#the op feels a bit of a drunk post so i was hesitant to reblog but i also agree completely so hey

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#people who hate the dragons are mystifying when you consider that they’re shown to be crucial to the ecosystem and balance of nature #and considering the long night plot is a metaphor for climate change it’s just #especially strange when people take away dragons = bad when the narrative argues the opposite #that dragons are neutral #good in the best hands and awful in the worst (via @daenerysoftarth)

I just think it's really fucking lame that the asoiaf fandom can be so anti dragon like theyre literally j magical animals ok its not their fault they been used as weapon o war right and thst wasn't their choice it was literally blood magic and shit that did that and dany's story is all a dragon is not a slave but yall dont see that bc uve already decided nothing good can com from danya story and her story but the dragons like the implications are there that they are the natural enemy of the ice rit fire and ice the heart of fire and the heart of winter like its all fucking there and it is subtly but it is there but dany is so clearly not her ancestors she is not enslaving the dragons she chained them bc she was lost but they're free now they whee won't use them like her ancestors and fucking house of the dragon couldve done so much more on this like how did past targs tame then how did they dragon them it can't be the same as fany theure so fucjing dumb I swear to God I hate hbo so kuch

[h-styles-babes]

No Control | Chapter Thirty-Four

Summary: 

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here. 

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

THIRTY-FOUR

When we enter the kitchen, Trev is standing in front of Harry’s coffee maker, pouting at it, a glass of water clutched in his hands.

“You alright, mate?” Harry asks.

Trev turns to look over his shoulder at us, his eyes red rimmed and squinty, probably from the splitting headache I’m sure he has this morning. 

“Your coffee maker is too fancy,” he huffs gruffly. “I just want a cup of coffee.” His voice is whiney and I stifle a laugh as I go in search of some painkillers for him. 

“Lemme help,” Harry offers, patient as ever with a grown man acting like an upset child in his kitchen.

I leave to Harry’s restroom to see if there’s any medicine in there. When I come back successful, a whole pot of coffee is brewing on the counter, and Harry’s got a kettle going for tea on the stove. While Harry’s usually a coffee drinker in the morning, he’s got two mugs with tea bags already in them on the counter, meaning he’s making one for the both of us this morning. I don’t know if it’s because he genuinely wants tea or if it’s in solidarity with me because I can’t have coffee, but I’m choosing to go with the latter because it makes him seem sweeter than he already is. 

Trev’s already pouring his second cup by the time Harry and I steep our teas, looking more alive than he did just a few minutes prior. He clears his throat as he looks me up and down and I see his eyes trail to the counter behind me. When I look back, I see the pile of clothes from last night still sitting there, neatly folded. I never got around to changing into them, and I think Trev is making connections.

It takes him a few moments, and I’m hoping he’ll save his accusations and questions until we’re home later, so Harry doesn’t have to experience them. Of course, Trevor doesn’t operate that way, and he gasps when the pieces are all put together in his mind. Harry misses this interaction at first, of course, since he’s busy scrolling through his work phone, probably checking on emails and missed calls. When Trev gasps, though, he looks up, mildly alarmed. 

“You dirty fucks,” Trev breathes out, a laugh bubbling out of his lips. 

“What?” Harry asks, absolutely clueless.

“You slept together last night,” Trev says triumphantly, a smirk pulling at his lips. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before continuing. “I told you this would happen.”

“When did you ever say that?” I ask, genuinely confused. I don’t fail to notice how Harry just quietly smiles over his mug, eyes twinkling.

“Last month when you ran into each other again,” he urges.

I think back to that time and finally realize what he was talking about. “We were talking about how Harry wouldn’t be able to stay mad at me because he’s got a soft spot for pregnant women and me. What does that have to do with this?”

“That was me calling it that you wouldn’t be able to stay platonic for very long. I figured not until after the baby came along, but you both seemed to want to expedite that process,” he shrugs. “I’m all for it, honestly. Watching you two try to navigate a relationship together while not fucking each other’s brains out was like watching a baby deer trying to stand for the first time. Plus, you both look pretty fucking blissed out right now. I like it.”

“I…” I start, looking baffled at my best friend. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

He shrugs again, taking another sip of his coffee. “You don’t have to say shit. Just keep fucking Harry. It’s a good look on you.”

“You are so strange,” I sigh, shaking my head.

“We’ve been friends for nearly four years. You think you’d figured that out by now.”

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight,” Harry blurts as I’m slipping my dress from the previous night back on. Harry made us all a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and we all sat around his kitchen talking for about an hour. It’s reaching the afternoon now, and Trev has to get back to do some last minute studying for a test he has the next day. 

“What?” I ask, slightly amazed by his request. “You’ve got a flight in the morning, H.”

“And I want to spend more time with you before I’m gone for a few weeks,” he reasons. “Just got you back, Mick. And I think we’ve got some things to talk about.”

I sigh, knowing he’s absolutely right. Just because we slept together and professed our love for each other doesn’t exactly tie up all our loose ends. And there’s a lot more to consider now than just Harry and me; there’s a baby that will be arriving in a few short weeks to take into consideration, too.

“Dinner sounds nice,” I agree, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. “And you’re okay with us going out out?”

“I know a place that’s pretty secluded. We’ll probably be seen by a handful of people, but we won’t be bothered.” He walks over to me from where he was stood pulling on a pair of jeans, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. “And would it really be so bad for us to be seen together again?” He brushes a loose piece if my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. 

“You’re a private person, Harry, and I respect that. I just don’t want you to have to deal with attention that you don’t want,” I reason.

“By now, those photos of us from last night are circulating around the internet and are probably a breaking story on TMZ. People have already got ideas in their heads about what’s going on. I’m sure some are assuming correctly. Just because they know about you doesn’t mean my privacy is gone.” His large hand cups the back of my neck and his thumb brushes along my jawline. “Jeff actually wants to do a short press release about the situation, just to shut up reporters. He’s already been emailing me about requests for information he’s gotten.”

“What do you think will appease them enough to get off your back?”

“It’s because I’m so private that people are so frenzied for these stories,” he sighs, running his hand up and down my back. “I suppose if I did what everyone else does and post on my social media outlets more often, it would calm down.”

“Don’t do that if you’re not comfortable with it, Harry,” I warn. “Do what makes you happy.”

“Making sure you and our daughter are safe and happy is what makes me happy,” he declares. “If that means posting a photo of you two once every three months and writing little blurbs about milestones, I’m more than willing to do that.”

There’s a tap on the door, then, Trevor signaling that he’s put together enough to leave.

I sigh and run my hands over his broad shoulders, appreciating the warm smoothness of his skin and lightly tracing over a few of his tattoos on his left arm. “We’ll talk about this more tonight, yeah?”

Harry nods, a solemn look on his face that I know he tries to hide quickly. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up around six.”

“I don’t want you going out of your way,” I protest.

“The place is in LA. You’re on my way,” he assures with a soft smile. He dips his head down and presses his lips to mine, letting a soft kiss linger for a few moments. “Lemme put a shirt on and I’ll walk you guys out.”

Trevor is able to drive, so Harry helps me into the passenger side, lingering as I close the door. With the window down, he leans against the sill, head poking in through the opening. 

“Six tonight, Mick,” he reminds, like we didn’t just have a conversation about it five minutes prior. 

“What should I wear?” I ask. 

“Similar to what you’re wearing now is good,” he nods. “Like seeing you in dresses.” He gently wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me forward to press a few last kisses to my lips. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I breathe as he pulls away, allowing Trev to back the car down the drive. 

Harry stands in the drive, watching us leave until we’re out of sight. Trev is quiet until he works his way out of Harry’s neighborhood and back onto the main street that will take us back into LA. 

“Since when have ‘I love you’s’ been exchanged?” he shouts, suddenly becoming very animated.

“Last night,” I inform him.

“So y’all didn’t just fuck? Like, this was serious.”

“Y’all?” I question, teasing at the drawl the word has even on his slightly accented tone. Growing up in New York, Trev has a watered down version of the accent, mostly presenting itself on certain words and thickening when he gets drunk. The typical southern slang that he just spewed is a bit funny.

“One of my study partners is from Louisiana,” he grumbles as explanation. “Anyway, answer the question, Bennett!”

“I’m pregnant, Trev,” I reason. “I’m not just gonna fuck him for the sake of fucking him. There was a bit of discussion beforehand. It just kinda led to the sex naturally.”

“So you two are, like, actually gonna give this a shot again.”

I shrug, a slight smile playing on my lips. “We’ll see. We’re gonna talk about it at dinner tonight.”

“Oh, so I know I was really drunk by this point, but I definitely saw paps outside the restaurant, right? Like, I didn’t imagine that in my drunken stupor?”

I sigh and prop my head against the window. “No, you definitely didn’t imagine that. There’s probably already photos of us pasted all over the internet. Kinda wanna see what they’re talking about, but I also really don’t.”

Trev digs into his pocket as we wait at a red light and then tosses his phone to me. “Do it. I’ll be here to listen to you rant if you need.”

With a slight hesitancy, I open Trev’s phone and tap on the Twitter icon, waiting only momentarily for the app to load. He doesn’t seem to follow a whole lot of accounts dedicated to One Direction anymore, so I have to actually search Harry’s name in order to find anything. Of course, once I do, I’m a little shocked at how many people seem to be talking about us. 

The photos from the night before have definitely already made the rounds. There’s several of them, from Harry and I sitting and eating together to us dancing together. My stomach is very clearly visible in all of them except for where it’s hidden behind tables. And then, of course, there’s the photos of Harry kneeled in front of me, both hands cradling my swollen belly, lips pressed to it over my dress. That’s the photo I see the most of, with people pretty much yelling in the captions about how there’s a possibility that I’m pregnant with his child. My Twitter is private and I see my handle tagged in most of them posts, but I don’t receive notifications for it, so my phone is blissfully silent and void of drama.

“How’s it looking?” Trev asks, glancing at me only briefly to try to read my expression.

“Not too bad,” I shrug. “They’re mostly scrambling to figure out if the baby is his.”

“They’re really questioning that?” he scoffs.

“I mean, some of them think I’m a slag, so they’re trying to play it off,” I chuckle. “Ooh, hold on. I found a post with a link to a Tumblr page.” I tap on it and am not even mildly surprised to find an essay-worthy post by someone who seems to have a pretty big following on the website. 

“Read it out loud if the grammar’s not too bad,” Trev requests.

“It’s actually pretty good,” I comment, skimming briefly. “And she seems like one of the normal ones.” 

I clear my throat and start to read, both of us pleasantly surprised by how this random person is defending both Harry and me and basically telling all her followers to be decent human beings and be happy for us if their suspicions are true. She also goes on to describe a scarily accurate timeline of mine and Harry’s relationship and how all signs point to Harry definitely being the father of my unborn child. She’s got pretty much everything right, except for the details of why we hadn’t been seen together for a good chunk of the year. I don’t know if Harry will ever address that publicly, but they can assume what they want. They also conclude the post by saying that everyone should respect our privacy and allow us this time together to become a family and get into the groove of being new parents, but that she really hopes we’ll post something about our lives every once in awhile.

“That was very well thought out and kind,” Trev smiles, pulling into our building’s car park.

“It was,” I agree. “Didn’t make me wanna tear my hair out. Kinda wanna thank her but I don’t think that would go over too well.”

“Yeah, better not. Maybe just make a public post thanking everyone for their support once it’s officially out there that you’re having Harry Styles’ baby.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Means I’d have to make something public.”

“Just make it all public. You’re hardly on anyway,” he reasons.

“True. I’ll talk to Harry about it.”

The buzz at the door comes at just before six o’ clock, so I know it’s Harry requesting entrance. Trev has been at the campus library for the last couple hours, cramming in some studying, so I’ve been at home by myself while I get ready. I took Harry’s alive and put on another floral dress, this one off the shoulder and in a blush color. Instead of heels though, I slipped on some sandals and tossed a pretty gold headband in my hair to dress it up a bit. 

I let Harry in at the gate and open my flat door so that he can just come straight in when he gets up here, not wanting to have him left in the hall for any reason. Most of my neighbors are older folk that are either at work all day or stay in their flats, but I don’t want to risk him being spotted if we can help it. 

I’m in the kitchen making sure I’ve got everything I need in my purse when there’s a tap at the door. I look up to see Harry in the doorway, a pretty smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. They’re a mix of Baby’s Breath, Forget-Me-Nots, and Yellow Pansies. It looks very appropriate for the spring weather and the scent is fresh and pungent as he gets closer to me.  

I smile at him. “You got me flowers?” 

“Been awhile since I was on a date, but this is still what you do, right?” he jokes, coming around the counter. He sets the flowers on the granite top and pulls me into him, an arm around my waist and his other hand around the back of my neck. He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and then to my nose, making butterflies kick up in my stomach.

I’ve missed this. The comfort and ease and absolutely giddiness I have when I’m with Harry is something I’ve never experienced with anybody else. I nearly forgot how amazing he makes me feel every time he’s with me, and having him around the last couple of weeks has been a good reminder. Between yesterday and today, it’s magnified even more, falling back into our previous behavior with each other. Admitting our feelings has added another layer to it, and while there’s still a lot for us to figure out, I think we can make it work this time.

“Think you’ve done alright for yourself,” I tease, picking up the bouquet and sniffing it. “Smells really pretty. I love Forget-Me-Nots. Lemme find a vase to put them in.”

I search for a few moments and finally find a crystal one that Trev nicked from his mum’s house in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Harry kindly grabs it for me, much taller than I am and not wanting me to strain myself. I fill it with some water as he trims the stems so that it’ll fit nicely into the vase. I set it in the center of the counter once it’s put together and smile at the bit of brightness it brings to the room. 

“You ready?” Harry asks, looking over me. “You look beautiful.”

I should just anticipate the blush he makes rise to my cheeks by now, but I still feel a little betrayed by it every time. “Thank you, Harry.”

He cradles my head in his hands as he presses a lingering kiss to my lips, slowly tracing his tongue against the seam of them before pulling away. I whine as he draws back, feeling a little cheated, but he just chuckles and gives a quick peck to my cheek. “I’d love to take this further, but I really wanna take you on a proper date.”

I roll my eyes dramatically and huff a bit. “How dare you be a gentleman.”

Harry smirks. “You like it quite a bit when I’m not, though, right love?”

“Oi, cheeky!” I protest, lightly shoving at his chest. “Got dinner to get to, Styles. Little Bean is hungry.”

That immediately softens his face. His hand moves to cradle my stomach. “We better get going then, yeah?”

We go in through the front door when we get to the restaurant, and the hostess smiles kindly when she sees us, menus already in hand. She greets Harry as ‘Mr. Styles’ which is weird, since she’s our senior by probably twenty years. The familiarity suggests that Harry comes here quite a bit, and when Harry greets her as Sharon, I realize he probably does come here a lot. 

We’re shown to a table for two in a corner of the restaurant. None of the other patrons seem to really pay us much mind as we take out seats. There’s a large window beside us that looks out onto the street. The sun has already mostly set, so the twinkling lights that dorm the front of the building are on, making the lighting inside cozy. 

“Used to come here with the lads every time we were in LA,” Harry says as soon as Sharon leaves. “Sharon owns the place with her husband. Kinda adopted the five kids who stumbled in before a concert. Can guarantee she’ll ask about the lot of them at some point.”

“You’re just sneaking your way into families left and right, aren’t you?” I tease, flipping open the menu.

“What do you mean?” he asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

I start ticking off examples on my fingers. “The Winstons, the Cordens, the Crawford-Gerbers, and Sharon, apparently. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, too.”

“I can’t help that I’m so lovable,” he jokes, flashing me a wide smile. 

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.

Harry helps me figure out what to order by the time that a waiter comes around. He’s young, probably a year or two younger than us, and he’s cute enough in a sort of shy, nerdy way with his square spectacles and messy brown hair that he’s seemed to try to tame but has failed miserably. He’s polite to Harry and listens intently as he takes his order, but he’s all smiles and eager nods as I order, and I can see Harry trying to keep in his chuckles from the corner of my eyes. I want to roll mine, but I don’t want our waiter to get the wrong impression and think I’m rolling my eyes at him, so I save it until he’s walked off.

“Stop it,” I reprimand, using my cloth napkin to lightly swat at Harry’s arm. “Leave the poor lad alone.”

“What? I’m not taking the piss!” he protests, still chuckling. “I just think it’s amusing how you seem to get every male’s attention anywhere you go.”

“What are you on about?”

“The guy at the book store in New York,” he begins ticking off, much like I had a few minutes earlier, “the guy from the pizza place in New York, the guy that works at the donut shoppe by your flat, and this waiter. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, too.”

I don’t miss the mocking edge as he throws my own words back at me with a little smirk. “I can’t help that I’m so lovable,” I brush off with a small hair flip.

Harry barks out a laugh, causing a few people to turn their heads to see what’s going on. He rushes out an apology, still chuckling slightly. “I love you,” he breathes, eyes twinkling at me under the shimmering lights just outside the window.

My heart flutters with his declaration. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him saying it.

THIRTY-FIVE