#who knows if jean has a self outside harry

[lieutenantism]

i'm currently thinking about how jean loses himself completely to harry. just dissolves entirely. very little sense of identity left outside his partnership with him, which i find so intriguing. i mean, it's the definition of codependency, but that doesn't make it any less interesting (long post, again).

"i won't let my life unravel because of this." is just so insane and melodramatic to me because WHO is that man to you, jean? and why is his alcoholism the reason for your life unraveling? jean takes on harry's drinking problem as a problem of his own, a threat to his life before harry's, even though the drinking doesn't affect harry's ability to do his job, and jean acknowledges that as well as everyone else in the major crimes unit.

but why does he have such a big problem with harry's alcoholism? why's he the only one out of the task force who seems to care obsessively? because the one before him failed to save him, and he feels as though it's his responsibility now. to jean, harry's life is divided to three parts; before him, during him, and tragically, after him.

the fact jean puts himself in the same position as dora, harry's ex, tells you enough. almost as if he considers them to be the same, in terms of responsibility for harry's wellbeing. he's cleaning up her mess, he seems to think. she was way before my time, as though they hold the same significance to harry. of course, this isn't entirely jean's fault. both him and harry share the guilt of their twisted relationship; harry's guilty of getting too personal with anybody within arm's reach.

and jean's guilty for wanting to clean up a mess that he didn't make, and losing sight of himself and his true professional duties in the process. so it goes like this; they partner up, harry's bad at drawing the line between personal and professional relationships and jean's even worse, harry goes on benders every week and jean witnesses them and tries to pull him out of them relentlessly, which then leads to whatever fucked up partnership they had, right before martinaise. the question is why did jean feel the need to save him? because he projected onto him severely.

they're both broken men; mirrors of each other, though jean will never say it out loud. he sees himself in harry, and since he can't save himself and everyone's given up on him, even the professionals, he decides not to give up on harry. in a way, jean's trying to prove to himself that he's not a lost cause through sticking by harry's side through it all, because if even the most lost of causes manages to have at least one person who's there for them at all times, who says he can't have one too? why must he be labelled as the anomaly? if harry du bois could be saved, so can he. he maintains this "i have my shit together, i'm better than you." persona during the entire confrontation, when he isn't. like i said, harry is everything jean works hard in order not to become, yet he still manages to lose his sense of identity while "saving" him and only becomes "harry's partner". that's all he is. nothing but a safety net, there to catch him at all times.

that's why he becomes extremely defensive when you choose the "kim's cooler than you." option, because you're practically robbing him of his identity. throughout the entirety of the game, he keeps repeating: "i'm your partner", to reassure himself more so than anything else, and what the game does here is very clever. you first hear him say that on a call, so distant and away from you; he cannot convince you that he's your partner even if he tried. then, he says it when he's in an idiotic disguise that you didn't recognize, and quite frankly it's making you uncomfortable, it's hard to take him seriously when he looks so stupid so you don't believe him, again. then at last, when he confronts you, and he's himself. then you think it sticks.

but it doesn't, and you dismiss him again to ask about the others. i've always found it perplexing how there's no "how can you be my partner?" option during the confrontation. you can ask about mikael heidelstam for fuck's sake, but not your partner. simply because you don't believe he is, at least not anymore. he's just a very angry man who was in a stupid disguise, and that's all you can ask him about. isn't that so insanely tragic? when you think about how dismissive the "confrontation" is? and jean's lashing out that way because his whole identity is hanging in the balance? no matter what jean tells harry, there's no click, no lightbulb flickering moment, nothing. jean tries everything, it's painful to see, really. the "i didn't lie to you. no one lies to you." and his lines to judit and trant where he's like "i told you, it's typical harry behavior. it's our shitkid." and so on are all attempts to prove that he, jean, knows him, harry, better than anyone else, even himself. he KNOWS him, which is why harry has to need him. he has to keep him. as his partner or whatever the hell it was, because nobody else knows him or will ever get to know him that way.

jean's response to harry telling them "i don't wanna be in your unit." only further proves it. "i'm your partner, i answer for you when you're not there." considering the fact harry and jean had begun to blur ever since their partnership came into being makes the line funnier lol. jean had locked himself up in a prison of his own making, of course with harry giving him all the means necessary to build his own cage beforehand. it was a matter of time and conditioning, and severe loneliness. every crime of harry's feels like one jean is guilty of.

[fizzyxcustard]

For Her Or My Country?

Fandom: Spooks

Pairing: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warning: Non-graphic smut, insecurity, language

Word count: 3731

Summary: Lucas has been given an assignment which means potentially sleeping with a subject who is linked to a Russian subject of interest. After discussing with Amy, will he put his relationship or duty to country first? 

Notes: As always, if you wish to be added to my Forever Tag list, let me know. Or you can request to be added to a list for a specific character/fandom. Please contact me if you wish to be added or removed.

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. :) Any comment at all.

Read on AO3 here

Masha Petrova. Beautiful. Elegant. Rich. Holder of intelligence that MI5 needed. And Lucas had been assigned to the case. Being able to speak Russian himself and having a vast knowledge of the culture and risks that were posed to the United Kingdom, it was only natural that Lucas be placed on this case. 

The team of Section D were all seated in the main briefing room, watching as photos appeared on the screen, flipping every few seconds. Harry described each one and gave background to all the subjects and contexts of them. 

Lucas was to go undercover in two days’ time, posing as a potential client for Masha Petrova’s prestigious art gallery. She would be hosting an auction, where paintings worth millions of pounds were to be sold, and the money then transferred to her ex-husband, Konstantin Sidorov. But the man had disappeared three years earlier. He was a ghost, with his last movement being on a flight back to Moscow and then nothing. Her motives behind keeping in such close contact with her ex-husband were being questioned. 

“Jo will be on standby,” Harry began. He turned to the bleach blonde woman who sat two seats down from him. Her large blue eyes were locked on him, waiting for her instruction. “We’ll need you to mingle with the men, stroke their egos.” That normally meant sleep with them if necessary. “Lucas, Masha is known to always have a string of attractive men on her arm who wish to warm her bed…” 

That was it. Amy, desk-based intelligence officer, and also Lucas’ girlfriend of ten months, felt bile rise in her throat. She looked at the photo of Masha Petrova and felt that stab of intense self-hatred rise. This was the kind of woman that Lucas should have been with, not her. He deserved beauty and elegance, not someone like Amy who rarely wore make up and dressed constantly in jeans. 

Now Amy knew why she had been kept off the case for as long as she had. With Ruth Evershed on long-term sick leave, the team were bursting at the seams with workload and needed another pair of hands. Amy was the only person available. 

Harry gave both Jo and Lucas a briefing pack, outlining their identities which they would need to learn over the next forty eight hours. 

Lucas looked down the table at Amy and could see the bright red flush of her cheeks, paired with her inability to keep her eyes out of her lap. He could see her hands moving beneath the table, a sign of her fidgeting, which she always did when nervous. Every expression and movement was something that Lucas had become intimately acquainted with. 

Once the meeting had concluded, Harry requested that Lucas stay behind. Everyone else got to their feet, stretching due to the length of time they had all been sitting. Amy dashed out of the room first, being closest to the door. Tears were prickling her eyes. For most of the meeting her imagination had been running wild, churning over a vivid vision of Lucas and Masha Petrova in an erotic position. Amy’s chest tightened, causing her to flap her arms to try and get more air. 

“Are you alright?” Jo asked, approaching Amy. 

Amy smiled weakly at Jo, knowing that it had always been impossible for her to lie about her feelings. She was transparent, unable to mask any negative feelings. She couldn’t answer. 

“I’ll make us a coffee and we can pop outside for some fresh air, yeah?” Jo proposed.

Amy nodded, feeling as if her friend’s kindness was about to open the floodgates and the tears would never stop. But she swallowed hard, feeling the pain in her throat. That damn floodgate would remain closed, even if it killed her. 

Outside a few minutes later and Jo lit a cigarette and the two of them stood on the balcony, which gave them a view of London. It was grey and overcast. The colour of the sky was threatening rain. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jo asked. 

Amy’s green eyes darted this way and that, anywhere so they didn’t have to focus on Jo. “I don’t know,” she said softly. Then she sighed, and looked out over the Thames. “I just….I always knew this was something that would probably come, but I hoped it wouldn’t.” 

“Believe me, Amy, Harry wouldn’t have asked Lucas to do this unless absolutely necessary. He knows the moral dilemma and risks all of us face when we’re asked to go into situations like this.” 

Amy took a sip of her coffee. “Why is it always our morals and lives that we have to sacrifice?” Amy knew all this when taking the position, but now that she was here, facing the prospect of her boyfriend having to essentially cheat on her, it was worse than she could have ever imagined. 

Those words caused tears to slip down Amy’s cheeks, which she rubbed away angrily with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Lucas loves his job so much, and I should have always known that I would never be truly first.” 

“Amy, it’s not that, and you know it isn’t. He loves you. But the world we live and work in is a dark one, so much darker than people on the outside ever realise.”

“I’m still human, Jo, and I think I’m allowed to feel betrayed and heartbroken when my boyfriend has been told to sleep with someone else.” 

Jo watched Amy hang her head in shame and defeat. She knew that Amy had incredibly low self-esteem and had been living in constant shock for the last ten months that Lucas would even be interested in her. But Jo could see the chemistry between her two colleagues; Amy’s kindness towards Lucas, and his ability to make Amy feel seen and heard. Even before their relationship had begun, and Jo knew that they would be a perfect couple, despite Amy always having voiced how little she thought of herself. The two of them may not have looked as though they would date, when considering the way they carried themselves, but their interactions cemented the fact they complimented each other perfectly. 

Back in the office a short while later and Amy took a seat at her desk. She pulled out her drawer and picked out a Mars bar from the multipack. It was the only thing that could distract her from the fact that Lucas was sitting a few feet away from her, watching. She knew that he knew she was feeling emotional turmoil. If she had to look at him then she would break down. 

Tariq’s desk was behind Amy’s and he could see Lucas’ blue gaze studying her. Tariq watched in fascination for a minute and then turned his attention back to making minor amendments to Jo’s briefing pack. For once, he could see that Amy wasn’t smiling at Lucas or gazing at him, but instead keeping her gaze away. In his mind, anyone who didn’t notice Amy’s reactions must have been blind. 

For the next hour and Amy took up her time in a meeting with Ros, discussing the ANPR data results for a subject they had been investigating. At least for now, Amy could put her mind elsewhere. 

Meanwhile, Lucas remained quiet at his desk, feeling Tariq’s gaze burning into the back of his head. It had been common knowledge amongst all of the staff at Section D, that Tariq had a crush on Amy. All except Amy herself. 

Once Amy had emerged from the side room with Ros, Lucas got up and approached her. He stood with his back to everyone else and Amy with her back to the wall, looking down at her, almost shielding her from prying eyes. “Do you want to head out for something to eat?” he asked. Then he pulled his hands from his jeans pocket and picked up her hand, feeling her warm skin against his for a couple of seconds. But he frowned when he saw her look at the floor; he could see her throat quivering. He dropped her hand. 

Amy swallowed hard and looked up at him, feeling the overwhelming emotion wash over her. It was painful, so painful. Her beautiful, perfect Lucas. He was Amy’s everything and for some unknown reason, he also wanted her. 

“Come on,” Lucas whispered, holding his hand out to her to take. 

Amy knew she couldn’t deny him and took his large hand in her small one. 

Together, they walked out of the office, and into the mid-day air. It was drizzling, forming a mist in their hair as they walked the two streets to their usual café. They were both quiet for the duration of their walk, with the hustle and bustle of the busy London streets washing around them. 

Lucas grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and didn’t even have to ask Amy what she wanted. She’d already made up her mind and was on her way to grab a table. “A strawberry smoothie and a cheese and onion toastie, please,” her voice drifted back over her shoulder.  

Lucas sighed and placed their order. Every now and again he would glance towards her, noticing how she still wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she grabbed her sketchbook from her handbag and began to touch up one of her latest drawings. 

Suddenly Amy was taken aback as her sketchbook was pulled away from under her face, just as she rested her pencil tip against the paper. 

Lucas sat down. “Look at me,” he said sharply. 

“Give me my book back.” 

“No, you’ll talk to me. Your drawings can wait.” 

“What do you want me to say, Lucas?” Amy said, her tone low and her words to the point. “If you had to watch me go and sleep with a man as part of an operation, I’m sure you wouldn’t be particularly happy about it.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Lucas hissed. “But this is our job. You know what’s at stake if I don’t do it.” 

“Keeping the country safe and all that crap. Yes, I know,” Amy scoffed. “I’m reminded of that every day. Funny how you’re always paired with the beautiful, elegant women.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lucas snapped. 

Amy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. 

A young woman with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail came and set Amy’s food down on the table, along with hers and Lucas’ drink. She offered a quick smile, immediately recognising the familiar signs of a lover’s tiff. 

“No food?” Amy asked. 

“Can’t say I’ve got an appetite.” 

“Just fatten me up like a pig, then.” 

Lucas grit his teeth and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together on the table. He knew her defensive attitude all too well when she became overwhelmed by self-consciousness. Passive-aggression and sarcasm tainted her words as she tried to fling painful darts back at him. 

“Not here, please,” Lucas begged. His voice was quiet, full of defeat. 

Amy at least silently acquiesced to his request and slipped back into her seat, nibbling on the edge of her toasted sandwich. She adored the very breath of the man sat in front of her, and she was sure he knew that. But she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye, and instead let her gaze trace the crisscross stitch of the red and white tablecloth. 

Lucas sipped his coffee and watched Amy for a few seconds before sighing, resigning his gaze toward the framed quote behind her on the wall. It was some cliché shit that seemed to belong on every mantlepiece in the UK, apart from his and Amy’s. Instead, Amy had a line of Disney character figurines across hers, and the thought of it made a smile emerge on his face. This woman he had committed himself to had no idea how amazing and beautiful she was. Curious. Quirky. The kindest person he had ever met. Unbelievably strong of mind and spirit. Underestimated herself. Broken by the arseholes who had taken advantage of her introverted and generous nature. 

One way or the other, he would repair her. No ifs, buts or maybes. He would repair her. 

***

The flat was dark as Amy stepped back inside. Lucas was required for a further meeting regarding the new operation with Masha Petrova, so wouldn’t be home for a further hour or two yet. 

The isolation enveloped her along with the dark. 

Tears flowed down Amy’s cheeks as she finally allowed the locked floodgates to open. She dropped back into a chair in the dining room and sobbed. Amy would never be good enough for Lucas, always sitting in the shadow of other women. Everything that they were reflected what Amy wasn’t. These women reminded her of the dark shadow of lack which lived in her chest. 

Tension soon began to press down behind Amy’s eyes as she prepared hers and Lucas’ dinner. It felt like a huge weight was crushing Amy from above, pressing her down into the ground as her whole body became weak. 

Cheesy 80’s music played on the radio in the small box kitchen, and not even that could lift Amy out of her prison of darkness. All she could think of was Lucas with Masha Petrova. No doubt he would enjoy it. Of course he would. Being ridden by a blonde supermodel of a woman, with the confidence to fully express her sexuality. 

It had taken Amy a few months to become more confident in bed with Lucas. It wasn’t until they’d been together for six months that Amy could finally make love to him without the light turned off and not feel the need to shrink back at his touch. Now she openly enjoyed his touch, reciprocating it. But those whispers would still creep up on her when they lay together afterwards, telling her how unworthy she was of such a beautiful man’s love. 

Amy loved Lucas with her whole heart, having never felt so drawn to anyone else. Lucas, to her, was incredibly handsome, charming, intelligent, gentle and kind. He was perfection. Even when he woke in the middle of the night, sweating and shouting out, gripped by the horror of his memories of Lushanka, eventually waking her up, it only helped her to love him more. The vulnerability he shared with her helped her move closer to him, bridging the gap which her insecurity had always created. 

The closing of the front door suddenly echoed from down the hall. And Amy heard Lucas’ slow footsteps coming towards the kitchen. She felt her hands begin to shake and a painful lump rise in her throat. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said.

“Dinner can wait,” Lucas instructed. It wasn’t often that Lucas was demanding, but when it came to digging into Amy’s insecurity and bad moods, it was the only way he could defend himself and fight for her. 

Amy sighed and placed her hands on the edge of the sink and looked out into the murky evening. She could see fog beginning to descend on the world and the brightness of the streetlamps lighting up the rooftops, showing the gleam of an earlier shower. 

Lucas stood beside Amy and curled his arm around her waist, then took her hand in his, kissing it. “The only thing I can say is that I love you, Aim.” 

Amy felt everything crumble and she couldn’t help but break down again, becoming a sobbing mess in his arms. 

Lucas held her tight, his right hand tangled in her hair and his lips kissing her forehead. “I love you more than anything.” That was all he could say, and he meant every single word, the emotion so overwhelming as he uttered them.  

“I should support you, Lucas,” Amy said, sniffing as she pulled from the embrace to look up at him. “I’m so proud of everything you do, but I…”

“I know,” Lucas whispered. “Don’t you think I know? I don’t want to do this.” His eyes were locked on hers, tears swimming in them, making them look even brighter a blue. 

“You’re being paid to sleep with someone. Perk of the job, I guess,” Amy said wryly. 

“Don’t you dare say that,” Lucas hissed. His eyes became alight with frustration, his frown casting a shadow across his brow. “Why do you always have to turn to sarcasm and pettiness when you’re hurt?” 

Amy pulled from Lucas’ grasp and stormed out of the room, casting him an expression of disgust mixed with hurt. Of course he was right; Amy knew it. Sarcasm and pettiness become her defence mechanism when hurt or cornered. 

“What do you want me to say, Aim?” Lucas shouted. “Do you want me to leave my job, get down on my knees?” 

“Just fuck off!” Amy hissed back. “Leave me alone.” 

The room felt as if it were becoming so much smaller as Amy stood facing the wall, sobbing, with breath almost coming in gasps. More than anything, in that moment, she wanted to disappear. 

“You don’t mean that, Aim. You never do,” Lucas said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I know you enough by now. When you tell someone to leave you alone, it means ‘hold me tight’. You want people to get closer when you’re hurting, even though you push them away.” 

Amy felt Lucas’ arms wrap around her middle, and she sighed, feeling that all too familiar wave of arousal spiral down her body and the butterflies swarm in her belly. She couldn’t fight off the way he made her feel. All of the attraction and love was far too strong to keep her away. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. Lucas kissed her cheek, taking in the scent of her. It was strawberries mixed with the faintest hint of her perfume from that morning, Olympea. 

Slowly, Amy turned around and looked up at Lucas, sniffing over her blocked nose. Her eyes were sore and red. “It always comes back to this feeling of me not being good enough.” 

“And that’s what it is, just a feeling. There is no truth whatsoever in it. It’s a dark voice, nothing more. I chose you, Amy. Above everyone else, I choose you.” 

Amy threw her arms around Lucas and they held each other tight, remaining silent. The only sound was the patter of rain against the window, which gradually got louder and heavier. 

Heat spread through Amy as she felt his arms encase her, protecting her from the outside world and everything evil that was in it. 

The two of them kissed, the heat mounting, until Amy’s hands slipped up Lucas’ chest and she began popping the buttons of his shirt. She pushed the fabric aside to see his chest exposed, which was tattooed with William Blake’s Ancient of Days.

“You could have anyone,” Amy began, “absolutely anyone in this world. And yet you choose me.” 

“Why did you choose me?” Lucas whispered. “You don’t see your beauty, and your light. Any man you choose would be blessed beyond anything he could ever imagine, and you don’t see any of that.” His finger brushed a stray hair from her brow, and then the tips of his fingers trailed down her cheek and his thumb brushed her plump lips. “You made me feel again, and I owe you everything.” 

They kissed again and began to remove each other’s clothing, slowly. 

As Lucas stood before Amy in only his underwear, she traced the tattoos on his chest and stomach. “I thought about getting one, to match yours.” 

“Don’t,” Lucas demanded, his tone quiet but stern and saddened. “All they serve is a reminder of the darkness in the world, and I never want to taint you with that. Your skin is perfect as it is, untouched and unblemished.” 

“And I want to share everything with you. The good and the bad.” 

Lucas lowered Amy to the bed, her arms locked around his neck. And they kissed again, hard and hungry for every fibre of each other. 

Amy gasped as Lucas slipped inside her. 

A groan fell off his lips as he felt a wave of that beautiful euphoria. This was where he belonged. It was the only place on this Earth he would ever be safe: inside her, one with her, vulnerable and bare. Gradually he moved, rocking his hips against her as his hand gripped her thigh. 

Amy pulled him in closer, needing him against her, the closest in physical proximity that was possible. “I love you,” she whispered. 

Lucas’ blue gaze locked on hers and he stopped his movement, remaining still. He smiled. It was a content, peaceful smile. The first he had smiled since he was a child. “This is where I belong. It’ll never be anywhere else. I promise.” 

A while later and they both lay on their sides, facing each other. Lucas’ arm was draped idly over Amy’s hip. He was smiling at her again. Innocence, kindness, compassion and love had always shone through Amy’s face and been left on anything she touched, a golden light lingering behind from her fingertips. 

He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her snub nose. 

The happiness in Amy’s face drained and a serious expression rose. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you need to do this.” A sadness began to wash over her green eyes. Then she forced a smile. 

Lucas never answered, but in his mind, he knew what needed to be done. He moved over her and drew her into another embrace, followed by more love making. 

***

The next morning, Lucas stood at Harry’s office door. His heart was racing in his chest, something that rarely happened when on the job. 

With one last backwards glance to Amy, Lucas knocked on Harry’s door. She looked up from her desk and smiled at him from across the room, those beautiful eyes sparkling so brightly. Lucas knew that he had made the right decision. 

For her or my country? Always for her. 

“Come in!” Harry’s voice came. 

Lucas took a deep breath and slipped inside the office, bracing the inevitable storm.

“Lucas? What can I do for you?” Harry asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to stand down from tomorrow’s deployment, Harry.” 

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @knittastically

@glassgulls @lemond57 @missihart23 @luna-redamancy @meganlpie

@asgardianhobbit98 @mrsdurin @quiall321 @evenstaredits @catthefearless

@sazzlep @court-jobi @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @for-fuck-sake-im-alive

@bookworm-with-coffee @danzalladaggers @ourlonelymountain @phantomessangel @estethell

@windb3ll @protosslady @richardarmitageshands @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

DROP THE LORE ON YOUR HOMESTUCK AU !!!!!!!!!!!!111

tcc homestuck au!

im so excited to talk about this holy shit. you guys should ask me for more au content - i have so many aus!

so to start, im following the basic naming rule in homestuck where they have to have six letter names. thats why theyre names will be “misspelled” here.

however, im not following the normal zodiac colors because thats boring. they will also have their natural hair colors because i cant seem them having black hair…

anyways!

ERICCK HARRIS

doomedRebel [DR]

gunkind

prince of time

ericck is a seemingly average bronzeblood troll, however unlike his counterparts he isnt as meek and submissive to their highblood overlords.

he has a mind of his own as theyd say and he isnt afraid to speak it, but of course hes smart enough to not say it so freely.

he has been apart of several groups who tried to start rebellions, but they were quickly brought down. he was lucky to not have been caught, but now he has been putting together a plan with his moirail.

his lusus is a big dog that closely resembles a doberman.

ericck is pretty average height, a little lanky, but seemingly well rounded minus the dip in his chest. he has a short, brown buzzcut thats almost constantly covered by a backwards hat. he always wears a white tshirt with his zodiac sign on it in black as well as jeans and boots.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: dylann klebold

DYLANN KLEBOLD

vengefulVodka [VV]

gunkind

knight of breath

dylann is the lowest on the spectrum, being a redblood, but he seems to get around easy enough.

he shares the same hatred for their system with ericck and it was how they bonded quickly, being moirails since he could remember. he doesnt speak his mind about it as much as his friend, but he still thinks the same way.

hes a little more laid back and calm, but its not hard to get him on edge. him and ericck are very protective of each other and will snap quickly if the other is bothered.

dylann is tall and lanky, not quite fitting into his body. he has shoulder length blonde hair that he occasionally wears in a pony tail, but typically has a hat to cover it. he wears a black t shirt with his zodiac symbol on it in red and jeans with boots.

his lusus is a dog as well, but it more closely resembles a german shepherd.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: ericck harris

ARTYOM ANOUFRIEV

ostentatiousHammer [OH]

hammerkind

bard of heart

artyom is a perpetually sober purpleblood who does not partake in absolutely any activities or traditions associated with his blood color.

his lack of sopor intake though has caused him to constantly be on edge, ready to hurt. theres never a dull moment with him.

he has a large ego and is rather pretentious. he says to not like their societal system, but he only likes it when it works for him. he is a very violent individual, but is well liked by others around him.

artyom is tall and skinny with a blonde, silky mullet. he wears a black t shirt with his zodiac sign on the top corner along with jeans and boots.

he does not have a lusus. his lusus abandoned him very early on, which would mean certain death, but he was able to live on his own and stay under the radar.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: nikita lytkin (?)

NIKITA LYTKIN

dismemberedHead [DH]

hammerkind

page of doom

nikita has an unknown blood color, having kept it a secret since the day he was hatched. no one knows about it besides artyom - whether thats a good or bad thing is up for debate.

he’s extremely introverted and doesnt talk to anyone outside of his moirallegience and typically keeps to himself. hes incredibly self destructive and depressed with poor hygiene.

his relationship with artyom is complicated and toxic. they identify as moirails, but he feels flushed for him while artyom on the other hand is halfway to feeling pitch.

nikitas average height with a skinny body besides the fat that sticks out here and there. he has greasy black hair thats plastered to his head and he wears a black hoodie with his favorite band, jeans, boots, a bandana around his face and sunglasses.

he lacks a lusus as well, having been abandoned early on too. he didnt handle it as well as his friend.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: artyom anoufriev (?)

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my November 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Next to your Heartbeat (where I should be) by jaded25 (130k)

"We were meant to be but a twist of fate made it so we had to walk away"

All it takes for them to fall in love is one night. All they have to do is wait one year to see each other again.

Yet, when Louis returns after his year abroad, the boy who's got his arms wrapped around Harry isn't him. It isn't a stranger either, which should make walking away all that easier. After all, friend's don't lust after their mate's boyfriends.

Technically, doing the right thing should be easy - but when has Louis ever been known to taking the easy way out?

To Haunt a Heart by etherealbliss / @givesuethemoon (110k)

A high-profile double homicide in the quiet, small town of Ashford, WA sends shockwaves through the public. Louis, the lead detective assigned to the case, is headstrong, earnest, and desperate to prove himself. Harry, the widow of one of the victims, is insufferably rich, wears far too many vintage dressing gowns, and is desperate to prove he’s not guilty.

Their desperation unexpectedly blossoms into something beautiful behind closed doors, amidst the ticking time bomb of a slowly unravelling mystery that the two soon find themselves deeply entwined in.

Where Words Fail, Music Speaks by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow (45k)

Louis is a world class violinist. He’s one year over forty, living his best life in New York. One day, he comes to a small town in Connecticut where he inherited a house from his late father. The town looks nice and its people welcome him warmly. The problem is that Louis never knew his father and he doesn’t intend to change anything about it - his father can stuff his last will up his treacherous ass. In a strange coincidence, Louis meets town troubadour Harry, who seems wonderful to him just right until he reveals that Louis’ father was like a dad to him.

Even though Louis tries to convince himself that it shouldn’t - it hurts.

written for 1D Silver Fox Fest

Too Much, but It’s Enough by ohpleaselarry / @ohpleaselarry (40k)

There are about a thousand things Louis wishes he could go back in time and fix. A thousand things, and nearly all of them include Harry.

There are the more simple things, like showing him more support, telling him it’s okay to be himself, gently reminding him that a condom in his pocket is rather obvious in skinny jeans, but if he could just choose one thing, just one to change, he’d probably just have told the lad he loves him.

Always has. And always will.

Baby, What a Big Surprise by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou (33k)

As Harry settles into his seat, self-consciously adjusting his shirt over his slightly distended stomach, he can’t help but wonder how he got himself into all this. But he knows, of course he knows. It isn’t exactly easy to forget the moment that changed his entire life forever.

It all started with a party.

Or, the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he's a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.

Featuring Lottie as Harry's best friend, Niall as her boyfriend, and, of course, Louis as the popular boy with a soft spot for his little sister's quirky friend.

Into This Mess by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel (20k)

The first day of Louis’ promotion is going well, far better than he expected. That is until his new partner shows up, who just so happens to be the guy who stumbled half-dressed out of his flat that same morning.

Or the enemies to lovers detective AU.

Have Me And Hold Me by letsjustsee (8k)

His clumsy trips were now even more burdened by the sudden downpour. Twice he almost fell making his way back to the ceremony area, mostly due to his insistence on running across the lawn in between trips. The rain was relentless, coming at him from all angles with a deafening wind that muted everything outside of his own heavy breathing. He felt like he was making pretty good headway, all things considered. His pace was stalled only momentarily when, on his tenth or so trip, he thought about what someone looking out the window at that moment would see. Louis in his formal shirt and trousers, barefoot, stomping through the muddy lawn to gracelessly lug two chairs at a time towards the building.

Or, a wedding day AU in which Louis will let nothing stand in the way of a perfect day - especially a little rain.

If We Make It Through December, We'll Be Fine by penceypansy / @penceypansy (8k)

A job promotion of his dreams, an eight month long distance relationship, a cancelled train, and an emotional misunderstanding - Louis is just trying to make it home for the holidays.

No Faith Left to Lose by louieshalo / @louieshalo (7k)

Louis shoves an album booklet — Harry’s album booklet — into Harry’s hands, folded open to a familiar page. “I need you to tell me that that goddamn song is not about me.” His voice cracks a little in his vehemence, and ice fills Harry’s veins as he glances down at the creased page.

He doesn’t need to look closely to know what it is Louis is talking about — the title is printed plainly on the page, Second Chances, along with every incriminating lyric, line by line. It’s his most blatant offense off the entire album, probably; sickeningly indulgent and too obviously vulnerable to even defend himself against. The song is a surface-level dip into the fantasy world Harry toys with when the ache of loneliness gets to be too much in the middle of the night, the brief glimpse already toeing over the boundary he’d promised himself he’d set for his career.

Most damning, though, is the tiny embossed dedication at the bottom of the page;

“For who I’d be if I wasn’t afraid,” Louis recites, looking expectantly at Harry. “What the fuck does that mean?

or, the one where they miss each other more than anything.

With You I Am Never Alone by LiveLaughLoveLarry (SoLongAndThanksForAllTheFic) (6k)

Louis comes up with the idea of holding a Thanksgiving dinner for their families. Harry loves it. And him.

[jacktorrancekinny]

Disco Elysium Swap AU Headcanons!

I wanted to think of a swap Disco Elysium AU that was still sensitive to the themes of the game, and thus preserved the racial bias that Kim faces in the police force. He would not be able to get away with as much as Harry did, because of course, Harry is white.

KIM

Kim’s breakdown began with the death of Eyes, his partner, obviously. Eyes, however, had been his shield from the rest of the 57th. Eyes was his Jean, but he was also Eyes’ Jean. They both supported each other through shitty times. Eyes was the one most likely to get promoted, and if he was promoted, it forced the Captain to promote Kim too because Kim was the competent of the two of them, and not promoting Kim as well would show his racial bias. Kim, treated as an outsider, was able to glimpse the world through Eyes, figuratively and literally, which is why Kim’s Esprit De Corps equivalent is called ‘Eyes’.

When Eyes died, Kim was not assigned to a new partner, and is still waiting for a new one, because they were preparing to get rid of him. That is the reason why Kim is sent to Martinaise in this AU, because the 57th expects him to fail, and are going to use the opportunity to demote him or dishonorably discharge him from the RCM. Depending on the ending in this Swap Game, Kim can absolutely be forced to leave the RCM if Harry does not ask him to join the 41st.

Kim’s breakdown is not at all like Harry’s. He’s come into work late a few times and his solve rate is not as good as it was. He has started drinking and doing more drugs, and this is eating into his savings, meaning he’s no longer able to care for himself as he once was able to. His appearance has degraded as a result. He’s a bit scruffier, less well groomed, he cuts his own hair because he can’t afford the barber. Because he is no longer ‘model’, he is seen as a delinquent foreigner, and perceived as a troublemaker in his precinct, despite no real evidence for it. He’s also more involved in the punk scene in his free time. (His Superstar Cop equivalent is Punk or ACAB Cop.)

Kim’s signature is still Authority, but it comes from a different place. Original Kim’s authority comes from his composure, poise, and self-assurity. This Kim’s Authority comes from a place like Half-Light. He appears like a man with nothing left to lose, so if you don’t obey him, who knows what will happen?

Kim’s amnesia can either come from a head injury (most likely) or an excessive drug binge (least likely) or some other medical event. Kim doesn’t have objects talk to him or anything like that, but he does get uncanny ‘hunches’ that are usually right.

HARRY

I read Harry in canon as being OSDD/DID(?), ADHD, and BPD coded, so my interpretation of Swap Harry comes from a place like that, but can be interpreted without that.

Specifically, the OSDD comes into play where the old host was starting to become too self-destructive about Dora, so, only a year into this Harry’s breakdown, the system split a new host, and the old host fused with Half-Light, who holds all the Dora sad. This means there is also some layer of amnesia, but that’s normal OSDD stuff.

Otherwise, Harry responded to his breakup with Dora, instead of begging her to come back, to prove her wrong or prove himself better than her, or at least appear better than her, so she’d eventually come back and see how wrong she’d been (it hasn’t happened yet.) It’s not that he is fully sober or anything like that, but he’s just better at containing and managing, and especially hiding his drug habits. He is a chronic liar, and extremely good at reading people and telling them what they want to hear.

He’s a can-opener not because of amazing insight, but because he’s able to bullshit his way through any conversation.

It’s a point that Harry has absolutely done way worse than Kim at work and is still considered to be fascinatingly competent. Functioning at ALL makes him seem amazing. His legend has not been diminished by any habits, and his cases solved are more around 215 when the game starts. He wants to get 500 before retirement. He’s actually reached the never-before-seen status of Triple-yfreitor, and is very proud of it. He is also far more condescending to Jean and is way more in control of the 41st than in canon.

He’s kind of oblivious to social problems, and starts the game as a centrist, but can be guided to the left or the right by the player. He would say that Kim isn’t trying hard enough to be accepted by his precinct, and that they just need to have the right conversation, but if he bonds enough to Kim, he will ask him to join the 41st. Without Harry singing his praises to the rooftops, Kim will not remain in the RCM.

Overall, Swap Harry Du Bois is morally dubious because he is far more prideful and far surer in his abilities. He kind of still talks like a gym teacher and is a little condescending to Kim, but is willing to stick anything out, because of his ‘Yes, and’ attitude from a Drama signature. He does not talk about the Skills to anyone although he desperately needs therapy. feel free to add to this and if this gets popular, I might draw art/comics for this au.

[redwineconversation]

Wendie Renard OL Feminin Contract Extension Interview (September 2, 2024)

I'll save the fucking van de Donk nutcase stans the time and say Renard does not talk about van de Donk in this interview. For the life of me I do not understand frothing at the mouth over a player to the point of inserting yourself into conversations between two individuals you don't even know. To paraphrase Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, it's weird and creepy. So for the love of god please step outside, take a nice long deep breath of fresh air, and contemplate being a normal person who doesn't stalk football players. I refuse to believe it is that much of an ask.

I could write entire dissertations on why Renard is my favorite Bad Catholic such a good captain. I also find the dynamics between Renard and Lyon players, past and present, absolutely fascinating. It's cool! It's interesting! And you get it by watching them play instead of stalking them on social media! Renard is the only person in the world who can look at Hegerberg and say "don't" and Hegerberg backs down immediately. How can you not find that cool and interesting? Lyon, the story of a dynasty built by a ruthless tyrant and her loyal mercenary only to be destroyed by academy players.

Blah blah standard disclaimers apply; as the song goes this heat wave IS freaking me out @OL Comms pls save me and my AC bill; the way some of you refuse to practice basic social etiquette honestly concerns me; y'all know the speech by now.

Interview was posted on Youtube but I am still transcribing it because what is love if not avoiding doing the dishes self-loathing?

WENDIE RENARD CONTRACT EXTENSION INTERVIEW

Renard: "I feel good. After, my contract wasn't ending either. The decision to extend for one year was made for various reasons which will stay between the club and myself because that's the way it is. We keep things confidential even if the ownership has changed. I know what this club has given me. I know where I've come from. Beyond that, the ambition is still there, it's to remain at the highest level and at the top. So the adventure will continue for one more year. It will have been 21 [years.]"

Renard: "This is home. The balance has shifted. I left Martinique at 16, I'm going to be 34, the balance has tipped. It's even reversed. Beyond that, I've already said it, I'm the person that I am because of the values my parents have taught me. I'm someone who is very thankful. It's why there have been a lot of discussions with the club for a while. I've always been honest and open with them. And the objective was - in any case, I know that for me I know where I came from. I know it wasn't easy and that if it hadn't been for my first coach, Farid Benstiti who said yes to taking a chance on me, I would be in Martinique and I wouldn't be sitting here in front of you. So yeah, it's a good story. But obviously there were others. I met others who were exceptional people, people who work here, President Jean-Michel Aulas, practically his entire team, even staff, players who have left. We created a real connection, it's a family. I'm far from my family myself. There is more than 8,000 km. So at a certain point when you arrive and you find a new family here, it allows you to develop even more as a player and to grow even more."

Renard: "There was a new owner coming in, we didn't know her ambitions, we didn't know what her expectations were for the women's team. We heard a lot of things in the press about us. So there was bit of unease. Then after having talked with the new boss [Michele Kang], she put forth the project she wanted for us. She's an inspirational woman, she's someone who wants to give women a chance in various domains. So it's important. It's important. Beyond that, the project is long-term. I don't think I will be a part of it as a player. It's important for me as a player to keep that identity of always wanting to win, to always show the values this club has. So that's also why the contract extension happened."

Renard: 'Even if the ownership changed, we have a new boss, it's important for me to keep the [Lyon] DNA. It's that DNA which has allowed us to win this many titles, no matter the players on the field, no matter the staff. I've shared a lot on the field with a lot of players. So for me it's important to continue. Beyond that, I'm more towards the end [of my career] than the beginning. I'm also in a transition phase with the new generation coming up, even if I have always done that. But beyond that - well, the adventure continues. And we mainly have to win titles."

Renard: "I hear a lot of things about myself, when they talk about Lyon they also talk about me. But it's not me - I didn't make Olympique Lyonnais Feminin. We already had a president, I know I said this before, but he was someone who really believed in us since 2004 when he merged the women's section with what was FC Lyon at the time. So the story started back then. Then there were different generations, different players who left a mark for this club. I'm still here, I can't leave. [laughs] But it also shows my consistency in terms of me as a person. I've always been someone who has talked about the team because I play a team sport. It shows my consistency. I think that it's been like that for while. It's still a business, it's become a real business. You have to perform well because results are expected of us. If I wasn't performing well I wouldn't be sitting here in front of you today."

Renard: "No, like I said, it's nice to have extended. As I said, there are a lot of projects coming up in the upcoming years, as much for the new generation and making them understand, well, it's not just because we're at Lyon and that we have won this many titles, that doesn't matter. What matters is what we have to go win. You have to throw yourself into it, you have to fight. You have to work hard because it's not handed to you. You don't win just because."

Renard: "I don't forget my role as a player either. As I said, you have to perform well because that's the only way you will get the respect from your teammates, and everyone's respect. But I've always been - even when I arrived here when I was really young - I learned from others. I've always been someone who watched, who observed. Because as I learned from older players when I was starting out, it's become natural both in my role with the team, I became captain under Patrice Lair. Obviously that allowed me to grow as a person, as a player and especially as a woman. So it became natural for me. And I also think it's logical. As I said to the younger players, if I can help you grow up 2-3 years, that's non-negotiable."

Renard: "We often talk about the highs but there have also been some defeats which really, really hurt. But in any case Lyon's achievements, like I said, many, many players have come through Lyon, a lot of staff. We didn't do it by ourselves, we did it together. You need the team as a whole to win. The season is very long. There are highs and lows in a season. We've seen that the last few years. Injuries, a lot of things can happen. It's really important everyone stays focused on the objectives we fix for ourselves at the beginning of the season because - and I keep repeating myself - that's what we work for. And at the end, when you started from zero and you manage to win trophies, well you can only be happy and satisfied."

Renard: "Yes, it's become harder and harder. But we've wanted that for a while. But it's become harder and harder because the teams are becoming stronger especially in terms of the staff, the physical preparation. Before - and I'm thinking of a few games - by the 60th, maybe 70th minute we were really overpowering the other team. But today they can hold their own. Women's football has progressed, it has really moved forwarded. It's good news for the future. It's all we want. And that's why individually as well you have to do everything to change shall we say the "method of working" as an individual because while we do the team work together, we can't just rely on the practice sessions at the club anymore. It's that simple. There are so many demands [on your body] around the sport that you have to do everything possible to be ready physically for whatever challenge you face."

Renard: "In any case you always remember what happened in the past, especially when it hurt. The past can make you come back even stronger. But then, even when it's going well, there's always things to change. But you're experiencing euphoria so you're savoring it. But there's always something to change because from one season to the next, well, it's not the same thing. The intensity grows. And for me as an athlete, I've always aimed high, I've always set the bar high in terms of expectations. First for myself, I'm someone who is very demanding of myself. For me it's really important to keep that, it's something that you need to improve on a daily basis. There's always areas, you're always learning no matter your age. Sometimes I hear "well at a certain age-" No. You're always learning no matter your age. Because - well once again, we have a new coach, new staff. So this year I am going to be learning a lot [mainly how much the academy kids suck] because the expectations are different, they might ask things of us which are different from previous years [like letting fucking academy kids play competitive games]. So you learn no matter your age. It requires a lot of self-reflection, it requires a lot of analysis from my part. From everyone as well. But in any case I am someone who is very demanding so I try to put myself in the best position to perform individually and then the team follows the example."

Renard: "I find it really interesting, the fact that there is a structure really focused on taking care of women's bodies. Because once again all the studies, everything that was done in the past, was done on men. Of course even at the time I think it helped, for me personally it really helped because when I arrived here, well, Patrice [Lair, former head coach] was doing everything like with the men. Now I was young so it was okay, but today, with all the years that have gone past, you say to yourself maybe there were things that we did that have consequences on our bodies now. So to have structures which are really focused on development, on research, focused on women, on things like our periods and the affects those have on injuries, shoes, analysis, etc. I think that's really informative. And me, I - I'm really eager to see what happens next because she [Michele Kang] is really someone who wants to given women the opportunity in various domains and we'll see what happens next. For the moment I think it's more the board who is in charge of the project. There's the academy project, wanting to have our own pitch, wanting to have a facility just for us. I don't think there are a lot like that in the world. I don't there are a lot of presidents who would do that, even if we couldn't complain here because President Aulas wanted to give us the opportunities as the men. And we have the same opportunities as the men. So those are things which are in the continuity of women's football."

Renard: "Yeah, it's Michele [Kang]'s project. We can see it in any case with her desire to have several clubs on various continents. So, yeah. It's a project. It's her own project. But in any case today at Olympique Lyonnais, I think what we need to is maintain the high standards on an individual and collective level to win titles but especially compete for titles. We have to win. We have to win and I think - last year we won one title out of three [won French league; lost UWCL final; lost Coupe de France semi-final]. It's - it's a review. We won some titles, but I think we could have won others. Now, it's like I said earlier, you have to ask yourself the right questions regarding the defeats we've had and why we didn't win the titles: "Why?" "What was missing?" So many questions. Obviously it's up to the technical staff as well, but also there is a new staff who came in. So some questions will be different. But I think as a player, you have to analyze what happened in the UWCL final, why didn't we win? Those are all things we need to do in order to move forward and come back stronger. Why not win more titles this year?"

[jinxpologist]

cant stop thinking about gym teacher harry and maybe possibly also teacher kim. or school staff kim. security guard??? vehicle maintenance guy?? idek what he’d teach. maybe self defense. okay wait sorry it’s all happening in my head it’s all falling together.

harry: a gym teacher who also participates in a lot of extracurriculars. runs a board game club. stays late most nights, uses this as an excuse to talk to kim more. still a recovering addict in this au. known as the one teacher everyone either loves or hates. maybe was also RCM but quit a while ago. still has the skills/voices.

kim: security guard and/or cop who guards the school. if he’s a cop he quits his goddamn job eventually and gets one at the school. as long as someone is inside, he’s outside ensuring safety. terrified of/hates children, teens especially. everyone is intimidated by him once harry starts to know him because if you cause kim trouble he’ll get involved and force you to apologize.

jean: frazzled history teacher who is trying his goddamn Best. will go on rants about how fucking stupid some of his students are if prompted but if you say anything bad about them he’ll kick your ass. knew harry in his RCM phase and is not hesitant to cuss him out bc of it.

obviously some of the kids that attend the place (or are SUPPOSED to attend) are cuno, cunoesse, and annette. i know none of them go to school but i can dream. ummm i can’t find anything on if cindy is a teenager or in her 20s anywhere (i assumed 20s?) but if she’s a teen put her in here too why not. also pissfaggot and fuck the world. obviously. maybe age down the people doing the nightclub and put them in. fuck it it’s a party

[kryaaas]

*cracking my fingers* I am going to put my own two cents. I have a lotttt of Jean thoughts

I dont think Jean was there when Harry was sober. Nothing in canon suggests it (he knew him *at most* for 2-3 years). Dora has left Harry by the time Jean and Harry became partners, so Harry was *already* fucked up by that point. Jean probably saw Harry gradually became worse, sure, but to say that Jean saw some kind of drastic downfall and Harry isnt "a man he used to know anymore" ........ Its a little bit of a scratch. It's nice little angsty fanfic! but has very little to do with canon

I think Jean *cares* yes but....not in a way most people think. Fans tend to project their own personal experiences onto him and forgetting the major part of Jean character. That he is a *cop*, first of all. And the way he treats people, and addiction, is going to be different.

Granted, people do the same thing with Kim and Harry which can be annoying but *at very least* Harry and Kim actually have personality *outside* of just RCM. Something like that cannot be said about jean. We know almost nothing about him, really. And I dont think its because Jean is under-developed or badly written or didnt have enough time or whatever. but because Jean play a very specific role of being RCM representative to the player.

So keeping that in mind, the biggest grievances that Jean has with Harry isnt really something super personal like "you are ruining yourself" or "you are becoming an abusive self-destructive person". I really dont think Jean cares about that. In fact, i think he is the type to be more "accepting" in a sense "yes we are all horible people and theres no hope for us anyway I just want you to do your job"

Because, from what we know about *other cops*....is that they really arent much better, or less violent/abusive than Harry. Kim even says he have seen cases worse than Harry and I dont think he is lying. The difference between Harry and other cops is that... Harry doesnt want be a cop anymore. he just cant do his job, physically or mentally.

Harry says wants to "get worse" not because he wants to be an asshole to jean for no reason but because the only way how Harry can "fix" himself is to stop being a cop, and because he has nowhere to go except RCM, the only real solution Harry has is to... " get worse" (and by that he probably means killing himself).

And honestly? I think that is what upset Jean the most.

Because if harry leaves or kills himself there is nothing left for Jean in RCM, is there? Harry can be difficult, but at least being Harry's partner allowed him to automatically look better at comparison for being more "put together" and "professional" while he was "handling" Harry. If harry isnt there what doesnt jean have? Its not like he could become as great of detective as *harry* was. He would be just another, nothing special, depressed cop.

Shit, I dont even think tribunal ever intended as a way to fire harry or to hold him accountable. Its just jean having a bit of power trip over harry before he takes you back. or leaves you to die

I do wanna say that "Harry deserves to be fired because he was a bad cop who didnt do his job" is kinda funny to me because. Not doing his job is what Jean did the entire game. Its not like that Jean and Judit took it upon hemselves to like.... take down the body if harry didnt lol

Not doing shit is what most cops *do* anyway. And maaaybe Jean would actually *know* about the tribunal if he actually had been doing his duties as a police officer

god okay disco elysium fans try and understand the consequences of actions challenge. jean is a dick but also he's like that... for a reason. kim has literally only just met harry he has no frame of reference for the past and NEITHER DOES THE PLAYER. Jean's been with harry since he was sober. he's seen the downfall. harry's gone clean before and all that happens is he fell in again. none of yall have had to be friends with an addict and it shows. it's constant. its painful. eventually compassion fatigue. you just can't care like you used to because every single time you offered a hand it got bit. sunk cost fallacy forces you to stay but its like poison. toxic, eating away at you, an albatross. you can't leave him but you can't live with him. you know hes hurting so so bad but the hurt spills from his overflowing heart into anger and its directed at you.

anyway td;lr jean's got good reason for giving up on harry, martinase was just his final straw. its not just "ough you shouted at me while being mentally ill once and now im mad :(" its "i have watched you systematically destroy yourself from the inside out. you are burning alive and every time i try to help you i get burnt. you have embraced the flames at this point and i don't know how else to help anymore. you arent who i used to know."

EXCEPT HE DOESN'T EVEN DO THAT BECAUSE HE CAME BACK. he came back literally as soon as the waterlock got fixed. he still fucking cares.

[missluckycharms]

What about nobody knows their secretly dating, but they’re always flirting. So one day all of their Friends are at a club and y/n gets on the dance floor and starts twerking and Harry comes up behind her and starts grinding and tapping her ass and all there friends are whistling.

This Little Secret Of Ours.

A/N: hiii! I made this into a best friends brother! Harry blurb and I also changed a few things. I hope you don’t mind! Enjoyyy !!

**I will be getting around to all your requests in the next few days, please be patient !! Thank you !! **

Warnings: suggestive content, mature language, alcohol consumption, Harry is a cheeky lil shit.

It started when Y/N was nineteen and Harry was turning twenty one. It was never meant to happen, but what could she do? She was attracted to him, and he was to her.

They have a connection that you cannot look past no matter how hard it would be for them to be together, they needed to make it work.

And they did, they’ve hid it from everyone for nearly two years now. No one even suspects the pair is together, they never leave anyone have any suspicion on if they might be together. They even go as far as having some little fake argument just to keep up the “we hate one another” image in front of all of their friends — Y/N’s best friend being in that friend group, Harry’s sister.

The only way that this works between the two, is because Harry has his own flat, he bought it recently and Y/N as basically moved in, she’s rarely at her shared flat with her other best friend — always saying she was visiting family for days at a time, but she was really hiding out in Harry’s small one bedroom studio apartment together, cuddled up under blankets away from the world.

Every Friday their friend group has a tradition: they all meet up at the local night club and catch up on their lives, talk about their week, have some drinks and just have fun. As they’re older, their lives are getting more hectic and they have less time together, so this little meet up each week gives them the chance to feel like teens again.

Today is like every other Friday, Y/N is in Harry’s getting ready, the pair fighting over the one bathroom, Harry running in ahead of her for a shower as she “takes too long” and she “has to shave her bits and bobs!” And it “takes for ages!” Y/N always fires back with her usual response: “you’ve long hair too! You don’t see me complaining when you take ten years to apply your hair masks and then give two washes of it all!”

That small argument happened nearly an hour ago, Harry laughed back and slammed the bathroom door in her face as she stands in only his bath robe, her towels in hand along with a new packet of razors she picked up on her way over here. She rolls her eyes and huffs turning around to head back into his bedroom.

“Might want to give it twenty minutes m’love, I used up all the hot water” Harry says calmly, walking out of the steamy bathroom in only a towel slung around his waist and another towel drying the ends of his long curls. Y/N looks up from her phone, her eyes narrow as they only have three hours to get to the club.

“This is why I go first!” She yells out, flopping down onto the bed in annoyance at her boyfriend who’s laughing while running some curl cream through his wet locks, his eyes focused on himself in the mirror.

“Gives you twenty minutes to have some Harry time!” He says wiping the residue of curl cream into his towel, his smile wide as she looks at him from where she’s laying on his bed, her lips in a pout and her brows furrowed in anger.

“I had plenty of Harry time this week, you were like a kid! Barely got any time to even pee!” She yells as Harry just laughs at her angry self, loving how cute she looks when her lips pout and her eyes roll with her pretty eyelashes framing them. He adores her, all of her.

The twenty minutes is spent by Y/N being tickled by Harry as she yelled and laughed loudly while he teased her for being ticklish, her body squirming on the bed as he hovered above her with his fingers tickling her ribcage causing her to loose control of her whole body and melt into a puddle of flailing limbs and loud screeches. Harry eventually let up his tickling, allowing Y/N to finally shower and start to get ready. He’s currently sat on his bed, ready to go in his black and white silk button up, black skinny jeans and some black leather boots. Y/N is currently curling her hair and applying some makeup as she stands in her outfit: a simple black silk dress with black heels.

“Look so beautiful m’heart, love the sparkly straps on your shoes” he points out when she’s finally ready, Harry sliding his phone into his back pocket to get a closer look at his girl, his hands snaked around her waist as he pulls back to rake his eyes up and down her body carefully, his lip between his teeth as he observes her.

“Thank you H, you don’t look too bad yourself. New shirt?” She asks reaching up and tugging on the collar a little, only three buttons done up on the whole shirt leaving his tattooed chest to show through with his many necklaces — what was more eye catching was how sheer the fabric was, allowing his butterfly and other tattoos to be visible when light is shined onto him.

“Bought it last week, more sheer than I thought but hey, who doesn’t want a front row seat to the nipple show? Huh?” He asks shaking his chest at Y/N, her eyes rolling as she slaps his chest playfully as he pulls her in for a kiss.

“Can’t kiss you until we’re back here, which won’t be for like, God knows how many hours” He mumbles against her lips as they kiss one another passionately and slowly, their hands roaming one another’s bodies as they take in every detail of each other.

“You always take me into the bathroom for a quick fuck or a make out session, don’t act like you don’t do that” she fires back with a tug to his bottom lip with her own teeth, a groans escaping his chest at her action, his hands squeezing her ass a little as he pulls her more into him.

“Keep talking like that and we aren’t going anywhere baby” he says lowly, his tongue licking over her bottom lip as she smiles against his lips, her hands roaming his chest, then his stomach and then down to his crotch, giving him a tight squeeze when she feels how hard he’s getting, Harry lets out an involuntary moan at the feeling, his hips pushing into her palm as she licks over his bottom lip slowly as she goes.

“Come on big boy, we have somewhere to be” she says pulling away, fixing her dress and wiping her lipgloss from Harry’s lips, her eyes looking at him innocently as if she didn’t just tease him and get him hard two seconds ago. He groans as she grabs her handbag, throwing a wink over her shoulder at him as she trots towards the front door of the apartment.

“You coming?”

“Unfortunately no” he says sighing, looking down at his erection in his tight skinny jeans, Y/N rolling her eyes at what he means.

“Harry, get out into the cab” she says tapping her foot against the floors, her phone buzzing with messages from the Uber driver that he’s outside and not waiting any longer than five minutes.

“Fine” he sighs, grabbing his house keys and sulking his way towards the cab, Y/N apologising for the delay and Harry just pouting like a toddler beside her as they head off to their night out with all their friends.

—

The night has gone smoothly, Harry and Y/N sitting at opposite ends of the table they’re all sharing in the booth, their eyes catching one another’s every few minutes but their slight eye fucking flies under the radar due to how dull it is in the club. Their friends are chatting, laughing and singing as they all sip their drinks and talk about nonsense, Y/N being dragged into conversation about how her job as a florist is going by her best friend Jada, while Harry is dragged into a conversation by their friend Chase about nonsense due to his drunken state — Chase loves to pre drink and now he’s drunk as fuck.

Harry is nodding and smiling along to Chase’s words, his fingers fiddling with his beer coaster in boredom, all he wants to do is have drunken chats with Y/N about nonsense like they usually do when they drink at Harry’s place, the pair having a bottle of wine each as they dish out random facts and stories from their childhoods and Harry’s one year long college experience — he dropped out because he couldn’t handle not being around Y/N, she was too far away from him and plus, his dorm mate was a nightmare.

He’s brought out of his small daydream of half listening to Chase while also mumbling along to the words of the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the packed nightclub, by his phone buzzing in his back pocket, he takes it out and keeps it under the table on his lap, looking down to see a notification from Y/N. He doesn’t look up as he opens it, his eyes widen at what the message says.

Y/N: mind if I shake my ass on the dance floor?

Harry: don’t you dare, your ass is mine and mine only. Don’t think about it baby love.

He looks up to see her looking at him, her lip between her teeth as she locks her phone, him mirroring their actions as they stop their small conversation. Her eyes are dark with lust, a tug pulling at the corners of her lips as she leans over to whisper into Jada’s ear. Harry watches her like a hawk, legs spread under the table, arms crossed over his chest and his head thrown back against the wall of the booth as he narrows his eyes at his girlfriend, her own challenging smile getting thrown back right at him.

Jada is the first to move, then Lola and then Y/N, leaving Harry at the other side being sandwiched between Chase and Niall, Niall is currently on the phone trying to speak to his landlord about a busted pipe in his house, but instead of going outside he insists to stay in here, he has a massive fear of missing out. That’s Niall for you. Harry watches Y/N like a hawk, his eyes never leaving her body as she holds onto both Jada and Lola’s hands, their smiles wide and they mouth along to the words of the song,

Her eyes are on him every now and then, her hips swaying as she dances with her friends, others around them dancing aswell as Harry doesn’t take his eyes off his girl on the floor, the lights flashing about and illuminating her every now and then as she moves to the beat of the song.

Harry’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets when he sees her bend over and begin to shake her hips, causing her ass to jiggle about as Lola and Jada spur her on, slapping her ass a little as she laughs loudly, looking over to Harry who’s now stalking his way to the dance floor, pushing past the crowd of people. Jada nearly slaps Harry when he picks Y/N up by her waist, flinging her over his shoulder as she laughs loudly, Harry shaking her head as barely anyone on the floor recognises what’s happening due to how dark it is, Jada and Lola following hot on Harry’s heels as he carries their best friend like a sack of potatoes back to the booth.

“What was that for?!” Jada yells slapping her brothers chest and bicep, her brows furrowed in anger as Harry now holds Y/N close to him his hands around her waist as they both look at Jada with small smiles.

“She was showing off what’s mine” Harry says with a smile, looking down at Y/N who scrunches up her nose with laughter, pecking his lips lightly as they both finally get to show love to another in public, in front of everyone.

“I knew it!” Niall yells nearly falling over the table, Chase whistling and clapping as he nearly passes out due to how much he’s moving right now.

“Only because I told you!” Lola fires at Niall who rolls his eyes looking at them all, Jada stood beside the pair not knowing what to say.

“We all had a feeling, we were just waiting for you both to say something; there’s only so many times we’ll believe your bra just some how ended up in Harry’s car” Jada says rolling her eyes with a smile, Y/N burying her face in Harrys chest in embarrassment over the story.

Jada hugs the two, immediately running up to order a round of shots in celebration of the new couple — well, not that new, but now they’re officially together in the eyes of everyone else. They couldn’t be happier and they couldn’t be more grateful that Jada didn’t lose her shit.

“Guess this little secret of ours is out, huh?” He whispers to her, her smile wide as she looks up at him with her arms slung around his neck holding him close.

“I guess so, boyfriend”

[thismaydestroyme]

Birthday Boy II

a/n: you whores wanted part 2, you shall get part 2 and possibly part 3 and 4. 

also i need to thank @lollypopsx for reading this over and telling me it was shit. if it wasn’t for her i wouldn’t be posting it. last but not least @g0ldenkiwi. long story shit she bullied me. the end.

warnings: surprisingly.... none 

word count: 1.8k

part I

One Month Later: November 2007

“When are you leaving work? I'm bored.” Harry groaned, stomping his feet on the sidewalk pavement. 

He liked having a self-care day once a month. He made sure to request a day off once a month, just for it. No chores and no responsibilities. Simply a day where he could be a kid and have no worries floating around in his head. He made sure to tell Y/N (she) what day he had booked so she could also request time off accordingly. 

However, today wasn’t like that because her job has been demanding recently, so she couldn’t do it this time around.

“No tantrum!” She warned Harry through the wall phone at her job. Twirling the cord around her fingers. 

“Well, I’m bored, and you’re supposed to be here an-”

“Harry! I know. I’m sorry but work has been busy and so if that means I miss one month of our self-care day, then sue me but I need the money. I already feel bad as it is, and I don’t need you to make me feel any worse. Okay? So, drop it.” She said turning her head around to make sure no one was listening. Thankfully they were all busy in their own world. 

He stopped walking and started feeling instantly guilty. “I’m sorry, I know. Sorry.” 

There was a long pause on both ends of the line. “Harry, are you there? You got very quiet.” 

“Yeah, I’m here. Just realized I was being an asshole. Sorry.” 

“You were, but that’s okay. I’m still going to see you later.” She said. 

“Okay. I will pick up food for us. Are you still planning on coming over to my place?” 

“Yeah. I will text you when I’m leaving. I have to go. Love you.” 

“Love you.” 

He shoved his flip phone in his black jeans and started walking again. He’s not sure what he wants to do. Not having her with him makes him contemplate if he should go back to his place to paint something and crash afterward. Before he could turn himself around to retreat, he saw something. 

 A sex store.

He stood outside the store and read the sign that read ‘open’. The more he stood there the more he thought about wanting to buy something for her. He knows that work has been stressful for her so maybe it was the universe making her work today so he could buy something for her. When he opened the door, he was in total shock.

The store was vibrant. The few sex shops he had been to was dull and minimal. They had good products, don't get him wrong, but the walls were usually black or white and simple. It’s the same comparison to a guy's bedroom who has their mattress on the floor. However, this store is so in your face. The walls have psychedelic patterns, three chandeliers, pink couches next to the floor length windows, and so much more. It’s equivalent to a good night club but make it a horny theme sex club. 

He walked into the vibrator section. You guys needed a good vibrator because the one that you guys love is on its last leg, and he really wants to make sure you guys have a backup just in case during your guy’s next play time. 

He sees a package that looks like his girlfriend strap on that he loves so much. He love it when she fucked him with the pink shimmery one because it makes him feel pretty. The package of the vibrator looks good but the more he read it, the less tempting it got. It only has three settings but the one he has at Y/N’s place; it has twelve different settings. This one scream amateur hour and neither of you guys are beginners. She trained him well.

When he put the item down, He felt a presence near him. He looks to his right and he sees a girl. A pretty girl. She has black hair, eyebrow piercing, septum piercing, nose piercing, and a smiley piercing. “Do you need any help?” She walked over to Harry looking at the package in his hands. 

“Mmh, I see you put down Samantha. I never got any complaints from her. She’s a good one.” 

“If you’re a beginner.” He said to himself, but he didn’t know he had said it loud enough for this lady to hear him. She raised her eyebrows giving him a smile showcasing her smiley. 

“I see that you’re not a beginner after all.” She said looking right into his eyes. He looks away looking at the options that are on display in front of him. Not sure if he should respond or not. 

“We’re not,” He said breaking the silence. “My girlfriend and I are looking for a new vibrator and that one would just be a downgrade to the one that we have now.” He rambled. 

He’s not comfortable at talking to strangers without Y/N. Y/N is great at talking to people, however with Harry it takes him a while to warm up to people, but he can’t lie how pretty she is. 

“Mmh interesting. If you don’t mind me asking, what vibrator do you have? So, I can help you pick something that’s close to what you guys have.” She said pushing back her curly black hair that flopped on her forehead. 

“Umm... it’s something like a magic wand? But it isn’t if that makes sense. Fuck, my girlfriend does most of our shopping.” 

“Hunny, don’t be stressed about this. I can help you. I’m trained for this.” She placed her hand on his back rubbing circles trying to soothe him from his anxiousness. He jerks a little forward because he’s not used to anyone touching him except for Y/N. The girl notices and removes her hand. “No touching. Got it. Don’t want to make your girlfriend jealous.” She joked walking away from Harry. 

She noticed that he wasn’t following, “I’m not going to bite. C’mon I have something you and your girlfriend just might like.” She singly said. Harry is deciding if he should follow her or he should pick his own toy, but he likes how kind she is. And funny. So, he followed her from behind. She turns her head to see Harry trailing behind. She smiles and continues. 

She made a right turn and now you two are in a different aisle. There’s ropes, chains, handcuffs. A lot of bondages are on display. Harry ran his eyes over the variety of items that’s in front of him. He likes the thought of Y/N doing some of the things he’s seeing on himself. 

Harry wants to be used up like a slut he knows he is. Quoting Y/N of course. The worker notices how Harry is gawking at the items in front of him. She’s wondering if this beautiful gentleman wouldn’t mind putting those things on her. 

“You like?” She said and Harry just nodded while picking up a zip tie. He looked at her and smiled, “I really like this.” He giggled while keeping it in his hands.

“I’m glad you do pumpkin.” She said. Gosh he’s so darn fucking cute. 

Harry looked back at her and smiled. ‘I like that, pumpkin. I’m going to ask my girlfriend to call me that. It will probably sound better coming from her.” He said looking back at the display. “Shut up! Couture Spreader Bar?” He grabbed it. 

“You’re getting excited. I guess I was some help after all.” She said, grinning from ear to ear. Harry turned around to look at her, “You were. Thank you so much. What’s your name dear?” 

Shit.

“I- I- my name is Casey.” She said.

“Well, thank you Casey for helping me. My name is Harry.” He said sincerely.

“So is there anything else I could help you with?” She asked not wanting this conversation to end. 

“I don’t think so, wait! I do. Do you guys sell a strap on with a vibrator to it? My girlfriend bought it last month and let’s just say we need a new one.” He laughed holding on to the zip tie and the spreader bar.

“Of course, we do! We sell desi-” 

“Casey?” Harry said, sounding concerned.

Flashback to part I

“Good choice. My partner loves it. You could control the speed with the remote inside. Which is nice.” She said checking you out.   

You can’t wait to tell Harry about this interaction. He’ll go crazy but soon after you will fuck him senseless, and he’ll forget about his whole jealousy. 

“Really? I’m thinking about using it for my boyfriend for his birthday. I want to treat him.” 

“Your boyfriend?” She asked raising one of her eyebrows, scanning you up and down. 

“Yes boyfriend. Why?” You threw back at her, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“Interesting. You give me a strong personality, so I thought you were gay.” She said nonchalantly. 

“Well thank you. I’m bi. And it balances our relationship quite well.” 

“You got yourself a lucky one darling. I wished I had you.” She looked down, chewing on the inside of her mouth. 

You walk up towards her. When you’re face to face with her you bring your hand to her cheek so she is looking at you again. You stroke her cheek watching her big doe eye worshiping you the ground you walk on. It reminds you of Harry, but not quite because she isn’t your Harry. Just a girl who needs a proper fucking. 

“Awe baby. You could always dump your partner. You need a good fucking.” 

“Shit!” Casey said aloud. 

“Casey, are you okay?” Harry asked looking worried. 

“Umm... Yeah. Ummm... to answer your question we do. We have a toy called ‘Desires.’ It's really good, from what I’ve heard.” Casey said shakily. 

Harry looks at her questionly, but he ignores it. “Show me the way.” He smiled.

“Okay.” Casey whispered. 

They walk to the back of the store where Casey met Harry’s girlfriend last month. Deja fucking vu. 

Casey grabbed it for Harry and Harry began to inspect it and his mouth went wide. 

“This is the exact same one! Oh my gosh!” Harry said shaking the box. 

“Yep, that’s the one. Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s everything.” He said pleased with his purchase. 

“Great. I will ring you up.” 

Casey brought Harry to check out his items and Harry gave her $100 in bills. Harry gave her $10 because to him, she did an amazing job helping him out. 

“Bye Casey.” That was Harry's last thing he said to her. 

Casey repeat the last thing Harry’s girlfriend had told her when she saw her last.

“Awe baby. You could always dump your partner. You need a good fucking.”

[nextdoor-neighbors]

Holey

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: After the Battle of the Seven Potters, you’re met with the injuries of your now-earless boyfriend, George Weasley

Warnings: Mentions of blood and very, very brief mention of oral sex. Other than that, just fluffy stuff

Your feet hit the ground with a solid thud, the impact nearly knocking you over. You feel your body changing, shifting back to your own from Harry's. While you, nor your partner, Kingsley, got hurt, you're shaken up. You weren't expecting to be found out by the Death Eaters, and you hope that no one got hurt in the chase. Your heart pounds in fear and anticipation as you rush towards the house, Kingsley leaving your Portkey laying in the grass.

You're stopped by Remus. He and Kingsley raise their wands slowly, pointing them at each other to ask the security questions. Your heart drops to your stomach as you look at Remus and notice the blood along his neck and shoulder. He appears to be fine, physically, but...

He was with George.

“Where’s George?” you ask, not bothering to hide the panic in your voice. Remus looks at you and tilts his head back towards the house.

“He’ll be okay, his-”

You don’t let him finish before sprinting off. The front door is already open, so you run through the doorway, and stop almost immediately at the sight before you. Sprawled on the couch is George, Molly bent over him. Your stomach turns as you take in the blood covering his neck and the side of his head, where his ear should be, but you realize in horror that his ear is completely missing.

“George,” you breathe, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. Molly turns at the sound of your voice as she brushes some hair out of George’s eyes, which are closed. “What happened? Will he be okay? Where’s Fred?”

“It was Snape,” Remus’s voice answers grimly from behind you before Molly can reply, “He’ll be alright, but because it was Dark magic, it can’t be healed. As for Fred, though, he and Arthur aren’t back yet.”

Molly moves out the way, so you kneel by the couch, cupping George’s cheek and stroking your thumb across it. Your heart aches, and you’re terrified. But much to your relief, his eyes start to flutter open.

“Hey,” he says, so casually that you almost want to laugh.

“Hi,” you answer, quietly, “How are you feeling?”

Before he can answer, you hear commotion coming from outside. Both Arthur’s and Fred’s voices, filled with the same panic that you heard in yours earlier, grow nearer. Fred bursts into the room, falling to his knees next to you, in front of George. You grab George’s hand and squeeze it gently as you look over at Fred, who’s staring at George’s head, his face drained of any color.

“Merlin, George, are-are you okay?”

George lets his eyes close. “I feel saintlike.”

You and Fred exchange a look before Fred glances up over his shoulder at Molly and Arthur. “What’s that mean? Did it do something to his brain?”

You keep your eyes trained on George, and you swear that you see the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile. You clutch his hand with both of yours, waiting for him to say something else.

Once Fred turns back, George lifts his other hand to point at his ear - well, his lack thereof - and breaks out into a grin.

“Because I’m holey. Get it?”

Fred stares at his twin in disbelief, and you can’t help but giggle. Of course, only he would make a joke out of losing a body part. But that’s part of what you love about him.

“That’s awful,” you say softly, smiling and leaning over to kiss his forehead.

“I’d like to see you come up with something better then, Y/L/N,” he replies, mockingly defensive.

You don’t leave George’s side for the rest of the evening. Once the hours start ticking by and the others start heading upstairs to get some sleep, you have to spend quite a while assuring Molly and Fred that you’ll assist George in cleaning up and getting to bed.

When the two of you are finally alone, you help him sit up before going to grab a wet cloth and a bandage. You return to the couch, kneeling on it next to him as you gently rub at his bloody skin with the cloth.

“Was it scary?” you ask.

“I don’t remember much,” George admits, resting his hand on your thigh, “I think I passed out pretty quickly after it happened. But I do remember I didn’t know what had happened at first, just that there was a lot of pain and I started getting dizzy. I reckon it was more scary for Remus, trying to keep me on the broom.”

“Yeah.” You try to fight the thought of what would have happened if Remus wasn’t able to keep George steady on the broom after he’d gone unconscious. You’ll have to thank Remus next time you see him, for keeping George safe.

George looks over at you as you finish wiping the blood off of his neck.

“I’m alright now, though, darling. No need to worry about me. Okay?”

You hesitantly meet his eyes. “Okay.”

“After all,” he continues, a smirk playing on his lips, “I do have the hottest caretaker looking after me.”

“Oh shut up,” you reply, feeling your cheeks grow hot as you wrap the bandage around his head, positioning it carefully over the wound.

“I do,” he insists, still grinning.

You finish adjusting his bandage, dropping your hands and eyeing your work to make sure it’s secure. George’s eyes search your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of these,” you say, pulling at his blood-stained shirt and jeans, “I’ll run upstairs and grab your pajamas.”

“You’re going to undress me now, too? Wicked,” he says, as you stand up off the couch and laugh.

“Just undressing and getting dressed again,” you tease, looking down at him and crossing your arms over your chest, “And then off to bed. We have wedding stuff to help with tomorrow.”

You catch a glimpse of a smirk as you turn to walk away, towards the stairs so you can grab some pajamas from Fred and George’s room. George calls after you, despite you being out of the room.

“You won’t even give your poor, earless patient a blow-”

“Everything alright down here, dear?”

Your eyes widen as you round the corner of the stairs and come face-to-face with Molly, praying that she didn’t hear George’s last comment, although it was quite loud, so you're almost positive that she did.

“Uh, yes, I’m just grabbing him some clothes,” you say, flustered, “He’s more or less back to his normal self, though.”

She smiles. “Good. Thank you, Y/N, you have no idea how much it means to me that he has you.”

You return her smile. “Of course, Molly. It’s my pleasure.”

She passes you, heading towards George in the living room as you quietly walk upstairs, tiptoeing into his room to grab his clothes, trying to be as quiet as possible as not to wake Fred.

You pass Molly again on your way down, and you exchange quiet goodnights with her before making your way back to George. He grins widely at you, but you just bite back a smile and shake your head at him.

“I didn't know that Mum would be coming downstairs right then-”

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, helping him pull his shirt off, being cautious as not to bump it against the wounded side of his head. After he’s dressed in a clean, plain black t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, he carefully lays down on the couch, holding his arms out to you.

“Stay with me?” he asks, his tone somewhat soft and shy.

You smile and grab a blanket off of the nearby chair before joining him on the couch. There’s just enough room on the large couch for you to curl up with him, your back pressed against his chest. He wraps his arm protectively around you, holding you close. You shut your eyes as you listen to his steady heartbeat, and you’re beyond thankful that nothing worse happened. You don’t know what you’d do without him, and you don’t want to even think about the possibility of ever being without him.

“Never scare me like that again, okay?” you murmur as you feel yourself drifting off. Before you fall asleep, you hear George’s voice from behind you, thick with his own drowsiness.

“Okay, my love. Never.”

[accio-moony]

Escape || Remus Lupin x Reader SMUT

Request: no. A/N: I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me. Word Count: ~9k Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew Summary: [NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t. WARNINGS: face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting] *not my gifs*

A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.

“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.

“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.

“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.

The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.

“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.

You find him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his duffle bag which he had put down. His head leans into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. You move from the hall to stand between his legs, but he doesn’t look up at you. You carefully grab his cheeks in your hands and pull his face up so he’s looking at you, but he keeps his eyes closed with furrowed brows. 

His actions confuse you. He’s usually very affectionate with you, loving any touch you give him. Slightly confused by his lack of reaction, you think of any obvious reason he could be acting this way, and your mind found the answer rather quickly: the full moon is in just two days. You turn your head back to him, not saying a word as you remove one hand from his cheek and trace your index finger down the bridge of his nose. He softens under your touch this time and quickly reaches up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your belly.

You giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. “I thought we had planned to meet at James’s, honey?” You question him. 

At the mention of the small celebration that takes place in just over an hour, Remus drops his arms from your waist and leaned back on his elbows with his head lolled back, and of course, you take immediate notice to his change in demeanor.

“We don’t have to go, Rem,” you quickly counter. “We can stay home, just the two of us, in bed if you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You want to go. I would want to go if I weren’t so… well, you know. And they’re expecting us.” He looks into your eyes as he stands from the bed, his tall frame making you stumble back a few steps as he becomes unexpectedly close, towering over you several inches. He places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you as he plants a kiss to your cheek, but his lips linger and wander back towards your ear, his breath hot against your skin making your blood boil. “I’ll be fine,” he says lowly, “but you better go finish getting ready before I change my mind.” His hand slides down and then under your arm, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his own. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” His lips trail back over your cheek and jaw until they reach your lips. He captures yours with his own in a hungry kiss, the hand not around your waist wrapping into your still wet hair and pulling it backwards so he has better access to your mouth. The tension of the pull makes you let out a whiny moan into the kiss as your skin heats up.

You pull away and look into his eyes. They’re dark with lust and hunger. “Go,” he demands, and you scurry into the bathroom, Remus clapping his hand on your butt as you walk away, closing the door behind you and finishing getting ready. 

Once the door is closed behind you, Remus pushes his hand down on his semi, trying to give it some sort of relief. You don’t know yet, but he had gone to spend some time with Sirius, because they were discussing how Remus would ask you to marry him, and he had picked out the ring. You’re the only person in his life to ever make him feel normal and worthy of love. You had convinced him, after many years, that he is not a monster. He’s just Remus, with a furry-little-problem once a month. It had taken him years to believe you, and sometimes it’s still hard for him to, but you had shown him that his lycanthropy does not define who he is, and that he is, in your words, the best guy you’ve ever met and ever will meet. It wasn’t until the both of you left Hogwarts that he knew you were right. He knew you would always be by his side, no matter what condition, no matter what happens. You stood with him for the seven years of Hogwarts like you had known him all your life. You didn’t bat an eye when he told you about him, and you worked with his fellow marauders to become an animagus for him, so you could be with him for his transformations, not just to take care of him on the ends of it. He knows, and as his friends have pointed out on many occasions, you would never leave him. You love him too much. Remus would have to do something truly terrible for you to leave his side. After having convinced himself for so long that he could never have a real family, or even friends, you finally made him grow comfortable enough to the idea to believe he can, though he hadn’t told you yet. To your knowledge, he was still an insecure boy who thought he could never love. He knew you wouldn’t stop until you knew you had convinced him, and then you’d continue reinforcing the idea from then on. He’s able to imagine you with a grown baby, carrying his child, but he never mentioned it to anyone until this past holiday when he told Sirius. He had always pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get his hopes up, not wanting to pass his lycanthropy to an innocent infant. If you loved him for what he is, and you take care of him, then he knows you would do the same for your child, but the thought of passing the trait still terrifies him, but to a lesser extent. 

He turns to his bag on the bed and pulls the small velvet box out of the hidden pocket inside, going to hide it in one of his drawers, one you never go in — his underwear drawer. He opens the box, admiring the ring for a moment. The ring is small, simple but elegant, and he knows you’ll love it, he knows it reflects your personality and relationship perfectly. It’s simple: besides all the crazy stuff in between, the main picture is just love — the only thing that matters in the relationship. He still has to decide how to ask you. He knows he wants it to be romantic, but he also wants it to be as soon as possible. The romantic part isn’t difficult, it’s the having to wait until they’re not so close to the full moon. He could ask you tonight, before the gathering, but he doesn’t want you to think of it as a rash decision he made because of the full moon. If it was, he would’ve asked you months ago, maybe on a night where you were scolding him for trying to drink away the post-transformation pain. Quite the contrary, really. Usually, during a full moon, he’d get more self-conscious, feel more like you deserve better, but the full moons have begun to prove to him that he will marry you. You’re always there no matter what, and you always will be. He knows that, and he wants to keep it that way.

He hears the bathroom door open, and he quickly shoves the box haphazardly into the drawer.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him suspiciously.

“Uh,” he grabs a random pair of long black socks. “Looking for these,” he excuses, turning to you as he holds up the socks for you to see. It’s then he notices you’re in your favorite matching black lace bra and thong, and he curses his blood for running hot and straight to his groin. 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, still skeptical as you walk closer to him. 

As you reach the closet and start to look for an outfit, he quickly closes the drawer to try to hide the box from you.

He rummages through his clothes, picking out a plain white dress shirt with a dark red cable-knit sweater that contrasts just enough to wear with the pair of jeans he already had on and his favorite sneakers, sporting his signature comfortable-but-intelligent, soft attire and just enough of his old house colors. He puts the clothes on the bed with a subtle tie and pulls his jumper over his head, leaving him bare. In the mirror, you can see his back muscles flex and tense as he pulls the dress shirt up over his shoulders and start to button it. You walk over to him, laying the skirt and top you chose next to his outfit and helping him button up his shirt. 

“Let me help,” you smirk as you grab his shirt, looking up into his amber eyes innocently. You let your fingers trace over his muscles and is scars as you admire it all, never shying away from his flaws. When the shirt is buttoned, you grab the tie from the bed and toss it around his neck, grabbing the other end as it comes around and tugging his neck so he gets to a height where you can stand on your toes and kiss him passionately, biting and pulling on his lower lip as you pull away, releasing it softly as you lick your lips, looking into his pupil-blown eyes. 

As casually as possible, you step back from him and grab your clothes. First your mini skirt, pulling it over your bum and purposely squeezing into it give Remus a show. You grab your semi-casual blouse and pull it on, then tucking the bottom hem into the skirt. 

By this point Remus had his tie done and was pulling the sweater over his head, smoothing it down his chest. You grab your small wedges and wand before walking towards the door. 

“Let’s go, Remmy,” you call to him as you walk into and down the hall, your hips naturally swaying with each step.

Behind you, when he sees your hips move like that, Remus growls under his breath, but quickly subdues it with a cough as he follows you, grabbing his own wand on the way out, failing to pretend he could get the image of your plump ass out of his head. You grab the gift-wrapped box for the party, and the two of you went into the front garden, just by the old, rickety front gate. Remus holds his arm out to you, and you take it, preparing yourself for the sickening feeling of apparation. Your feet are lifted off the ground as you swirl into a spaceless darkness, squeezing through time and space in a way that would be nauseating to anyone who didn’t do it several times a day. 

It had been several hours since you and Remus had arrived at James and Lily’s house. You were in the kitchen with Lily, talking about what life is like, and how it changes once you marry and have children. You want that with Remus, and you had since before the two of you left Hogwarts. In Remus’ eyes, to your knowledge, he could never put that burden on someone for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to risk passing his lycanthropy on to his children, who did nothing wrong, did nothing to deserve the condition, no matter how often you remind Remus that he didn’t do anything wrong, that he didn’t do anything to deserve the painful monthly transition. You wish you could make him see himself through your eyes, make him see how perfect he is. You wish you could make him see himself through his friends eyes, make him see how James, Sirius, and Peter adore him. You’ve confided in Lily about this before, and every time, she tells you how James tells her the same thing, wishing his friend could see how much he’s truly worth. The conversation dies down when you don’t respond, but just think about your boyfriend and how amazing he is. It upsets you to see his self-esteem so low. 

Your mind shifts back to when you were getting ready, and how Remus touched you, how he kissed you. You feel your skin heat up and your insides churn just thinking about it. You know it’s only a few nights to the full moon, and those nights, Remus gets sexually needy and rough. It’s something you love from him. He’s usually a softer lover, and you admire him for that, but sometimes you need something more stimulating. That need is rare for you and strangely correlates perfectly with his own

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to find some friction, but you are unsatisfied. You leave the kitchens and find Remus in the living room with his friends. He’s sat back in the couch, almost zoned out. You go to walk towards him with a simple innocent smile on your face, but you’re stopped when you feel a small hand grab your own. 

“Aunt Y/n!” You hear Harry call from behind you. You turn to him, giving him a big smile.

“Hi, Harry!” You exclaim. “Happy birthday!” “Thank you,” he says politely and hugs around your legs.

You chuckle and get an idea, a potentially dangerous idea. With your back towards Remus, you bend at your waist to lift Harry in your arms, but, as you hoped, your skirt rides up your hips, exposing just enough of your thong to Remus that you can feel his eyes burning into your back. You conceal your smirk with a big smile as you talk to Harry, “Where’s your mommy, huh?” Your knuckles nip around his nose playfully as you hold him in your arms, balanced on your hip as you walk into the kitchen with him still in your arms. Sweetly, he lays his head against your shoulder, and almost immediately falls asleep. Lily coos at her son when he she’s you with him. 

“I don’t see how Remus isn’t dying to see you like this with his child,” she comments, kissing her sons head. 

“I may bring it up to him again soon,” you comment. “I want him to know I truly want a life with him. But I’ll wait until a week or so after this full moon. I don’t want to aggravate him.”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Remus looks over at Sirius once you’ve gone out of sight and ear-shot. “Fucking, damn-it,” he swears, unintentionally getting all of his friends attention. He blushes, trying to act like he didn’t just say that in a most aggravated tone.

“What is it?” James asks his friend, his eyebrow raised.

“I, uh —“ he starts, but is cut off.

“Can I tell them?” Sirius tries to, but fails to whisper to Remus. “Please?”

“Tell us what?”

“We’ll there’s no point hiding it now,” Remus sighs, giving Sirius at death glare. “You’ve gone and told them somethings up.”

“Great!” Sirius turns back to James and Peter. “He’s taking the jump.”

After a moment of confused silence, and Remus rolling his eyes, Peter speaks up. “The what?”

“The jump: he’s going to ask her!” Sirius explains, giddily happy. 

“Finally!” James exclaims.

Remus blushes deeply, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no point not to. She’s everything to me… and she’s proved time and time again that I’m everything to her. She’s the only person to ever have made me feel normal, worthy of love.”

James and Sirius start high-fiving excitedly. 

“I mean, I already knew at this point that starting a family would be a part of this, but Merlin, seeing her with Harry like that just makes my heart want to explode.” Remus pulls a pillow off the couch and into his lap. “It’s turning me on, you know?..” He says under his breath. “Plus, I think she’s teasing me.”

“I’ve got this!” James says and stands up.

Sirius and Remus both grab his wrists, making him sit back down. 

“Don’t you dare—“ Remus starts, but it’s too late. James sets his plan into motion.

“Harry!” James calls from the living room, giving Remus a wink.

Harry’s head shoots up off your shoulder at the sound of his father calling his name. 

“We’ll see,” you smile to Lily, ending your conversation and turning out of the kitchen with Harry still in your arms. By the time you’ve reached the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he’s wiggling so much that it’s difficult for you to keep hold of him. Again, you bend at the waist and place his little feet on the ground. Your blouse falling slightly and exposing your cleavage as you had  secretly hoped. You stand up again, and watch Harry run over to his father and jump into his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Remus push a pillow down onto his lap and cross his legs. You smirk to yourself and look at him, his eyes boring you a hungry look, and you decide that you have to use the bathroom, meaning you’d walk right by him. You walk across the living room, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear as you head to the bathroom in the next hall, passing the end of the couch that Remus is seated on. When you get close enough to him, he reaches over the arm of the couch and grabs your waist, the side opposite him. He spins you and pulls you so you’re sitting in his lap, and he slyly removes the pillow, making you land right on his cock. You squeal slightly on your way down, and when you feel his hot breath against your ear for the second time tonight, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, “accidentally” creating friction between the two of you. 

Remus’ hands grab your hips and hold them still, holding you down against him.

“You feel that, babygirl?” He asks in a hushed voice so only you can hear him as he pushes his hips up from the couch, his hard member pressing into you. “You got me all hot and bothered in front of all of our friends. You’re going to have to fix it for me.” He nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing hot on your neck, and you let out a whiney moan at his words. “I would take you in the bathroom now, but with what I’ll have to do to you, there won’t be enough space in the there.” His lips graze your neck, and he unexpectedly flattens his tongue against your skin, leaving it feeling like it’s boiling. He hums at the taste of your sweat. “And I want to be the only one to hear you screaming my name. You are mine, after all.” He leaves an open mouthed kiss on your shoulder, his tongue grazing the spot at he kisses it. “So, go get your purse. We’re leaving.” His teeth nip at your ear and he pinches your butt under your skirt as he pushes you off of him. 

For a moment, you don’t move, too stunned to do anything, but to your dismay, and Remus’ impatience, his hand flattens against your lower back as he leans forward in his seat, pushing you in the direction of the kitchen. On your way stumbling into the kitchen to find your purse and say goodbye to your friends, you look over your shoulder back at the man you love. He leans closer still to his friends, saying something inaudible to you that makes them all smirk and chuckle. Blushing, you scurry over to your purse. 

“Got her,” Remus smirks from the living room to his friends.

“I honestly didn’t know you had that in you, Moony,” James laughs.

“She does things to me.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” You hear Lily from behind you.

You turn to her, your purse in hand, and you pull her into a goodbye hug. “Remus wants us to go home,” you almost whisper. 

She grabs your shoulders and pulls away from you, holding you in front of her. “Is it what I think it is?”

You smirk and look over her shoulder into the living room.

She pulls you into one more hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she tells you when she pulls away again. “Or anything James would do!”

Once Remus lays his eyes on you again after you’ve stepped back into the living room, he quickly stands, waiting for you as you walk over to him, and he takes your hand, pulling you away without any word to anyone.

“Bye, boys!” You call over your shoulder as your frustrated boyfriend pulls you out the front door. Your feet barely hit the garden when you’re lurching through space again, Remus disapperating from Godric’s Hollow with you on his arm. You feet hit the ground in the front garden of the home you and Remus share, and you’re instantly stumbling as he’s pulling you up the front step and into the house. He slams the door behind himself once you’ve both entered the house, locking it with a swish of his hand, as his other grabs your lower back and pulls you against him as he growls down at you with a matching look of hunger in his darkened irises.

You feel that he’s harder than he was just a moment ago when you were sat in his lap, and you could swear that you had long since soaked through your panties. 

His hand not holding your back grabs your face as he pulls your lips to his in a harsh, passionate kiss. The hand that was on your back sliding down to just under your butt as he lifts you up. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist to help him support you, and your skirt bunches up to your waist, your thong pressing against his leather belt. 

He walks forward, pushing your back against the door as his lips move from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting, effectively marking you as his own with the dark bruises he leaves behind.

You whine his name breathlessly at the feeling of his teeth, tongue, and lips all grazing and working at your neck. In hearing your name, Remus growls against your soft skin, biting down on it as he replaces your feet on the ground then pulls away, much to your displeasure. He walks backwards towards the couch, dragging you along with him by your hands. He sits down on the comfortable couch, his hands leaving yours and sliding down your sides and back towards your butt. As his hand rests on the top of your ass, he grabs the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down excruciatingly slow, but once he zipper is over the curve of your plump butt, he quickly employs the new margin of space available and shoves the skirt down your legs, letting it fall to the ground silently. Hastily, Remus’s hands grab at the back of your things, pulling them down and over to the sides of his own, making you straddle his lap. As he reconnects his lips to your own, one hand grabbing at the back of your blouse, the other cradling your face, you moan. You revel in the feeling of his plush lips for the first time this evening, being less caught up in passion where you can’t think, yet your senses are still crowded with longing. They work effortlessly against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring the area same as he would if he had never kissed you before, brushing over your lips, against your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, and the roof of your mouth before finally pressing his tongue down on yours, which had been begging his silently. As you two mix your mouths, you moan at the taste of him, the remainder of the one drink he had intoxicating you as if you were the one who had drank it.

You grind your hips down onto his jean-clad crotch, the denim rubbing perfectly through your soaked thong and against your aching core, a whine escaping your throat and into his mouth. Your hands slide under his sweater, then under his dress shirt, feeling his hard muscles under his warm, tan skin, littered with soft hills from scratches and wounds of the many previous full moons he’s had to endure. 

Remus leans back, detaching his lips from yours for a moment only long enough to remove the red sweater before fervently reattaching himself. His hands hold you still against him, one keeping your hips down on his own, the other holding loosely tangled in your hair. He could leave his hand in your hair for an eternity, sexual or not. He loves playing with it, twirling it between his fingers when you lay your head in his lap on the couch while he reads; he knows you love head and back massages at night and how they put you to sleep in a mere minute. Your hair is soft and silky, easy to run his hands through without getting caught on any knots or tangles. He also know how much you love it when he grabs your hair by it’s roots, tugging enough for tension but not pain, or when he puts it into a make-shift pony tail when you’re going down on him. 

Your soft lips leave the warmth of his mouth, pulling them away and down over his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your tongue brushes over his scruffy face with every kiss, tasting the salty sweat that has begun to seep from his pores the more you touch him. Trailing your lips down his neck, sucking soft marks into it, biting on his collar bone or shoulder as you pass it, your hands nimbly work at the buttons on his shirt, shaking from the excitement running through you, the continuous passion you hold for your boyfriend. Your mouth follows the buttons as the come undone down his chest, adjusting your position in his lap and on the couch to keep moving a few inches with each new free button as you kiss, lick, and suck at his supple skin.

When your tongue licks at the top of his faint happy trail, feeling his grip on you tighten, you kiss back up his chest, pushing the shirt to the sides to reveal his tones abs and pecks. Remus isn’t super muscular, he isn’t burly by any means, but he’s toned and has just enough muscles to look strong and soft at the same time. You run your fingers through the short chest hair that lightly strews across his chest as you kiss each of his scars, following them until they stop or disappear behind him. His scars are a story, they show how strong of a man he is, the man you love more than anything. His story has become your story, one you’ve loved since the beginning. 

You reach back up to his neck with your lips, kiss and continue to mark up the length of it as you return your mouth to his. You lean in just enough to feel your lips brush together softly, but you pull back when Remus tries to connect them. You smirk as you place a single, hot kiss to his lips before getting off his lap completely, sitting on your heals, your body supported by your knees on the floor in front of him. You start you lips back at the top of his happy trail again, and he pushes his hips forward, leaning back farther into the couch for both of you to be more comfortable in the coming activity. Your mouth trails down to his waistline as your hands run up and down his thighs slowly. When you reach the line of his jeans against his waist, your hands slide up, slowly, towards his belt, squeezing his painfully hard erection through his clothes as you pass. Once the buckle is free, you pull back completely, sitting back and looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes as you pull the leather from the denim loops. Your hands find the button on his jeans, quickly popping it open and then carefully attaching to the zipper as you pull it down.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pull down, he lifts his butt from the couch cushion enough for you to slide the fabric over his butt. You only pull to to just past his upper thighs, leaning his legs covered but giving you comfortable access to his treasure. Your soft hands rub back up his legs and over the material of his boxer briefs, finding his length and giving it a firm squeeze at the base, skidding your hand back and forth just and inch or so as you kiss at the damp spot over the tip of his cock. You slowly wipe your tongue on the spot, giving him an unsatisfying amount of friction.

His hand in your hair yanks your head back with a delectable amount of force, lifting your mouth off of him and forcing you to look up at his as you moan from the tension. He leans forward in his seat, bending low enough for his lips to be by your ear, his hot breath fading over it as he speaks. “You don’t want to tease me anymore tonight, love,” he informs you. “I had already been planning on you not being able to walk for the rest of the week.” He pauses and licks a stripe up your neck before continuing. “But now you’ve got a whole other punishment coming your way.” His hand leaves your hair for just a moment as he cups your cheek softly, leaning back a bit and pulling himself from his underwear. Once his aching cock is free, his hand on your cheek slides back into your hair, forcing you down so your mouth is next to his radiating member before sitting back into the couch completely.

Obeying, your small hands wrap around his cock, and you lick a long, wet stripe up the thick, pulsing vain on the underside. The feeling of it throbbing against your tongue, and the taste of his pre-cum when you reach his tip is almost enough to make you cum there, without being touched. You moan against him, still teasing him, still driving him mad.

His hair in your hair pulls you up only slightly as his other hand grabs and slacks your jaw, forcing you to take his delicious cock into his mouth. “Stop,” he says sternly as he thrusts up into your mouth. “Teasing,” he thrusts again, making you gag as he hits the back of your throat, unprepared. His hand in your hair loosens and his other leaves your jaw, letting you recompose yourself before further coaxing you. “Come on, Princess,” he hums softly, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Let me see you take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you want to, I know your desperate for it. Take my cock in your mouth, and you’ll get it nice and rough later.”

You whine at his words, quickly wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, spitting over it before lowing your mouth onto him, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you rejoice in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth. You hum against him, pleased to be providing him with pleasure. 

Remus starts grunting in time with your head and thrust up shallowly to the same rhythm. His hand drops from your hair when he thinks your ready, and they both grab the sides of your face as he fully fucks up into your mouth. Your hands flatten against his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him down your throat.

He’s grunting and groaning and praising your mouth until you feel him twitch in the back of your throat, before he roughly pulls your mouth off of him. He stands up quickly, shoving his pants the rest of the way down and taking his socks and shoes off with them, leaving them there as he pulls you up, kissing you once passionately, both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you farther into your home and to your bedroom. He pushes you down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, straddling your legs with his knees on either side of your thighs as his hands wrap under your arms and pull you up higher on the bed so that your head rests in the pillows.

Remus’s calloused hands slide under the fabric of your top, pushing it up before grabbing the hem and forcing it over your head. He throws the shirt to the floor somewhere on the room, somewhere neither of you cared about right now. His mouth works down your neck, leaving more marks as he crosses over and down your chest, licking at the top of your breasts above your bra before biting harshly in the same spot. You moan out, loving the feeling of his teeth against you. His nibble hands slide under your arched back, making quick work of your bra as he snaps the band and releases the clasp. That is discarded in an equally irrelevant place as your shirt. As soon as your breasts are free, he leans in, sucking one of your nipples into your mouth harshly, letting his teeth graze over it and bit down ever-so slightly as his other hand cups your opposite mound, rolling and pulling that nipple through his fingers making you moan out his name.

His lips and hand switch sides for an equal moment before they continue down the valley of your chest and your soft stomach, leaving more marks still as he makes his way to your panty-line at an agonizingly slow pace. His fingers grip into the flesh on your sides as he sucks and licks his mark onto your tummy. You’re left trying to string word together to make a sentence, but it’s all incoherent as it just comes out as breathless pants. 

You’re able to build your voice back when he just follows your panty-line across your tummy, avoiding the steaming apex of your legs that’s screaming for his attention. “Rem-“ you barely manage, and his lips slow against you as he looks up at you from almost between your legs. “Plea—“ but you can’t finish as you gasp out a breath when you feel his lips switch to your thighs. 

“What was that?” he smirks into your leg?

“Ple—“ you try again, only for him to bite into the soft skin of your thigh.

“I need to hear the full word, babygirl,” he says, pulling away from one thigh and moving to the other.

“Please!” You force out, not letting him cut you off with his actions again.

At that, his mouth leave your thighs as he sits up, leaning over you enough to kiss you passionately, and you wrap your hands into his hair. “Good girl,” he smirks against your lips before pulling back again, positioning his face between your thighs while he sits on his knees, leaning forward. Without a warning, he presses his tongue over the wet fabric covering your mound. Me moans against you, feeling how you’ve soaked through your thong, and he can taste you. “Merlin, baby,” he hums into you, sucking you through your panties before pulling back. “You’re so wet, Y/n,” he teases as his fingers gently wrap under the waist line and begin to pull down your thong. “Who did that to you, hm?” He encourages you, throwing your thong off the bed before laying on his stomach between your legs, roughly gripping your thighs in his hands and pushing them up against your chest, giving him a beautiful view of your soaking cunt. He blows hot air over your sensitive core as he waits for you to answer.

“You, Remus! You made me that wet,” you plead for him. He happily obliges and dives in, licking his tongue up and down through your folds without warning. “Oh, fuck,” you curse out in a whine.

His tongue stills and flicks over your swollen clit several times as he rubs the tips of his fingers against your entrance, getting them ready for you. He stops licking as he begins to push his fingers into you slowly, his lips wrapping around your clit instead and sucking the bud into his mouth. His fingers only pushed in slowly until they reached a halt. He gives you zero adjustment time and starts pounding them in and out of your pussy, creating an obscene sound as the curl and twist within you.

You moan out at the sudden sensation, music to his ears as one hand finds this hair, wrapping into it and pulling. He moans into you at the tension you create and hearing your angelic voice do such sinful things. With your legs still pressed to your chest, you can barely reach the one hand into his hair, so the other reaches under your head, grabbing and pulling at the pillow.

He continues fucking his fingers into you at the fast pace, continuing to suck and lick your clit the same. You quickly become a moaning mess, and you’re almost embarrassed by the pornographic sounds you’re making. Your head turn to the side, and you bite into your arm to suppress the sounds. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Remus pulls away from your center, his face slick with your arousal. His hand leaves the warmth of your walls, smacking down over your cunt and causing you to involuntarily jerk forward.

“Don’t be quiet,” he demands. “Let me hear you, darling. Let me hear the sounds only I can get from you, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and your mouth releases your arm, but as though he doesn’t trust you to cover it again, he pulls your hand from the pillow, and interlaces his fingers with yours as he dives back in, eating you like he hasn’t eaten in months.

He returns to your cunt at the same pace, but only picks up the speed from there, his fingers digging not you deeper, rougher as he pushes you towards the rapidly approaching edge. He knows your dangerously close, and he pulls the high from you as he moans into you, sending vibrations through you that tip you over the edge. You moan loudly, legs convulsing at the intense peak rushing through your muscles. He pulls your legs down over his shoulders so you’re more comfortable as he continues to work your cunt, you thinking he’s riding out your high. Only he doesn’t stop. He removes his fingers from your hole, but continues sucking on your clit. The sensitivity from the orgasm that just ripped through you puts you right back on the edge. Your hips start to buck and both your hands lace into his hair, gripping tight. The intensity of only being on the verge of your next orgasm has you crying in pleasure, your hands pushing against him as you try to move his face off of you.

Your hands quickly give up as he holds himself onto you, and when he starts shaking his head back and forth with his tongue pressed against you, your pushed over that second edge, your back contracting as your muscles force you to sit up, using his hair as an anchor. He moans into you as you pull his hair, and he slows down, carefully lapping up your juices before kissing back up your body to your lips. 

He gives you a chaste kiss before he flips you over, pushing your face down into the bed. His hands hook over your hips, grabbing around them and pulling them up so your ass is in the air on perfect display for him. His hands leave your hips once they’re where he wants them, wrapping them around your wrists and pulling them back behind your back before wrapping one of his large hands over them both to keep them there. His other hand reaches between your legs, spreading them apart so he can comfortably stand on his knees behind you. After your legs were in position, he used the hand not restraining your wrists to grip his cock, rubbing it up against your core, getting it slick and ready for you, but still not entering you.

You moan at the feeling of his throbbing length pressing against you, so close, but not close enough. Your moan, having been a subconscious technique to get him to continue, is not a suitable attempt for him. His hand leaves his cock, still pressed against you as he holds his hips against your own, then smacks down on your ass, wordlessly commanding you to beg for him.

“Remus,” you whine, pushing yourself back against him, and his hand comes down on the opposite cheek. Not good enough. “Please!” Another smack. Still not good enough. “Remus, please!” You try combining the two previous pleas, but he spanks you again, and you know he wants to hear you say it. You know he won’t give you what you both crave until he hears you say it. “Please, Remus! Please, fuck me,” you cry out as his hand comes back down on you, only this time for fun, to make sure both of your cheeks are equally reddened. As you’re whining his name again, his hand leaves your ass and grips himself at the base, pushing into you to the hilt in a quick thrust, no warning.

“Good girl,” he groans from above you as you moan out at the feeling of him so perfectly stretching you. He stills only long enough to get out the two words and move your hair over your shoulder, letting him see the side of your face and the top of your back and shoulders. You don’t have much time to adjust before he pulls out, almost completely, and starts thrusting forward into you again at an agonizingly slow pace. His palm runs over your red cheeks, soothing and kneeling the skin under his hand while still holding your arms behind your back.

The perfect friction, the prefect way he fills you up and reaches every crevice within your walls has you softly moaning for him, but you need more. You start to push your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts in his rhythm but trying to get him to speed up all the same. “Rem,” you moan. “Faster. Please.”

His one hand releases your wrists, the other holding your hips against his as he wraps the first around your throat, pulling you up against him until your back is pressed to his chest. “You want me to pound you, huh, baby?” He breaths hot on your ear, his hips thrusting roughly up into you and hitting your g-spot dead center, causing you to cry out his name. “You’re so needy for my cock?” His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he thrusts again, another cry escaping your lips.

“Yes!” You call out to him. “Please, Remus. I need you.”

You say what he wants, but his reaction if the opposite for you. He pulls away from and out of you completely, pushing you back down onto the bed forcefully, and you bounce a little once you hit the bed. He turns you over again, having you face up as he kneels between your legs again, grabbing them from behind your knee and putting them over his shoulders as he realigns himself effortlessly and continues to pound into you.

The pornographic sounds you make further strive the hungry beast inside him, and he reaches down for you, draping his hand back over your throat and squeezing once more. He continues to hit the bullseye in you repeatedly, almost as if he’s trained his whole life just to please you to such an extent. His thrusts are so precise that you barely registered the build up to your rapidly approaching third orgasm.

“Rem,” you draw out his name, warning him, and he understands.

“Do it, baby,” he commands, and you let go of the force pressing violently against your gut.

You scream his name, your voice hoarse and throat sore as you whine and gasp while you come down, Remus working you through it the whole time.

“Good girl,” he praises you, dropping your legs from his shoulders as his hand leaves your neck and slides up.  He cradles your cheek as he leans over you, kissing you passionately as his thrusts slow down. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Just absolutely perfect.”

Remus’ previous aggressive lust, turns into a loving lust, just wanting to be one with you, be a whole instead of two halves. There’s just as much passion as before, it’s just more apparent now without his hunger for you clouding it.

“Remmy,” you whine, too sensitive after three orgasms. You’re still soaking, but you can feel every ridge of his cock as he slides in and out of you. Remus lifts his head from where it was folded into the crook of your neck, looking deep in your eyes. “I can’t. It’s too much.” A tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, but he’s quick to catch it, kissing the wet spot it left and then your lips so softly you barely feel it.

“Help me finish, baby. I’m close,” he encourages you to hold on just a few moments more. “You can do it, Princess. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You nod your head as you look up into his darkened, but soft, eyes. The way his mouth hangs open and his eyebrows furrow together, you can tell he is close. You moan his name as you pull his lips into another love-filled kiss, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips and your arms over his shoulders, pulling him deeper into you. You break from the kiss panting. “Cum in me,” you plea so softly you can barely hear it.

Remus’ hearing is strong enough to pick it up, and his rhythm falters for half a moment. “Really?” He asks, how close he is painfully evident on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

His carnal need resurfaces, hitting into you harder, and you cry out every time. “You want me to cum in you, huh?” He growls into your ear, but he’s so close it breaks into a groan. “You want me to fill you with my cum, baby?”

You nod vigorously, not being able to form any words with the intense feeling burning in your core. He captures you lips in a kiss as he stills, buried deep inside your cunt and coating your inner walls with his hot ropes, his hips involuntarily jerking as he does. You’re sensitiveness, his words, and the feeling of him and his cum filling you to the brim push you over the fourth edge, and you crying out as your body convulses under him so much you would’ve folded in on yourself if his body weight wasn’t keeping you flat on the mattress.

He collapses on top of you as both your bodies give their last few tremors, both of you panting and sweaty, hair sticking to your faces. His arm extends towards the side table, looking for his wand. “Fuck,” he mutters, and you hum in question to his exclamation. “Our wands are still in the living room,” he kisses you softly, but with so much love. “You know, with our clothes.”

You giggle against his lips before he pushes himself off of you and goes into the ensuite to grab you a washcloth. Your affectionate urge to always be around him awakens and sends you to the bathroom, but when you stand from the bed, pain shoots down your sore legs and your knees give out. You’re left to gravity to fall to the floor with a small squeal and a soft thud.

The door to the bathroom quickly opens as he looks for the cause of the sudden noise, finding you on the floor in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckles.

“Following you,” you blush and look down at the carpet. You’ve always tried to subside your natural clinginess in fear that it will annoy Remus.

You heel hands wrapping under your arms and you’re hoisted off the floor. “You’re my lost puppy, aren’t you?” He teases, making you giggle. A sound he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life, a sound he’s never planning on losing. He puts you down so your weak legs hand off the edge of the bed. “Would you wait here just a moment please, love?” He says, adoration filling his voice. He steps back into the bathroom and comes back with two washcloths, a warm on and a cold on. He uses the cold one first, wiping the sweat and left over make up off your face. A moment later you take the rag from him so you can wipe his sweaty forehead, too, but you gasp and whine in surprise as the warm cloth rubs between your legs. “I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and kisses you sweetly. You run your hands over his head, flattening his hair down as you kiss him back, never wanting to stop, and he finished cleaning the mess he had made of the two of you. “I’m going to take these and the other clothes to the laundry real quick, love,” he tells you before kissing your head and leaving the room.

You build all of your strength to get up and go to the closet in search of clean underwear for you both, stopping dead in your tracks when a poorly hidden velvet box in his drawer peaks at you from between the socks. You pick is up carefully and open the box, a ring perfect for you sat in the fold. You cup your hand over your mouth to hide any noise you might make, but your heart is in your throat as it bursts with love, and you couldn’t make a sound if you tried.

“Shit,” Remus curses behind you, having come back into the room silently. He rushes over to you and moves to take the box from your hands, but his hands stop, resting over yours as he looks at you staring at the ring, mesmerized. “You weren’t supposed to see that, yet,” he says and laughs softly, nervous of your reaction because your face is so blank, he can’t get a clue. 

“Then… I’ll just pretend I didn’t,” you give him a small smile, but one that shows him your whole heart. You pull your hands back from his, leaving him to hold the box as you slip on your fresh panties and climb back into the bed. He looks to you, surprised you’re not questioning it, but your sat in the center of the bed with your arms held out to him and a goofy pout placed on your lips as your hands grab at the air.

He sighs happily, places the velvet box unhidden in his closet, and pulls on fresh boxers before climbing into your arms. Your fingers slide into his hair and scratch at his scalp as he lays his head on your belly.

After a moment of comfortable silence and his mind not settling, he lifts his head and looks up at you, seeing your eyes are closed. He calls your name softly. You hum, informing him you’re awake. Remus climbs further up the bed, laying on his side facing you to your left. His hand grazes your cheek as he pushes hair out of your face.

“I love you. I have never felt this much of one feeling before I met you. I’m so in love with you that it terrifies me, and I don’t know what to do. But you’ve changed me, you’ve made me a better man. I can’t imagine a future without you as my wife and with our kids running around. I never knew how to bring it up before,” he pauses a moment, trying to find the right words as he asks you the big question on a sudden limb. “I’ve just been to scared. I don’t know why, because you’ve never done anything but love and support me, and I couldn’t ask for better. I was with Sirius to find you the ring, and try to plan a romantic moment to ask you to marry me, I just didn’t want it to be so close to the full moon.”

You take a moment, considering everything he’s said and your chest swells with love and pride. “What about ‘James’?” You ask, being stuck on the one thing he said. When he pulls away from you completely and sits up, you open your eyes, startled. He’s looking at you with all the confusion in the world. “Oh my god!” You gasp. “That came out so wrong. I meant as a name! Merlin, the things you do to me — beyond amazing — exhaust me. I can’t speak correctly.” You let out a breathy laugh as you look for his reaction, a smile growing onto his face.

“You mean, like, a baby name?” He asks you.

You nod at him, smiling, and his shoulders relax as he lays next to you again.

“No, no,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want the product of my love for you to constantly remind me of my idiot best friend.”

“Okay, so ‘Sirius’ is also off the table,” you giggle.

“What about our parents names?” Remus asks as he turn to you, pulling you into him as his little spoon. 

“So the product reminds us of our parents?”

He laughs at your rebuttal, and you smile. “Good point.” He presses his lips to your temple. “I guess we have time to figure it out.” He sighs in contempt as he buries his face in the back of your neck.

“For now,” you agree.

“So that’s a yes?” He picks his head up quickly to ask. “You’ll marry me?”

You turn in his arms, facing him and grabbing both his cheeks in your hands, purposely squishing his face a little. “Of course, you big oaf,” you laugh and kiss the love of your life.

[havin-a-wee]

can you plz make one where harry is um you know, eating the girl out basically and zayn walks in on them and well, a threesome occurs. please.

Red Handed

pairing: Harry x reader x Zayn

warnings: oral (female and male receiving), threesome, double penetration

word count: 2.2k

i don’t know how i feel about this one but im not rewriting it. i got another request for a zarry threesome so this covers that too.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, grasping at the curls that sat on top of your boyfriend’s head.

As soon as he returned home from the studio where he was working on the One Direction reunion, he had pounced on you, sucking hickeys into your neck and running his muscular hands up and down your sides. Luckily for him, you were in the same mood, your panties dripping by the time that he walked through the door. 

Harry has different states of arousal. There’s his harsh-dominant side, which usually comes out when he’s had a bad day, or when you’ve been a bad girl. Then there is his soft dominant side, which is a favorite of yours. While you love everything about him, there was a special place in your heart for when he gets in that mood. There are days where he just wants slow, passionate, missionary sex, and sometimes he wants to bend you over his desk and spank you until you can’t sit.

But today he was aroused in a special way. He was in the mood to make you feel good, no matter what. And that is how you found yourself laying on your shared bed with his face between your thighs.

He hadn’t shaved in a while, and to say you were enjoying it would be an understatement. The sharp bristles that lined his bright pink lips were brushing up against your sensitive folds, and the sensation was something that you could get used to. His tongue was buried inside your pussy and he was twirling it around, reaching deep inside of you. He lapped at your sopping hole, slurping up the juices that were spilling out of you. His nose was pressing against your swollen button and you squirmed underneath him. His hand came to press against your pelvis, holding you down. “Stay still pretty girl, I need y’to finish on m’tongue.” He pulled away momentarily to talk to you, his fiery breath hitting your cunt and sending vibrations straight through your body. When he brought his mouth back to you, he was sucking on your clit this time. 

“I’m gonna come, Harry.” He hummed against you, increasing his efforts to bring you over the edge. As soon as he let his teeth graze your clit, a powerful orgasm wracked through your body. It was strong, reaching all the way to your head making your vision go blurry. 

Usually, you enjoyed coming down from your climax, but this time your bliss was interrupted.

“Holy shit!” 

Your eyes snapped to the source of the voice, and Harry’s lips detached from your core and he searched for where the noise came from. 

Zayn was standing at the door, hands covering his face. “Zayn! How long have you been standing there?” Harry’s cheeks were red, and you could feel that yours were too. 

“Sorry! I promise I’ve only been here for a second! You just left your jacket at the studio and the door was open..” He spread his fingers slightly, peeking through the gaps he had made. You scrambled to grab the blanket underneath you to cover up your most intimate parts. You clutched it up to your chin, your knuckles resting by your neck. Harry looked up at you, but it wasn’t the look you were expecting. You thought his eyes would be wide, his eyebrows raised in shock. But you were met with a smirk, and he gave you that ‘you know what I’m thinking’ look. You did know what he was thinking, but it took you a second to actually process what he was proposing. 

The two of you have discussed a threesome before, but you had never taken active steps to go through with it. Both of you could be a bit jealous, so you thought he wouldn’t actually want to share you with anyone else. But when he lifted up his finger to signal that he would only be gone for a minute, you knew he was planning to go through with this. And you couldn’t have been more excited.

He got up from the bed and you sighed slightly from the loss of body heat, the blanket now being your only source of warmth. He motioned for Zayn to follow him outside the door, and you watched as they shuffled outside, closing the door behind them. You could hear that they were talking, but you couldn’t make out the actual words being shared in the conversation.

After what seemed like hours, Harry stepped back in the room. 

“Zayn said he’s down to do it, but we’re only doin’ this if y’okay with it 100%” 

“I am, but only if you want to H.” He nodded and opened the door wider, allowing for Zayn to stand next to him. Harry walked further into the room, leaving Zayn to close the door. 

“If we are gonna do this, there ‘ave t’be some rules.” Both you and Zayn nodded, listening intently and the shirtless man talking. “First of all, no kissin’ her,” he looked at Zayn with a stern look, asserting his seriousness over the topic. Zayn nodded prompting Harry to continue. “Second, you listen to her. Neva’ do anything without askin first.” Zayn nodded again. “And finally, do not finish inside her.” He looked back at Zayn, and you could tell that his stare was intense based on Zayn’s reaction.

“Got it.” Zayn responded. He seemed to gain some of his confidence back after Harry’s stare turned back to you. Harry sat down on the side of the bed and you scooted over to sit next to him, still clutching the blanket to your chest. 

“Will y’suck Zayn off baby? Wanna watch y’make him feel good.” Harry caressed your cheek with his ring-clad finger. You nodded eagerly, giving him those doe eyes that you know he loves so much. He pats your cheek softly calling you a good girl and then standing up and taking a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. “Go on sweet girl, let him see how gorgeous y’are.”

You slowly removed the blanket from your body, suddenly feeling a lot more self-conscious. You watched Zayn make his way to stand in front of you, slipping off his jeans and boxers at once, throwing the dirty clothes to the side. His erection sprang free, precum already leaking out of his sensitive tip. He was big, not as big as Harry, though. You propped yourself up on your knees, your mouth inches away from his cock. 

Before taking him in your mouth, you looked over to Harry for approval one more time. “Go ahead petal, it's alright” 

And with that you connected your soft lips to his tip, sucking harshly and letting the precum coat your tongue. He groaned in satisfaction when you finally took him all the way into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his throbbing member, pausing only to catch a breath. 

You gagged slightly when you pushed him to the back of your throat, but you persisted, curling your toes to suppress your gag reflex as best you could. He moaned out praises and curses; you bobbing your head up and down his cock, and you could feel the veins that lined his shaft. Tears welled in your eyes and you gagged again, this time removing your mouth from him and wiping the saliva from your face. 

Instead of going back to work on Zayn’s prick, you looked up at him and batted your eyelashes, then turned to Harry in the corner. He was palming himself through his boxers, and you could tell by the tent in his pants that he was painfully aroused. You didn’t like ending a blowjob before the guy could finish, but you wanted Harry there.

He took the hint, standing up quickly with his hand still applying pressure to his crotch. Instead of coming straight to the bed, he opened the top drawer on his dresser, pulling out a small black bottle and handing it to Zayn, who immediately opened it and pumped the transparent lube into his hand. 

Harry made his way to the bed, easily lifting you onto his lap. He turned so his back was facing the headboard, allowing for him to lie down while you straddled his lap. 

You could feel the bed lower underneath the weight of Zayn as he climbed on the bed with the two of you. Harry gripped onto the back of your neck, pulling you down into a passionate kiss. He nibbled on the soft skin of your jaw, making his way down to your neck. Harry had always been a fan of hickeys, and you loved it too, so you knew that he was leaving his mark on you. 

Goosebumps erupted by your waist when you felt Zayn’s icy hand contact your side. While you busied yourself kissing along Harry’s collarbone, Zayn leaned to the side so he could see Harry. “Has she done this before?”

“A few times,” his words were cut off by his heavy breathing, “and she does the plugs too, but she’s always been a bit sensitive, right m’love?” 

You hummed against his neck, not wanting to remove your lips from him. “Lemme know when y’got her lubed up.” Zayn responded with a slurred yes, and the fingers that he had covered in lubricant met your puckered hole. You shuddered at the cold, breathing a sigh of relief when Zayn massaged it in with his warm fingers. 

Zayn announced he was finished, and Harry lifted your head to look into your eyes. “Y’ready lovie?” You nodded frantically, your aching core so desperate for friction that you were grinding softly on Harry’s lap. He counted down from three, and as soon as they pushed in, a sharp sting of pain rang through your backside. 

It was a strange feeling, the pleasure of Harry pushing into your sopping cunt mixed with the pain of Zayn pushing into your impossibly tight ring of muscles. You sucked in a harsh breath, and Harry could sense your slight discomfort, pulling your lips down to meet his. It took you a few minutes to relax, the new sensations causing your body to adjust slower than usual. 

When the pain was fully replaced with pleasure, you nodded at Harry. You bit your lip in anticipation, attempting to prepare your body for what was to come. Harry lifted his hand to give Zayn a thumbs up because Zayn couldn’t see your face. 

You lifted your hips up, leaving only the tip of Harry’s enormous cock inside of you. You could feel Zayn doing the same in your second hole, and your heart raced with excitement and arousal. You sat back down and Zayn slammed back into you simultaneously. All of your moans melded together in harmony while all three of you found a rhythm that benefitted all of you. Zayn’s hands ran up and down your sides as you gripped onto your boyfriend’s shoulder, gritting your teeth. Both of them were entering you at the same speed, and after only a few minutes your vision was going blurry.

“God Y/N, y’so fucking tight,” you heard Zayn huff out from behind you. You saw Harry smirk in front of you, his hands reaching down to play with your puffy nub. 

“H-harry..” you whined out. Normally you would be embarrassed that you had almost reached your climax already, but the feelings rolling through your body were so wonderful that you couldn’t care less. 

After one last lift of your hips, you were out of energy to continue riding Harry. He thrusted up into you only moments later, and it felt even better now that they were doing the work. 

“Can feel yeh’ squeezin’ me Y/N, y’close already?” You could only nod, your head too far up into the clouds to produce any sort of verbal response. “Go on love, y’deserve it.” 

Zayn slammed again into your ass while Harry continued to pound into your pussy while his finger rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves. Zayn’s hands had snuck around your body to play with your pebbled nipples, pulling at the sensitive spots. It only took one more thrust from each of them for you to come undone, and not even a minute later you could feel Zayn’s hot ropes of cum filling your tight hole. Harry didn’t let up though, ramming into you harder until he reached his orgasm, painting your soft walls white. Zayn pulled out first, and chills covered your body when he fully removed himself. You heard him shuffle behind you as he cleaned himself and you up, and you could feel his load leaking out of you. Harry pulled out of you as well, and a breathy sigh escaped your lips at the feeling of being fully empty again. You sat up along with Harry, watching Zayn turn towards the bathroom.

“S’okay Zayn, I can clean her up.” 

“Sounds good,” Zayn took an awkward pause. “This was fun, maybe we should do it again sometime.”

He slipped out the door as discreetly as he came in, and you were once again alone with your boyfriend. He had a dopey grin on his face when you looked at him. “What did yeh’ think?”

“I thought it was incredible, and I’m really glad we tried it out. What about you?” You realized you hadn’t really talked to him about how he felt about it, even though you know he was the one who brought it up.

“It was fun, but I don’t think m’a huge fan of sharin’ yeh.” 

You smiled at his adorable response and nuzzled your head into his chest, never wanting to leave his warmth.

[mindofharry]

Fallon Jenkins has no one left. Her family is dead, her friends no where to be found and all she has right now is her bow and arrow and the zombies that rule the night. Harry styles has been wandering around towns for days, looking for rations or new people to recruit but it’s been so long that he’s losing that optimism that got him through the first month of the apocalypse. When his bike breaks down just outside of a garage Harry sees that as fate — what he doesn’t expect is a sarcastic brunette guarding all of the tools. Will Fallon and Harry see eye to eye? Will they rule the apocalypse together?

CHAPTER ONE

☾ ☾ ☾

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS….. APOCALYPSE.

The first word that came to mind when asked about how Fallon is feeling is: bored. She feels completely and utterly, bored. She’s a creative, an artist. She doesn’t know how she’s lasted out in this world without her pens and paper, but she’s holding on. And she has to remind herself, bored is better than dead. Fallon is drained and exhausted, she hasn’t showered in two days, disgusting is another word to describe her right now.

Fallon lived a good life. She might’ve not had a lot, but she was loved. She had family, a mom and a dad. She had good, supportive friends. Fallon was going to school in New York for arts and drama. Everything was going so well, and then someone just had to become a zombie. Her parents and Fallon all lived together in a small apartment off the east coast, it was tiny and not fit for three people — but they pulled through. They worked extra shifts at the diner, did the odd baby sitting job here and there. And although it was hard sometimes, they all a ton of respect for each other and a shit load of love. Fallon loved her parents, loved her friends.

But that’s all gone now.

Every single one of them are dead or have abandoned her. Her parents were too old, too frail to fight the zombies off. Her dad was exhausted and couldn’t keep up with Fallon. Fallon had strength and determination, which had gotten her through the first month of the apocalypse. But her father and mother seemed to lose faith pretty quickly and in the end, they were too tired to keep fighting. So they surrounded.

Fallon had been out trying to find more food, or people to help and bring into their home. It was like any other day in the apocalypse really. When she arrived home, her parents were dead. They were bloody and beaten up pretty badly, her dads arm had been bitten off and the side of her mothers hip was badly bruised. But they had died holding hands, and on their own terms. Something that kept Fallon going was knowing that it wasn’t her fault, that her mother and father chose to die.

“Baby, we’re too old. We’re only putting you in more danger”

Was it selfish of her to say that she was glad? That she only had herself to worry about? It was easier this way. That’s what she likes to tell herself anyways.

Harry Styles was a writer from England, but had recently moved to America when the apocalypse started. He was sat in his spacious apartment, book in hand and tv on when the news host spewed out nonsense about a zombie and disease. Harry really thought nothing of it, another prank or false information. But then the president of the united states made an announcement and Harry knew what he had to do.

With people outside of his apartment complex fighting for cars and rations, he locked up his home. He brought his drawers to the front door and then locked himself in his small closet for three days.

Once he knew the coast was clear, Harry set out for help. He had his car, but it was probably stolen during the outbreak a couple days ago. So he walked to the storage unit he left his motorcycle in. He had recently done it up and left gas in it, thank god for that.

Harry didn’t know if his family were ok. He didn’t know if this was happening in his hometown too. But he pushed all of those feelings of worry down, and decided to look on the bright side of things.

He’s safe.

Harry has been wandering around towns for days, only going on the bike an hour at a time. He’s found good spots to sleep and hide out for a bit, and he’s got some rations that’ll last him a couple of weeks.

Fallon is currently hiding out in what she thinks is a garage, something to do with mechanics and cars. It’s warm, has tools she can defend herself with and a small office she hide out in.

It’s almost relaxing.

That is until she heard someone outside.

“Time to break out the kit” Fallon mumbled to herself moving over to the red box with all of the tools inside. She took out a wrench and a knife, her bow and arrow attached to her back sort of like a back pack. Fallon took archery back in high school, it comes in very handy nowadays. She’s not athletic per say, but she’s pretty good at the bow and arrow. She’s had to learn how to do self defence, something that’s not easy because she’s so lanky. Her father used to make fun of her because every time Fallon got up her bones would crack.

Harry sat outside of the garage cursing the bike. “Thought you’d at least give me another half hour” He mumbled standing the bike up against the wall. Harry looked around and he almost fell to ground with gratitude when he realised he was outside of a garage. He isn’t the best with fixing bikes or cars, but he has some knowledge. Harry thinks it’s just a small break he can easily replace with the right tools. He’s just praying that no one has raided this place yet.

Fallon was ready and walked outside.

She was not expecting the tall, curly haired, green eyed boy. Her heart skipped a beat looking at him, but she soon composed herself holding up the wrench.

“…Shit!” Harry yelled nearly falling into his bike. His hand came up to his chest and another to his pocket holding onto his knife.

“Stay back!” Fallon yelled moving closer to harry, he put his hands up his knife falling out of his lap.

“I come in peace. I just need to repair my bike, and i’ll be on my way”

Fallon bit her lip still holding up the wrench, she lifted her right hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. She looked the man up and down again, trying to figure out if she should trust him or not. He didn’t try and attack her, he dropped his knife and from the looks of it his bike does look like it needs some repairing.

“My name is Harry Styles. I’ve lived in New York for three years. I love the notebook. I’m a writer. I have no idea how to use that knife so if you’re going to kill me just do it fast” Harry said lamely, almost like he knew she would give in.

She brought down the wrench and nodded her head.

“Fallon” She said and Harry just turned around to his bike.

“Didn’t ask” He mumbled, bringing his bike into the garage. Fallon rolled her eyes and followed the man, now known as Harry, into the garage.

“I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“I can help…”

Before Fallon could explain herself, Harry shook his head with a fake smile. “No need, Fallon. Don’t need you messing it up even more” He said tight lipped. Fallon rolled her eyes and sighed, moving away from the bike with her hands in the air. She moved away from the whole place, going back to her make shift bedroom and grabbing her knife from the red box on the way.

She wanted to stab Harry Styles so hard.

But Fallon soon realised he might be more helpful than she once thought.

After a few hours of sitting by herself, and organising her little room Fallon decided to go annoy Harry. When she had her friends, she loved being around them. She loved talking and inviting people out, she just loved being around people. Maybe Harry will be willing to talk to her for a bit, let her annoy him.

“Soo….. you’ve got an accent” Fallon said and harry wiped his forehead and looked up.

She’s trying to make conversation. Harry didn’t like that.

“Yeah”

He didn’t elaborate.

“I visited England a few years back with a friend, super cool place. We didn’t stay long, but I wanted to go back but then…” Fallon trailed off and Harry nodded leaning his hands on the table.

“And then…” She repeated and Harry sighed.

“And then this” He said.

Fallon walked over to harry and looked him up and down. “I’ll let you use all my tools, if…. you stay with me for a couple days” She said her knife digging into his stomach. Harry grunted, if he moved one muscle he would be stabbed — something he does not want. Harry grabbed her Fallon’s hand turned her around so her back was to his chest, the knife came out of his neck and Harrys lips against her ear.

“Was a threat?” He said and Fallon rolled her eyes taking the gun out of the front of her jeans, holding it against his forehead, now having the upper hand. Harry sighed to himself, this girl was exasperating but that could be useful. It’s lonely out there. It’d be nice not to have to do this alone, even if it was only for a couple days.

“I use your tools, bring us to a safe location and then we both go on our way. Deal?” Harry said putting the knife down, Fallon turned around her face close to Harrys. He had beautiful eyes. Forest green. Her favourite colour.

“Get me a place with a working shower and then we’ll have a deal” Fallon said, the gun still up against Harry’s forehead.

Harry rolled his eyes and put his hand out for a shake.

“Deal”

☾ ☾ ☾

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning” Harry said, wiping off his hands on a towel Fallon had given him. She was currently sharpening her knife, shaking her head. Who does he think he is? Fallon is obviously the leader in this situation.

“No?” Harry asked taking a seat beside her. This girl, again, was exasperating. Sarcastic, rude, a bit scary. But beautiful. She had long dark brown hair, but it was pulled into a high pony tail. The pony tail had a small braid in it, a bead on the end of it. Her lips are plump and chapped, but harry would just love to place his on hers.

Woah, get it together harry.

“You’re talking like you’re in charge here” Fallon said.

Harry glared at her, “Well, I am”

Oh hell no, Fallon thought.

“You’re in my space, Noah” Fallon said and Harry rolled his eyes so hard he fell back into the seat.

“My name isn’t Noah. See that’s why I should be the leader…..” He said standing up “Because at least I have the decency to remember your name! Which is not all that special by the way, it’s an easily forgettable name” Harry seethed, his hands on his hips. Fallon giggled to herself, putting her knife down.

“You done with this…” She trailed off, moving her hands in the air at harry. “This hissy fit?” She finished and harry only turned his head away from her as answer.

“Noah is the main characters name in the notebook. You said you liked the notebook. Didn’t forget your name Harry. Even those it’s a very forgettable name” Fallon said, standing up and softly slapping him on the shoulder.

“Get some rest, we’ll be up bright and early tomorrow, noah”

“it’s harry!”

Fallon got her supplies ready for tomorrow, and sat them beside her make shift bed. She was going to miss this place. But she knew if she was going to stay alive in this world, she had to keep moving. She had to trust people. Although she’d never admit this to his face, Harry seems to be a natural leader and she trusts him. Fallon just likes giving him a hard time. It’s fun seeing him to flustered.

Harry didn’t sleep a wink. He felt responsible for Fallon, even though the garage was heavily boarded up — he still felt like it was his job to patrol and guard it all night.

Not because he liked Fallon……

Definitely not.

“Harry…..”

Poke.

“Harry….”

Jab.

“Noah!”

Poke.

“Harry Styles!”

Punch.

“What the hell!” Harry yelled holding onto his shoulder. “You wouldn’t wake up! It’s 6 AM! Let’s get moving leader!” Fallon said tapping her foot. Harry grumbled to himself, popping open a box of gum and putting into his mouth. He didn’t even look at Fallon just handed the box to her, while he put his leather jacket back on.

He didn’t sleep much and Harry doesn’t even remember falling asleep. But it had to be only half an hour ago.

Fallon looked well rested, probably because she had a bed.

“Leader? You’re seriously letting me be in charge?” Harry questioned throwing their supplies on the back of the bike.

“Well, you seem resourceful…. and you have a motorcycle. So you be in charge i guess” Fallon shrugged.

“So just because I have a motorcycle I’m in charge?” He asked and Fallon nodded.

“Works for me.” Harry said and opened up the garage door. “Goodbye Garage. Thanks for keeping me safe.” Fallon said with a pout. Harry rolled his eyes and started the motorcycle handing her the helmet. He stole another one from the back of the garage.

“Noah and Allie take on the apocalypse?” Fallon asked placing her arms around harry.

“Yeah, whatever.”

[atlafan]

The Real Him - One Shot

a/n: I’m not sure where this came from...a lot of this is sort of how I feel about writing, and reading, and how my brain works???? Hope you enjoy cause it’s fun! Book Writer!Harry x Y/N (not proofread) 

Words: 9.6K

Warnings: Fluff, wee bit of angst, and smut

Books weren’t things Y/N found interesting. She hated reading the assigned books in high school for whatever English classes she had to take. She often would just read what she needed on Sparknotes, and that was enough. Then, in college, even if she wanted to read for leisure, she didn’t have the time. She had to read articles and academic journals constantly. By the time she was done for the day, the last thing she wanted to do was read.

Now, as a young adult living in the city, she noticed her anxiety was always worse at night. She lived alone in a little studio apartment, it had a wonderful view. She would watch TV or scroll on her phone until she fell asleep, but the screens were too much for her eyes. She knew it wasn’t good for her. Much to her friends’ shock, she texted them asking them for book recommendations. Y/N didn’t want to think too hard, she didn’t like scary stories, but she also liked a little bit of world building and romance. Fuck, if there was anything she loved, it was a good romance. Her friends told her about this young author they discovered whose stories were enthralling.

She took their word for it, and ordered one of his books off his website. He was self-published, which she found to be interesting. How good could he be if a major publication didn’t want him? She trusted her friends’ opinions though, so she went with it. He had this series called, The Unicorn in the Farmer’s Pool, that they raved about. She told herself she’d start with the first one and see how it goes. Sometimes Y/N had a hard time concentrating to even read a book, so she didn’t want to buy too many.

The title of the book itself was odd, but when she read the description she understood. Apparently, it was about this young woman, new to town, who was going for a walk with her younger sister, and one day they come across this beautiful old home and large farm. There was a pool in the back with one of those big unicorn floats, which they both found odd. They see the farmer outside, and the woman inquires about it. He explains that it’s his daughter’s. He and his wife were divorced, and she moved out to the city. Unfortunately, she passed away, so his little girl came home to live with him.

It was a certified slow burn, so when it came in the mail, Y/N couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. There was only one picture of the author, Harry Styles, on his website. The book, however, had a lovely picture of him on it. He even named his publication company after himself, trademarking HES Books. He was handsome, there was no denying that.

“Alright, let’s see how well this guy knows how to write thing from the perspective of a woman.” She says as she settles into her bed with the book.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N found a book that she just couldn’t put down. Sure, she passed out with it on her chest, but she’d get right back to it the next night. She was ripping through it. Her heart would race anytime the farmer and the woman had a scene together. She cried when he spoke about his divorce, and how he never slept knowing his daughter was so far away. He’d never wish his ex-wife ill, but he felt like it was fate to have his daughter home. He’d give her anything she wanted, even a giant unicorn float for the pool. Something she couldn’t have in the city. His daughter would paint his nails glittery colors, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought of it. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as the woman slowly fell for him. They became fast friends but it was clear they wanted more, but they were both so scared.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” She says to herself when she gets to the end of the book, it was a cliffhanger. They hadn’t even gotten together yet. They were caught in a rain storm, about to kiss, but they were interrupted. “Goddammit.” She groans and grabs her laptop to buy the rest of the series. “Welp, Mr. Styles, you now own my ass, I hope you’re happy.” She sticks her tongue out at his picture on his website.

By the time she finished the third book, she was inconsolable. It thrilling, but she knew it couldn’t be the end for the two who were now so in love with each other. She also couldn’t believe how well written their love scenes were, a little shocked there was a small dash of smut. She looked on his website and saw he was set to release the fourth and final book of the series soon, and there would be a big release for it. He would do a reading and signing. Y/N texted her friends and they all agreed they needed to go. They still couldn’t believe how much Y/N liked the series. It consumed her soul, she couldn’t get enough. She even bought his other standalone novels to read until the release.

Eliza: hey! HES just released the first book on audio, and he narrates it! Should hold us over until the release ;)  

Y/N: holy fucking shit! Literally about to go download it, thanks!!!

Now this was a way to fall asleep, she thought. She plugged her earbuds into her phone, turned her light off, and hit play. She gasps the second she hears his voice.

“He’s British?!” She says to herself. “Dear god.”

His voice was deep and sultry, and sounded incredibly crisp through the audio. Each night for the rest of that week, she fell asleep to the sound of Harry’s voice; it was euphoric. She felt sort of weird for becoming as big of a fan of him that she was. It was like she was in high school again having a crush on some unattainable celebrity. She couldn’t even talk about him to anyone at work. It was like this big secret between her and her friends. Instead of listening to music in her office, she started listening to interviews or podcasts he was involved in. Anything to just get a better understanding for who he was or how his mind worked. She found that he was incredibly private, only tweeting or posting on Instagram from promotional purposes. A PR person most likely running the sites for him.

“Okay, I think I’m obsessed with him, like, it’s bad.” She tells her friends at brunch one Saturday morning. They would all try their best to get together a couple times a month.

“Welcome to the dark side.” Eliza says.

“I knew if we didn’t push you that you’d come around at some point to ask us for a book rec.” Melinda says.

“You could have just showed me his picture, he’s so handsome! I can’t wait to go to the signing. I wonder what type of suit he’ll wear. Maybe all black?”

“I heard he’s into florals lately.” Eliza says. “I’m glad we got our tickets when we did, it’s going to be packed.”

“Yeah, like, at least we’ll have seats for the reading.” Melinda says.

“I can’t believe we’re going to hear his voice in person. That audio book? Oh my god.” She pretends to fan herself. “I’ve been enjoying his other novels too. He has such a way with words, I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed a book this much. Maybe The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?” She chuckles.

“Didn’t you read that in high school?!” Eliza laughs.

“Yeah!” Y/N laughs, and Melinda joins in. “I fucking hate reading. I wonder if he’ll ever sell the rights and have it turned into a movie or TV series.”

“People have been begging him. He said maybe once the fourth book has been out for a bit. He didn’t want to feel pressured, like, you know how with Game of Thrones the books didn’t come out fast enough for the series?” Melinda says.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I think a TV show would be good. Then they could take their time with it. The only thing is I can’t picture someone playing the farmer other than him.” Y/N sighs.

“Agreed.” Eliza says. “I can really only see him.”

“So, how are we dressing for the signing? I don’t wanna look desperate by dressing up too much.” Melinda says.

“Melinda…” Y/N starts chuckling. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I’m aware.” She swats a hand at Y/N. “But damn, Harry is too fine.”

//

Y/N curls the ends of her hair on the day of the signing. It was finally here, and she couldn’t be more excited. She found a cute yellow top to wear with some high waist jeans. She does some simple makeup, but makes sure to have her eyes pop. The rules were that people could only bring one book with them, so she grabs the first in the Unicorn series. She fully intended to buy the new book as well, and they said he would sign all new purchases too.

She meets Melinda and Eliza outside the bookstore where it would all be happening. They get in line to buy their new books, and head to their seats. They were able to snag tickets for the second row. He would be reading the first few chapters of the first book, and then would spend the rest of the time signing books.

“I’m so excited.” Y/N whispers to both of her friends.

A man comes out shortly to check the crowd of people waiting, and soon it’s announced that Harry would be coming out. Everyone stands up and claps for him. He was wearing a sleek black suit, and his hair was pushed back off his face. He looked bashful as he smiled out to everyone, and stood at the podium provided. Everyone sits back down as he clears his throat.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Whether you’re a new fan or if you’ve been with me for years, I appreciate your support. It feels surreal for this series to be over. I’ve loved these characters so much, and when I finished the final edits, it felt weird saying goodbye. I also want to say thanks for all the support with the first audio book. I fully intend to do one for the rest, it just takes a lot of time and editing, so hold tight for me, alright?” The crowd giggles, and his dimple grows deeper. He takes a sip of the water provided, and opens the book. “Let’s get started shall we?” He looks up at the audience who was waiting patiently. He makes eye contact with Y/N. It’s brief, but he looked at her…or at least she told herself he did.

His voice was just as smooth in person as it was on the audio. Y/N was swooning, barely paying attention to the words, but more so watching the way his lips moved. The way he’d lick his lips after getting a sip of water, and watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It all felt like a dream. He ended up reading five chapters instead of three, as a treat, until his manager came out to remind him to wrap it up.

“Right, well, I’ve been told I’m done speaking.” He chuckles. “I just need about ten minutes and I’ll be able to sign all your books. Thanks so much!”

He leaves as everyone claps for him again. Everyone gets in line and waits for him to return. There was a table waiting for him to sit at and a ton of markers.

“I wonder how long we’ll get with him. Like, a minute, right?” Eliza asks.

“Make every second count.” Y/N says.

“I’m gonna try to take a selfie.” Melinda says. “Then I’ll really remember it forever.”

As the girls got closer to the front of the line, Y/N felt herself getting nervous, and her palms were starting to sweat. She tries to wipe them on her jeans before she gets to him.

“Hello, love.” He smiles at her. “Whatcha bring f’me?”

“Huh?” She was so taken aback.

“Well, I know you didn’t come here to have me sign a body part…unless you did.” He shrugs. “Although, I don’t think my manager would appreciate that.” He winks at her and it makes her giggle.

“I have the first back, and the newest one.” She hands them both to him. “I have to say, I’m not really a big reader, but this really drew me in. I think I’ve fallen in love with reading for the first time in my life.”

“That’s like…I mean…wow, what a compliment, thanks.” He signs both of the books. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeats as he continues to leave a nice note in both of her books. “You know pictures aren’t allowed, but if you turn around and happen to take a selfie they can’t stop you.” He points to the few guards.

Y/N turns around and takes a selfie with Harry. She turns back around and chuckles as she takes her books back.

“Thank you so much. I can’t wait for the next audio books.”

“You liked the first one?”

“Loved it.”

“So, it wasn’t weird listening to me for that long?”

“Not at all…” She starts blushing. “Your voice is sort of, um, soothing…I have a lot of anxiety at night, and, well, reading, and evening listening has helped me sleep a lot better. So, thanks again.” She smiles at him and he smiles back.

He wished he could hug her. He looks back at his manager, who just sighs at him and nods. Harry stands up from the table and walks around. Before she knew it, his arms were being wrapped around her. She got a whiff of his cologne, and she swore it was her new favorite smell in the world. She barely got a chance to put her hands on him before his manager said it was enough and Harry needed to get back to it.

“Sorry, that was just so endearing.” He lets go of her and sits back down. “Thanks for your support.”

Y/N steps aside and looks at her friends who were waiting for her to finish up. She looks back at Harry who was already talking to the next person. She sighs, knowing she was long forgotten already.

“Oh my god, I took a picture of him hugging you.” Eliza says. “What was it like? All he did was shake my hand.”

“He smelled so good.” Y/N whines. “Girls, let’s go out for drinks tonight. I need to get some energy out.”

“Great idea! We can drink and then dance the night away.” Melinda says. “What did he write in your books?”

“I don’t wanna look yet, I wanna save it.” Y/N smiles and holds her books close to her.

//

After grabbing dinner and dropping their books off at Y/N’s place, they all head to their favorite dance bar. They all get their drinks and stand near the bar to drink them. Y/N was happily sucking on her straw, swaying along to the fast beat of the music.

“Look, they actually roped off the VIP section.” Eliza points out. Y/N and Melinda turn to look.

“I wonder who’s here. Once in a while someone cool shows up.” Melinda says.

The group in the VIP section erupts into laughter, and the girls’ eyes grow wide. Harry was standing up from the booth, looking much more casual. He still had his dress pants and button up on, but his sleeves were pushed up, revealing his tattoos. He strides up to the bar as he shakes his head back at his friends. He brushes right by the girls, bumping into Y/N, causing her to spill her drink.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, love.” He says to her, and then he looks her up and down. “Do I know you?” He slurs slightly.

“Um…we…we met earlier today. You signed my books.”

“I signed your what?!” The music was really loud, he must have thought she said something else.

“Books, books!” She really enunciates the k sound.

“Oh!” He bursts out laughing, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I was gonna say, that sorta thing isn’t really my style. What are you drinking, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s still plenty in here.”

“Don’t be silly, I feel terrible. In fact,” He looks at Melinda and Eliza, and then to the bar tender. “Their next round’s on me. I also need another bottle of Patron for my table.”

“Coming right up!”

“Lost a bet with ‘em.” He rolls his eyes. “So the next bottle’s on me.” He shrugs.

“We’ll bring it over to you.” The bar tender says as she puts up three new drinks for you and your friends.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“S’the least I can do. Your support is the only reason why I can afford what I have. I should buy your drinks all night.” He smirks.

“Y/N.” Melinds grabs her shoulders and whispers in her ear. “Go for it, bitch, go for it. He’s hitting on you. We’ll be over there.”

She lets Y/N go and drags Eliza with her over to another part of the bar. Y/N grabs her drink and smiles at Harry.

“Your name’s Y/N, right?”

“You must have seen hundreds of people today, how’d you remember?”

“I’m really good with names.” He grins. “Do you want to join me and my friends?”

“What?!”

“Come on, seems like your friends are busy anyways.” He nods over to Melinda and Eliza where Melinda was working as a wing-man for Eliza. “They’re bringing over the Patron, you’ll love it.” He grabs her wrist and brings her over. One of the body guards raises his eyebrows. “I’m baacckk, let us in Mike.” Mike lifts the rope up and lets Harry and Y/N in. “Everyone this is Y/N, she’s got to be one of my biggest fans, so she’s joining us.” He pulls her down into the booth with him and puts his arm around her shoulders.

He was drunk, this was very clear. No one seemed bothered by her presence. Everyone was just happy to have refills for their drinks. Harry takes a shot of the Patron along with everyone else as Y/N sips on her drink. She felt bad, Eliza had to be a bigger fan of Harry, or at least she had been a fan longer…

“So, how’d you know he’d be here?” Harry’s manager, Jeff, asks.

“I didn’t.” She blushes. “My friends and I come here all the time.”

“Right, like we haven’t heard that one before.” Jeff smirks. “Some of you fangirls-“

“Oi! Don’t make fun, she’s cool.” Harry defends her.

“I can prove I’ve been here plenty of times.” Y/N takes her phone out and shows them her Facebook page. “There, you can see how many times I’ve checked in here. I only live a block away, so this tends to be the spot.”

“See, Jess, this is the spot.” Harry smirks, and knocks back another shot. “We’re being rude, here.” He slides a shot over to her. “Have as much as you like.”

“That’s okay, I have this.” She points to her glass.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, you’re so nice.” He pulls her a little closer to him. “But really, if you want any, you can have as much as you want, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Y/N sort of just sits there and tries to listen as each person talks, but the music was so loud, and she was itching to dance, especially now that she had a couple of drinks in her. She was drumming her fingers mindlessly on the table.

“Do you want to dance?” He whispers in her ear. A shiver goes up her spine. She looks up at him and nods. “Alright, let’s hit it then.”

She gets out of the booth and he quickly follows her out to the dance floor. At first it’s just light and playful, he keeps one hand in hers, but keeps a respectable distance. If Y/N was dancing with her friends right now she’d probably be popping her ass no problem. She sort of wished they were still around. She couldn’t remember the last time she danced with a guy. She looks at him and feels a little bold, so she hooks an arm around his neck and dances close to him. His hands move to her hips as she essentially grinds on his thigh. When the next song starts, she turns around to grind her ass against his pelvis. He presses forward against her and she can tell he’s very happy to be dancing with her.

“You said your place was only a block away?” He says into her ear, and she nods. “Wanna head there?”

She stops dancing and turns around to face him.

“Are you serious?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, too forward?”

“No…I just…um…yeah, let’s go back to mine.”

He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders. He looks over at Jeff who was still sitting with their friends. He waves off to him, and heads out side with Y/N. Harry whistles for a cab, and one pulls up almost right away. They both get into the backseat, and Y/N gives the driver her address. Harry rubs circles into her shoulder. She rests her hand on his knee, as her leg shakes with nerves.

“You alright, love?”

“Mhm, yeah.” She doesn’t look at him.

“No need to be nervous, babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She looks up at him now and smiles. She wanted to do everything with him. It was like every fantasy she had was coming to life. She had dreams about this, but never thought it would come true. The cab pulls up in front of Y/N’s building and they both get out of the cab. She keys into the front door and she leads him to the elevator.

“I’m surprised you’re not exhausted, must be draining to meet so many people.”

“Caught a second wind.” He winks at her. She giggles as they get off at her floor.

She leads him inside as she flips the lights on.

“It’s just a studio.”

“It’s nice, just enough space. You’ve got a great view.” He says as he walks over to the window.

“Yeah, I got really lucky.”

“Mind if I pull the curtains?”

“Not at all.”

She watches the muscles in his back flex as he reaches to pull the curtains closed. He turns to face her and walks over to where she is. He cups one of her cheeks and she leans into his touch.

“I have to be honest, I don’t usually do this.” He says.

“Do what? Hook up with a girl from a bar?” She smirks.

“No, hook up with a fan…” He sighs. “But what you said to me earlier about your anxiety and how my books have helped you, it stuck with me all day. I’m really glad I ran back into you. I got kinda nervous when you didn’t message me.”

“What? Why would I have?”

“I wrote my number in your book.” He lets go of her and steps back. “You didn’t read my notes?”

“No, I…I was saving them for when I was feeling down.” She admits, a little embarrassed. “Why did you put your number in it?”

“In case you ever needed someone to talk to…if you ever got sick of listening to the same story over and over. It was a little impulsive, but no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I’m surprised by that.”

“Usually people just tell me that they enjoyed it, or they try to flirt or something. It’s usually pretty hollow.” He shrugs. “But you…” He takes her hands in his. “Well…if you noticed, I didn’t really hug anyone else.”

“I did notice. You made me feel really special, Harry.”

“I’d like to keep making you feel that way…”

He releases her hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands slide up through his curls, and she gets up on her tip toes while his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close. His lips brush over hers, and she pulls his face closer to hers to deepen the kiss. She smiles against his lips which makes him smile and pull back.

“What is it?”

“I just…I can’t believe this is happening…” She presses her hips closer to his.

“You’ve thought about this before, with me?”

She nods her head yes and he smirks.

“Is that weird?” She asks, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“Who am I to judge what helps someone fall asleep at night?” His voice was low now, eyes darker than they were moments before.

Maybe this wasn’t something either of them should be doing while inebriated. But from lack of better judgement they start kissing again. His hands slide down to cup her ass, and his large hands give her a squeeze. She groans into his mouth, giving him the perfect excuse to lick into her. Her tongue molds to his, and she starts pushing him to walk back towards her bed. He happily lets her lead the way.

The back of his calves hit the bed, and he almost loses his balance. He sits down and brings her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Lips only breaking for a moment to get some air until they’re on each other again. Her hands lace through his hair and he groans when she tugs on him. His lips move to her jaw and then to just under her ear. She gasps when she feels him suck on the tender skin. Her hips roll down over his, and he smirks against her. He licks over the spot he was sucking on, and goes back for more. She grinds herself against him, feeling his bulge press up against where she needs it most. His lips move back to hers so he can nip at her bottom lip before looking at her.

“You want this?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t have said yes to coming back here if I didn’t.”

“You could have changed your mind between the bar and now.” He tucks some loose strands of hair behind her hair. “I meant what I said earlier, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, do you?”

“I certainly didn’t change my mind.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss him again before getting off him. She reaches behind him quickly to snag one of her throw pillows to put on the floor. She sits up on her knees before him and reaches for his for the button on his dress pants. She looks up at him as he widens his legs for her. He wasn’t expecting a blow job, but he wasn’t one to turn it down. She pops the button and undoes his zipper. She reaches into his pants and palms him through his boxers first. His palms were flat on the bed, his arms keeping him up, but he can’t help but let his head fall back from her touch.

“Harry, look at me.”

He immediately does as she says so he can make eye contact with her.

“Is this okay? Can I take it out?”

“Yeah, please.”

She smiles and tugs his pants and boxers down slightly, he lifts his hips up to help her. He unbuttons his shirt while his dick slaps up against his lower stomach. She gazes up at him. Once his shirt is off, she can’t help but look over all his tattoos.

“You’re so…pretty.” She chuckles.

“Not as pretty as you.” He runs his hands through her hair, giving her a little encouragement to get started.

She blushes as her eyes fall to his hard cock, tip swollen and ready to go. She licks her right hand and gives him a few pumps first. He grunts as he watches her. She licks a stripe up from his base to his tip before she wraps her lips around him. His eyes flutter closed for a second, but he didn’t want to miss anything so he does his best to keep his eyes open to watch her work on him. She already had small droplets of spit rolling down her chin. Sloppy, he thinks to himself and he smirks. She sinks a little further down on him, testing herself to see how much she can take. He thrusts up slightly to meet her halfway and she gags on him, needing to pop off for a moment.

“Sorry, been a while.” She mumbles, and gets back on him.

“No worries, doing great, love.”

He helps keep her hair back as she starts to bob up and down on him. Her warm mouth felt so fucking good around him. She swallows around him before really hollowing her cheeks to suck on him. Her mouth moves up to his tip so she can lick away at his slit. She wraps a hand around him to pump him as she does this.

“Baby, baby, hold on.” He pants, and moves her face away from him. She looks up at him with big, innocent eyes that were slightly watery now. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.” He sounded almost out of the breath. She nods and stands up. His hands grips her hips and then slide to the button on her own jeans. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She says, taking off her shirt. He looks up at her and kisses on her chest as he undoes her pants.

He yanks them down her legs. He smiles at her mismatched set of underwear. She had worn a white bra with her yellow shirt, and a simple pair of blue panties with her jeans.

“I didn’t think, um, I would be…it was a girl’s night, and-“

“Do you really think I care about your underwear not matching?” He raises an eyebrow at her as he smirks.

She smiles and rests her hands on his shoulders as he kisses on her lower tummy. He stands up to kick his pants away, and lets her get on the bed. She lays on her back, propping herself up with her elbows. He crawls onto the bed and settles between her legs. His lips find hers as he grinds himself against her covered center. She bites her bottom lip, just wanting her underwear gone. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra. After a few seconds of fumbling he gets it, and watches the bra loosen around her. She pushes it off her shoulders, and tosses it to the ground. His hands cup her full breasts immediately. He kneads them and tweaks her nipples. She grinds her hips up towards his as they continue to move against each other. He dips his head down to kiss on her chest, and he rolls a nipple between his teeth. He works his way down her body and slides her underwear down her legs, tossing them aside where he feels like. She parts her legs for him.

He dips his down and licks from her center to her clit. He does this slowly but with precision. Her hips buck up towards him, encouraging him to keep going, so he does. He licks all around her until his lips are around her throbbing clit. He nibbles and sucks and flicks his tongue while his fingers explore her folds. Her hands were in his hair. She kept thinking she was going to wake up. Any minute now she would snap out of her dream. She would pinch her eyes closed and expect to see the morning sun creeping through her windows, but not this time. When she opened her eyes there he was, head between her legs, lapping away at her. The clouds covering the moon and night sky. He had her whimpering and tugging at his hair. He wanted her to come, but not yet, just get her to the brink. She pouts at him when he lifts his head. He licks his lips and smiles at her.

“Got any rubbers?”

“Mhm, in the bathroom, I can-“

“I got it, just tell me where.”

“The box in the cabinet below the sink.”

He pecks her lips before going into her little bathroom. He smirked to himself wondering how he might shower the next morning. He was taller than the showerhead. He bends down to open up the cabinet and spots the box of condoms. It was opened, but not many were missing. Not the he was one to judge. Harry hooked up a lot. He grabs a couple, just in case they feel like getting frisky again later on, and heads back out. He rips the foil packet open and slides it on over his length. She bites her bottom lip in anticipation.

“Tell me something,” He starts as he gets back on the bed, between her legs, hovering over her body. “When you had me in your thoughts was it ever like this?”

He rubs his tip against her clit, getting her to moan out. He pushes into her entrance but doesn’t go much further until he gets his answer. His eyebrows were raised, looking at her.

“This is usually the part when I’d wake up.” She whispers. “Before anything good could really happen.” She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his cheekbone. “Please.”

He kisses her as he pushes the rest of the way inside her. They both groan. She was so wet, even with the condom on, it still felt amazing. He was nice and snug inside her. He moves slowly at first to not hurt her. He hooks an arm under one of her legs to bring it up a little higher. He wanted to get in as deep as possible. She clutches at his shoulders as he drives it in.

“Oh my god.” She gasps as his tip brushes her g-spot. “Jesus Christ.” She grits her teeth.

“Ever had anyone like this before?” He says into her ear.

“Never this deep, shit.”

He sits up and puts both of her legs over his shoulders. His fingers press bruises into her thighs as he holds onto her. She looks up at him as her mouth falls open. He was ramming into her and it felt so good to fuck like this. She didn’t want to be treated delicately. What he was doing was amazing, but her clit was missing the friction, so her hand slides down to rub at it.

“Fuck.” He breathes as he watches her touch herself. He lets go of one of her thighs and moves her hand aside so he can rub it for her. Her head rolls back the second she feels his thumb on her.

“Just like that.” She pants. “Don’t stop.”

He grunts his response as he continues to fuck her. He could feel her tightening around his cock and he knew she was close. He rubs her a little faster, and watches as her body contorts under his.

“Let go, come on, show me how you do it, Y/N.”

That pushes her over the edge. She cries out as she comes around him. He rubs her still, but slows his pace to help her through it. She tightens around him again as she comes down from her bliss. He drops her legs and pulls out. He sits up against her headboard and pulls her into his lap. He doesn’t have her face him, though, he has her sit on him facing away. Her head rolls back against his shoulder once she sinks down on him. She uses her knees to push herself up and down on his cock. He bites down on her shoulder, licks up to just under her ear to suck on the tender skin again. His hands find her bouncing breasts, and he kneads them.

“Harry.” She groans.

“Feels good, love?”

“So good.” She turns her head and sticks her tongue out slightly so he’ll kiss her. His tongue meets hers and they practically slobber all over each other as her pace quickens on him.

His hands slide down to her hips to help her. He thrusts up into her to get into a rhythm. He could feel his orgasm bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He moans, which makes her moan. She tightens around him. He wanted her to come again, to come with him, so he rubs her clit while she continues to bounce him.

“Shit, fuck, Harry!”

They come at the same time, both of them crying out form the intensity. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he lifts her off of him. She gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom to clean herself up. He goes in after her to rid himself of the condom. She was about to throw on a t-shirt when he comes back out.

“Don’t bother.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll just come off again.”

“Oh.” She blushes and puts it back into her dresser.

He gets on the bed with her and pulls her close to his chest. His fingers run up and down her back lightly, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. She rests one of her legs on top of his, and wraps her arm around his torso. She wasn’t sure if she’d have the energy to fuck him again so soon, especially when the rhythm of his heart beat was lulling her to sleep. Her eyes flutter closed. He looks down at her and smiles when he sees her lips parted. He kisses the top of her head, and slowly falls asleep himself.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up cozy, head stuffed into her pillow, blankets wrapped around her. It was darker than usual. Her eyes flutter open and see the rain falling down. She hears it tapping delicately against her windows. It was a normal Sunday morning, or it would have been if she hadn’t completely forgotten there was a warm body wrapped around her. She rolls over slowly not to disturb the stranger. She gasps to herself when she sees it really is Harry Styles, not just some guy that looked like him. She really took him home with her and she really fucked him. He pulls her closer to her and she sighs.

“Your bed’s comfy.” He mutters.

“Thanks, I’ve got one of those foam pads under the sheets. Makes a world of difference.”

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles. She feels him press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away slightly.

“Mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all.” She smiles up at him. “If you don’t mind smelling like my fruity shampoo, that is.”

“You’re funny.” He chuckles again and stretches as he sits up. He rubs his eyes, and gets out of the bed. Y/N couldn’t help but ogle his naked body as he walks away. He pops his head out of the door frame to look at her. “Are you coming?”

“Oh…you wanted me to-“

“Obviously.” He scoffs. “Wouldn’t mind fucking you again, either.”

Normally she’d wrap herself in a blanket, but if he was going to be bold, then so was she. So she gets out of bed and struts over towards him. She brushes her teeth quickly as he uses some mouth wash. She gets the water in the shower going.

“Does that head detach? I don’t know if I can crouch for that long.” He laughs.

“Yeah, it comes right off, don’t worry.” She pulls back the curtain and they both get in.

She helps him wash up, scrubs her nails over his head as she washes out the shampoo, and once they’re both clean, he hoists her up against the wall, and kisses her. She was plenty wet for him, and he smiles against her as he slips a finger inside her.

“You were ready f’me, hm?”

“Guess so.” She nips at his bottom lip, which delights him.

“Mind if I just slip it in like this and pull out after?”

“That’s fine.” She smiles. “Wouldn’t mind actually being able to feel you.”

“Christ.” He groans, and then pushes his hard cock inside her. Her head rolls back against the tile as his lips attack to her throat.

It was a nice, passionate morning fuck. When they’re done she gets him a towel, and wraps one around herself. He watches as she runs around to make her bed back up. It was a small apartment, so any clutter just made it look even smaller. He grabs his phone out of his pants pocket, and sighs.

“Alright?” She asks, sitting on the edge of her bed. He comes to sit down next to her.

“Yeah, just a ton of missed calls and texts. Thought I made it pretty clear to Jeff I wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel last night.”

“Do you have a plane to catch or anything?”

“Not today, tomorrow though.”

She watches as he types away to respond to the dozen or so texts he had form various people.

“Would you like any coffee or anything? Juice?”

“Just a black coffee would be perfect if it’s not too much trouble, love.”

“Coming right up.”

His eyes flicker up to watch her bum and hips sway as she walks into the kitchen area. She fills up her Keurig to get his coffee going.

“No cream or sugar, just black?”

“Please.” He smiles. “Thanks.”

She nods and gets a mug down from her cabinet to place under the machine. She thinks he’s talking to her for a moment, but when she looks over she can see he’s on the phone.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m well aware, thanks.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m allowed to go out and have some fun.” He crosses a leg over the other so he can rest his elbow on his thigh, propping his chin up with his palm. “She’s making me a cup of coffee, is that alright? No, I don’t just carry those in my back pocket…” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Alright, bye.”

She comes over to him with a mug for him, and one for herself. She added a bit of cream to hers. She just couldn’t do black coffee.

“Thank you so much, feel like I’m about to get a headache.” He says, taking the mug from her, smacking his lips after he takes a sip.

“I have some aspirin if you need some.”

“Caffeine should work just fine, but thank you.”

“So, uh, not that I was listening in or anything, just, small space and all, but what don’t you carry around in your back pocket?”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “An NDA, that’s all. Jeff’s gonna email one over to me any second I’m sure.”

“What do you need an NDA for?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”  She looks at him deeply confused. “I’m a very private person, and not that I think you’re the type to go around spouting your business, it’s just, well, you’re a fan and…”

“You need me to sign an NDA so I won’t tell anyone we fucked?”

“Basically, yeah. Sorry if that makes things a little awkward. It’s just to keep my personal life personal, that’s all.” He takes another sip of the coffee. “This is really good, what brand is this?”

“Green Mountain Coffee…it comes from Vermont.”

“It’s delicious, I’ll have to look into it.” He smiles, although she can tell she’s starting to feel uneasy. She’s painfully aware that this was just a drunk hookup, a one night stand. “Are you alright?” He puts a hand on her knee.

“M’fine, just a bit groggy.” She sips her own coffee.

“Well, I’m starved, you’ve gotta be too, right? What a good place to grab some breakfast around here?” He stands up and starts looking for his clothes.

“Um…there’s a place right down the street.”

“We’ll have to take a cab unless you have a really big umbrella.” He smirks as he pulls his boxers on.

“Do I have to sign an agreement saying I won’t talk about breakfast too, or?”

Harry sighs as he pulls his pants on. She looks at him as she sips her coffee.

“Guess I’ll find out when I read the fine print.” She stands up and walks back over to her kitchen area. He follows her there with his mug and sticks it in the sink.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“It’s not, I just…I mean…what do you think I’m going to do? Go onto a blog and spill every detail about last night? As if I could remember every little thing.” She scoffs and rinses out her mug.

“You easily could. You have to understand, sometimes when stories slip or people feel like they know things about you, it’s harder to get deals or make business decisions. I want to be taken seriously, so I don’t post personal things on social media, and I have the people I hook up with sign NDA’s.”

“Well, maybe I should have you sign one for me then.” She says, crossing her arms. He raises an eyebrow at her. “How do I know our night together won’t be inspiration for your next love scenes? You’re quite descriptive in your works. You must take from real life when you’re writing those things.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll text Jeff and have him email me two, one for each of us. I won’t talk about you and you won’t talk about me. Now, can we please go get some breakfast?”

“Why do you even want to go anywhere with me if you’re so scared of people finding out?” She walks over to her dresser to pick out an outfit she wouldn’t mind getting wet in the rain.

“It’s one thing to be seen with someone at a diner, it’s another to have what you’re like in the bedroom aired out to millions of people.”

“It’ll be obvious we slept together. My neck is littered with kiss marks.” She taps over one of the spots. He watches as she wriggles a pair of panties up her legs, and then a pair of jeans. “You’re also wearing your clothes from last night.” She tosses him his button up.

“I don’t suppose you have a large t-shirt I could throw on?”

“I’m sure I could find one.” She find a bra and t-shirt of her own, and then rummages through her pajama drawer for one of her larger bed shirts. “Here.” She hands him the shirt. He puts it on and looks down at it.

“Cute.” He smiles. “You can keep mine, and I’ll keep this one, how’s that sound?”

“Guess I’m just glad that’s not my favorite one.” She grabs her raincoat and umbrella. She furrows her brows and then remembers where her rubber boots on. “Could you order an uber or something?”

“Sure.”

They get down to the street, and head into the car he ordered. The diner was busy when they got there, but since it was just the two of them, they didn’t have to wait long to be seated. Harry’s phone pings with the email from Jeff.

“So…I just need to digitally sign it?”

“Mhm.” He hands his phone over to her so she can read over everything. He rests his chin on his palm. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone read over it so diligently before.”

“I’m a lawyer.” She mumbles.

“No shit.” He sits up, suddenly even more intrigued with her. “Good for you.”

“Well, I’m in law school, and I work as a para at a law firm, but I’m getting there.” She says as she uses her finger to sign her life away. “I’d like to read the one he sent to you for me.”

“Just swipe to the next email.”

She nods and looks it over. It was the same as her. She hands him back his phone and watches him sign it.

“I’d like both copies emailed over to me.”

“Alright, what’s your email?”

“I’ll put it in.” She takes his phone back and puts her information in, sending herself the copies. “There.” She crosses her arms. “Happy?”

“Yes, actually.”

A waitress comes over to them, and they both order scrambled eggs with bacon, potatoes, and toast. It’s quiet between them for a few moments. She looks out the window to watch the rain fall, and then looks back at him. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks up at her.

“What am I doing here with you? You could have easily slipped out this morning, even last night…”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

“So…what is this, a consolation before we never see each other again?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?! I feel like I’m not even looking at a real person. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and I would have killed for the opportunity to sit down and have breakfast with you. I have so many questions about your work, and-“

“So, ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me all your questions. What can I answer that I haven’t already in an interview? You wanna know my thought process? Where and what I get inspired by? How long it takes me to write a book, a chapter even? I only have bullshit answers, to be honest. I keep notes on my phone for when I get inspired, and then when I’m able to be at my computer I’ll type for hours without stopping. It’s like I blackout or something. It feels like I didn’t even take a second to blink. I’ll work on multiple projects at the same time too. I have three other books I’m currently working, all with completely different topics and characters. I can’t shut my brain off, ever. I don’t know why I’m like this. Even when I go on a vacation to unplug, I have to keep a notebook with me to write things down. I started writing because I just needed to get everything out of my head. I feel a huge sense of relief when I’m done with a piece so I can just move on from it. I had to start my own publication because my content was going to be put in the same category as Fifty Shades, and I didn’t want that. Luckily, Jeff went to school for PR, and he helped me out, and now he’s my manager. He’s the best there is, but sometimes it would be nice to fuck a pretty girl and take her to breakfast without having to worry about every little thing.”

Before Y/N can respond their food is brought over. They both thank the waitress. She picks her for up and plays with her potatoes before looking at him.

“Not to mention, said pretty girl told me how much my work means to her, how it helps her sleep at night. Fuck, I mean, I thought I was going to melt into a fucking puddle right there. My anxiety gets bad at night too, I knew exactly where you were coming from, babe. I can’t tell you how many nights I try to go to sleep and can’t, so I just get up and go back to my computer until I pass out in my chair.” He blinks at her, as she still says nothing. “Are you…not going to say anything?”

“I’m not sure what to say, I’m trying to take in everything you said and match it to the person you were yesterday at that signing. It’s an act, right? Your cool demeanor?”

“I have a stage presence for sure.” He sighs, and takes a bite of his bacon. “What am I gonna do, get up there and tell everyone that the fourth book took so long because I had to have surgery for carpal tunnel?”

“For someone who likes to be so private, you’re sure telling me a lot of personal things.”

“You signed something saying you wouldn’t discuss any of this, so I feel a little freer to explain myself. Have I totally ruined your perception of me? Is this a never meet your hero sort of moment?”

“Not at all.” She smiles. “You seem comfortable with me, which is nice. I like that I’m seeing this side of you, you’re more than just the suave guy I’ve seen in interviews, or listening to on podcasts. You’re a person, just like me.”

“Exactly, so you understand why I might want some privacy.”

“I do.” She nods and finally takes a bite of her food. “I’m sorry if I got a little pissy about it.”

“Don’t be, it’s always an awkward conversation to have.”

“So, how many women do you hook up with exactly? You’re making yourself sound like a player.” She chuckles.

“I mean…I’m a guy who has needs. I’m not gonna lie, I probably do it a little too much, but I don’t usually spend this much time with the person, or if I do…well…it’s not usually like this.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to actually have a conversation with you.” He shrugs. “You peaked my interest.”

“Clearly.” She smirks.

“At least I’ve never rubbed one out to the thought of a famous person.” He smirks back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you consider yourself famous?” She grins at him. “And I haven’t rubbed one out, it’s usually just a dream. Don’t flatter yourself, Harry.” She shakes her head.

“My bad, so I’ll just assume you get that wet for every guy you hook up with?”

Where was this conversation going, and why was it happening in such a public place? Was he trying to rile her up?

“I don’t think this is appropriate to talk about right now.” She whispers harshly.

He smirks and continues eating. They look at each other occasionally as they eat. The waitress comes over with the bill, and Harry throws some cash down on the table.

“Let me pay the tip at least.” She says, reaching for her purse.

“Don’t be silly, I put plenty down for the tip. I’ve got it.” He puts his hand over hers. “Seems like the rain’s stopped, wanna walk back?”

“Do you not need to be anywhere?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “Today’s my free day, isn’t that nice? I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and that’s all I have to worry about. So, I’m more than happy to walk you back home.”

She nods and follows him out of the diner.

“So, do I only get your email, or do I get your number too?”

“Why, so you can hit me up whenever you’re in the city?”

“Precisely.” He nudges her as she laughs. “Come on, I gave you mine.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even look…I would have been so embarrassed, you would have forgotten all about me. I don’t even know if I would have even had the courage to message you.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

“Did you manager know you just gave your number out like that?”

“God no, he’d murder me.” Harry chuckles. “Jeff’s great, but he’s way too serious.”

“So, maybe I’ll message you sometime.”

“I prefer chatting on the phone, to be honest.”

“Why’s that?”

“Anyone can send a text, but a phone is, like, I don’t know, it’s romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah, like, a phone is something you really need to make time for.”

She pouts at him and looks at him with big eyes. They stop once they’re in front of her building.

“I come back to the city in two weeks, I really would like to see you again.”

“What are you coming back for?”

“Another signing. This one sold out, and I felt bad. I think anyone who wants to see me should.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have anything that I do if it weren’t for the people who supported me.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles. “Okay, I guess we could see each other again.”

“Great, just make sure you call me, okay? Then I can call you, and we’ll just be two people calling each other sometimes.” He blushes.

“Why are you so romantic?” She laughs and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I wish I knew. It’s a blessing and a curse, I think.” He sighs and cups her cheeks. He leans in and kisses her, she happily kisses him back and pulls him closer.

“Do you, um, need to go back to your hotel now?”

“Not necessarily, what’d you have in mind?” He raises an eyebrow at her. She leans up and whispers in his ear, making his cheeks grow hotter. He looks at her, a little stunned. “I definitely have time for that.”

“I figured you would.” She winks at him and yanks him into her building.

She wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet. Everything still felt like a dream, only better. Even when Harry had to go off to his next signing, she slept better than she ever had. She called him late one night, much to his surprise, and they spoke for hours. She didn’t have to listen to the same words over and over to fall asleep, she had him, the real him.

[birdship]

Leave It In The Sun: Chapter One (a Disco Elysium fanfic)

Warnings: Full game spoilers, eventual spicy scenes, basically the level of adult content in the game itself.

General summary: A slow(ish) burn exploration of life at Precinct 41 after Harry and Kim wrap up the case and Kim makes the move to Jamrock. Mainly just about how Harry and Kim's relationship might develop, and a sort of character study of some of the employees of Precinct 41 in general.

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

Chapter one summary: Two difficult weeks after leaving Martinaise, Harry finally reaches out to Kim. Chapter length: Approx. 4.3k words

The sun is only just setting over the streets of Jamrock, drenched in rain and neon. The city stops to catch its breath in the intermission between day and night.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: And so do you. You could’ve sworn the nearest payphone was, y’know, nearer than this. Maybe that bone-shattering gunshot wound also isn’t quite as far along in the healing process as you thought either.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Brilliant claws of pain rake down your thigh as you lean against the payphone and try to center yourself.

You glance at the phone resting in its cradle, with some trepidation. Phone calls are always a bit… difficult for you. Especially these days.

SUGGESTION: You can still change your mind.

VOLITION: No. You came here for a reason.

SUGGESTION: Or… you could always just call her instead.

VOLITION: *Focus.*

You take a deep breath. The late spring air is turning chilly in the slowly setting sun. The rain drizzles lazily as it has all day, showing no sign of stopping. A handful of people are still--or already--out wandering downtown Jamrock, laughing and talking and hurrying home and running errands and entirely focused on just about anything in the world *besides* a washed up middle-aged man having a minor anxiety attack and moderate-to-severe hip pain next to a public phone at 6:04pm in the rain.

INLAND EMPIRE: The loneliness knocks the wind out of you. You thought you were used to it by now. It’s worse outside, around people.

DRAMA: The threadbare costume you created for yourself in the privacy of your dark, trash-strewn apartment doesn’t seem quite as convincing with an audience.

VOLITION: Stop the goddamn pity party and pick up the phone already.

The receiver is light in your hand as you fumble for change and the crumpled slip of paper you’ve had in your jeans pocket for the last two weeks or so. You slowly, deliberately dial the phone number written on it, as if some part of you is afraid that your fingers might just automatically fall into the patterns of *her* number instead.

VOLITION: They might. But you’re done hurting yourself.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Well, maybe not entirely. Yet. But you’re done hurting yourself *with her* for sure.

INLAND EMPIRE: You still feel like you deserve that pain. But it’s wrong to keep using her as the knife you gut yourself with. She deserves better, even if you might not.

LOGIC: In any case, this isn’t about her. It’s about you, and it’s about--

“Hello?” Kim’s voice is muffled and tinny through the old, worn copper wiring. He sounds tired, but you guess that’s not particularly surprising. You’ve been pretty damn tired too.

“Kim, hey, it’s uh, it’s me,” you reply awkwardly.

“Harry? Do you need something?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is the first time you’ve called him since leaving Martinaise, despite carrying that little piece of paper around for the last two weeks. He’s thinking, why now?

��Yeah, no, I just happened to be downtown this evening,” you ramble, “and I thought--”

“You’re drunk,” he says. It is completely without judgment. A stated fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Harry Du Bois is drunk. “Where are you exactly? I’ll--”

“Wait, no!” you exclaim, a little too loudly. A nearby pigeon makes a mad dash in the opposite direction at the sound. “That’s not it! I swear I’m basically sober right now. Mostly.”

A long pause on the other end. “Alright,” he says plainly. “So what can I do for you?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Make no mistake, he’s picking his battles here and gingerly stepping *around* that “mostly.”

EMPATHY: He’s just relieved it’s even that much.

COMPOSURE: How embarrassing.

VOLITION: Just start over. Your first sentence was garbage, but you know you’re under no obligation to continue it, right?

You take a deep breath, then try again.

“Well, it’s really more about what *I* can do for *you*,” you say as smoothly as possible. “You know that big motor carriage exhibition in town? It just so happens I’ve got *two tickets* to it.”

Another long pause. “You mean the one that ends today?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“And are you aware that it is currently around six o’clock in the evening?”

“Is it? I mean, yes. Yes it is,” you say confidently. “I am aware of the passage of time.”

“And you waited until now to do this?” he asks.

EMPATHY: He sounds more amused than annoyed, though you definitely detect a bit of both.

“Uh,” you falter. “Look, it’s open until 8:00, so do you want to fucking go or not?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: About half a kilometer away, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is sitting in the kitchen of his new apartment, already in his pajamas and winding down for the evening. It’s a bit early for that, but he figures he should take the opportunity to rest before he tackles that mountain of backlogged cases he was promised upon making the move to precinct 41.

Two weeks ago, he said goodbye to the strangest man he’d ever met. A man he found himself inexplicably drawn to in the week they spent together, and whom he thought about every day since. Wondering if he would take the lifeline Kim tried to throw to him, or if that little slip of paper would just end up forgotten at the bottom of a vomit-soaked trash can in some shitty bar. Wondering if the dawning trauma of everything that happened in Martinaise and the restlessness from sitting at home recovering from its aftermath would combine to pull him down into a dark place beyond Kim’s reach for good. Wondering and wondering to fill the silence. And now finally the silence is broken, but whatever this cry for help is, it is not the one Kim ever expected to receive.

But he knows one thing for sure: it *is* a cry for help.

“Alright,” Kim says finally. He takes a sharp breath. “Sounds good.”

The walk to his apartment takes a bit longer than you expected. It’s not that far from the downtown payphone, but you still wasted a good 20 minutes on the journey.

ENDURANCE: You are expecting too much of yourself too soon.

INLAND EMPIRE: It’s always one or the other with you, isn’t it? Too much or not enough.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: Twenty minutes to walk a few blocks? Fucking pathetic. What kind of cop are you? Hell, what kind of *gym teacher* are you? Man up.

ENDURANCE: No. It’s a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

PERCEPTION: Beyond the apartment door, you can hear footsteps and soft humming.

You knock, and the door opens almost immediately.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit. You were hoping you’d have a few spare seconds to think of something really cool to say.

REACTION SPEED: C’mon, say something fun and upbeat to prove you’re not a depressed sack of shit who’s been spending the past two weeks drinking alone in the dark.

DRAMA: Showtime!

“Howdy, pardner,” you hear yourself say.

SAVOIR FAIRE: Finger guns! For god’s sake, don’t forget the finger guns. Without them, you just look like a goddamn lunatic.

You do the finger guns.

Kim does not seem particularly impressed as he slowly looks from your outstretched gun fingers to the twisted grimace that now wracks your face.

“Please, holster those things before coming inside,” he says humorlessly.

You blow the pretend, metaphorical smoke from each of your hot weapons before stuffing your hands in your pockets. As you do this, he watches with an appraising look.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s wondering if this is *regular* weird or *drunken breakdown* weird. However, he is intimately familiar with your brand of stupid bullshit at this point and it doesn’t take long for him to place it in the former category.

“We should hit the road soon,” you comment as you peek curiously into his apartment.

“Hit the road,” Kim repeats with mild amusement, “in what?”

LOGIC: Oh. Right. The Kineema is property of Precinct 57. Not Kim Kitsuragi personally.

“Shit, yeah,” you concede. “But hey, if we call a taxi now--”

LOGIC: You’ll arrive just in time to immediately turn around and go home.

HALF LIGHT: You fucked up. You’re a fuck-up. Great job, idiot.

VOLITION: Try not drinking and blacking out all day next time.

LOGIC: Yes, but then…

“Fuck,” you inhale. “Fuckady-fuck-fuck. Shit. Goddammit.”

Kim waits patiently for you to catch up. You’re almost there.

“I should’ve called earlier, sorry,” you apologize. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

LOGIC: What is wrong with you is that you drank all last night, slept off a hangover most of the day today, and woke up in a daze about 45 minutes ago. But what’s done is done. No point in bringing that up now, right?

“Nor do I,” says the lieutenant with a small smile. “But whatever it is, I am no longer surprised by it, I assure you.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you repeat, leaning on the door frame pathetically, a congealed ooze of mental illness and embarrassment. “Sorry for bothering you in the first place. You’re always so nice to me, even when I’m a pain in the ass.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Which is to say *constantly.*

Kim says nothing. Just sighs almost imperceptibly.

EMPATHY: Your self deprecation is frustrating for him, and he does not know how to respond to it constructively and compassionately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He *does* think you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but a pain worth dealing with.

INLAND EMPIRE: For reasons beyond your understanding.

“Why did you agree to go in the first place?” you sigh. “You’ve got a brain that actually works, you knew it wasn’t gonna happen. If you’re trying to make fun of me, then, well…”

You pause.

“That’s just fine, I guess. Good job, carry on.”

He adjusts his glasses and looks away. “I appreciated the intention,” he says finally, in a measured voice. “And since I hadn’t heard from you the past couple weeks…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...He was afraid you wouldn’t bother trying again.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’ve been kind of busy. You know how it goes after cases like that.”

“I do,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “you’re welcome to come in if you like.”

You hobble into Kim’s sparse kitchen and collapse on a dining room chair. It creaks ominously under the velocity of the assault.

“I’m glad we have an opportunity to catch up,” he says politely, pulling up the other chair and gazing at your pained expression from across the table. “Your injury is healing well, I assume?”

EMPATHY: It is obvious that he does not in fact assume this at all.

You shrug, still trying to get a hold of yourself and push back the ache swirling at the edges of your mind.

He watches you struggle for a moment, then gently says, “it will take time to heal, but it *will* heal.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: *So please be patient and kind to yourself,* is the silent plea left unsaid. It hangs in the air pitifully. You both know it’s there.

“Time hasn’t exactly been a good salve for me in general,” you mumble.

He’s silent for a while. Opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Harry,” he says finally. “What happened in Martinaise is not your burden to carry alone.”

“I thought you didn’t like *personal issues*, lieutenant,” you say.

“I don’t,” he says with a frown, “but this…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is about me too, he thinks. As much as he hates to admit it. He doesn’t particularly like his *own* personal issues either. But the past two weeks were hard for him, and you didn’t make them any easier.

EMPATHY: He was worried about you, and--although he will never admit it to himself, let alone you--there’s a part of him that selfishly hoped you were worried about him too. At least a little.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s used to this line of work, and so are you despite the holes in your memory, but it never gets any easier to deal with some things.

EMPATHY: There was so much death that day. It haunts you. And now as you sit in Kim’s kitchen, the alcohol slowly filtering from your blood and leaving behind the dregs of a headache, you realize it still haunts him too. You both added perforations you never wanted to make.

ENDURANCE: It’s too much. Your head swims and your entire body aches in the throes of repressed grief fighting its way to the surface of a sea of quickly evaporating Commodore Red.

INLAND EMPIRE: Warning! Trauma containment center has been breached! Evacuate the area immediately!

HALF LIGHT: You’re going to cry, aren’t you? You’re going to fucking cry. Right here in his kitchen. Why can’t you keep your shit together for more than five minutes straight?

You are entirely unable to keep the tears from rolling silently down your cheeks, unbidden.

INLAND EMPIRE: You don’t have it in you to really cry properly, like a normal fucking person. Not anymore. Something has disconnected the wire from your “press here to begin sobbing during your emotional breakdown” button, and you’re not sure what or when.

ENDURANCE: But human beings *cry.* And despite everything inside you that’s broken and rotting, you *are* a human being. You can’t not be.

Kim’s standing next to you now, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

EMPATHY: That’s the point of this whole shoulder-touching business in the first place--your disconcertingly unhinged behavior has left him at a loss for words, yet compelled to offer *something.*

This goes on for the longest five minutes or so the world has ever seen. But finally, you’ve wrung it all out of yourself and the tears stop almost as abruptly as they began. His hand gives your shoulder a squeeze, then he sits back down in the chair opposite you, avoiding your eyes. He rummages in his pocket for something, then hands you a blue handkerchief.

“Where the hell do you keep all these?” you mumble as you reach for it. “Fuckin’... infinite handkerchiefs around here.”

“What can I say? I like to be prepared,” he says.

“For drunk idiots who throw up all over crime scenes and have mental breakdowns in your home?”

“Usually to clean my glasses,” he says flatly. “But at this point, I suppose it *is* fair to say that it’s also for your various crises as well.”

“Well, thank God one of us is prepared,” you say. “What would I do without you, Kim?”

He hesitates, a strange wistful expression tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. What *did* you do the past two weeks?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… That’s none of my concern,” he says quickly.

AUTHORITY: Who the hell does he think he is? You’re not a child who needs to be minded. You’re a grown-ass man who can sit alone in his apartment and get wasted if he fucking wants to. Assert yourself!

“Honestly? Drink, mostly,” you say with a self-conscious chuckle.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He just stares at you with the bleakest expression you’ve ever seen cross his face.

EMPATHY: He’s so tired. So frustrated. So disappointed.

INLAND EMPIRE: Oh God! He’s *disappointed* in you? This is terrible. Anything but that, please!

“I thought I was doing better,” you say quietly. “Guess not.”

“You were,” Kim says kindly.

INLAND EMPIRE: Tequila Sunset hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it still will. Maybe it’s inevitable. Maybe when you took up that mantle, it was like some sort of alcoholic event horizon. Tequila Sunset is the only way it was ever going to end. What other force in the universe could begin to exert as much gravitational pull over you?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: From the void we came, to the void we must return.

“Listen,” Kim tells you, “this is not surprising. It’s got to be harder now that you’re back in Jamrock.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s *easy,* baby. All your old favorite haunts are here. You know all the cheapest bars, the sketchiest parts of town with the purest amphetamines… You can’t remember the names of half of them anymore, but the muscles in your legs can trace the steps there perfectly. That shit’s burned into your body forever.

“Yeah.” You swallow hard. “Anyway, what about you? How’s Jamrock treating you?”

EMPATHY: The darkness clouding his expression lightens a bit.

“Good so far,” he says. “I’ve actually only been here for a few days. G.R.I.H. wrap-up took longer than I expected.” He pauses and looks out the window. “But I’m glad to be here now.”

“Really,” you say with a laugh. “In this shithole?”

“It has its perks,” he says. “I’m looking forward to beginning work at Precinct 41.”

“You’re not working solo, are you?”

“For right now, yes I am,” he replies. “I’m fine with that. I’ve done it before.”

INLAND EMPIRE: The idea of sharing a workplace with him and yet not being at his side when he needs you… it makes you feel cold, lonely, somehow.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You have a duty to Jean. Jean is your partner.

SUGGESTION: Fuck it, just say it. You know what you want to say. Say it and get it over with.

“You should work with me,” you blurt out. “We were such a good team in Martinaise. We could keep those good times rolling!”

“I’m flattered, but,” he says, turning his head. “Satellite-Officer Vicquemare…”

“Doesn’t give a shit about me,” you say. “Fuck him.”

EMPATHY: That’s not exactly true. You know it’s not.

INLAND EMPIRE: But the truth is complicated. It’s easier to just boil it down to *fuck that guy.*

LOGIC: Jean is bad for you, and you’re bad for him. Or, you used to be. And has anything really changed? Are you really any different? Maybe it was just the change of scenery that fooled you into thinking otherwise.

INLAND EMPIRE: Same old Jamrock. Same old coworkers. Same old bad habits. Same old *you.*

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kim says delicately.

“Forget about him,” you push, suddenly more serious about this than you intended to be. “I can arrange this shit with Captain Pryce, and I can deal with Jean.”

“I… uh,” he coughs. “I don’t know what to say.”

DRAMA: You’re in control of this show now. Pull an honest answer out of him.

You point at him and narrow your eyes. “I know what you should say: what you *feel* in your *heart*!” You pound one fist against your chest over your heart to drive home the point, then wince.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Please don’t do that.

You break the dramatic pose and lean back in your chair again with a shrug. “Or just tell me to fuck off. None of this wishy-washy noncommittal shit, though.”

He’s silent for a long time, watching and listening to the rain as it picks up outside. Then finally he gives you an apologetic smile and speaks.

“Harry,” he says kindly. “Fuck off.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Translation: maybe. But not now.

EMPATHY: He’s not angry, he’s deflecting. This is by far the nicest way you’ve ever been told to fuck off. Don’t take it too hard.

“Alright, alright,” you say. “Forget I said anything.”

You spend a while just making smalltalk at Kim’s kitchen table. None of it means anything, but it’s nice. It’s a nice, good, human thing to do, sitting and chatting with him. Makes your “regular well-adjusted person” costume fit a little better. The rain begins to let up a little in the fading sunset.

“You know, we could do something else if you like,” he says brightly. “Here in Jamrock, I mean.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Yeah. Lots of stuff to do in Jamrock. Like speed and hard liquor. Or crying in the bathroom of a dive bar because you’re too fucked up on speed and liquor.

SUGGESTION: He probably wouldn’t go for that.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: There’s got to be somewhere else to go. Something else to do with him. Think. What do you want to do with him?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Oh buddy, are you sure you’re ready to open that can of worms?

The lieutenant watches you as you rub your temples in an effort to massage the awkward thoughts out of your terrible brain. Then he says, “you know what, don’t worry about it. It’s fine, we can just stay here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say. “Sounds good.”

“I’m going out on the balcony for a cigarette,” he informs you. “You can--”

“I’ll come with you,” you interrupt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He pauses, wondering how many you might’ve had already. Then again cigarettes are, shockingly, by far the *least* detrimental of your *many* vices.

The two of you step out onto the lieutenant’s rather small balcony. It’s still raining very lightly, but this is probably as good as the weather is going to get tonight. Good enough. There’s really not quite enough space for two adult men to comfortably lounge around out here, though. You try to make yourself as small as possible as you fumble in your pockets for a cigarette and lighter.

PERCEPTION: You hear the soft click of a lighter and smell smoke on the gentle evening breeze drifting over from your left.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “I forgot my light--”

You realize Kim is holding out his own lighter wordlessly, still gazing out at the city sprawling out below.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods. He pockets the lighter again once you’re done with it, then leans on the railing and exhales smoke with a sigh.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Outwardly, he is silent and pensive. He almost seems anxious in a way. But in truth, he likes this. He’s enjoying standing out here in the rain and the dark and smoking his nightly cigarette by your side once more, just like that first night in Martinaise.

You rest your arms on the railing as well and try to map his sightline. Your arm presses against his in the cramped space, but he does not react.

“Pretty bitchin’ view here,” you comment. “Comparatively.”

“Mhm,” hums the lieutenant. “By Jamrock standards, quite bitchin’.”

PERCEPTION: His hand dangles loosely over the edge of the railing. It’s a bit smaller than yours and much thinner, bonier. Sharp and angled like a marble sculpture.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: A work of art. Just like the rest of him.

SUGGESTION: Wonder what that hand would feel like in yours…?

“Everything alright, detective?” Kim asks, smoke escaping from his lips as he speaks. You realize that you’ve been staring at his hand for longer than is generally considered acceptable by polite society.

“Just spacing out a little I guess,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Par for the course with you,” the lieutenant chuckles.

VOLITION: Don’t make this too weird. Don’t think about that cigarette dangling loosely from his beautiful hands, or how soft his lips must be, or how nice it would be to just give up all pretense and embarrass yourself and hug him tightly right here on the balcony. Whatever you do, don’t think of any of those things.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit.

“Well, it’s getting late,” you say, stubbing out your half-finished cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “I should probably go.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We’ve got work in the morning after all.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You do?

VOLITION: Just play it cool.

“Yes,” you say, nodding stoically. “Tomorrow is Monday. I am aware of this, and that is why I said that in the first place, and not for any other reason.”

SAVOIR FAIRE: Nailed it.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” Kim says flatly, his face expressionless.

“I know that!” you say defensively. “I was just testing you. Come on, Kim, you don’t think I’m really that stupid, do you?”

He starts to say something, then thinks better of it and instead takes a long drag of his cigarette before trying again. “No, detective. I don’t think that.” Then he puts it out on the bottom of his boot and drops it in the ashtray.

The two of you head back into the apartment as the rain starts up again. You pull on your tarpaulin cloak in preparation for the long walk back home. But as you reach the front door, the lieutenant stops you.

“You know, you could just stay here if that would be easier,” he says abruptly, looking tense. “It’s late, and it’s raining, and…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...And the route from here to your home features at least a dozen bars along the way.

EMPATHY: He’s worried you might not be able to resist the siren song of their garish neon signs and blaring dance music spilling out onto the streets like a red carpet unfurling.

“And your injury,” he adds quickly. “It was causing you some pain earlier, wasn’t it?”

HALF LIGHT: You don’t need his *pity.*

INLAND EMPIRE: Maybe you *do.* He knows you too well already.

EMPATHY: And, for whatever reason, cares about you a little too much. A terrible decision on his part, really.

“Yeah, good point. Plus your place is closer anyway,” you reply. “Thanks. Sorry to impose.”

He gives you a little nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Soon, you’re settled in on Kim’s couch under a small pile of blankets that still smell like artificial flowers, cloying and too sweet, freshly laundered.

He says good night and disappears into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It’s strange somehow, lying here in his living room alone in the dark. Like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be. Like sneaking into a museum after it closes.

PERCEPTION: In the hazy twilight of impending sleep, you notice a calendar on the wall across from you. You can just barely make it out in the dim light, and you realize something.

“Son of a bitch,” you shout, “tomorrow *is* Monday!”

Just before you retreat into the blanket nest you could swear you hear a muffled apology from the next room.