers. So is that a yes? Bc if it’s a no, that’d be super awkward…

4:00 pm - Daichi: ...given that I’m 5 minutes from your university right now. Could I pick you up?

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL, DAICHI.

4:01 pm - y/n: Well damn, ok. Looks like I don’t have any excuses. Come n get me :)

You do your best to sound smooth, sending him the corner to pick you up on, but you still looked and felt like a total wreck. Your makeup was messy, mascara staining the underneath of your eyes. Luckily, you had baby wipes and could clean up a little, but you were still left with a slightly puffy, red-tinted face.

The blush that appeared after receiving his text messages didn’t help either.

If you were being honest, you felt completely hysterical. You had finally given up all hope, tossing your dreams of being with him out the window. 

And here he was, casually asking you to hangout as if you two hadn’t ever lost contact. As if you hadn’t been bawling your eyes out over him for the past several months. Real cute, y/n, you laugh, thinking to yourself. 

You do your best to fix your face up with your phone camera and a little extra concealer, but if Daichi is anything like he was in high school, he’ll see through it almost instantly.

You spot his car, pulling up into a spot on the side of the road. He’s scanning for you.

Your breath hitches at the sight of him, heart skipping a beat.

He’s even prettier in person. Photos couldn’t capture something that strong and handsome. His features were still kind, but his expression showed how much he’d grown. The turn of his head, showcasing his jawline. Sharper, older. Your heart is pounding and you feel the anxiety settle in.

But as soon as he captures your eyes, you both grow soft.

You could tell from the way he was looking at you, he’d been longing for you too.

He hops out of his car, focused solely on you, and starts walking. Your pace matches his but it quickly increases. The hunger you’d felt for his embrace drives you both to move faster. He felt it too. It was magnetic. Almost like you’d been waiting your whole life for this reunion.

You practically throw yourself into his firm chest, his sturdy arms circling around your torso, the rate of your collision shaking his balance. But he managed, steadying himself one footstep at a time. One of his hands makes its way up to your neck and tangles itself into your hair, grasping locks and running his fingers through it. It was as though your bodies were making up for the lack of touch and all of your unspoken words, closing any spaces between you and affirming the reality of each other’s presence. 

You notice him tucking your head into his chest... just how he used to.

It’s as though nothing had changed. Like you had both been talking and touching and breathing the same air for the past year when in truth, your relationship had mimicked radio silence.

It stays silent, your bodies choosing to take one another in. He smelled of coffee and cedar, with a dash of maple. He’d always carried a sweeter scent. It never failed to make you melt into him.

Daichi’s face is buried within your hair and he can’t help but breathe in the familiar fragrance of your conditioner. A huge swell of nostalgia passes over him like a crashing wave, causing him to pull you even closer.

The very feelings you had been protecting yourself from were overloading your senses.

So you break off the hug, opting to grasp his hands instead.

His gaze is so understanding. So full of raw emotion. It’s apologetic.

“Daichi I-”

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

There’s a pause. You give him a wobbly smile, nodding gently to let him speak first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s silenced as raindrop lands directly on your nose. You giggle, wiping it off with your hand, then placing said hand back into his.

“How ‘bout we go sit in the car?” He suggests as the rain begins to drizzle.

You follow him wordlessly, taking him by the arm, quickly crossing the road.

You’re snug in his passenger seat, one foot tucked under your other leg, torso facing him directly. Daichi takes a moment to look you over. You flush under his intent gaze. That’s when he notices your reddened eyes. 

“You’ve been crying.” He states directly, hand making it’s way to your chin, lifting it while examining your face.

“A-ah yeah. You’re as observant as ever, Daichi, I’ll give you that.” You smile slightly.

“Why? What… or who did that to you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

You look away, head tilting out toward the grey-lit street.

Should you be honest?

That he was the reason for your tears?

You want to trust him.

To believe his words at face value.

You wanted to bare your soul, letting him absorb every moment of the last year of your life. To cry out to him and explain that you wanted him so deeply that you betrayed your own feelings for him.

But look where it got you last time.

Your ex took the most precious pieces of you and stomped all over it. He had used you. Your stories. Your secrets.

You were different from the girl that Daichi used to know.

He couldn’t love that, he couldn’t possibly-

“Y/n, I mean it. You can tell me anything. I promise I’ll just listen.”

And with that, you muster up your last ounce of courage, putting full trust in him.

It comes out in a soft mumble.

“...I still love you, Daichi.”

His eyes widen, lips parting.

“I-” You begin to choke on your own words. 

The emotion of everything, from your breakup to seeing your ex with another girl, to the sad eyes in front of you. It all begins to spill out. It’s not a sob. More like a release.

“I tried to like someone else. I tried so, so hard, Daichi.” Tears drip down your face, catching on the hand still holding your cheek.

You do your best to speak slowly and coherently, but you can’t seem to prevent the stutters that emerge from embarrassment and months of pent-up shame.

“It didn’t work. I- he didn’t love me.” You pause, considering if you should share the next details.

You inhale deeply, remembering his words.

I can tell him anything.

“There were other girls and-” 

Daichi’s eyes darken, realizing what you meant.

“He- he didn’t,” hiccups break up the sentences you’re already struggling to form, “I just wasn’t good enough, Daichi.” You meet his eyes, “Not for you. Not even for him.”

He rubs a thumb over your face, somber and troubled.

A wave of guilt washing over his face, his own eyes tearing up at the sight of you.

Daichi wasn’t there for you. He knows it.

He had left you high and dry, letting himself get washed up within his own pain, not considering how badly it would affect you. You both cut off communication to make things easier, assuming it would help you both to move on, but it had only made things worse.

Now he’s watching it all unfurl…

You’ve been mistreated and he wasn’t there to protect you. To save you. To hold you tightly within his arms.

But he wants to help pick up the pieces.

He wants to dry those tears, one by one.

He’s ready to make up for the lost time.

It’s time to prove that he’s ready for you now if you’ll have him.

So Daichi removes his hand from your face and grabs your hand, staring at it for a moment. He brushes his calloused fingers over your knuckles.

“Y/n, I never stopped loving you.” He half whispers.

He’s tracing the lines and divots in your palm now, but his eyes are on yours now.

“I couldn’t handle not seeing you… 12 hours is a lot.” He acknowledges.

“But it should never have stopped me from being with you. That was my mistake. It had nothing to do with you not being good enough.”

“Y/n, please, God please, promise me you’ll never say that again.” He begs.

Ah, that.

You couldn’t remember if that had slipped out, but it, in fact, had.

This lie you’ve been telling yourself seems a real as the gentle drumming of raindrops on the roof of the car. Your ex had affirmed it. The breakup sealed it.

And now you’re being told to let it go? To just believe you’re enough? Worthy of love?

If only it were that easy.

“I know you don’t believe me right now… you have every right not to. But I want you to learn to trust me again.”

He continues, “You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t leave you.”

Heavy.

The words were so heavy on your heart.

“...Okay.” Your voice cracks, another few tears slipping out.

“I- I’ll try.” You look away, pain creasing your brows.

He drops your hand on your lap and reaches toward your face, cupping it.

“I mean it, y/n. I won’t leave you.” His tone is scarily serious.

His lips brush against yours, asking permission. You lean forward, gently pressing your lips into his.

It takes a moment to adjust, but you meld together smoothly. It was always supposed to be this way. His warmth is sobering.

It’s tear-soaked and somber, but oh so real.

Noses brush. He runs a hand through your hair, tucking loose strands behind your ear, running a thumb down your neck. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss while leaning into his hand. Lips parted, rhythm slow and comforting.

No part of it is rushed. This moment wasn’t for anyone except for you.

Kiss after kiss, you’re being seen. Listened to. Re-opened.

And it may take tens of thousands of kisses. You’ll probably cry into his chest more times than you can count. You’ll have to fight like hell to escape the lie of “never being good enough.”

But Daichi will be there. Because he came back to you. 

And he’ll keep coming back until he doesn’t have to anymore... because by then, he’ll hope to have you by his side forever.

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @starfissure

[jewish-space-laser]

Miles & Black Coffee - Part One

“When you’re on a golden sea, You don’t need no memory, Just a place to call your own, As we drift into the zone...” 

-Island in the Sun by Weezer

Hello, and welcome to part one of M&BC! She’s split up into parts, a day late, and a bit rusty... but she’s here! It’ll be my first new piece of writing since I rejoined tumblr, so it’s a bit nerve-wracking. Thank you to Kate @andwhenshesays, Anne @oh-honey-styles, and Anna @for-fucks-sake-h for organizing this entire challenge, you’ve brought so much joy to our little tumblr community. We love you all dearly ♥️ (4.5k words)

xoxoxox Tile

Warnings: mild drinking, mild drug use (just weed)

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

or

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

MONDAY

Pine trees and cornfields flew by in a blur as you stared out the window of your roommate’s minivan. Every once in a while, there’d be a pasture of cows or a horse ranch. It had been exciting at first, but now you were just bored. 

“How much longer?” You called over the music, trying to keep the whine from your voice. It had been hours since you left your apartment this morning, and you’d only stopped once to stretch your legs and take a bathroom break. 

“The GPS says we still have an hour and a half to go,” Callie groaned, stepping a bit harder on the gas pedal.

Normally, you loved road trips, but this particular drive was more cramped than you’d bargained for. There were seven girls packed into the van, and you’d been unfortunate enough to get squished into the backseat with your twin sister and her girlfriend, who hadn’t stopped with the obnoxious PDA since the car got on the freeway. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to will away your nauseating carsickness. This week had been marked into your calendar for months, and you’d be damned if you let this god-awful car ride ruin it for you. 

Callie, your college roommate, had a cabin in northern Wisconsin that she’d been raving about for years. She’d been going there with her family for decades, every summer since pre-school, she’d said. According to her, it was a beautiful property, equipped with a private lakeside beach, fire pit, and a full bar. 

It was going to be the perfect getaway. You and Callie had rounded up all of your girlfriends, packed all of the essentials for a spa night, junk food, board games, movies. You’d packed four swimsuits just in case; the weather forecast looked fantastic, high seventies and low eighties all week long. 

It was going to be the perfect vacation. Well, almost perfect. 

Harry was going to be there.

Harry, the constant thorn in your side. Harry, Callie’s older brother. Harry, the one who eats all of your food whenever he visits. Harry, the one who constantly picked fights with you. You and him had never gotten along, not even for a second. 

There wasn’t a single person alive who got on your nerves more than he did. Generally, you got along with most people, but Harry was the exception to the rule. You couldn’t seem to shake him off. 

You weren’t about to let him ruin this trip, though. There were going to be fourteen people staying at the cabin, so it should be a piece of cake to avoid him for a week; there were plenty of other people to interact with. And even if you couldn’t avoid him, you were going to let his inevitable snarky comments roll off of your back. Well, you’d try to, at least.

Perhaps that’s what annoyed you most about him, the reaction you’d have from the smallest fight. With anyone else, it was water under the bridge… with Harry, you thought about it for days afterwards, thinking of better comebacks you should’ve said or ways you could have changed your schedule to steer clear of him altogether. He made your skin prickle with irritation, and turned you into somebody you didn’t like very much. 

It had been months since you’d seen him, not that you’d been keeping track. He typically visits Callie a few times a semester, but his senior year was more intense than he had anticipated, according to his sister. He just couldn’t spare the two hour drive from his university to yours.

But now it was summertime. Gone were the papers, projects, and responsibilities… it was finally time to relax and have fun. You only had one year of college left before graduation, so you and your friends wanted to make the most of it. Harry and his friends had just graduated, so they were at the cabin for their last hurrah before real life kicked in. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you were excited that Harry was bringing some of his frat brothers along. You and your ex had just ended things recently, and you were finally feeling ready to get back into the dating game. Being trapped in a cabin with a handful of cute guys felt like a dream. 

Finally, after what felt like centuries, Callie slowed the car down and turned onto a dirt road. The other girls in the car started desperately peering out the window to get a glimpse of the lake and surrounding forest. 

The moment the cabin came into view, your jaw dropped. You knew Callie’s parents were loaded, but this hardly looked like the rustic getaway you were expecting. There were three buildings, each labelled with a birch bark sign. Two speedboats and a pontoon were docked at the beach, inflatable tubes and paddleboards littered around the sand nearby. 

It wasn’t until Callie parked and shut off the engine that you heard a heavy bass thrum coming from the building marked MAIN CABIN. The other two buildings were labelled GUEST CABIN and SHOWER HOUSE. You were snapped out of it when Olivia and Jane, who had been sitting in the middle bucket seats, swung their sliding doors open and practically fell onto the ground. 

“I don’t think I remember how to walk normally,” Charlie, a girl from your art history class, groaned, “like, we were sitting in that car for so long….”

“Oh, shush,” your sister, Morgan, scoffed, “at least you got to sit up front. I was crammed into the back between these two.”

Both you and her girlfriend, Isobel, huffed in protest, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight over. You’d have plenty of time to bicker later. For now, the fresh air and cool breeze were like heaven after a long road trip.

“The boys beat us here,” Callie remarked.

Sure enough, there were two other cars already parked in the driveway. Back behind the main cabin, a plume of smoke rose into the air. You could hear loud laughter, loud enough to drown out the trap music they had playing. 

“They’ve started a bonfire!” Olivia squealed, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “I’m ready to get partying… it’s four in the afternoon and I’ve spent all day in a car. I need a drink.”

A few others were laughing and nodding in agreement, already making their way towards the boys, but you hung back. You’d party later, but after spending an entire day stuck with six other people, you just wanted to be alone. Plus, you wanted to drink tonight, and you’d never get around to unpacking your bag if you were wasted. 

You managed to dig your duffel bag out from the pile of luggage in the trunk, letting it fall to the ground with a thump. Callie had just been finishing up with a phone call when you looked up. 

“Hey, you’re not joining the others?” She asked. “I was about to head over, they’ve got a fire going. Just had to call my mum to let her know we made it.”

“I’ll join in a bit,” you promised “but I want to unpack my things first… where are we all staying?”

“You’re in the main cabin, I have you sharing a room with Charlie, is that okay?” She questioned. You nodded quickly, relief flooding over you. You liked all of the girls who came on the trip, but Charlie was by far the easiest to get along with. “Harry and I each have our own room in the main cabin, too, so you won’t be alone. Everyone else is in the guest cabin, though.”

“The guest cabin,” you giggled, slinging your bag over your shoulder as Callie lead you into the main building, “this place is swanky, Cal.”

“We host all of our family reunions here,” she shrugged, “we need lots of space. Plus it’s fun for occasions like this… we’re just lucky my dad is letting us use the boats. He treats those things like they’re his own children, only Harry is allowed to drive them this week.”

You made a face at the mention of her brother. “I’ll be staying far away from the boats, then.”

“Oh god,” Callie groaned, “I know you two don’t get along very well, but please try to be civil… we’re here for a whole week, after all.”

“I’m always civil,” you protested innocently, “it’s him you need to worry about.”

“Always civil,” she scoffed, “we both know that’s not true, but I’ll let it slide.”

Okay, so maybe you had a slight temper when it came to Harry, but nine times out of ten, he was the one who started the argument. You were never the type to actively seek out conflict, but Harry seemed to thrive off of it. Whether it was eating all the food from your half of the fridge, throwing his dark blue t-shirt in with your load of whites, or playing his guitar in your living room until three in the morning when you had a test the next day… it felt like he was out to get you. 

And he was never apologetic. Of course not. He probably got off on watching steam blow from your ears. 

You took a deep breath as Callie led you up a wooden staircase, trying not to let yourself get worked up. The cabin was gorgeous from what you’d seen on the main floor. Though you hadn’t lingered, you’d noticed that there was a bookshelf that took up an entire wall, packed to the brim with books with faded spines, vinyl records with worn edges, and an assortment of candles and bookends sprinkled throughout randomly. You couldn’t wait to explore the entire property. 

Photographs lined the walls of every hallway, snapshots of Harry and Callie running around as kids. There was a hilarious picture of a young Harry crying as he held a fishing pole, a bare hook dangling from the line. The Styles family clearly had a great sense of humor. You made a mental note to take a photo of it on your phone later; it would be perfect ammo for the next fight that Harry would inevitably start. 

“This is the bathroom…” she drawled, “no shower though. We all just use the shower house, which isn’t really as bad as it sounds. Just make sure you bring clothes with you, otherwise you’ll have to walk across the lawn in just your towel.”

You grimaced at the thought. As she continued to lead you down the hall, you saw two doors, one with CALLIE’S ROOM written in bright pink bubble letters, and the second with a wooden plaque, the word HARRY written in what was clearly a child’s handwriting. 

“This is technically my parents’ room, but we use it as a guest room if it’s just us kids,” Callie explained, stopping at the last door in the hallway, “they have a king bed, so I figured you and Charlie could just share.”

“That’s fine,” you assured her, not hesitating to drop your heavy duffel onto the side of the bed closest to the window, “this place is awesome, Callie.”

“Right?” She grinned. “I’m stoked for the week, it’s gonna be so fun.”

“You should go down to the bonfire,” you told her, placing a hand on your bag, “I’ll come join as soon as I’m done.”

Luckily, your roommate of two years understood that you needed alone time sometimes, so she left you without protest. 

This was exactly the recharge time that you needed. You were the kind of person who loved being around friends, but there was only so much socializing you could handle before you needed a break to be on your own. Even though you hadn’t spoken much on the ride to the cabin, being squished into a mini-van with six other girls drained your social battery. Giving yourself a moment to breathe and relax was necessary if you were going to rejoin the group.

Pressing the shuffle play button on your spotify, you smiled when the soft melody of your favorite folk song thrummed through your headphones. You swayed from side-to-side as you unzipped your bag, which had been packed to perfection. 

Four swimsuits, a different outfit for each day (plus a few extra items… overpacking is better than underpacking), sunscreen, bug spray, all of your toiletries. It was fun to organize everything into the empty wardrobe by the window; looking at all of your stuff just made you more excited to be here.

Time flew by as you danced around the room. Most of your things were put away, and you’d stashed your empty bag under the bed. The one thing you hadn’t put away yet was your assortment of swimsuits. It had been difficult picking out which ones you wanted to bring, but you’d settled on three bikinis and a one-piece with the sides cut out. You were itching to change out of your leggings and t-shirt; they felt gross against your skin after sitting in the van all day. 

Just as you went to pick up your navy blue sequined bikini top, a hand abruptly clamped down on your shoulder. 

“Holy shit!” You spun around on your heels, hand flying to cover your beating heart. You were less than pleased to find Harry standing there, wide-eyed and trying to mask his amusement by biting down on his lip. 

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he chuckled, “forgot how jumpy you are.”

“I’m not jumpy,” you frowned, pulling your headphones out of your ears and crossing your arms over your stomach, “what are you doing in here?”

“Nice to see you too,” he scoffed, dimple indenting into his cheek, “I was just using the loo, then I was gonna go back to the party, where we’re having fun. Foreign concept to you, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around so he couldn’t see how hard you were scowling. He always knew just what to say to get your blood boiling.

“Are you implying that I don’t know how to have fun, Harry?” You asked sarcastically. 

“Ah, I knew you were smarter than you looked,” he grinned. “Cute swim top.”

It was only then that you noticed his attire. Well, lack of attire. He was wearing the smallest swimming shorts you’d ever seen, his chest tanned from the sun and completely bare apart from a single cross necklace that hung over his sternum. His hair had grown out since the last time you saw him, and it looked a bit ridiculous with his sunglasses on top of his head. 

He looked good, not that you’d ever admit it. Luckily, you were fantastic at masking your wandering eyes; he had a tendency of walking around your apartment in his boxers during visits, so you’d had plenty of practice.

“Shut up,” you groaned, throwing the bikini top back onto the bed. You’d been planning on wearing that one, but Harry ruined it with his gross comment, just like he ruins most things for you. 

“I’m quite incapable of shutting up,” he mused, throwing himself down onto your side of the bed, “you should know this by now.”

“Trust me,” you were completely unamused, still standing with your arms crossed over your stomach, “I’m well aware.”

“You should come join the party,” he continued speaking as if you hadn’t said anything, seemingly unfazed by how visibly irritated you were, “it’s the first day and you’re already being a buzzkill. Maybe you should try like… try stepping out of your comfort zone, just for the week.”

“Thank you so much for that lovely unsolicited advice,” you said sarcastically, “now if we’re talking about comfort zones, you laying on my bed is definitely out of mine.”

“Please, you love me on your bed,” he smirked, closing his eyes, “this is a dream come true for you.”

“Are you delusional?” You were running out of patience. “Did you hit your head?”

“Why?” He said innocently. “Are you thinking about playing nurse? Because I hate to break your heart, but I’m not into wet blankets. Maybe if you loosened up a bit.”

If he wasn’t gone in thirty seconds, you were going to scream. He seemed to be enjoying himself, arms crossed behind his head with a twinkle in his eye as you stared daggers at him. 

“Are you quite done?” You spit. “I can feel my IQ dropping every time you speak. Plus, I need to change before I come down.”

“Ooh, can I watch?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

That was it. “Harry, get out, okay?”

“Jeez, okay, fine,” he grumbled, rolling clumsily off of the bed, “so bossy, you are.”

You pointed a finger towards the door, leveling him with the steeliest glare you could muster. “Out,” you repeated.

“You should come down sooner rather than later,” he said, completely unbothered, “I’m sure you’ll be much nicer once you’ve had a drink or two.”

He was gone before you could think of a response. The annoyance bubbling inside you was so intense, you felt like you wanted to break something. Instead, you punched your pillow a few times to release some tension, taking a deep breath to compose yourself after.

You wrinkled your nose at the blue bikini top, choosing to wear an orange floral patterned one instead. You’d never give Harry the satisfaction.

~~~

The fire was absolutely roaring. 

It was perfect. The fire pit was lined with wooden logs, the tops shaved off to make benches. There was hardly enough space for all fourteen of you, but you managed to squeeze in as you all roasted corn and hot dogs over the fire. It wasn’t too windy, so you didn’t have to worry about smoke blowing into your eyes, but the bugs were relentless. 

The air around you smelled of smoke, bug spray, and good food. There were a few different conversations happening, and every once in a while, a few people would break out into loud, contagious laughter. 

Harry had tried to talk to you when you came down, but you’d avoided him like the plague. You had absolutely nothing nice to say to him after his snarky comments in your room, and any further interaction with him at this point would just end in disaster. Thankfully, he was quickly distracted by some of his frat brothers, and he hadn’t tried to approach you again all night. 

Now, you were chatting with Olivia and one of the boys, Luke. By the time you’d gone down to the bonfire, everyone was several drinks in. You’d been forced to play catch-up by way of tequila shots, so you had a pleasant buzz running through your veins.

“This is a perfect summer night,” you sighed happily, pulling your skewer from the flames to keep your corn from burning. 

“Almost perfect,” a boy named Archie corrected, “we haven’t been out on the lake yet.”

Harry and three of the other boys had arrived a night early to get the boats ready, and now that Archie mentioned it, the pontoon was looking mighty tempting. The sun hadn’t fully set, but dusk was beginning to settle in, blanketing the forest with pink and orange hues, a gorgeous reflection of the sunset above you. It was the perfect time to go out on the water.

“How do we feel about the pontoon?” You wondered out loud. There was no way you’d all fit, but you could go in groups. 

“It’s too buggy to be on the water,” Callie wrinkled her nose, “I’m getting eaten alive as it is.”

“I’m down, as long as I can smoke a spliff while we’re out there,” James, one of the other boys, shrugged, “obviously I’ll share, I brought tons.”

A few others around the circle chimed in with their interest, and before you knew it, people were standing up to make their way over to the docks. You weren’t the best with names, but much to your relief, you’d introduced yourself to everyone going on the boat. Obviously, you already knew Morgan and Isobel, and were somewhat friendly with Jane, Archie, and James. 

“I’ll come along, too,” a voice behind you yawned. When you turned around, you immediately felt yourself melt. Ryan, a boy you’d had a single class with freshman year, was stretching his arms out as he stood up, and he was looking directly at you with a flirtatious smile. 

You’d had a major crush on him for the entirety of your class together, but you’d been too shy to say anything to him. He was a whole year older, after all, and that had been intimidating when you were eighteen. 

You returned his smile, biting down on your bottom lip shyly. 

“I guess I’m going too, then,” Harry sighed, shoving the last of his hot dog into his mouth before dusting his hands off. 

Immediately, your face dropped. Harry snorted when he saw your expression, digging around the pocket in his swimsuit to retrieve a key. 

“I’m the only one allowed to drive the boats, remember? Dad made me promise.” 

Your shoulders slumped. You’d completely forgotten that Callie had mentioned it to you earlier. You weren’t about to turn down a sunset boat ride though, especially now that Ryan was coming along as well. 

Everyone scarfed down the rest of their food in a rush as Harry went over to untie the boat and make sure it was good to go. You watched as he leaned far over the edge of the dock, so far that nearly fell face-first into the water before righting himself and trying again.. 

“Hey,” Ryan had walked next to you, following your line of sight, “he’s gonna fall in, isn’t he?”

“I hope so,” you giggled.

“You were in my History 204 class, weren’t you? Sophomore year?” He asked.

Your entire body flushed. You didn’t think he’d noticed you at all, let alone enough to remember you years later. Having Ryan up at the cabin, talking to you, felt like a dream come true.

“I was a freshman, but yeah, I think so,” you nodded nonchalantly, “I hated that professor.”

“Oh god, same!” He laughed, shaking his head, “such a drag, just constant pop quizzes!”

“Ugh, yes!” You turned your body towards him fully. “And that midterm assignment….”

“Don’t even get me started,” Ryan pretended to shiver in fear. 

You laughed loudly, and from the corner of your eye you saw Harry turn to glance in your direction. Upon a closer look, he’d managed to wrangle the boat so it was right up against the dock. 

“All aboard!” He shouted.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous antics. He always thought he was so funny, especially when you were the butt of his jokes. You hoped he’d be too busy driving to bother you. 

Luckily, Ryan seemed keen to stay by your side, even helping you step into the boat by taking your hand to keep you balanced, so Harry didn’t have much of a chance to say anything. By the time the boat was moving, everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor, clipping in the life jackets that Callie had forced us all to wear. 

As soon as the wind blew through your hair, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes. Lakes didn’t smell great, but you’d always loved it. It was classic, nostalgic. You’d spent every summer of your life swimming in Midwest lakes, so it felt just like summer.

James was true to his word, and pulled out four fatly rolled joints, passing them around with a lighter. You didn’t do this often, but it felt like the perfect moment. The sun was disappearing fast, and soon enough you’d be able to see the stars.

At some point, Harry slowed the engine down to a gentle hum when the boat reached the middle of the lake, getting a couple of the others to help him throw the anchor over the edge. Afterwards, he moved back over to the driving console and fiddled with a few buttons until quiet, staticky music sounded out. He then sat down across the circle from you, immediately accepting one of the joints from Archie. 

You stood up on your knees, and looked around. Water lapped lightly against the sides of the boat, so it took you a moment to find your equilibrium. The silhouette of the tall pines surrounding the lake were awe-striking. 

Nobody wanted to break the silence, so you didn’t. The weed was starting to take effect, making your body feel heavy and your head feel light. You started to lay down, unclipping your life jacket to use as a pillow. Slowly, your friends followed your lead, the sounds of shuffling and buckles popping open momentarily interrupting the tranquil silence. 

You watched the sky change from pink to a deep blue, only turning your head away when the first stars became visible. Morgan was laying next to you, staring straight up at the sky. To anyone else, she looked like she was lost in thought, but you knew her better than that. There was a slight frown, watery eyes, a little crinkle across her forehead... she was worried about something. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, trailing a hand down her arm. She let out a long exhale. 

“This is gonna sound so soppy,” Morgan sighed, “but I can’t stop thinking about like… how different I would be if I could just, change things about myself.”

“I like you the way you are,” Isobel frowned, sitting up slightly to look at her, “plus, you can change things about yourself. People do it all the time. New hairstyles, piercings, clothes. You could completely rebrand yourself anytime you want.”

“She’s not talking about her appearance,” you said softly, squeezing Morgan’s hand, “she means… like, changing who you are, at your very core. Things you can’t help.”

“I get that,” Ryan chimed in, “I think about that, too. If I could change one thing about myself, I would make myself more motivated. My life would be so different if I could just… alter one tiny thing.”

“Exactly!” Morgan nodded. “I would… make myself less impulsive, I think. I have so many regrets, and it’s all because I never properly think before I act. I’d be so much better off if I could just learn to be more careful.”

“I like how spontaneous you are,” Isobel hummed, “but I think I know what you mean. If I could change anything about myself, I’d make myself less anxious. Anxiety has always held me back so much… I mean, fuck… I haven’t even come out to my family yet, even though I know they’d support me. I’d be so much happier if I could appreciate the good things in life, rather than stress about how to keep them.”

“I’m with Isobel,” Harry spoke. He’d just taken a rather large pull from the joint, so his voice came out rougher than gravel. “Anxiety is such a bitch, and it’s like, out of our control. It’s kept me from talking about my feelings so many times, and I feel like I’ve missed out on some really good friendships because of it.”

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, you felt happier than you had in a long time. You’d smoked just enough to feel numb, and the waves were rocking against the boat so gently that it felt like you were floating. You took a deep breath in through your nose, feeling the crisp forest air fill your lungs before exhaling. The stars were shining in the cloudless sky, crickets were chirping along the shore, and soft music was filtering through the cheap boat stereo. It was peaceful, listening to your friends pour their hearts out. 

Each person took a turn sharing what they would change about themselves. Archie would get rid of his bad temper, James would become a better listener, and Jane would be less self-conscious. 

“What would you change?” Morgan turned to look at you. 

You and your twin sister were very different people. So different, in fact, that you sometimes forgot that you were identical. In moments like this, when her eyes were watery and hooded, voice thick with sadness and hope, that you were reminded of how similar you could be. 

“If I could change anything about myself….” you mused, closing your eyes. “I think I would… let things go.”

“Let things go?” Archie echoed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “like, let go of the past. Whenever something bad happens to me, I let it really get to me. Negative memories and feelings just… constantly eat away at me. I wish I could just wake up in the morning and think about the future… because thinking about the past is exhausting.”

Nobody spoke after your confession. Nobody tried to assure anyone that they would be okay, or convince anyone that they didn’t need to change. There was something comforting about lying in a circle with your friends, your sister… even Harry, because you were all flawed, and none of you knew what the future would bring. You all found solace in the fact that you were here, right now, laying in a circle on a boat, with an old jazz song ringing through the air.

And who knows… maybe someday, you’ll all find a way to change the parts of yourselves that bother you. Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate them. Maybe your flaws will end up helping you in the long run. 

But for now, none of you were alone. And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I love getting feedback, so let me know what you thought! xoxoxoxoxoooooxxxxxxooooooxxxoooo Tile

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #4, “The First Time Meeting The Old Best Friend“

*not my gif

---> NEXT BLURB: November 16th at the lastest, hopefully.

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST          

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

sorry i forgot italics in this one, it’s just too much sometimes to go back through and do

WARNINGS: Swearing?

WORD COUNT: 9k words

SONG: If I Didn’t Have you from Monsters Inc. (CLICK TO LISTEN)

                          * SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly.

I wonder if I have enough time to leave, but no, I can’t. He’s noticed, and knows that I’m home. He’s expecting me. If only he could know how that same feeling has overflown inside of me, and been pushed back down each and every time, a hunger that was never fed. I hang my coat, place my keys on the ring beside his, and leave my ankle boots on the mat by his chestnut brown chelseas, just like every other time. In every way I still find it dreamy, but it’s not the same, no matter how much I wish that I could pretend that it is.

“When I love, I love for miles and miles. A love so big it should either be outlawed or it should have a capital and its own currency.”

- Carrie Fisher

*

His humming pulls me from the lines of text growing hazy and forgotten in front of me. Tearing my eyes from my lap, I find him kneading his bottom lip between his fingers. A corner of my mouth greets my cheek as I observe him flip a page and his eyebrows sink closer to his pair of greens, concentrating. 

“What are you humming?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and narrowing my eyes. The sound stops and his eyes shoot over to me, brows still hugging his eyes, now in confusion. 

“Hmmm?” 

“What song are you humming? I don’t recognize it,” I explain, standing from my seat. The smooth, tiled floor is a welcomed cold against my bare feet that plod a path towards his tall bookshelf. 

“Oh, that. Um, Junk by Paul. God, I love that song. ‘ve been listenin’ t’ him loads with tha concert comin’ up. You should too, babe.” 

“I will, thanks for the reminder,” I tell him, winding my arms around his neck and pecking his cheek. Watching the dimple fall into it, a happy hum radiates through my chest. 

“Whatcha wanna do fer dinner t’night? We could eat those leftovers from last night, or I dunno, heat up a can o’ soup. Perfect weather fer it right now, ‘d say.” 

“Both sound good. You can call it, but I’m going to go and refill our teas,” I answer, leaving another kiss on his stubbly cheek. 

“Oh, thank you, love. I hardly noticed, been so engulfed in this bloody book.” 

His smile matches mine when I look over my shoulder, his empty mug in hand as I slide my flats back on. Voices trickle out of the doors I pass on my way to the breakroom. Excitement leaks from them, questions, hushed whispers, and then, a name I recognize. 

“Can you direct me to the office of Harry Styles?” a blonde woman asks Amelia at the front desk. With a hand on the door, I turn back around to watch. 

“Yes, of course. And your name was?” Amelia asks in her sing-song voice, hands poised on the computer keyboard, probably checking the schedule. 

“Penelope-.” 

“Oh, hey, Becky. Filling back up too, I see,” somebody says, drowning out the rest of the woman’s words.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I mumble to myself and only her, watching as Amelia types away. “Sorry, what’d you say, Ash?”

“I just saw you’re getting a refill too. After you,” he almost wheezes, but I don’t take note of it, my eyebrows still in a dip after what I just saw. 

“What’s that look for, huh? Is somebody not happy to see me?”

“Of course not, Ash. I just saw- I dunno what I even saw,” I confess, setting down my pink mug I pluck from the cupboard, and Harry’s black one in front of the electric tea kettle. 

“Everything okay? You look a little lost, or something.” 

“Yeah, fine,” I say slowly, trying to remember if Harry had said anything about wanting coffee instead, but he’s already had two cups, and tries to stick to only two these days. It’s already almost time to go home for the day, anyways. Sighing, I pull open the tea drawer and pluck out an English Breakfast and a Peppermint. 

“I heard you and Harry nabbed that huge McConnell case that everybody’s talking about. Congrats on that,” Asher comments, sticking a hand into the drawer after I moved to the side, ripping open the tiny packets. 

“Oh, thanks. No pressure, or anything.” 

“You’ll do great, don’t worry about it. If anything, it’s a good thing you have Harry. If the bloke is good at one thing, it’s winning cases,” he insists, and I only nod along as I free the string from the bags to place in the mugs. 

A mumbled confirmation leaves my lips as the steam from the scalding hot water wafts over my face, filling the mugs, one and then two. 

“We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Ash. Talk later,” I smile at him, pushing my back against the door and turning around to walk down the hallway. 

Juggling the two, steaming cups in my hand, I take my time walking back to Harry’s office. Quickly, I find that I’m not the only one on my way there, and soon, I pass Amelia on her way back. Smiles float between us, but mine falls away for some reason, and in only a matter of moments, I’d have so many reasons why. 

His head is bent over that same book, and a hand missing that summer glow rubs over his tired face. I can see him from down the hallway, and my vantage point would end up being regrettable, if only I’d known. 

“I didn’t know running your own firm was so tiring, Styles,” the frosty-blonde girl says when she stops in his doorway, and he immediately perks up. 

No, that’s my nickname for him, I think immediately, stopping a few paces behind her. 

“Nelly?!” Harry exclaims with absolute sunshine radiating from his face. “Hell, look at you. T’ what do I owe tha pleasure, love?” he continues in a voice brimming with astonished happiness, standing quickly to hold out his arms towards her.

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I might as well finally come and see you and My’s firm. It’s about time, sorry it took me so long,” she giggles in her posh accent, walking right into his arms where he holds her against him for several moments. Something twinges in my chest at the sight of it while I try to remember when I’ve heard him speak about her. I know he brought her up once, or somebody else did, but I can’t remember what they’d said. Who is this person?

“Yer bloody right ‘s ‘bout time, only took ya years and years. How’ve ya been? Ya look good, thirty looks smashin’ on you, y’know. Married Ben yet?”

“Thanks, but I reckon it looks far better on you, Styles,” this woman laughs and it sounds like a song, but I’m not sure if it’s one that I like. From the appearance of his crinkly-eyed smile, Harry likes it. “Nah, we split a few months back.” 

“Damn, ‘m sorry t’ hear ‘bout that,” he remarks softly while she picks up and looks at things on his desk. His eyes roam over her, but I can’t blame him, because so do mine. They drift over her cropped, curly hair and the long-sleeved, polka dotted dress. Polka dots have never been my thing, but somehow she makes them look sexy and far from childish all at the same time. 

I watch as she picks up the framed pictures sitting on his desk and when she grabs the largest of them all, something flits across her face before she hastily places it down. I only wish I could’ve seen what it was. Shaking my head, I lift a foot to turn around while her voice wanders over to me, and then his. 

“I heard you’ve found somebody new, no longer with Amber, I see.” 

“No, we’ve been split fer a few now. Ya, that’s Becks,” he comments warmly, and the next few of his words I can’t make out, until I hear some that I can’t ignore. “There she ‘s now. Hey, babe, c’mere. There’s sumbody I wantcha t’ meet!” Harry calls down the hallway to me. Gulping, I look up and down the other side of the hallway before turning around to find the smile of my boyfriend. One of my favorite sights, if not a little duller now.

The few moments it takes me to walk to his office are awkward, knowing that they’re watching me and my movements. I suddenly wonder if I need to touch up my makeup, fix my hair, or how this new, black dress really does look on me. 

“Thank ya, love,” Harry smiles when he takes the black mug from my hands to sip from. My own lips fall when she plucks the pink mug from my hands with a similar notion, completely devoid of any apology or embarrassment, and neither is Harry. What the- “Nell, this ‘s me girlfriend and colleague, Becky Holte. She worked here as an assistant o’ mine befo’ she finished uni, and came back last January fer an associate position. She’s me mentee and ‘m her mentor fer tha next few years while she finds her footing, workin’ primarily with me on cases, includin’ tha new McConnell one.” 

“I heard about that, Harry, congratulations. That’s very exciting . . for the both of you,” she grins from behind her mug of tea. My mug of tea. 

“Oh, sorry. Becks, this ‘s Penelope Hautten, or as we fondly call her, Nelly,” he introduces, and she offers a small wave and an awkward smile. Yeah, you have no bloody idea how awkward this is. “We met in uni fer law in our cohort, same with Rose and Rory.” 

“Hi, it’s great to meet you. I’d love to say I’ve heard loads about you, but it’s been a minute since I’ve spoken to Styles over here,” she says, holding out a hand tanned from fake tan that I reluctantly shake when I hear her next comment made in laughter. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, I’d be upset seeing another woman being all over my boyfriend, too.” 

“No, you’re okay,” is all I say at first, feeling a little better when I feel Harry squeeze my arm after swinging one around my waist. “It’s nice to meet you too, I think I’ve heard Harry mention you before. He sure has a lot of good things to say about all of his fun in uni.” 

The words bring loud laughs to both of their lips, and for a moment, I think that I need to as well. I find it awkward to not be laughing, but by then, it’s far too late to begin. 

“I just wanted to stop by to say hi and congratulate you on getting this case, it’s a rather big one. Actually, maybe we could talk some more about it over dinner? I was just on my way to Lenny’s on this side of town,” Nelly says, and yes, I do see the little glance you give to me before you bat your eyes at Harry. 

“Thanks, Nel.’ ‘d actually love t’ pick yer brain ‘bout tha case, and over a sandwich and soup sounds fantastic, ‘specially with this cold weather comin’ in. Great timin’, ‘m starvin’,” he remarks with an eager smile, rubbing a circle into my back before it falls. “Becks, you don’t mind, d’ya? Maybe ya could see if Rose needs help with anythin’,” Harry comments after setting down his tea, raising an eyebrow at me. He nods almost instantly, walking around his desk to grab his Northface off the back of his chair to pull on. 

“Yeah, I’d love to consult on it with you, Harry.” 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I mumble, lifting a hand in a lousy wave as they’re already walking down the hall and away from me. Their loud and happy laughter floats back to me as the image of her arm hooking around his waist burns in my eyes. 

“Was that . . ?” somebody says, breaking into my thoughts. Blinking and turning my head, I see Rose standing in her doorway, down the hallway. “Oh god, was that Penelope?” she groans with a shake of her head, stopping when she sees me standing there. 

“Yep, in the flesh. She took my tea,” I say with a turn of my palm to the sky, taking slow steps until I arrive at her side. I join her in watching them get on the lift with smiles stretching their lips. “And my boyfriend.” 

“I never liked her.” 

“Why not? Wait,” I ask and then pause, furrowing my brows as thoughts race around behind my eyes. “Was she the one in your friend circle in uni who- No, please tell me that’s not the one who had a crush on Harry?”

A sigh is all that graces my ears while she tucks a daring lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes and yes,” she answers.

“God,” I groan, losing a hand in my hair. “And she just stole my boyfriend for a dinner date, when we were just going to go for our Taco Tuesday. What the fuck?” I exhale, letting my hand fall with a slap! to my leg. 

“You better keep a short leash on him when she’s around, that’s all I’ll say.” 

“Rose-,” I begin, turning to look at her. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you, love. I’m sure everything will be fine, it’s been years since all of that happened, she’s bound to have changed, or so I hope.”

+

“You said everything would be fine, and you know what, it’s not fine!” I exclaim, dropping my bag onto the chestnut colored chair in front of the desk. Inhaling, the breath passes my lips shakily, and I turn away to look around the office. 

“Becky, what’s the matter, love? What are you talking about?” 

“Her. Penelope . . She’s on the McConnell case with Harry, instead of me,” I reveal gently, but the words falling from my lips feel like anything but that to my heart. Sniffling, I swipe a hand across my cheeks. 

“What, how do you-.” 

“I just saw him in the break room. You know what, I didn’t see him all last night. He didn’t come home until late. I went to sleep in an empty bed, and woke up later around eleven when he came in, and didn’t say a word to me. But in the break room, I run into my boyfriend, my mentee, my boss, who are all the same person, and all he has to say to me is that he’s switched me to your case and her to his. He didn’t have time to say anything more, because what’s-her-face slinked in and stole him from me. Again. Rose, I-I don’t like this, what the fuck is going on?” I finish, spinning around to look at her through the hazy tears sitting in my eyes. 

“Oh, Becky love, I’m so sorry,” is all she says before pulling me into her arms where I let the tears fly. 

“Am I stupid for getting so upset over this? I dunno if I am, because I looked her up on Insta last night and her stories were of them getting dinner and drinks together and she put hearts all around him on it. T-Then, this morning he barely kissed me on the cheek before breaking the news to me, and nothing more. No ‘I’m sorry for replacing you at dinner last night’ or ‘I’m sorry for coming home late and not responding to any of your texts last night,’” I cry, catching whiffs of her floral based perfume, feeling her sigh before hearing it. “I’m not going through another fucking Amber phase with him, she was one and done for me. I don’t like this, I just want him back.”

+

“Come ‘head, love, time for our weekly team meeting.” 

I remain silent, staring at the laptop screen unblinkingly, wishing it was the voice of another now saying my name. 

“I don’t want to . . she’ll be there . . with him,” I answer, switching tabs and scrolling through my search results on the Silver Net database. 

“Becky-.” 

“I can’t, Rose, okay?” I nearly retort, turning my head to look at her patient, brown eyes. “You didn’t hear the stuff she said to me yesterday.” 

“What’d she say to you?” she hurriedly replies with concern, sitting down on the chair next to me, pulling it over so she’s facing me. 

“It’s what she didn’t say,” I respond, closing my laptop but nervous to meet her eyes. “With just my luck, I ran into her in the break room yesterday, just when I was starting to feel better the day after getting dropped from Harry’s case. She was asking me about him, and well, me. How long I’d known him, how long we’d been dating, blah blah. Then she couldn’t shut up about how she’s known him for over ten years, how they’d have all of these late study nights in the library together, and how they took their Bar together. Then, he came in and she just continued, rattling off the cases they won together in the beginning when they got their first real lawyer jobs. She knew what she was doing and so did I, she was showing how much better she is for him, and how I’m . . not.” 

“As if anybody fucking asked her,” Rose tuts, shaking her head vehemently and getting to her feet. “You stay and keep checking on those statements we got, okay? You don’t have to come to the meeting, I’ll just debrief you when I get back.” 

Nodding, I lift the lid of my laptop again and switch to Docs. 

“Becky?” 

“Yeah, Rose?” I say, my eyes flitting to the door where she stands with her hand on the doorknob. 

“You’re sure you aren’t going to talk to him about this? I think the sooner the better.”

“I would, if I could get him alone, but I can’t. It’s like she’s always there, even outside of work, he’s out doing something with her. I dunno, I give up.” 

“I’m really sorry, love,” she frowns, emphasis in her voice and the bend of her eyebrows. 

“Thank you, Rose,” I answer with a small smile, watching her return it and leave the room. I almost jump when I hear the ding of my phone, and scrabble to pry it from my pocket, only to be disappointed with a text from Skye. As well as the memory staring back at me, teasingly, from my lock screen.

If only I could go back to that day, or just rewind life by a few.

+

The flecks of snow leave cold puddles in my hair as my fingers wrap around the cold handle. Gulping, I don’t twist it, and instead, I just stare and listen. I listen to the happy hum of music I hear coming from the other side, and to the obnoxiously nervous thrumming of my heart. He’s home, and for the first time in three days, it’s before eleven o’clock. I want to savor it, but the repressed thoughts have turned sour in my heart, building upon each other throughout the prior days. 

The new cold that has embedded itself into the wind and the trees around me, is what brings me inside. Maybe there’s an ounce of wanting to see him, or a contradicting whole lot, but it’s the sudden cold that I can’t handle anymore, and how it’s much too like the same absence that’s grown in my chest. 

“Ya hungry, babe?” he calls to me, the sound of the door opening something I’ve only gotten used to recently, but he’s mastered by now. Breathing in, I chase a deep breath, but it’s lost. Wasting the time until I have to walk past him, I sink down onto the bottom step to pry off my shoes. “I was gonna make sumthin’ fer dinna, but ‘m not sure what. Anythin’ sound good t’ you? Oh, I was wonderin,’ why weren’t you at tha team meetin’ t’day? Ev’rything’ alright?” he continues, despite my lack of an answer. The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly. 

I wonder if I have enough time to leave, but no, I can’t. He’s noticed, and knows that I’m home. He’s expecting me. If only he could know how that same feeling has overflown inside of me, and been pushed back down each and every time, a hunger that was never fed. I hang my coat, place my keys on the ring beside his, and leave my ankle boots on the mat by his chestnut brown chelseas, just like every other time. In every way I still find it dreamy, but it’s not the same, no matter how much I wish that I could pretend that it is. 

“Becks?”

“I’m not hungry,” I softly decide on a few moments later, padding into the kitchen where he still stands in his work clothes from today. The shiny black number adorned with velvet edges now absent, and my ever favorite, the leopard button up. The pain still sings behind my ribs at the appearance of it in its lonesome, untucked from his slacks. 

“How are ya not? ‘s five o’clock, love. I know ya have yer lunches at one, so ya must be starvin,’” Harry comments, but how would he even know? The fridge makes that noise it always does when it opens, the soft pop before the whoosh of the refrigeration. “Hey, where are ya goin’? I could make a pizza, or some spaghetti fer us.” 

The words that he requires to his questions escape me, and in their place, sit the impatient ones that have been patient for far too long. Yet, I can’t find the right ones to say that feel right, but then again, all of this feels so wrong. Not one moment from the last few days has felt anything close to right. 

“Becks,” he says, urgency laden in his voice, and I wonder why I didn’t just walk up the stairs and away from him when I had the chance. “Hey, why’re you ignorin’ me, love?” 

If that didn’t do it, his hand on my shoulder, soft as can be, does. I try my hardest to not melt into putty in his hands, but he sidesteps that entirely, and walks around to stand in front of me. 

“What, it’s only okay when you do it?” I bite back, but the fervor isn’t there in my voice. No, not yet, but it’s not what does it for him when he sees my face. It’s barely there, but the way his eyes widen, and his lips part tells me that he too feels the tears warming up my cold-bitten cheeks. 

“Becks, I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout. What’s tha matter, love?” 

“Please, don’t lie to me,” I begin, a sob near and not too far. A swallow to wet my voice is anything but that, and I know it will only get worse as his eyebrows fall into the deepest V I may have ever seen. 

“‘m not lyin’ t’ you, bug,” he insists, cocking his head. A whimper sounds from my lips when I pull my arm out of his grasp, and the effect is immediate, firstly in his eyes. 

“You forgot about me, Harry. Our Taco Tuesday date . . watching the new episode of American Horror Story last night . . watching FRIENDS every night at dinner . . reading Harry Potter together every night before bed,” I say, the sob beginning its place behind my lips. “Ever since Nelly walked into your office on Tuesday, it’s been all about her! We’ve hardly spoken the last three days, and when we do, it’s ‘Nelly this,’ and ‘Nelly that.’ I’m your girlfriend, Harry, and I got fucking demoted by you, again!” the exclamation is dry, and yet with the sadness that leaps from my insides, no longer patient. 

“Honey, ‘m sorry,” he tries with sorrow and everything else sewn into his features, but unlike every other time, I don’t want to take it and run. I don’t want to give in, or settle. 

“Sorry doesn’t always cut it, Harry, you know that. You dropped me from your case without even asking me so you could have her help you! When we were talking about taking the case, you told me that it would be such a great learning experience for me. My first murder trial, and you gave it away to her! She’s seen how many murder trials, how many courtrooms, and known you for how long, Harry? It’s like I didn’t matter anymore the second she walked in your office. You didn’t answer your calls and texts, or if you did, it was hours later. I saw you on her Instagram story getting dinner and drinks every night this week, instead of having dinner at home, with me,” I explain, the tears wetting my lips chapped from the cold wind. “I don’t understand, Harry, what did I do or what didn’t I do? What does she have that I don’t?” 

“Becks, please-,” he starts with a sadness in his voice that I don’t want to place or take ownership of. 

“She loves you, Harry, I know it,” I say, and then, it all changes. His face does, and so do his words. He changes. 

“What? What would make ya say that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Harry, I’ve seen it. I’ve only known her for a few days, and I see it. I see it in the way she looks at you, how anytime I’ve tried to talk to you at work this week she steals you back from me, and how much she sells herself to sound like you . . how she’s so much better for you than I am,” I tell him, the emphasis at last arriving in my voice. The bravery. 

“She doesn’t feel that way ‘bout me, she never has. We’re jus’ good friends, ‘s all.” 

“P-Please, I said don’t lie to me,” I stutter, squeezing my eyes shut at the sound of his words. The sting of the denial. “She does, even Rose told me she has ever since uni, Harry! Why can’t you see that?” 

“There’s nuthin’ to see, Becks, ‘s jus’ best friends reunitin’ afta a few years. Ya wouldn’t understand . . ,” he spits back, disdain heavy in his voice, and now in my heart. 

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, Harry, but I guess, not this week.” 

“Jealous much?” he tuts with a shake of his head, his upper lip curling as his face takes on the look of . . somebody else. “Y’know what, ‘m sorry I dropped you from tha case, and yer all bitchy ‘bout that. I wanted t’ work onn’a case with me best friend fer ol’ time’s sake. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that! There’ll be how many mo’ murder cases, if that’s what yer really upset ‘bout. Nelly, she’s not in love with me, so stop bloody sayin’ that. Fookin’ f’get dinna, I don’t even wanna be ‘round you right now, yer bein’ pathetic and all jealous,” he retorts, and any words I had to say are drowning in the tears that crowd my cheeks. 

“Harry, please. Don’t,” I beg him, turning to watch him walk away and shove his feet into his boots by the door. 

“No, Becks. ‘m goin’ out fer dinna . . with Nelly. ‘ccordin’ t’ you, that’s all ‘m good at as of recent,” he says, and his voice drops when he says her name. So does my heart, and I’m sure it shows on my sleeve, because a hint of My Harry appears on his face just for a moment. Only a moment of regret and realness. I don’t wait to see if it remains, and dash past him to take the stairs two at a time until I find the guest bedroom, wishing that I could collapse onto our bed without it hurting me all the more. 

It’s a few choked breaths until I hear the door to the garage slam, his car start, and then leave. 

I guess I got my wish, afterall, to be alone.

+

The slamming of the door is what I hear next, and what lifts my heavy head from the pillow. Muffled curses pricks at my ears while I rub at my heavy eyes, a yawn leaving my lips. Blinking slowly, my eyes begin to fall shut and the pillow greets my head once more. Licking my lips, I grasp at the edges of the striped pillowcase, the remnants of my dream coming back to me. The sounds around me soften and so does the rest of my body, unbeknownst to me the hour, or the memory of the fight earlier. Nor did I know of the man who nervously climbs the stairs with a hole in his heart, searching for me. 

“There you are,” he says, but I hear it in my dream, or so I think. Opening my eyes slowly, sleep is all but lost as his steps creak across the floor after opening the door noisily. “Oh, shit. ‘m sorry, I woke you up.” 

I’d fall back asleep, ignoring him and it all, but I can’t after I hear the way the words fell from his lips. The subsequent sniffling and whimpers that adorn his words. Lying there staring into the darkness, my eyes slowly start to open more and so does my mind, and perhaps my heart. Having slept in another bed that wasn’t mine, I want more than anything to not have to fall asleep in an empty, cold bed tonight, without him. I just want things to be okay again, and to be normal. I had never before coveted the normalcy that we had only days ago, and how unknowingly happy I was living amongst it. 

It pulls me to my feet and across the room blindly, and into his arms. For the first time in days, the tears don’t find me, but as I breathe in his smell, they belong to him now. 

“Becks,” he cries from above me, his chest shaking under my touch. Sighing, all of the unspoken grievances spend themselves onto his skin, and hopefully, out of my heart. Little did I know. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Harry, it’s okay.” 

“‘s not okay, Becks, ‘s really not,” Harry continues, and as if in slow motion, I pull myself away from him. The glow of the streetlamp illuminates his features painted with sadness, and their rivers. 

“Harry,” I begin, afraid of the words mounting on his lips as he presses his palms against his eyes. 

“You were right,” is all he says and I’m stepping away, muttering frantic ‘no’s until I touch the bed, and sink onto it. His hands fall and in the scattered light amongst the darkness, I see the impending words weighing on his lips. “S-She kissed me . . t’night at dinna, we had been drinkin’ and . .” 

The ‘no’s are lost entirely within moments, and my head falls into my hands. An emptiness that had been building within my gut over the last few days only intensifies, and if I’d eaten anything for dinner, it would have been lost by now. 

“I stopped her, Becks, believe me. Please. I-I told her that she can’t, and I didn’t do it, too. I didn’t kiss her back, baby, I promise you that. ’m sorry, Becks, ’m so sorry,” Harry weeps. The floor creaks, but I’m too far away to know what it means, until his face falls into my lap. “I pushed her away, and told her that yer tha one I love, it could never be anybody else. I could never feel that way ‘bout her, I said that too, and how I love you so much and ‘ve been tha worst boyfriend t’ you ever since she came here . . . I-I made her leave, Becks, I swear. S-She’s gone and ‘m so fookin’ sorry I let this happen, baby, ‘m so goddamn sorry. I love you. I love you so fookin’ much, and ‘s only you. ‘s only ever been you.” 

With a choked sound, I stand up and hardly feel the carpet pass under my feet, or the wooden steps that come next. I hear my name, the one that he gave me so long ago, and only swears by. Again and again, it comes, and I listen, but I don’t. After a while, the sobs bursting from me cover his voice, but they could never silence it. No, not my favorite sound in the entire world, and yet, at this moment, it’s the one that I hate most, because of the words it said. 

“Becks, don’t. Baby, please,” he begs when I grab the keys and pull on my shoes. “Don’t leave. ‘m sorry, I promise she’s gone and isn’t comin’ back. You can’t leave anyways, ‘s a blizzard out there. They’re sayin’ people shouldn’t be drivin’ in it, ‘s tha first snowfall like this in October in a hundred years. I don’t want sumthin’ t’ happen t’ you.” 

Stopping, my hand freezes on the handle, just like it did only hours before. Only then, things weren’t nearly as bad as they are right now. Sniffling, my shoulders fall and shake harder than before, and so do my words, “I don’t want to be here,” I sob, helplessly. 

“I know, ‘m so sorry, Becks. ‘m so sorry,” he continues from behind me. I wait for the sound of his footsteps but they don’t come, and I’m not sure of my own, either. 

Standing there, I’m uncertain of how much longer I can do it, to stand. Our cries fill my ears, and the ache of all aches weighs in my chest. With every second, it feels as if my legs are going to forget me, but there I keep standing, for how long I’m not sure. 

“‘ll go, ‘ll leave you be. ‘m gonna pack a bag and stay at Myles’ down tha road . . Eat, babe, please. Have sumthin’ fer dinna,” he announces, and I swallow, past all of the anger and upset living in there. Blinking, the tears waiting in the dugout leave, and I see the cream of the door. I see all of the memories that happened even just there - the nights tripping in from too many drinks, the first nights at his place together, coming in after walks around the neighborhood, or surprising him after work with takeaway. They play before my eyes until freezing at the feeling of his lips on the crown of my head, and I close them. I wish that it could be like any other time, but the trembling of my lips tells me otherwise. “I love you, so much, Rebecca Ann. I love you, love you, love you,” he whispers before another peck, and then, he’s gone. 

I don’t remember leaving him, or making my way to the downstairs study, falling into a fitful sleep on his futon with the sights and smells of him dancing around me. I only remember wishing that this was all a nightmare that he could wake me up from, and to not have to wake up to it, again.

+

The shrill sound of my alarm is what brings my eyes open the next morning, instantly groaning. Turning over, I press Snooze on my phone screen, again, and catch the picture that I haven’t been able to get myself to change. I could place it anywhere - a visit to The National Gallery to see Monet, Harry’s recent infatuation. It was a selfie gone wrong in front of the painting, Bathers, and instead features our large smiles in a blurry photo. 

The time continues to tick away on the wall, and with every second that passes, life comes back to me, and walking back into my heart. I lay my head back down on the pillow and watch how the early morning sunlight peeking in through the shades dances across his study. The spines of his favorite books filling the shelf on the wall. Reflections painted on the screen of his trusty iMac. The ghosts stare back at me from the framed pictures around the towering object. His mum, sister, grandparents, the team at the firm, and then, there’s me. It’s the shiniest of all, absent of dust, and is in the biggest frame. He’s not even in it, like the others, because it’s just me. The pink and brown, patched quilt falls to my waist when I sit up quickly, squinting with my contactless eyes to see it. I had no idea he had printed it and framed it, to have in here, a snapshot of me from my birthday with a bedhead and a tired smile after opening presents. The accompanying frames hug the sides of his computer, but this one- no, not this one. It almost obscures the monitor itself, it’s so close, and it makes me wonder all the more if that says anything for how he holds me in his heart.

+

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, stabbing at the lit up number amongst the rows. Dragging a hand through my hair, sighs fill the air whilst I smooth down my wrinkled slacks, hoping I don’t look as shitty as I feel, like I know I do. 

Not soon enough, the office comes into view, and I rush in. “I’m so sorry,” I apologize profusely, shaking my head as I set down my things in her closet where hers sit as well. “I just- I had a really terrible night, I know it’s no excuse, but-.” 

“Would you stop apologizing? You overdid it when you rang me on your drive here, don’t worry so much, love. We all oversleep sometimes. I’m just glad you didn’t miss the team meeting, come on then.” 

“God, another one? That has to be like two too many this week . . why?” I groan, following her out of the room with slumped shoulders. The realizations and realities don’t hit me until the second before I step foot into the conference room, searching for him. He’s nowhere to be found, and of course, it only makes me feel all the worse. I snoozed my alarm too many times and overslept, missed breakfast, forgot makeup, and now, my boyfriend I’m fighting with is MIA from work. 

Could this week get any worse? Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t jinx it, now. 

“Where’s your lover boy at?” Rose taunts, but when my eyes stop their investigating, I find that she’s looking around with pinched brows, too. 

“I’m wondering the same thing,” I answer softly, watching as more people fill the room, plucking bagels and muffins from the platter in the middle of the table. It would be calling my name typically, but no, something else is right now, somebody else. 

“You go and find him.” 

“But, Rose, they’re going to start-,” I begin, until Myles’ booming voice interrupts me from the front of the room. 

Her firm green eyes don’t shy away from their answer, “It’s okay, go, Becky. He doesn’t usually miss these things, anyways. He’s gotten good at actually showing up to them for once,” she says with a soft smile, patting my arm and nodding at me to follow her words. 

Nodding with a grateful smile, I weave around the cluster of familiar lawyers finding seats, and slip out the door. Searching the halls nearby is the first thing I do, but I’ve never been very lucky with that, and I’m not this time, either. I think I have it in the bag when I push open the door to his office, but despite the warm light pouring in from the windows and the ceiling lights, it’s a ruse. Harry’s not here, either. 

Whirling around, I take a step towards the door until my mind catches on something. With careful steps, I turn back around and walk over to his desk, and I notice it. The mess. It hasn’t been this unorganized since well, when I worked as his assistant. He’s always kept it clean since I started working with him again, always having a place for everything, and keeping it that way. This is odd. 

That’s pitched back onto the pile, forgotten, when the sun glimmers on something reflective. With another step, I catch sight of it, and like the other one did so perfectly, the guilt starts to bead inside of me. Inhaling suddenly, a smile lopsides my lips as I reach out to touch it. It’s just like the other one, and yet it isn’t, and in the best of ways. 

As if it’s a mirror, my face stares back at me, and in so many ways. My staff picture for the firm that he took of me on a pair of steps on a walk together during lunch. Me riding the carousel when I had to be four or five. Pigtailed primary age me kicking a football along the field in a yellow jersey. Chubby-faced me smiling at the camera with only a few teeth to call my own, drool running down my chin. A candid of me at a staff party, and one that was long ago, when I was just his assistant. One to remember, a shot of me moments before my very first case with Harry, all dolled up in my lawyer attire. In the center of them all, they sit taped to a larger picture of me smiling so hard my dimple popped, in front of a path of autumn trees. A day only just a week ago if that, I realize, while admiring it. 

Sighing, I reach a hand to brush underneath my eye, but I bump his white Apple mouse in the process. It wakes up his iMac and the sight of his screen is soon clouded with tepid tears. They fall, tasting briny against my lips, and heavy with guilt. In all of my time working with him, before, I had seen his computer. I had seen his laptop background. I had even seen his lockscreen, and it was never of somebody. No, it was a painting, song lyrics, a grocery list, or a sample background. It was never of a girl, but this time, it is. It’s him and me, some secret snap from a hike with Robbie this summer, overlooking the peak but smiling at each other while the sunset colors wash the sky. 

God, I really do need to fix this, right now. And if I had any plans for what that would be like, they’re stolen away by the wind when I look up. 

“Hey,” he says softly, worrying away at his bottom lip. His warm gray suit flutters when he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and if it weren’t for the lip thing, I know from this too that he’s nervous. Anxious or not, he looks unforgettable in that suit - the very one he donned for our first date, and I requested for so many more that he finally told me ‘no,’ because he had so many others. 

“I was looking for you,” I reveal slowly, my voice shy and distant, although I try so hard. 

“I was jus’ lookin’ fer ya too.” 

Silence falls into the space between us and claims it, separating us all the more with the desk in between us, and his figure across the room. Words fill me to the brim, and I didn’t know it a moment before, but these ones are impatient too. They grow heavy and needy when I see the glassy look to his eyes, and then disappear altogether when the first tear drips down his cheek. 

“‘m so sorry, Becks. I know I fooked ev’rythin’ up, and I understand if ya wanna break up- I-,” Harry weeps, his voice giving out on him. His dingy, flat curls move when his head shakes from side to side. My heart aches with each beat, and only sinks further when those pretty greens run away from me to hide in his hand. 

“Harry,” I begin in the worst of sighs, my rushing feet not quick enough to get me over to him. “You didn’t fuck everything up, you’re not even capable of that. Breaking up hasn’t crossed my mind, I promise.” 

“What?” he breathes, his hands falling at last. They’re slick with tears when I wrap them up inside of my own. Shock paints his face and stills the tears in his eyes that glue to me immediately. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, big head,” I refrain, freeing his hands and grabbing his face until my lips touch his. Surely, I’ve surprised him, but it’s only seconds until he kisses me back. Her face pops into my head, and I kiss him harder. The thought of her kissing him comes next, and I lose my fingers in his hair. I try to find my ground by focusing on the feeling of his stubble underneath my fingertips, and his smell. It smells like home. 

“Baby, ‘m still so sorry,” he mumbles against my lips in between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” I assure him, pressing pecks to his mouth with hurried breaths. The image of his wet green eyes find mine again, and it’s like my heart didn’t just get sewn back together in the last minute like I’d thought. 

“‘m sorry, Becks, fer ev’rythin’ this week. Ignorin’ you, droppin’ you from tha case, comin’ home late, and our row last night,” Harry starts with tears growing in his eyes. Shaking my head, I pull him against me, and find his neck with my nose. “I was such a prick t’ you, I can’t believe it. Ya don’t deserve tha way I treated you or talked t’ you. ‘m so sorry.” 

“I know, Harry, it’s okay. I forgive you, it’s okay,” I coo, trailing my nails against the back of his neck, catching the soft curls there. “I was to blame too, I should’ve talked to you right away, and not waited. I-.” 

“No, don’t, Becks. ‘s not yer fault, none o’ it, it was all me,” he insists with a sob. I shush him, and lay my head on his shoulder, wishing to know how I could make this all go away. Hushed ‘it’s okay’s fall from my lips as I rub hearts into his back, wishing I could rub and rub until it was all better. Finally, the silence feels comforting, and no longer dangerous. 

The sniffles have slowed and almost stopped once I pull away, catching a tear budding on the end of his nose. A corner of his mouth greets his cheek as he catches one under my eye. 

“I’m sorry I got so upset last night over that stupid kiss. I know that you’d never do something like that to me . . it wasn’t your fault, Harry,” I say, brushing my thumb over his untidy stubble along his cheek. 

“Thank you . . ‘m sorry I didn’t believe ya and got all defensive ‘bout whatcha said. Yer me girl, nuthin’ will ever change that,” Harry hums, sponging a kiss to my forehead. “I got so excited t’ see Nelly at first, but she kept tryin’ t’ keep me away from you, and I shouldn’t have ignored it.” 

“It’s okay, it’s all over and done with.” 

“Mmmhmm,” he hardly smiles, looking down at me. 

“I’m your girl, huh?”

“Always, baby,” he confirms, his lips slowly spreading to shine that sunshine on me. “Hey, why tha tears when I came in, bug?” Harry shushes, leaving kisses along my face until I’m giggling. 

“Your pictures,” I say amongst the attack of kisses, hearing his confused ‘hmm?’ from somewhere on the other side. “Nothing, I just- I know. I really know, now.” 

“Good, silly girl, wantcha t’ never f’get that. Yer all mine,” he nearly sings, his lips drifting to my jaw and then my neck. “Love you, love you, love you.” 

“I love you more,” I sing back in reply, but then my breath catches when his giggle tickles my ear. “Don’t you dare! Harry!” I chuckle.

“Do what, love?” he asks, the mischief sparkling in his eyes when his lips leave my skin to smile at me now. 

“I swear to God, Harry Edward,” I titter, my words collapsing into laughs. 

“I love you most,” he claims with a loud wheeze, tittering into the corner of my neck soon, making us both laugh. 

“That’s my line!” 

“Seems I got t’ steal it this time, bug, and fook, did it feel good t’ finally get t’ say,” he comments, earning a dramatic sigh from me. “So, what d’ya say t’ skippin’ tha team meetin’ like ‘d planned, and orderin’ brekky and catchin’ up on that show o’ ours?”

“Perfect.” 

“Good answer,” he smirks, touching his lips to mine before pulling me in to wrap me up in my favorite place in the whole wide world, his arms.

+

“Are you ready yet? God, I swear you take longer than me, Harry, and I’m the gender who’s said to take the longest in the bathroom!” 

“Ya well, ‘s not very hard t’ bloody braid yer hair, throw on some gym clothes, and a hat, now ‘s it, Ms. Holte?” he calls back, and I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. With a sigh, I take a seat on the bottom step and let my chin fall into my palm. 

“Oh, would you stop? All you had to do was spray your hair and spike it, and write some words on your face with eyeliner.” 

“Be nice t’ me,” he remarks from above me, his voice coming closer. Cocking my head, I see a glimpse of him until at last, he comes into view. His grumpy face doesn’t last very long when he sees the dimple fall into my cheek, and soon, so are his. “How do I look, Ms. Green?”

“Great, Mr. Geller. You really nailed the nineties spiked hair,” I say, my words falling into a giggle that he shakes his head at. 

“Why thank you, ‘m rather proud o’ it too.” 

“I still can’t believe who you said we should go as instead.” 

“Keep teasin’ me and maybe we will go onna break,” Harry jokes, arriving at the bottom stair and soon returning to sit beside me with his pair of Old Skool vans in tow. 

“Hush,” I retort, knocking shoulders with him. Smushing the hat back against my head, my head falls onto his shoulder and I wind one of my arms around his. “You did good on the whiskers, I like them,” I note, dragging the back of my finger against his baby-smooth cheek. 

“Thanks, babe,” he mumbles while pulling on his shoes. Turning to me, the fake, black whiskers are obscured by his lovely dimples. “Ya really did do a great job with yer costume too, love, and t’ think we jus’ used what we had. We’re rather nifty, ‘d say,” he says, tapping a finger against my nose. 

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see how cute we look together.” 

“Then let’s go look, shall we, Rachel?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrows, and I nod as he kisses my forehead. 

Taking his hand, I stand up and follow him through the house until we arrive in the main floor’s bathroom, staring into the floor to ceiling mirror. A laugh immediately sputters from my lips and one from his too. 

“God, we look stupid.” 

“I hope that means we did good with our costumes,” he titters, inspecting his hair until I softly swat at his shoulder. “Ya really outdid yerself with tha pigtails, babe. Me black cap looks great on you, as does tha rest o’ yer outfit that’s mine. Ya always blow me away by how sexy ya look in me clothes.” 

“Okay, bud, would you chill out?” I chuckle whilst he sponges kisses down my neck from behind me now. “Harry, we haven’t even left for the party yet and you’re going to mess up your makeup.” 

“‘s okay, ‘s supposed t’ look a li’l messy since Ross was drunk in that episode.” 

“Harry, stop it,” I giggle when his lips wander to below my ear and his hands to my ticklish waist. “Kissy time can wait until later, mister.” 

“Hmmmph, yer no fun.” 

“I’m sure we’ll both be loads more fun when we’re tipsy later,” I note, taking his hands in mine and leaning into him. 

“Oooo, don’t tempt me, babe. Already wanna kiss all over you, yer not helpin’.” 

“Harry, I’m dressed as Rachel from the football episode in nothing but sweats. How in the hell is that sexy?” I wheeze, squirming when his fingers find just the right place on my ribs, because he’s gotten it memorized by now. 

“Told ya that ya look like sumthin’ else when ya wear me clothes. Plus, there’s never a time where ya don’t drive me mad with how beautiful ya are.” 

“Harry,” I sigh happily, opening my closed eyes to watch him litter kisses along my face in the mirror. “You know, I bet we’ll even win best couples costume.” 

“Hmmm, ya think?” he wonders aloud, lifting his head to look back at us, and in my eyes. Gently yanking on my pigtail, I giggle as I turn around and thread my arms around his neck. “Y’know what, reckon we look cute t’gether even as Ross and Rachel, but always as Harry and Becks.” 

His sunshine spreads a wider smile on my face as I hide my blushing face in his neck. The olive green button down of his slips under my fingers from behind his neck, and then again, I see the cat face scribbled on his face and ‘Ross’ written on his forehead from that one episode of FRIENDS. 

“We make a good team, huh?” I ask him, my fingers dancing over his beaming face. 

“Ya, we sure do, babe. And we’ll make a better one if ya don’t mess up me makeup I took far too long t’ put on.” 

“Okay, fine,” I relent, my thumb drifting along his cheekbones before it finds his bottom lip. “How’s this spot?”

“That works just fine.” 

“Oh, you don’t say?” I snicker, pulling down his warm lip only to have it spring back against his teeth. 

He shakes head with red cheeks while humming a response, but it doesn’t go very far until I envelope his lips with mine, sure that I’m screwing up his makeup but neither of us care. The kiss only grows sweeter when I think of the last Halloween that we spent together, and how this one is already starting off miles better.

We really have made it, haven’t we?

[kashimos-hajime]

aphrodite | b.b.

Summary: Bucky’s only in town for the night, and then he meets the woman who steals his heart without a second look back. Unfortunately for you, the small town girl, Bucky’s more than your heart can take.

WARNINGS: CUTE ASS FLUFF! for once, Bucky’s a little shit, unsafe motorcycle riding, pls ride with a helmet, and mentions of sex but like it ain’t that explicit, also sad ending but perhaps a pt 2? Pairing: badboy!Bucky x fem!waitress!Reader Word Count: 6.2k A/N: So I was inspired by Shawn and Camilla’s new song (Señorita) and the music video so I decided it was time to get saucy. Also, I say DEDICATE FICS TO WRITERS YOU LOVE RIGHTS. Therefore, this is dedicated to @jurassicbarnes bc i love her Masterlist

“That’ll be all for you?” you ask, scribbling down the last order of milkshake and fries for a family of three. Tapping your pen on your notepad, you put on a smile and slide the two items into your apron pocket, scooping up the menus. “Great. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” the man responds, and you let the grip on your pen slack.

“No problem, and if you need anything,” you stress the word, “please give me a call?”

“We will,” the woman assures and your eyes flicker over to her. Your lips press together in a warm smile because they don’t want your pity. Instead, you look out the windows and note the rain thundering outside the little bistro. “Hot summer rains, huh.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a wet summer this year.”

“More fun for the little one,” you tell them as you wave at the tiny boy sitting in the woman’s lap. They chuckle before you leave them alone. Your eyes linger on the rain. You want to run out and let it fall all over you, soaking you to the skin, but you still have to work. Remembering that, you head for the kitchen and rip off the new order, hooking it on the line for Wanda.

“We’ve got a new order. Family of three with a little boy,” you tell her, leaning over the counter. Business is slow in your tiny town of yours, and everyone knows everyone. “It’s Ben and May Parker,” you clarify when Wanda arches a brow at you while she works. She’s great at micro-managing and you watch in amazement as she juggles the deep fryer, stove, and oven all at once, “with Peter.” You can see Wanda’s movements slow as the information sinks in. The two of you share a look and you just stare back until Wanda remembers she can’t let anything burn.

“I’ll make something special for them,” the woman decides and you shake your head with a smile. “I know what May will say, but tell her it’s from me.”

“She’ll know,” you promise, straightening up again. You still have an hour left in your shift, so you might as well make it your best one yet. Fixing your apron, you tuck a slip of hair behind your ear and glance around. No one needs your attention, but you do spot dirty plates, so you head over to collect them before heading back to scrub them up. Less work for Wanda means you guys can close up shop early. Slipping your name tag into your apron pocket lest it fall down the drain and you lose it forever — it’s happened before — you dunk the dirty dishes into the half of the sink full of soapy water.

You begin to run the tap just as the bell above the door rings up front. Sighing, you head out to see a lone figure heading to one of the booths, dripping all over your floor from the rain and your lips twist into a small scowl. Slipping hazard.

Still, it’s not their fault it’s raining in the summer. It’s just the weather around here. So you head on over there, your friendly smile coming up on your face on its own accord. You grab a menu on the way, and think happy thoughts.

“Hi. Do you want me to get you started on anything to drink?” you ask as standard but you find your words come out thick when the figure turns to look at you. Through drenched brunet strands of hair that stick to his cheeks and jaw, blue eyes pierce into your soul and you swallow, not knowing what else to do besides that and blink repeatedly, absorbing this gorgeous guy in front of you. 

As you said, tiny town where everyone knows everyone and you certainly don’t know this guy.

He seems to have a lost for words, too, or maybe he’s just wondering what the hell is wrong with you. But one thing you know for sure, he recovers first. He tears his gaze away and you notice he’s wearing leather gloves which he pulls off to reveal those hands and you try not to stare as he tosses them onto the table before extending a hand up. He has a cute smile and you stare at him dumbly, not understanding.

“I, uh, I need the menu, doll,” he says and you snap out of it.

“Right! Right. Sorry,” you stammer, giving him the menu you’d been hugging to your chest as soon as you lay eyes on him. Heat pools in your cheeks as you try to get through the gist of the weekly special and that he should tell you when you’re ready to order. He scans the menu, listening to you talk with a slight cock of his head and you try not to focus on the fact that this is really how you’re going to get fired. Embarrassing myself in front of the new hot guy. Figures. His fingers trace over the words and you can’t help staring at the strength you can see in them. 

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you manage to get out at last and he looks up at you. There his smile is again, and his blue eyes squint along with it. He rakes a hand through his wet hair, pulling it back and you chuckle nervously. “I can get you a towel or something, if you want.”

“That’d be nice,” he admits, wiping his hand on his pants. Setting down the menu flat on the table, he holds out a hand that’s not rain-wet. “I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky, right.” You slip his hand into his and nearly shiver at how warm he is. His blue eyes pull you in like a hypnotic mist and your breath catches in your throat. “Bucky, okay, uh, right. Just let me know when you’re done with that—” You point at the menu, cringing internally at how you’ve suddenly lost all your communication skills— “and I’ll come take your order.”

“You said that already. Three times, actually.” And then he lets go with that smirk of his and you’re left dazed, blinking.

“Right. Um…” You’re a complete mess, looking down at yourself. You realize you don’t look at all your best, in a day-old uniform with barely any makeup and your hair oily, and compared to him, all black leather and blue eyes, you know this is not the best way to make a first impression. “Towel! I’ll be back, and, uh, just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

Exiting the situation as quick as you can before you can repeat yourself a fourth time, you duck your head to hide your red face as you hear him call after you.

“Thanks, doll!”

You give him his towel, his food, a milkshake and a refill. Then, you refund all favours you’ve ever done for Wanda for her to go and give him the bill while you clean the kitchen. You’re closing up shop now, and the Parkers head out, giving you a wave through the kitchen window. You wave back before pretending to busy yourself, knowing that his eyes are on you.

When Wanda comes back, he gets up and flips the collar of his jacket, tiny droplets of water spraying over as he tries to catch your gaze. Heat is rushing to your head and you turn away, pretending that you aren’t trying to sneak peaks of him out of the corner of your eye.

I need to take inventory, you tell yourself, heading to the back as Wanda deposits the money. Counting the stock of potatoes, you can’t focus and start from one every three seconds as you stare at the tubers.

“Y/N,” Wanda calls softly and you blink, turning to see her at the doorway of the storage closet, “how many potatoes do we have?”

“Uhm.” You turn back to the potatoes, trying to see if you can make a quick count as Wanda walks in, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’re busted.

“The guy out there wanted to know where my beautiful friend went,” she tells you, and you duck your head, that flustered feeling knotting up your chest as you try to stammer out something like you were busy. But it’s Wanda. “He wanted to ask you out on a date, but I told him my beautiful friend is busy tonight.”

“Busy?” you repeat, turning to Wanda who smiles. “Where are we going?”

“Clubbing.” 

.

Bucky drums his fingers on the bar counter, taking a pull of his whiskey. He had needed to stop in the new town to rest before he headed over to Barton’s country-side home for the wedding, but the bistro he’d stopped by prompted an extra few nights stay. 

It wasn’t the bistro so much as the waitress who’d served him. Bucky knows how to keep his cool around the ladies, but to say he hadn’t been momentarily stunned by the woman who’d walked up to him would be a fat lie. 

Even in the stained waitress outfit, and the messy hair, you had been the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. Beautiful, in all ways, with your kind smile and rolling words. With your gentle hands as you pulled summer rain from his soaked hair with that towel of yours, as you told him the milkshake refill was on the house as a welcoming gift to ‘our small little town. Enjoy your stay.’ 

He needs to see you again. Learn your name. Tell you he wants you.

Bucky’s never believed in love at first sight, but he does believe in love at first meeting, and damn it if— 

Stop. You need to stop thinking about her. He closes his eyes, letting the sound around him melt into a lethargic ocean, the air around him thick on his skin, hugging him like molasses as the music fades out into some new romance song that’s a hit on the radio these days. But he can’t. You’re in his mind like a brand, burning so bright and warm. Your eyes stare back at him in his mind’s eye, as if daring him to stop.

If he can find you again, find the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen to walk this Earth, he will, ‘cause then he’ll have the real thing.

Someone asks for a drink two seats down, and Bucky blinks out of his reverie, taking another sip of whiskey. He sweeps his gaze through the bar, trying to see if anyone’s worth his attention or time. Perhaps he can get his mind off his new infatuation for a few hours. Better than drowning in the little memories he has of his Aphrodite — just a taste, not enough.

His dark eyes flicker from patron to patron, groups of people dancing on the floor as drinks are spilled and food bounces into corners of the bar no one will ever see, left for the rats to feast. It’s a nice place, cozy in a retro way, with a jukebox and neon signs. The club is plunged in red light, and he can barely discern one face from another as the crowd parts in a way he can only claim is destiny.

There you stand beneath the neon lights.

He sets down his glass of whiskey harder than anyone ever intends to when they’re in their right state of mind and just stares, unable to take his eyes off you, the way that fabric wraps around you. The way the sequins of your black dress seem to darken underneath the red light as you speak to your waitress friend from where you stand around a table. You’re holding a mojito, or something, sipping on that straw and then he’s up, wading through the crowd.

People push up against him, whether intentional or not, but he only has eyes on you.

Your hair is pinned away from your face, but the rest spills down your shoulders, brushing over your arms as you turn to your friend. More girls join you, giggling and flushed and smiling, but he only has eyes for you.

Bucky rakes a hand through his hair, making sure he can soak in every inch of you as your friend points at him. He strides on over, an involuntary smirk making its way onto his face as you set down your mojito on the table. Your friends all stare, but he only has eyes for you.

“Bucky,” you say at last and the sound of your voice is a masterpiece, a symphony of colours he’s never seen before and places he wishes he’s been to. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” You shout because the music pumping in Bucky’s veins means it’s in his blood, roaring in his ears. Maybe it’s pounding in your head too. Your friends tell you they’re going to get drinks. You don’t seem to hear. Your eyes are fixed on him.

“Well, I wasn’t planning to be here,” he replies and you blink, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you look at him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you let out a sigh. It puffs against his cheek and smells like mint and sugar. “I just wanted to get wasted,” he adds, leaning in closer. His fingers reach for your wrist as you shiver, and your eyes flicker shut, eyelashes dusting your cheeks. His lips brush the shell of his ear and he hums playfully along to the music. His fingers coax your wrist into his grip as his other hand lands on your hip. Your eyes open drowsily, like you’re Sleeping Beauty and he’s your prince, and you search his gaze. In the red light, the shadows of your face darken and cause you to look cut from marble, a statue of Greece, beauty made eternal.

Your other hand finds his bicep and he pulls you into him. Your chests collide. You squeeze and he smirks, knowing you’re feeling what is there. Leather and hard muscle and power. 

“Then you came to the right place,” you breathe, chin tilting and his head falls to your neck. Your hand on his bicep slides up to his shoulder as he presses a kiss to your neck and you tug, oh so slightly at his jacket like you want to tear it off. He’d let you. So much for a stumbling mess, Bucky muses. Cats come out to play at night. “Bucky, I—” He lifts his head so your gazes meet again, and your lips are trembling, eyes wide with something dark and wild and feral.

“What is it, Aphrodite?” he whispers, tilting his head as his hand holding your wrist slides up your arm slowly, intentionally, and you react in a way he knows you will. You gasp, and his smirk grows. Your hand flies his elbow, stalling him. Curious, his blue eyes meet yours again. “Wanna dance?”

“I—” The noise comes out strangled and you blink, inhaling sharply. When your eyes open again, what is left is who you were earlier that day. The quiet, shy, stammering woman who’d taken his breath away. You shake your head despite what lies within your eyes. “I have to head home. Busy day tomorrow.” In seconds, you gather your clutch and slam a few bills on the table. 

“Wait—” Bucky reaches after you but you’re smaller than he is, and you slink into the crowd. You’re a nymph, beautiful and mystical and magical and maybe you aren’t quite real enough to touch. Bucky isn’t sure. He chases after you, pulling through the crowd — people dancing and laughing and drinking — and he thinks maybe. He catches glimpses of the color of your hair, a flash of your eyes, a slip of your dress.

He’s on the wrong side of the bar when he hears the bell above the door chime, and he knows.

You’re gone, and so is his heart.

He returns to his seat at the bar, slams a fifty on the counter and asks for shots instead of whiskey. Maybe then it’ll chase the ghost of you out of his head.

.

He doesn’t come for you, like you thought he would, and Wanda doesn’t seem to know if he’s gone, too. 

It’s three days before you have to accept the fact that he’s gone. Gone to some other town with some other girl. Guys like him have no trouble getting girls.

You didn’t expect you to be grieving the loss of someone you don’t know, but then again, you’ve never felt so drawn to someone before. On your break, you eat a protein bar and take your hair down for your fifteen minutes and head outside for a breather. The other waitress is in today, and although it’s a busy hour at night, you think the lull in business can give you an extra few seconds. The wind leans into your face, smelling of petrichor and summer sugar, and you know summer rain’s gonna come again. That just reminds you of him, so you push that thought out of your head.

You need to head back inside. You’re closing tonight, so you might as well work to finish early. You count money, clean dishes, wipe down the windows and counters early and mop the floors. Wanda cleans up the kitchen and the last patron leaves thirty minutes before closing, meaning you can leave right on the dot. Wanda and Dot, the other waitress, clock out early as you begin taking stock of the last few ingredients for next day. They’ll need to order soon, otherwise there won’t be any more apples left for Peter Parker’s fourth birthday pie.

“I’m heading home. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Wanda asks, lingering around the entrance to the kitchen and you send her a tired smile. You can’t read her expression that well when you don’t linger on her face but you know her tone of voice. “You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

You laugh to cover the abyss in your heart. “I don’t miss him. I didn’t even know him.” Wanda looks at you with an ounce of skepticism and you roll your eyes. The hollow feeling in your chest is temporary. “Besides, I’ll be a-okay with my apples and tomatoes.” Wanda wears her tentative smile like a shield as if you’ll blow up at her. She uncrosses her arms, looks at you once more. You sigh. You’re exhausted. “Wanda, go home to Vis. I’ll lock up.”

“Alright. Call me,” she says in farewell and the chime of the bell above the door rings, leaving you alone. You finish up taking inventory and begin locking up, turning off the lights and making sure everything’s sealed. Heading out the back door that instantly locks once it’s closed, you pocket the keys and head out, pulling your hair out of its bun. And then you spot the figure sitting on the couch outside and you slow down, turning to look.

Bucky sits up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted and you smile incredulously. He leans forward, almost half way to standing. You pause mid way through adjusting the strap of your bag and then turn around, a silly smile working its way onto your face as he gets up, scrambling after you.

“Wait! Aphrodite, wait.” You cross your arms as he runs in front of you, towering over you as he does and his blue eyes warmer than any summer rain. “I… I don’t even know your name.”

“Why are you here, Bucky?” you ask quietly, and he runs that hand through his hair again. Aphrodite, you realize, warmth gathering in your stomach. A voice tells you, He thinks you’re beautiful. As beautiful as a goddess. Still, you can’t help the hurt in your voice as you add, “I thought you left.”

“I was thinking of what to say. Thought you didn’t wanna see me,” he mumbles and your eyebrows gather together. Before you say anything, though, he continues, “But I came to ask… ask if you wanted to take a ride.”

His motorcycle is parked a few steps off and you turn to look at the black beast, huge and shining and sleek. It’ll roar when you tear down streets. You know it.

“Yes.”

He helps you on before swinging on in front of you. His ass presses against you as he grabs the handlebars. “Don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around me, Aphrodite,” he murmurs and instantly, your arms encircle your waist and you melt against him. Your legs press against his thighs and he kicks off. The motorcycle purrs and vibrates beneath you as you begin speeding down the street and towards the beach.

The wind rips at your hair and face as the world around you becomes a blur. The night is quiet besides the bike, splitting the night apart with its engine and there’s the smell of sea and salt on the wind. You haven’t been to the beach in forever. 

You hug Bucky tighter when he pulls a smooth turn down a road that leads out of the town. Bucky feels right beneath your palms, all hard and soft lines, leather, and pure muscle where his thighs are concerned. He checks up on you at a stop light, his cobalt blue gaze drawing you into him until you’re leaning against him, cheek against his back as you two start off again. You can hear his heart above the thunder of the motorcycle, and the wind stings your nose but the smell of him stings more. 

He is one of the seven deadly sins, lust on legs, smoke and cedarwood and sweat, and you cling onto him like he’s your saving grace. Your legs tighten and he takes the chance to eye you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head just enough to take a glimpse of you as a Welcome sign for your city comes and goes, a spot in the distance within seconds.

“Focus on the road, Bucky,” you whisper and he listens. You press your lips against the shell of his ear, eyes focusing on the blurring road ahead. The only thing that’s clear is the man you have every inch of yourself pressed again. “And my name is Y/N.” With every word, your lips brush against his ear and you notice the knuckles of his hands blanche remarkably.

“Aphrodite is better,” he tells you through gritted teeth. The muscles in his jaw twitch and oh, how much you want to touch him except if he gets distracted, you both die. Still your hands play with the edges of his jacket, until he scolds you. “Down, girl. I needa focus.”

Alright, baby.” Your words cause a shiver to run down his spine and you feel it as he twists the throttle. Everything is nothing more than colours — the sky, nothing more than a smudge of black ink, the moon, a streak of white. Your arms tighten around his waist. He leans and swerves, boots barely brushing the asphalt and you taste the burn of rubber in your mouth just like how the smell of Bucky bleeds into your nose. 

When you reach the beach, your hair is tousled and you’re panting because the rush of riding a motorcycle has you breathless. Your heart hammers in your throat, almost like it’s trying to speed out of your chest and you swallow it down to your chest, the adrenaline pumping into your smile as Bucky kicks the stand and parks the motorcycle on the pavement

Bucky places a hand on your thigh, swinging his leg off and getting up. The weight of his huge hand, heavy and hot, has you breathing even harder. He’s not wearing his gloves and you can feel the heat of him on your bare thigh. The day dress you’d worn to work and wear now has hitched up your legs, and he gently caresses your thigh as he walks around the bike.

His hand drifts over your skin, across your hips, to your other thigh and then his other hand finds your hip. He lifts you off the seat, putting you down with ease and his skin burns you deliciously. The weight of his hands on your hips is like the best kinda belt and you breathe him in, feel his heat. He licks his lips. You find yourself hungry for something that isn’t food.

“Come on. Beach is empty.” He takes you by the hand, dragging you to the open sand. He dumps his jacket in the sand, pulling off his boots and socks, and you stare before letting your bag drop and toeing off your sandals. You walk out, feeling the summer sand warm beneath your toes as sea winds sweep between your legs and arms. Bucky follows after you, taking hold of your hand and you let him lead you into some dance you somehow both know.

You sway in time to invisible music, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. Your arms loop around his neck, and you wonder if it’s possible to be drunk off someone else’s presence. 

You twirl through the sand, the gentle lap of the waves your own choir as you push off of Bucky, arms spread out and your head tilts back, letting sapphire moonlight spill all over your face. A carefree smile splits your face apart and you close your eyes. You could stay here forever.

Then, strong arms scoop you up and your legs wrap around a thick waist. Bucky spins you around, his eyes never leaving yours and you touch his face, the rough of his stubbe prickling at your palm as his hands hoist you up from the bottom of your thighs and ass.

“Bucky?” you mumble, completely lost in the way his eyes shift from navy to cobalt to sky. He stops spinning. His lips are parted, tongue flickering out to wet his lips again and something takes a hold of you. This man chose you. The notion blows your mind.

Your hands flat against his cheeks, you decide that if this is real, you might as well take what you can get. So you kiss him, and he bleeds whiskey and honey and all that is sweet in this world.

.

There is summer rain.

That’s the first thing Bucky thinks of as he wakes up. The soft sound of rain splattering windows and tiles and walls, along with the warmth in his gut is a welcomed way to start a morning. Feeling the space beside him, he finds it empty and rolls over, glancing at the window. The tequila sunrise glows golden as you force apart the curtains of the hotel room. Bathed in its glory, you look out the window. So, it rains on a sunrise, does it? Bucky might just start liking this town even more than the people in it.

You continue to stare out the window, and Bucky takes the chance admire your form, covered in nothing but a knitted cardigan that reveals everything and not enough. Bucky squints against the glaring sun as it rises, and moans, catching the attention of his Aphrodite. You turn, tugging your cardigan together as if to preserve decency.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, arms spread out, and you chuckle. Long gone is the shy, stammering waitress with the gentle hands. Here you are, in all your glory; his little minx, his seductress, his bewitching witch. He sits up, naked as they day he was born and you sit in his lap, sinking into him with a soft sigh. “My Aphrodite,” he whispers, hoarse from sleep and other reasons. Your lips meet his again, and you tastes like things he can’t name as your eyes slide shut. Your kiss is toxic, just like the night before, and his hands grab at your shoulders from behind, grounding you to him. 

He needs this poison more than he needs to breathe.

His mouth opens underneath yours and you groan, taking hold of his face. Hooked on your tongue, his eyes close and he bites at your lip. His hands peel your cardigan off your body, and you fling it off, returning your hands to his neck and jaw, shoulders and back, like magnets. You’re so warm, the sun in his arms, and you fit so perfectly in his hands as your lips glide to his neck.

“Don’t stop, Buck,” you whisper, moan, plead. Bucky tilts your jaw back to him with a crooked finger, bright eyes meeting yours. You are something ferocious and wild and enchanting. Bucky wonders what he wouldn’t do for you. “We stay in here, alright? We never have to leave.” You duck down to his neck again. He bites his lip, raising his head to give you better access as his fingers scratch down your back. Your hands trail down his shoulders and sides, scratching and clawing and you’re biting and touching as he sucks in a long breath, lips finding the plane of your collarbone. You taste like summer rain, sweet cream, and sweat, and he wants to devour you. “You hear me?”

“We don’t leave,” he whispers, and he takes you by the hips, twisting around so he pins you to the bed. The white covers are clouds around your skin, and maybe you really are a goddess. Flushed cheeks, wine-stained lips, you sing the prettiest song for him.

“Bucky,” you sigh, lovely and deeply, the sweetest harp, the most beautiful angel.

“We stay here,” he promises, pressing ragged, messy kisses against your mouth as he speaks,  “and I love you every second until I die.” His hips press flush against yours and when his lips find the column of your sweet, silky little throat, he wonders how he’s gonna tell you he has a wedding to get to. He wonders how he’s even gonna manage to leave this hotel room that has your lips and skin and heat and smell. 

How is Adonis to leave his Aphrodite?

.

“You have to go, don’t you?” you ask as you place the strawberry milkshake between the two of you. Bucky sits at the bar, as you get ready for the day to start. The blinds are filtering the sun through the bistro, the doors locked still. The rain has stopped and it smells like fresh pavement out there. You’re here before opening hours, tugging Bucky into the place by your interlaced fingers. On your arm is a poem of numbers and dashes — Bucky’s number — and on the back of his hand is yours.

The strawberry milkshake is topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and there are two straws poking out of the top. He takes a sip. You sigh. Neither of you comment about the bruise under the handkerchief you have tied around your neck or the one blooming on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just visible when your collar shifts. Or the marks on the thighs where his lips had undressed you the night before. And that morning. And twenty minutes ago.

“Y/N,” he begins but you merely smile sadly, knowingly. He sighs, pushing the milkshake towards you. You take a sip. It’s not the sweetest thing you’ve tasted today. Bucky’s lips can give anyone a toothache. His blue eyes hooded, he grabs your hand on the counter, leans over the counter, and kisses your swollen lips. 

Your hands wrench in his hair, tugging him towards you as he merely cups your face, kissing you sweeter than you want. You want rough, you want something harder. You want him to hurt you so it’s easier to let him go.

“I have a wedding to get to,” he whispers and it sounds a lot like farewell. You want him to ask you to come. You want him to even think about it.

“Bucky…” you begin, unable to finish. He smiles, a whole tragedy in the twist of his lips and the burning in his eyes. His hands slide down your neck, your shoulders, lingering little touches you’ll never have again. 

Because your life is here, and his life is somewhere far from your tiny little bistro.

You can’t even pretend you don’t need him.

“It’s so damn hard to leave ya, doll,” he murmurs, fingers playing with yours. You push off the counter, tearing yourself away and he lowers his head. “Y/N, please.” You walk around the counter and he stands, the strawberry milkshake forgotten, and you try to calm the whirling hurricane in your heart. You try to ignore the aching pain, the grief you feel for no goddamn reason.

And then you’re running across the bistro, running for his arms that spread out and you jump into him, legs wrapping around him like he’s the only thing keeping you from drowning. One hand wraps around your waist and the other traces the curve of your thigh as he closes his eyes, hugging you to death.

“You don’t forget me, alright?” you whisper fiercely and Bucky’s hugging you tighter, holding you like he’s gonna lose you.

“Like I could ever forget you, Aphrodite,” he mumbles into your hair and your face nuzzles into his neck, feeling the warmth of him so different than the heat last night. You wonder if he’s gonna take your heart with you when he goes or just half. I hope this meant something to you, Bucky Barnes. “God, doll, if you ever call my name, you know I’m gonna be comin’ for ya.” He sets you back down, but you’re not quite sure your legs touch the ground. Your knees wobble and you hold onto his biceps, taking in his face — memorizing every tiny scar, freckle, blemish of his face, the colour of his eyes, the rosey touch and shade of his lips. You’re nearly chest to chest, and when his hands cup your face, his lips press against yours, tentative. You feel the tears slip down your face when he pulls away.

His thumb brushes away your tears, kisses every single trail, every new tear he’s missed, tells you you look beautiful and kisses your cheek. 

It feels a lot like I love you.

This is goodbye. You wrap fingers around his neck, pull him down for a hard kiss of teeth and lips and tongue. He kisses back, the mess of both of you stumbling until you’re against the counter, one arm around your waist his other against the bar and your hands tangle in his hair. You have enough time for one more, you don’t care if it's right here. It might be enough of a reason for him to stay—

But he tears himself away before he can pull apart your blouse and bend you over the countertop. You’re left trying to catch your breath, trying to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt. He mumbles something to himself, and the wretched glare he gives you nearly causes you to crumble. You hold onto the counter, desperate, miserable, liar.

And then he turns to go, and you don’t stop him, too weak to move, too tired to try. You close your eyes, turn your head away and let it drop as you sit on the red leather barstool, swivelling to lean on the counter. Your elbow digs into the wooden counters as your tears burn into your skin. Resting your head against your hand, you pretend not to notice when there’s a long pause between the bell above the door ringing and the door closing again. You pretend you don’t feel him look at you one last time. You pretend your heart is still whole in your chest.

You only burst into tears when you hear his motorcycle fade off into the distance.

Wanda finds you minutes later, sobbing into your arms at the counter, dressed for work, but not ready at all. She calls in Dot to cover your shift, puts away the strawberry milkshake so it doesn’t go to waste, takes you outside to the bench near the back — the very spot Bucky Barnes waited for you — and tells you to stay there until she is on lunch break. You stare at his phone number, inked onto your skin, a stain like a lot of things he’s left on your body, and time seems like something you don’t understand anymore. So you sit where he sat, imagining his motorcycle parked in the lot, his arrogant little smile, his surprise of ‘Didn’t wanna go to the wedding anyway, Aphrodite.’

But he doesn’t come. You know you need to get it together because you have work to do, so you cry, sob over the boy in leather who’s never coming back, until you’re all dried up forever.

It nearly works, and you’ve almost taped yourself up enough to get back to being just another waitress, but then Wanda is on her lunch break. She sits beside you, offers a sandwich, asks you to spill, because you’ve fallen in love with a stranger who’s long gone. And the tears come again.

TAGS: bucky: @beyond-the-ashes @aryaes permanent mcu: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala @schwankyblock permanent: @dulharpa

[iwritefanfictionsometimes]

still growing up now

for @curlymcclain (and myself bc I’m nothing if not selfish)

AO3

Chapters: 1/1

The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky

Characters: Theodore Decker, Boris Pavlikovsky, James "Hobie" Hobart

Additional Tags: Someone You Meet at the Wrong Time Then Re-meet at the Right One, Post-Canon, Open Ending, Kinda, Fluff, Theo sorts out his emotions, Healing

Summary: It’s been six months since Amsterdam, six months since I’ve been home for any significant period of time and, six months since I last saw Boris. Maybe after not seeing him for eight years, six months should seem like nothing, but with the new clarity of my sobriety and the strange knowledge in the back of my mind that I would kill for Boris it's harder to ignore the pull in my chest when I think of Boris’ curls and the smile in the corner of his mouth when he’s about to do something definitely stupid and possibly illegal.

----

or, the birthday fic

It’s been six months since Amsterdam, six months since I’ve been home for any significant period of time and, six months since I last saw Boris. Maybe after not seeing him for eight years, six months should seem like nothing, but with the new clarity of my sobriety and the strange knowledge in the back of my mind that I would kill for Boris it’s harder to ignore the pull in my chest when I think of Boris’ curls and the smile in the corner of his mouth when he’s about to do something definitely stupid and possibly illegal. 

I’m home now, possibly for good. All the Changelings I can remember selling have been bought back, I’ve righted my wrongs. Or at least, most of them. There’s still the wide and horrible divide between me and Kitsey that I don’t think will ever be repaired. It hadn’t broken her heart when I’d called off the engagement, but it had ruined what stability her family had built. I'm not surprised she can’t forgive me for that. I don’t let myself think of what questions I have that continue to go unanswered. 

Popper barely moves when I open the door, I think it’s a wonder he’s still alive. I kept thinking I would get a call in the middle of Europe telling me I needed to come home right away. But it never came. I can’t help but remember the way he’d screamed and jumped around when Boris walked in with me only six months ago. But he’s always liked Boris better. 

Hobie appears in the doorway to the basement. He looks more tired then I can remember since I showed up at his door unexpectedly after Vegas. It’s not a good look. I want him to smile again like he did while business was doing well. He watches me silently as I drop my bags in the entranceway. I stand there unsurely for a moment —it’s not a familiar feeling— before he sighs and opens his arms. I’m not used to this, even from him, but the hug is good. It means I’m forgiven. 

“Go get cleaned up, Theo, I have to run out for a moment,” Hobie says gruffly once we let go. 

“Oh,” I say awkwardly, “I was just stopping to see you and get some of my clothes.”

Hobie frowns at me. 

“I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome here. And anyway, I thought it was time to start fresh.”

“What are you talking about, Theo?” 

“I’ve rented a place, an apartment, it’s not far but I thought I should give you some time.”

Hobie looks sad for a moment and he puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“I was never that mad, you know you are welcome to stay,” he tells me gently. 

I don’t know how to explain that this was as much for me as it was for him. I am, after all, a selfish creature. Very few things in my life have been done without any regard for my personal gain. 

I nod instead of trying to explain everything to him. He studies my face for a moment and then pulls away. “Tell me where your apartment is,” he says while putting his coat on, “I’ll bring over some things I’ve been meaning to give you tomorrow.”

Again, I nod. There isn’t really anything I feel I can say. He’s out the door with one last searching look and a flap of his coat. The lightness with which he moves still surprises me. 

I stand there for a moment, both at the bottom and the top of the stairs, before I shake my head and take my first step up to my room. Or I guess my old room. 

It takes longer then I thought it would to pack a suitcase. My room is a maze that my sober self doesn’t know how to navigate. Inevitably I end up standing in the doorway with a suitcase beside me and my home for the last nine years looking nearly as bare as it was when I first came. I only look at it for a second before leaving. I don’t put a name to the churning in my stomach. 

-

Boris is at my apartment. I stop halfway down the hallway, and my heart beats a frantic rhythm in my chest. He makes no sense in this hallway. Again, he is a magazine page torn from other chapters of my life. He looks so normal it’s strange, wearing a too-big t-shirt and jeans he looks like any boy waiting outside their friend’s apartment. He looks up when he hears my footsteps stop. There is the startling reality of his face, the paleness of his skin and then how dark his hair is against it, the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. There’s a tentative smile in the corner of his mouth, not enough to crinkle his eyes but it’s there. 

“Potter,” he says, like this is normal. 

I would ask him how he knew where I was, but I didn’t really want to know.

“What are you doing here?” I sound more rude then I had intended, but Boris knows me well enough not to be offended.

He smiles a real smile then. My feet carry me over to him without a thought. 

“Do you not know what day it is?” he asks. 

I stumble over the dates in my head before oh. Oh. It’s my birthday. 

Birthdays in Vegas were never big affairs, neither of us had the money or the commitment to make actual plans. But the two I had with him were both memorable. I haven’t had one like that since I left. I wasn’t even sure if I’d ever told Hobie my birthday, although he must know. 

“You missed eight of them.”

I’m not sure what else I could say.

“Yes, but misunderstanding. It is all cleared up now,” he grins, “are you going to let me in?”

I can’t do much else but open the door. I’m hardly about to turn him away, not after thinking I might never see him again. He follows me in and kicks off his boots carelessly in the entryway.

“So, new place!” he observes, “it is very empty, Potter.”

I sigh and wheel my suitcase away from him. He follows me back to the bedroom chatting inanely about the weather and how loud New York is in the summer and ‘Potter! Remember how hot we were in Vegas? Always wearing sweaters!’ 

He wanders around my room as I drag my clothes out of the suitcase and get to work putting them away. I’m running on autopilot now, my mind too caught on —he’s here in my room his hands are on my things— him to make any good decisions about what I should be doing. He picks up the few trinkets I have with careful hands and studies them intensely while talking. I’m too caught up in the loop of Boris to immediately pick up when his voice stops. Then suddenly, I realize the room is too silent. I look up from my clothes to see him standing extremely still with his head bent towards whatever he’s holding in his hands. The line of his shoulders is tense. I stand up slowly, there’s a pounding in my chest where my heart is beating double time. I don’t know what’s in his hands, but whatever is coming feels inevitable. He turns to face me when I stand beside him. 

“You kept it,” he whispers.

I look down to see what he has clenched in his hand. It’s his father’s lighter. The heavy gold one he’d left in my bag a few days after the first birthday I spent with him. I know exactly how it feels in my hands. The swirling designs on the sides are worn down from years of my fingers rubbing them when I was nervous, and the lighter doesn’t even work anymore because of how much I’d used it, and yet, I’d brought it everywhere with me for the last nine years. 

His eyes are dark and startled when they meet mine. 

“I had not expected you would keep it.”

“It’s the only thing I had of yours,” I say, laughing awkwardly. 

It’s still difficult to be honest with him, even if I’ve almost gotten used to being honest with myself. 

There’s a silent minute where I have to clench my fists to stop words I’d regret from bursting out of my mouth, and then he lets out a shaky breath. We’re somehow too close. 

“Potter…” 

“Why did you come, Boris,” I interrupt to ask again, a little more desperate. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles, almost unintelligible through his accent.

His arm is under my hand, I don’t think about it too much. He’s warm. I can’t read whatever is in his eyes, but it leaves me a little short of breath. He’s fidgeting with the lighter still and I’ve never been more aware of the change in our height difference. I’m almost looking at the top of his head because he won’t meet my eyes. The fear from years ago creeps into my chest but I push it down. I worked for this, I didn’t sleep for this, I called a therapist a couple of times for this. Whether I take the leap or not it’s possible I won’t see him for years. I’m tired of it never being the right time. 

“I missed you too.”

It sounds like a secret, and Boris reacts like it’s one, jerking his eyes up to mine so fast it looks like it hurts his neck. There’s a defensive smirk just under his skin, I can tell, but he looks vulnerable like I haven’t seen since the night I left Vegas. I wonder what he would’ve said if I hadn’t refused to hear it. His study of my face must give him the answer he wanted because the fake smirk disappears and his eyes widen.

The lighter clatters to the floor. 

His hand is tight on my shoulder, almost painful, and his face is intense: filled with emotions I don’t understand, and fear.

“This is not a funny joke, Theo,” he hisses, and I know he’s serious because he uses my real name. It sounds odd on his tongue.  

“I’m not joking.”

“Are you high?” he asks, pulling away suddenly. 

“Boris!”

“Is a fair question, Potter.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. I have to say this right. There’s years of misunderstandings and unspoken lies to try and explain. 

“I’ve been thinking,” I start, “I know there are things we never talked about.”

Boris’ jaw clenches and he stands a little straighter. The sun reflects in his eyes through the window. It reminds me of Vegas a little, the sun always too bright and too hot, leaving Boris’ skin red and mine brown. But before he burned and peeled he was stunning in sunlight, gold falling on the many high points of his face and making him look like he was glowing. I could never resist him when he looked like that. 

“I also know there are things I don’t remember,” I shift nervously, Boris is completely still. 

“I don’t even know if you have any interest in me, but I just. I’ve been thinking-”

Boris’ hand on my cheek causes my mouth to snap shut. 

“Potter…” he whispers, and that is a secret as well. 

I can’t stop myself from swaying toward him —he’s always had a way of pulling me into his orbit— but I know I need to say this in full. “I didn’t let myself think about anything,” I whisper like the air will shatter if I talk louder.

“Not us, not my mom, and not about my own feelings. I was too empty and too full. And you were dangerous.” 

The brush of his fingers in my hair is distracting, and I want nothing more than to let him pull me in, but I’ve done enough thinking that I know I have to tell him this. There has been too much avoidance in our history. Thankfully Boris is quiet. New York is loud outside, but that hardly matters.

“I still am not sure about most things, but I know there was something-” I still can’t say it.

“Something more?” Boris asks.

“Something I never said.”

He looks up at me and touches the edge of my lips gently. I know there’s a scar there from one of the times he punched me. My breath hitches, I remember his lips on my fingers after both our mouths were bloody, I remember the desperate press of his own lips against mine so long ago. We’re both deathly silent. 

“What was it?” He asks finally. 

I can’t say it. I’ve thought it more times then I can count, and it’s swirling around my head on a loop, but I can’t make the words come out of my mouth. Boris looks like maybe he understands. 

“Is okay, Theo. I understand.”

The air leaves me in a rush and then my lungs are burning because his lips are on mine and I can’t break away to inhale. 

There’s a sense of relief, like this was the inevitable ending to our story —although I’m not sure it really is an end— like if nothing else had been right in my life at least I had given myself this. One thing that was even more perfect for the disaster it started as. I couldn’t help but hate that it had taken so long, even as his hands fist in my hair and shirt, but I know it wouldn’t have been right nine years ago, or even six months. I couldn’t have done this sober and he couldn’t have done it with me high, not again. 

He feels right in a way neither Kitsey or Pippa ever did, no matter how much I made myself believe they were. I place careful hands on his neck and waist and just let myself sink into him. It’s more gentle then I had expected, I had half convinced myself it would be a frantic tumble much like our youth. But of course, when given the chance now he held me like I’d run away. 

It’s several long minutes before I break away. “Are you staying?” I ask quietly. 

He’s silent, stroking his fingers lightly over the lines of my face and staring at me like he can’t quite believe I’m here. I let him. 

“Do you want me to?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to.”

He nods like he knew.

“You know I was always waiting for you, Potter,” he smiles slightly mischievously, “you were always the last to know everything.”

I laugh, because what else is there to do when he looks so happy and there’s something growing in my chest that tells me I might be as well. There’s more to talk about, but tonight I just want to sleep and remember what it feels like to have him beside me and not feel guilty about it this time. 

“Sleep?” I ask. 

He searches my face for a moment. 

“Yes, I think that would be alright.”

-

I look down at him the next morning. The sun is still rising —I’ve gotten used to waking up early for flights—  and it just barely shines through his messy hair, lighting it up to gold. The angles of his face are so familiar, even with years of being apart and the haze of drugs I’d been in. I think maybe I’d remember him even if I forgot everything else. I think I’d forget my own mother before him; maybe I already have. Her voice doesn’t sound familiar in my head anymore. In contrast, his had sometimes been the only one I recognized in my delirium. He clenches a fist in the sheets before his eyes open. Everything about him is startling. His dark hair and eyes against my white sheets, the curl of his lips as he catches me staring, the rasp in his voice from sleep. 

“Shall we just stand here tenderly and gaze?” He mumbles.

I fight the smile rising. 

“We aren’t even standing, Boris.”

He laughs and presses his face into the pillow. 

“Is the thought of it, Potter.”

I don’t respond. Eventually, he blinks up at me and rolls a little so he doesn’t have to crane his neck. I wonder how long he’s waited for this; how long I’ve waited for this. 

“Are you alright?” He asks softly. 

I don’t know. There’s an unnamable feeling bubbling in my chest. I remember waking up a thousand times with him, wrapped up together or across the room, and each time felt dangerous. Could I let myself have this? Even a year ago I would’ve said no, I wouldn’t have even thought of it. But a year ago I didn’t have Boris in my bed looking at me with so much hope (even though he tried to hide it). A year ago I hadn’t spent six months trying to fix the wrong I’d done to the world and to myself. Planes and airports leave a lot of time for self-reflection. Sometime in between Las Angeles and Phoenix, I’d come across the startling realization that almost everything I made myself believe about myself was false in one way or another. 

It wasn’t hard to accept now that Boris made me better. Better in the worst way, yes, but more myself -messy and angry and the opposite of what I’d built my life around- then anyone else ever has. He knew about the worst parts of me and just let me be broken. He was there, and demanded nothing but my honesty.

I’d called Pippa sometime in London. She’d told me one thing after I’d apologized for every misguided advance I’d made. She said that the only way she’d moved on was by letting it hurt. She told me that only once she’d cried and screamed and cut her hair did the pain start draining away. Her voice had been so quiet —like she was afraid of scaring me— when she’d asked if I ever had that. I hadn’t. I’d drowned it all in drugs and alcohol before I even felt half of the pain. So I’d tried. I lay in nameless hotel rooms and stared at the ceiling, will for the tears to come. They hadn’t. I thought about the things I’d avoided for so long because I was scared of how I would react. But my eyes stayed dry. I wondered if I was broken. If the drugs had numbed something inside me to the point of it being unfixable. 

Looking at the boy, man really, in my bed now though I can feel the slightest whispers of emotions squeezing in my chest. 

I lay back down and reach a hand out tentatively between us. His eyes meet mine across what seems like miles of pillow. His fingers slide to meet mine. I can’t look at him. 

“Theo?” his voice is soft and careful, his accent tripping messily around my name. 

I close my eyes. His hand leaves mine but I don’t flinch when his fingers brush my cheek. 

“Open your eyes, Potter,” he whispers. 

His hand spreads across my jaw. His thumb brushes under my eye. I know my eyes are wet when I open them. He raises his eyebrows at me, it’s almost familiar. But not quite. We’d never been this gentle before. I know there is much more to talk about, but I’m determined to ignore that knowledge for as long as I can. For now it’s just this, I can allow myself this without panicking. 

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

‘As long as you stay with me I will be.’ I think, but that feels like too much. 

“I think so,” I say instead.

I hope he hears the rest when I reach a shaking hand across to smooth away his frown.

[riptidehoran]

Hi lovers, im typing this from the death pits of my bed as I just woke up from the littest and bestest night of my life with Niall at the Flicker World Tour in Singapore. I’ll try to recall as much as I can about the whole experience from the soundcheck, M&G and the concert.

Soundcheck:

I was right smack in the middle and second row for soundcheck. We were all seated and anxiously waiting for Niall to come out so we were all just casually talking and all of a sudden with no warning whatsoever he just came out along with the band. It really took me by surprise (no pun intended lmao) like this bitch just came out of nowhere and made me tear up shshfdhfjfv. He then said his greetings to Singapore and then started playing On The Loose, You & Me and Fire Away which sounded really amazing everyone were singing and jamming/swaying to the songs. After the songs ended, everyone was screaming and he started covering his ears and had this freaked out look on his face lmao this boy is so dramatic I swear to god we weren’t really that loud ajnjdsncjs. He then started to tell us to calm down and asked us if we watch High School Musical and started to lead the Sharpay breathing exercise lmao.

After everyone quieten down, he started talking about how good it was to be back in Singapore and how hot Singapore is (like literally it’s 31-32 degrees Celsius outside and really humid, the moment I step outside im drenched in sweat idk how I survived in this weather for the past 20 years it’s summer everyday). He even said he played golf at 8am earlier and he felt like he’s having a heatstroke and was drenched in sweat just by standing there and was like “nah I can’t do this can I” HAHAHA. He went like “Jesus how did you all survive in this weather but obviously all of you have climatized to it” and pointed behind him where there were all sorts of drinks from plain water to sweet drinks and how he had to drinks gallons of water to keep himself hydrated. And THEN a fan in front of me told him she was thirsty and HE GAVE HIS BOTTLED WATER TO HER. I think she got freaked out and was just standing still with the bottle in hand and they had a staring contest and Niall said I just gave you me water bottle so you better drink it but she was still hesitant to drink it and then he added “that better not be on E-Bay by 6pm”. Everyone around me started chanting “chug chug chug” and I joined in hahaha and then she started drinking from the bottle.

He then asked us if we were ready for Q&A and everyone lost the plot and screamed their heads off and he covered his ears again until a girl told everyone to shut up and then he pointed to her and said “that’s my girl right there” and that girl just lost the plot and shaking and screaming and everyone started screaming again it was hilarious lmfao. One of his crew then came out with a few coloured post-it notes in hand where we wrote our questions for Niall. One of the questions was if he’d rather win the grammys or the masters tournament, which was a really good qn im honestly curious. He started talking bout how the theatre looks like it’s in the grammys and added “Not that I know how it feels to be there”. But really though, this man deserves a Grammy someone give it to him pls he deserves it so much. Cant even remember if he even answered the qn bc he was talking about nice the theatre is and how he would always research on the venues he’ll be playing. Another qn was something about his guitars. He said that he’s got an old Gibson with him and that he’d play for us later and added that it needs careful attention bc on the road it will always need some sort of repairing and fixing. He then quipped that one of his crew who’s a guitar technician has made guitars from scratch and everyone started applauding and cheering for him even though he was backstage. He started talking about Jake like how you can spend just 2 hours listening to him talking about guitars and 2 hours is not enough hahaha. Another qn was something like how he’s gonna spend his time after the tour. He said that he’ll be chilling for a while and then focus on making his new album but not to expect it very soon as he’s trying to make the right sound for his new album. A fan then quipped that he can take his own time and this boy just cocked his hips out with his hands on his hips and said “oh yeah I’ll take my sweet ass time” jjsbjfidnsjcsdn. Another qn was something like if he remembers any faces during the concerts. He said that he generally remembers the ones in the first few rows and those that have attended a few of his shows. He then added how ridiculous for some fans to come to him and asked him if he remembers them from 2014 dcjdbcjd.  He answered a few more qns which was a blur I cant remember sorry!!! It went by so fast though like 30-35 mins?? Honestly the soundcheck was a blast, he’s so cheeky and sarcastic and sassy and he engaged and interacted with everyone which was so captivating and charming about him im so heart eyes for him.

Meet & Greet:

Right after the soundcheck was m&g which got my heart beating so fast and anxious about. Thank god I was the last few people to go which gives me time to calm down and realign my train of thoughts. When it was my turn to go, I took a peek behind the board and he was right there but he was busy passing a letter to one of the crew a fan gave to him who went before me. I just went straight in and patiently waited beside him and gawking at him because he was just so beautiful and calming to look at fjvdjvjbjdn. Idk why but at that point of time I didn’t feel nervous at all but not until he turned towards me and I had a fucking mental breakdown bc his eyes were so blue it’s so pretty and his face was so smooth and shaved. I was too busy looking into his eyes that I didn’t realise that he smiled at me and pulled me into a hug and asked “how are you you good?” I replied with “yeah Im really good how are you” but I didn’t hear his reply bc I was too busy burying my face into his shoulder and breathing deep into his shirt to smell him ahhhssdfjs. YALL HE SMELLS SO FRESH AND IT REMINDS ME OF A SCENTED CANDLE THAT JUST CALMS YOU DOWN AND MAKES YOUR BODY WARM UP (or was that just me lmfaoooo). The scent isn’t strong at all like I literally had to take a good sniff from his shirt to be able to smell it!!!! While that his arms were around my waist and shoulder and his grip felt SO FIRM AROUND ME. He then pulled away and pulled me into a side hug and we took a picture and I realised that I didn’t wrap my other arm across his front and I quickly did and THEN he fucking put his other arm that was free on my arm that I just wrapped across his front and without even realising I was brushing my hand across his hairy arms ANJCNSJDNC IT’S SO SOFT AND HAIRY YALL UGHHHH. The photographer then took another shot before we pulled away and I turned back to him and started reaching out for the bracelet I made for him and a letter I wrote for him and passed it to him. I told him that I made him this bracelet that was matching with mine that I had on my wrist which has some chakra beads and his initials on it (mine with my initials of course). He was like “aw that’s really nice thank you” and saw the front of my postcard letter (which I managed to squeeze a good 2 pages of what I wanted to say to him) which said “Greetings from the World” and he read it out and thanked me again for the gift. I was about to leave when I asked him for another hug and we went straight for the hug and I started breathing into his shirt again lmao. When we pulled away, I told him he looks so different now that he shaved and I asked him why did he shave bc I love his beard and his sarcastic ass just scoffed and said “oh I shaved it by accident”. My dumbass of course shot him a confused look and said “what do you mean by accident???”  before I left and said hi to mark and he smiled back and said hi :’) I just pray hard that my m&g photo will turn out nice!!!

Below is my gift to Niall!

Concert:

Well we all know the concert was lit I had a blast and I was so proud to be part of the paper houses fan project when he performed Paper Houses. The crowd was really beautiful even Niall was in awe and smiling the whole time and said “that’s beautiful” im sobbing. I cant emphasize the number of times Niall was talking about the warm weather in Singapore too hahaha. Cant help but to feel really touched when he said that he completely understands how expensive concert tickets can be and for picking his show to attend to out of the many tours going on even though he’s said it many times in previous shows. The only thing that he didn’t do during the concert was introducing the band to us which I was really looking forward to but it’s okay it was the best concert experience I ever had!! We stan a legend and talented man :’)

Thanks for tuning in to Farah’s diary entry hahaha peace out!!!

[welovekpopscenarios]

Stepping Back (Jaehyun x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Hello :-)) please can I request an nct scenario? One where you're dating johnny but jaehyun is in love with you? Possibly from jaehyun's POV?? Anyway sorry you can decide on the ending :-) thanks!!!

Fandom: NCT 127

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader; Johnny x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2384

A/N: *cracks knuckles* angst is my forte (apparently). Plus, writing for a bias wrecker is dangerous bc it makes you fall in love with them more. DOESN’T HELP THAT JOHNNY IS MY BIAS EITHER. Happy reading!

Once, when Jaehyun was just a child on the cusp of his teenage years, he was in love.

He was sure it was love, for isn’t love when your heart gets faster at the sight of a person? When your palms feel sweaty and you stumble over your words? When that person has the ability to make your whole entire day with a single smile, not even always aimed in your direction?

Yes, Jaehyun was in love for the first time in his life, with sweet Yujin who’s eyes were as brown as chocolate and shined brighter than a star, and it was a wonderful feeling.

Emphasis on ‘it was’, because soon whatever feelings he thought he had were crushed by the fact that Johnny, his best friend, practically his brother, also liked little Yujin with all his heart.

And that’s where things got complicated.

Jaehyun believed that he had fallen for Yujin first, and being the young boy that he was, he felt that that reason alone warranted him the ability to talk to her and ask her out to the movies so she would fall in love with him too. But Johnny disagreed, said he saw her first, and that he should be the one to try and win her heart.

Bitterness boiled between them like a hot spring, and soon the once inseparable pair turned their backs on each other, found other friends to play with, blatantly ignored each other when they passed by in the school halls, and soon enough it was if they were never even best friends to begin with. All because of a girl.

But Jaehyun being Jaehyun couldn’t stand losing someone who he considered a brother. And so, he did what his parents taught him to: he sucked up his pride for the sake of a friend and apologised. Johnny was in no better state than Jaehyun was, absolutely torn over the fight he was, over a girl who wasn’t even worth it in the end, and when Jaehyun said sorry, he asked to make a pact. Should there ever be another girl they are both interested in, one will step back in order for the other to be happy, and they will never, ever, let another girl come between them like Yujin did.

Jaehyun thought it a solid pact, and when they completed a spit shake and ran off towards the football field to play, Jaeyhun vowed in his head that he would not allow what happened with Yujin to ever happen again. His friendship with Johnny meant everything.

And for years, Jaehyun and Johnny lived by this pact, allowing one man to slide in and get the girl rather than arguing about it and letting jealousy take over them. And they were cool with it, it was a system that worked for years, and they were ok. When Jaehyun went out with Gayoon when they were sixteen, Johnny was ok with it. When Johnny was asked out by Dahae to prom, Jaehyun was fine, and went with someone else. Jaehyun was ok with everything, and when Johnny went away to an abroad summer camp just before college started, Jaehyun was still ok with everything.

What he was not ok with was two months later Johnny arrived home and greeted Jaehyun at the airport with a huge bear hug and the most beautiful girl Jaehyun has ever seen with her arm linked around Johnny’s left, and Jaehyun knew he was truly fucked, because his stomach did the most violent yet delightful somersaults, and his heart beat faster than the motorbike he learned to ride that summer.

His mind screamed at him to remember the pact, the one that saved his precious friendship with Johnny all those years ago, the one that keeps said friendship happy and functional. But it was hard to remember that when you gave a smile bright enough to rival the sun and introduced yourself, and Jaehyun felt like the luckiest man alive to have you even look in his direction. Except, he wasn’t the luckiest man alive; Johnny was, for he could see it in the way your eyes twinkled like the stars that shine above the world every night whenever you looked at him, saw it in the way you’d smile warmer than any fire burning in a cosy home any time Johnny spoke, be it about something he loves or making another one of his dumb jokes. Saw it, painfully, in the way your fingers would intertwine like two puzzle pieces, slotting together perfectly as if they were meant to be that way for all of time.

He tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and you, ignored the agonising pain in his heart whenever he pictured you in his mind, and tried to space out whenever Johnny rambled on about all the perfect things about you that only served to make Jaehyun fall deeper in love with you. He looked at romance films in minor disgust now, the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ only serving to make his blood boil, and any sign of couples he’s seen just made him want to crawl into a dark hole and wallow in his misery of a one-sided love he refused to admit.

Johnny was adamant about the both of you bonding – something about it being an initiation process for you before you could really fall in love with Johnny; if you got on well with Jaehyun then you were perfect for him and he could spend the rest of his days with you by his side, Jaehyun being left to watch on the sidelines. Jaehyun just gave a strained laugh and thought nothing of it, thought that the few times he had encountered you were enough, said that you were nice (which, he thought, was the understatement of the century), and that would be that. But when Johnny sneakily organised for the two of you to meet in a café under the guise of meeting him, Jaehyun had no other option than to stay in that coffeehouse with you and bask in the bitter glory of having you all to himself for an hour or two despite wanting nothing more than to run from the café and hide from his feelings.

He thought it was going to be incredibly awkward, and while that hurts his pride and hurts even more with the fact that it was the perfect way to push you further away from him, it ended up being anything but. Jaehyun can’t ever remember having a simple coffee with someone being as relaxed and as amazing as this, and he literally has to keep pinching the skin of his arm under the table to remind himself that this was not a date, you were Johnny’s girlfriend, and he would only ever simply be your friend. You make that incredibly difficult, however, when you share practically every like and dislike he has, proving yourself to be what he considers his actual soulmate, and the pinching of his arm gets more severe as one hour turns to nearly five as you both sat in the cosy alcove of the café because no, no, no, he couldn’t do this, not to Johnny. Not again.

You become a frequent part of his life now, just like Johnny, and Jaehyun honestly can’t say he dislikes the intrusion, in spite of his current predicament of being totally and utterly in love with you. The guilt weighs down on his chest like an anchor, suffocating him so badly that some nights he wakes in a cold sweat after you plague his dreams, absolutely sweet and something he craves but doing nothing whatsoever to help his situation. It’s worse when he sits with Johnny and you, has to keep his eyes from drifting to your saccharine lips that he longs to kiss, so badly it puts a dead weight in the pit of his stomach and leaves him feeling ill with betrayal.

He doesn’t know how many times he’s wished to be in Johnny’s place, and the jealousy that burns through him could make him gag if he doesn’t control himself, because not once, not even the Yujin situation, had he been this envious of Johnny getting the girl.

The girl of his dreams, the one he would undoubtedly bring home to meet his parents, the one he’d hope to marry and call his wife.

“Jaehyun?”

He’s knocked out of sombre thoughts by the trill of your voice, looking over to his right to see you seated beside him on the bench by the pier, a frown of concern marring your graceful features. It was scorching day; sun beating down on the city and its inhabitants with the highest temperatures its seen yet. A perfect contrast to his mood, dragged by Johnny and you to make the most of the weather and take a trip down to the pier to soak up the sun. Johnny had insisted that every sunny trip requires heaps of ice cream, and with that in mind he took off to find the closest stand he could, effectively leaving Jaehyun alone with you to stare out at the big and beautiful blue ocean.

“Are you listening to me, sleepyhead?” you chuckled amiably, a smile worthy of rivalling a queen, and he almost forgot the question aimed at him. He groaned internally at being caught day dreaming about you – once again – and licked his lips before answering.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something. Ignore me. What were you saying?” he asked, intending on redirecting the focus of the conversation on you, but he should know better, because when you notice something’s wrong you aren’t one to drop it. Your caring nature doesn’t allow it, and Jaheyun both loves and hates it in this moment.

“No, something is bothering you. I’ve noticed it recently, and I’m here for you, you know that. Don’t you?” He knows that too well. “So, do you want to talk about it?” you offer, hoping to relieve some weight off his broad shoulders but the irony of your concern tastes foul in his mouth. No one could help him with this problem.

He stays silent for a moment as he thought of ways to get out of this conversation or diverting it to a reasonable topic, tonguing his cheek in contemplation. When something sprung to mind, he opened his mouth before his brain could decide whether or not it was a bad idea.

“My friend and I watched this…movie, the other night. In it, there was a love triangle between two best friends and this girl. The girl was already with one of the guys, but the other friend loved her so much, with all his heart,” he explained, feeling sweat forming in his palms as you stared at him intently. Fuck, maybe this was a mistake. “O-Obviously, he can’t do much about it, because even though he loves her, he cares about his best friend’s feelings. But my friend and I were just wondering what he could do, if it was a real situation. Should he just fess up and try to get the girl?”

You dropped your gaze to your lap, biting your lip in concentration. All was silent except for the scratching of Jaehyun’s nails on the wooden bench, his nerves eating away at him as he waited for your reply. He messed up, he felt it, you caught on. You know what he feels, and now everything was ruined.

“That’s a tricky situation,” you finally announced after an agonising wait, and he blinked in surprise, eyebrows inching their way up to his hairline. You continued on, completely oblivious to his expression and to the double meaning behind his hypothetical situation, and gave your own two cents on the problem. This should be interesting.

“While I think honesty is the best policy, because it always is,” you added with a nod and exaggerated wave of your hands, “I think, in this type of circumstance, his friendship should be placed above his love for the girl.”

He almost laughed but the tightening of his throat stopped him from doing so, so he settled for nodding his head and choking out “go on.”

“Well, he knew his friend longer. And he should want what’s best for his friend, so if it means giving up the girl he’s in love with, then I think he should. He’ll get over her eventually, you know? Why ruin a friendship over something like that?” you laughed, and the light notes sounded distorted in his ears amongst the background of seagulls squawking and the ocean waves.

This was it. This was what he had been denying all along, been putting off simply because he had not wanted to think on it. A part of him felt like he really could get the girl, still does. But to hear it from your own mouth was quite the eye opener, the ice-cold water he needed splashed to his face. He knows you’re right, as much as hates it, as much as he wants to reverse time and never have this conversation. But he knows that won’t happen, and he needs to face the music.

Needs to give you up.

You look at him questioningly, looking for an answer in return to your opinion. He just makes a noise in agreement, just in time for Johnny to return, hands full of the sweet, refreshing ice-cream you longed for. Your face brightens as he walks over, and Jaehyun squashes down the green monster clawing his way up Jaehyun’s chest. He can’t make an appearance anymore, he shouldn’t. Jaehyun needs to move on.

Looking over at the pair of you, he sighs quietly to himself, scooping up some of the creamy substance and popping it into his mouth. He’s never seen Johnny look as drunk in love as he does with you, not any girl in their lives ever did that. And Jaehyun realises he can’t get in the way of that.

He fought with Johnny over a girl before, and it didn’t turn out well. But with this girl, Jaehyun is going to step back despite the misery settling deep in his heart. For the sake of his friend.

He has to.

[bad-end]

elsword: modern au (eschaton-verse) | 1247 words | de>mm, ft dl 

four parts of an old (2014) wip for the sequel of eschaton that never got finished. thought i’d post it here bc apparently i promised it was going to get posted in 2014.

implied character death. incest?? warnings?? read eschaton and then decide. it’s a bit complicated.

He doesn’t want to plan his own funeral.

But there’s a lot of things about it that he’d like to be prepared for, and without telling Mastermind or Lusa before he dies.

If anything he’d just like to die with the minimal amount of bother to anyone else and just rot in the ground or something. It’s a pain in the ass to get other people worried about him and fuss over him when he can handle himself.

From what he remembered about Mother’s, funerals are expensive, would his measly research funds cover it? That’s selfish of him, even though it’s pretty much his money after they’ve given it to him.

Although given that he was eight years old at the time, he didn’t have an exact cost in mind. He’ll have to do some research. Later, when he’s feeling less sorry for himself. He didn’t really know if he could pay without having to ask Mastermind or the family. If anything, he’d like to leave with no debts left behind.

Speaking of Mother, he’ll be seeing her again, won’t he? How ironic that she promised to see him ‘next time’, when ‘next time’ meant seeing her open casket.

Esper leans back in his chair and sighs, letting his wrist smack against his forehead. The sound reverberates louder than it should.

He’s thankful that the coffee is buffering his emotions because his voice alone sounds choked and broken even with the mask of caffeine.

“Dying is a lot more work than I thought it would be.”

The doctors tell him he’s sick when he’s walking into the hospital for a prescription about his frequent stomachaches sometime near the end of high school. They say he's sick, but it's more like something unusual that shouldn’t be humanly possible.

So whether he’s really sick or not is up for debate. Esper doesn’t care, in that way teenagers think they can take on the world and survive.

"So," He says, leaning off into one side and his gaze already losing focus as if going crosseyed. He stares into the space in front of him, at no one in particular. "What is it?

The doctor swallows, evidently with great difficulty. "That's the thing." He explains,, "We don't know what it is. We don't know what causes it.”

Esper intones, "Huh." and little else.

The doctor seems nervous at how calm Esper is, shaking and unable to explain the cause of everything that's bent in weird ways inside his ribcage and underneath his skin.

“Just take care of yourself and take it easy, we don’t know what else to tell you.”

Esper presses a hand against his ribs, and feels nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing hurts, despite the weird spindly shapes. In the end he stares at the x-rays and snapshots of his bones, slightly bent out of place, feeling his way around where the bones were supposed to end.

Unsure of what else he could do, he slides the x-rays into the envelope and carries them with him into the waiting room.

"Heyyy, all done?" Lusa chimes, sliding his arm around Esper's shoulder comfortably as Esper walks out of the room, "You figure out why they needed to take x-rays for your stomachache?

"Yeah," Esper smiles, distant and hollow with one hand still on his ribs. Despite what he had came in for, a 'stomachache', presumably from bad food, Esper still says, "I'm kind of hungry, let's go for pizza."

Lusa responds as energetically as one would expect him to.

Mastermind glances over in Esper's direction, staring him right in the eyes with a stern expression. Esper shrugs, and lets the hollow smile reach so far his eyes crinkle.

"Is something the matter?" He asks, but Mastermind shakes his head.

"Let's go for pizza, then." Mastermind sighs.

They're standing around on the bridge overlooking the small creek surrounded by trees, starting to turn red and orange with the cold weather.

“You’re dying,” Dreadlord says, taking a long drawl of his cigarette, and then placing his hand back on the railing. The sun in the distance looks like it’s going to set very soon, but  the world around them continues to bustle, as if night was not a deterrent but rather the opposite.

The fireflies are starting to come out.

Esper sits on the bench lined with washed out white wood, curling and uncurling his fingers around the sleeve of the coffee cup, while Dreadlord leans against the fence, a cigarette spinning between his fingers.

“No shit,” Esper scoffs, indignant. “What gave it away?”

Dreadlord pauses, staring at the smoke emerging from his cig and says with amusement, “You’re not freaking out around me like you usually would.”

Esper looks away from the stream underneath the bridge, tilting his head off to the side to focus on the entrance of the path instead. His gaze is going out of focus again, but that’s nothing unusual. “There’s not enough time to freak out about you trying to provoke me when I’m dying.”

Dreadlord hums, tuneless. “And you’re okay with dying?”

Esper shoots him a dirty look.

Dreadlord laughs.

They let the silence that’s fallen upon them stay undisturbed for a while.  Dreadlord snuffs out his cigarette. “When should I expect the funeral?”

“The end of next summer, around this time, probably. Don’t come, I don’t want you or your fucked up family there.” He sounds petulant, more than he’d like.

“You’re one to talk,” Dreadlord smirks, “But, next summer. That’s much too soon.”

The faint glimmer of something scrapes against his rib cage like butterflies. Esper tries not to let it show on his face. “We should go. Lusa’s going to get jealous if I keep his boyfriend waiting any longer.”

Dreadlord laughs again, a more relaxed laugh this time than the sarcastic biting laughter from a second ago. “We stopped dating years ago, that’s why I stopped coming around.”

“Oh good, “ says Esper, plucking himself off the bench and throwing his coffee cup in the trash. “Now you have no reason to come to my funeral at all.”

His fingers pattern around the blanket he’s become accustomed to wearing like clothing, comfortable with its softness and weight. Lusa’s doing dishes, and Mastermind’s lounging around doing nothing, so Esper politely requests that he and Mastermind go and see the stars.

Lusa looks in their direction, and goes back to scrubbing.

Mastermind scoffs, “You can’t see the stars with all this light pollution.”

“Please,” Esper begs, “Humour me just this once.”

Mastermind obliges, and so they sit on the back porch with Esper’s head on Mastermind’s shoulder, watching the flickering of fireflies and the slow rising moon and what constellations he remembered.

They’re familiar to him, in many lives before this one. Even if he can’t see the now, he knows exactly where they are.  For a while now he’s wondered if they were the same as the place where he came from, the world they called Elrios, before everyone arrived here.

He wonders if he’s the only one that remembers.

Even if he is, Esper decides he’s satisfied here. The Mastermind in his new memories had died too many times to count, and even though these feelings are complicated by the memories in lives he has long forgotten he has lived, he knows that if nothing else, then-

“I love you, Mastermind.”