King of Camp
Last update
2021-06-18 05:27:23

    Miss. Styles

    prompt:  Harry’s on a particularly mean streak at work. What happens when one of his disgruntled employees has a run in with Ivy?

    word count: 3.2k

    warnings: harry is not a nice person. he’s an asshole to everyone but his wife and baby (and dorothy). language.

    ***<– click for visuals.

    reblog, like, rec, and please come give me your thoughts.

    if you can, please support my free writing by donating a diet coke/coffee here!

    This was highly requested! Inspired from these requests 1 & 2

    ———-ENJOY MEAN H———————

    Y/N was losing her god damn mind. 

    She was supposed to go to brunch with a charity organizer but Ivy was being an absolute nightmare. 

    The idea was that Ivy could come along but that was proving to be impossible.

    Ivy had just turned three and still hadn’t completely shifted out of her terribles twos yet. It made each day unpredictable when it came to her mood.

    First off, Ivy refused to put on clothes.

    Like literally anything.

    The toddler kept scurrying away from her mum anytime she attempted to slide a pair of tights on her chunky legs. It got to the point where Y/N had to sit her on the step.

    𝗴𝗼𝗷 𝘀𝗮𝗼𝗿𝘂 + 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲

  • @saintobio u said gojo is enough and u are so right bestie !!
  • word c. 450

    warnings. established relationship, fluff


    “i think the cycle’s done.”

    the gentle strokes of his thumb on your hand stop, his free hand lowering the magazine that covered his face before sitting up. he must’ve been close to falling asleep, hints of drowsiness and confusion lingering in his eyes. 

    still, he smiles and kisses your cheek, “alright, i’ll go get it.”

    he stands up and the chair scrapes against the tiles, making you and the people around you wince. but satoru being satoru only shrugs and flashes a not-so-apologetic smile as he makes his way to the dryer—he seems more awake now.

    The Ballad of a Vengeful Wife

    includes: atsumu miya x reader, kita shinsuke x reader

    warnings: toxic relationships, cheating, angst, smut but not it’s not detailed, reader is a little unhinged, manipulation? idk kita is lowkey not a great guy either.

    notes: I have never cheated on anyone in my life and I feel like I needed to say that in case any of you saw my response to that one ask about this series. anyway I was thinking about you today (6/03/21) anon I’m gonna queue this and forget it so if you see this hi️ PLS READ THE WARNINGS LOL.

    part 1.


    kita shinsuke is a god send. you think this while wrapped in his arms, cuddled against his bare chest in the bed you usually share with your husband. kita presses sleepy kisses against your forehead, tightening his arms as he snuggles deeper against you. you tense, your muscles locking as you wait for the guilt to set in. for the ugly, slimy feeling of disgust to crawl across your skin and force you out of the bed and away from your lover. it always comes. no matter how many times you try to convince your traitorous heart that he—your husband– does this all the time. you’ve asked yourself several times after having sex with shinsuke, while you both bask in the afterglow, if this is how atsumu feels. you can’t believe you ever think these things, but it makes sense now why he won’t stop.

    bittersweet taste of lies and denial

    warnings: mentions of cheating, alcohol, and drinking.

    summary : after the breakup, oikawa refuses to believe he misses you.


    ever since you left, oikawa was never the same. everyone else could tell he had changed. well, everyone but oikawa. the brunette refused to believe that he missed you. he refused to believe that he yearned you. he refused to believe he still loved you. he was in denial and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew. he knew he needed you. he knew that without you he had gone mad. and worst of all he knew that even after all he’s done, he still loved you.

    of course, he would never say these things out loud. he had too much worthless pride to admit to his denial. whenever people would ask what happened, he would put up is well known happy-go-lucky attitude and say that you broke up in good terms. he would tell them that he had moved on and so had you. little did everyone know, he had already gotten used to the bittersweet taste of lies in those words.

    oh how he wished things ended like that. he can’t count the number of times he wished to return to that night to correct his mistakes. he knew that being drunk wasn’t an excuse for what he had done. if only he stayed home and waited for you to come so you could celebrate together. he wouldn’t have woken up next to a stranger. instead, he would’ve woken up next to you. he would’ve kissed your forehead and wake you up with breakfast in bed. you’d wake up and smile at him with those loving eyes and attacked him with small pecks and kisses. as cliche as it sounds, he knew that if he had just been more patient, he’d still have you by his side.

    Sour Grapes ― Semi Eita

    warning(s) ― angst, cheating / breakups, semi is in a band


    Breakups leave a bad taste in the mouth, that only washes out when you realise your worth.

    Semi was a man that any woman would fall for. Handsome, athletic, tall, gentle, the list didn’t stop. To top it all off, his skill in playing the bass guitar brought more than enough attention to him. He was in a band; what kind of girl wouldn’t fall for the charming bassist with a Splenda-sweet smile?

    Semi Eita was (L/n) (Y/n)’s boyfriend, and for the longest time, nothing could get in-between them.

    He was the best boyfriend and the sweetest lover. There was never a moment where there wasn’t a flame flickering through his eyes, saved only for her. Never a day where he could pretend that they weren’t made for one another. It helped that (Y/n) was a music student in university, and doubled as their producer.

    (Being a music student, as well as a suck-up, she had access to the studio on campus, which she often took advantage of when the band was preparing a new album).

    With her help, alongside the help of their manager, the band’s music became known worldwide. A daring feat, from a small band originating in Japan. Nonetheless an achievement none of them expected to reach so soon.

    Almost at once, a world tour was prepared by the company, and Semi was gone for a year and a half. Of course, (Y/n) would always support her lover in whatever he wanted to do. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew that things would change the minute she woke up with a sour taste in her mouth, that didn’t wash out for anything.


    Whatever you do, don’t let your face slip.

    Standing at the airport, waiting to see his face again, was harder than (Y/n) had imagined. She had months to prepare, to pretend as if she hadn’t missed Semi more than she could imagine. He would be tired when he got home, so she would let him rest. There was work to be done.

    Watching him walk off the plane was harder than just standing there. A desperate part of (Y/n) willed her to run to him, and embrace him in her arms. She did not. She reminded herself that he was tired, and burdening him with more wasn’t what she wanted.

    So she let him come to her. Even if it only could have taken seconds to walk to her, it felt like an eternity, each second ticking by lazily. Semi pulled her into a tight embrace, stuffing his face into her neck. (Y/n) felt his nose brush her shoulder, and she melted. It was everything she remembered it to be, and more. Perhaps she had missed Semi more than she thought she did.

    “I missed you,” he mumbled, clutching his lover tighter to his chest, as if afraid she would disintegrate if he let go. (Y/n) huffed shakily, returning the hug. She hid her face in his shoulder, if only to hide the way her face screwed up at the sour taste filling her mouth.

    She loved Eita. (Y/n) always loved Eita, and she wanted to be her best self for him. It sounded like such a daunting task, but if she wasn’t letting down Eita, she was letting down herself. She had enough self-respect not to fall into despair because of a year-and-a-half apart.

    “I missed you too, Eita,” she managed to choke out, clinging onto him. He was warm, as Semi always was. He didn’t let go until (Y/n) did, thankfully, as it gave her time to fix her face, and wipe the tears that had gathered on her lower lash-line. She wouldn’t let Semi see her cry. He had enough on his plate as it was.

    She held his hand and grabbed his luggage before he could think of it, walking him to the car that had taken her there alone. She made the trip to the airport alone, but she was grateful that she would have Eita to go home with her. Something inside of her had almost made her believe that he wouldn’t. But he was tired, wasn’t he? After all, their last show was in America…


    (Y/n) looked up from where she was, absentmindedly putting his luggage in the back of her car. She hadn’t realised that his hair had grown longer over the duration of the trip, sticking up in various places and flopping over his eyes, reminiscent of a puppy. Then she saw his eyes, noticing just how concerned they were.

    Concern over her.

    “Yeah, sorry,” she muttered, closing the trunk, “I’m still trying to take it in. You’re home, after so long…” Semi smiled, much to (Y/n)’s relief, and brought her closer to press sweet, gentle kisses to her hair. For a moment, she pretended that he was kissing her goodbye, catching another flight to Singapore to perform for crowds of thousands of screaming fans.

    Saying goodbye to him was so much easier that welcoming him back. (Y/n) should have expected that much; Semi never made things easy for her.

    Lifting his hand in her own, (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the center of his palm. “Let’s go home,” she hummed into his skin, smiling, “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”


    “Does he know?”

    Chewing her lip, (Y/n) brought her knees up to her chest, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. Semi was out with his bandmates, out at a congratulatory lunch. It was barely noon. (Y/n) had a few hours to call on her guardian angel: Tendou Satori.

    “I don’t think so,” she sighed, unfurling her body to lay across the bed she shared with her boyfriend, “when that girl called me, I wasn’t going to believe her, but…I don’t know. I don’t want to believe it, but I know she’s not lying.”

    “It doesn’t sound like Semi-Semi to cheat,” Tendou stated from over the phone, “Then again, I’ve never known him to have any shame, either.”

    “He’s acting like nothing happened. I guess he thought I wouldn’t find out.”

    “But you did, is the thing.”

    Worrying her lip between her teeth, (Y/n) rolled to her side, unable to keep still for so long. “What should I do, Satori? I can’t get it out of my head. What if he did cheat on me?”

    There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line. (Y/n) almost thought that Tendou had hung up on her, before she heard him sigh.

    “In my opinion? Ask him. Semi’s not a good liar, so chances are he’s gonna cave and tell you the truth.”

    It was the best idea either of them could come up with, and yet (Y/n) found herself cowering at the thought of confrontation. She had always been on the quiet side, and a pushover for a short period in time, but she was by no means malleable. As much as she loved Semi, maybe he wasn’t the guy she had loved before. Maybe he was a completely different person. Perhaps their tour was simply a metamorphosis for Semi, and his true self had finally blossomed?

    Whatever it was, (Y/n) wasn’t going to cling to loose threads. She wasn’t going to be the fool. Laughing in his face didn’t sound particularly appealing, either, but bridges had to be burned if she didn’t want this to bite her in the ass later.

    Then it was settled. While there was some hesitance about asking him even if nothing actually happened, she was sure that they would bounce back if that were the case. They never fought, and disagreements didn’t last long between them.

    If that were the case. (Y/n)’s face screwed up at the familiar taste of sour grapes.


    Semi walked through the door not two hours later, met with the sound of the television playing some foreign drama, his lover sidelined on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket Tendou had given her for one of her birthdays. His heart melted, and he could only imagine her eyelids fluttering sleepily from forcing herseld to stay awake to greet him. She might have already been asleep, as Semi smoothed his hand over her hair, and she didn’t move an inch.

    Without a care in the world, he stepped into their shared bedroom to change, though it didn’t take all that much to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. He had the rest of the week to chill out and unwind after their trip, and he planned on spending it all with (Y/n).

    He didn’t realise that the television had been turned off until he stepped back into the living room, (Y/n) no longer sleeping. Rather, she stood in the kitchen, absentmindedly humming and peeling an orange. The melody she was humming was rather familiar, and Semi worried over where he knew the song from before it hit him.

    Their song. The song he sang almost every night in front of thousands of people for over a year. The song he wrote for her, and the song she helped produce. Their pride and joy.

    She stopped humming.

    “Did you have an affair while you were overseas?”

    The song he sang for another girl in his time of weakness.

    Even if it had been only a night or two, his guilt after the events had transpired haunted him until the flight back home. He thought she would never find out. That he would get away with it and he would just be able to forget about the girl and the disgusting yet intoxicating way that she smelled of cigarette smoke and lime.

    It wouldn’t be wise to lie to (Y/n). She wouldn’t go to the press and hang up all his dirty laundry, or call in an anonymous tip that they had broken up, but what she could do was much worse than that. Even if she saw through the guise, she would laugh and brush it off, pretend like she didn’t know the truth behind his shaking hands. She would apologise for asking such a rude question, and they would continue life as always.

    They would pretend like everything was fine and pretend they were still in love. Maybe she would be in love with him, but it wouldn’t be the same as before. Nothing would be. It wasn’t, because she knew.

    “Eita.” He jumped. “Answer me. Did you or did you not cheat on me when you were overseas?”

    A beat. A pregnant pause to consider his options.

    “I’m sorry, (Y/n)…”

    She sighed, and shook her head. Nothing was left to be said between them, tense atmosphere dissolving the words that he wished to say to her. I love you or It was a mistake or something just as desperate as that, if not more.

    “I’ll go pack a bag,” (Y/n) stated simply, tearing off a section of orange to pop into her mouth, as nonchalant as the day she had first signed on as their producer. Semi was quick to object, throwing a hand out.

    “You don’t leave. I’ll go-”

    “Don’t worry about my feelings now. Tendou said he could spare his guest bedroom for me, so I’ll go.”

    Subconsciously, Semi knew that it would have hurt a lot less if she didn’t sound so, well, prepared. It took her no less than ten minutes for her to swipe most of her things into an old duffel bag, zipping it up and tramping down the stairs. She set eyes upon her ex-lover, who had begun pacing in the kitchen restlessly. It almost struck a chord with her, before (Y/n) realised she didn’t actually have a solution to the problem he created for himself.

    Rather, she leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, a parting gift for both of them, before she went to retrive her shoes. For what it was worth, Semi made a good choice when he decided not to follow her all the way there. As calm as the breakup was, they would both be feeling the brunt of it within the next fee hours. Best not speed up that process.

    “If I missed anything, drop it by Tendou’s place,” she called, “One of us will be there to take it from you.”

    No answer. Semi was quiet. Before she could rethink her decision, (Y/n) opened the door, hurrying to her car to leave quickly. She left Semi standing in the kitchen, the taste of sour grapes slowly filling his mouth.


    word count ― 2,086


    PAIRINGS : sakusa, oikawa and daichi x reader

    SUMMARY : headcanons of the HQ boys cheating on you.

    TAGS : cheating, mentions of insecurity, angst.

    NOTES : this is my first post on this blog, kinda nervous. hope you enjoy it, lovelies.

    sakusa kiyoomi

    + when you find out, through hinata, you almost don’t believe him because sakusa’s not one to interact with most. Let alone, cheat…. and touch somebody else that wasn’t you?

    + you ask him for validation, and he says yes with nonchalance. Almost as if it doesn’t matter.

    + you’re glad though, because if he would’ve begged you to stay, you probably would’ve.

    + in the end you leave him. packing up your belongings in one go. He’s confused for a good couple of weeks. you don’t come to his games, answer his calls nor do you greet him when he comes home from practice. His teammates have to break it to him.

    “Have you guys seen y/n?” Kiyoomi asks after practice in their designated locker room. Everyone pauses, chests heaving with exhaustion. Hinata sweat-drops and scurries off.

    “Omi…” Atsumu says with a tight-lipped smile and a pat on the back. “You cheated, she’s gone.”

    His eyes widen in response and his cheeks dust pink with embarrassment, “oh.”

    Meian, their team’s captain, shakes his head in bewilderment and speaks on your defense, “She was a good person, Sakusa, kinda low of ya.”

    Sakusa grunts in response, leaving in a hurry, a rush of emotions surfacing in his lungs. When he gets home he doesn’t break down. Instead, he finds contentment in the house. The house that once was yours and his. Annoyingly, your scent still lingers, your body wash still stands tall in the corner of his shower. You weren’t dumb enough to leave your expensive hair products behind. but your laundry detergent’s still in the washing room, the same one you had an infatuation with smelling any chance you got.

    To you, Sakusa’s just a trial you were lucky enough to overcome. The right model to base your next potential lover off of. But to Sakusa, you’re a fraction of him he never wanted to erase.

    oikawa toru

    + to everyone, it’s not a surprise. oikawa’s constantly surrounded by girls, attractive ones at that.

    + in fact everyone thinks your dumb and naive for thinking a relationship with THE oikawa toru would work.

    + when you do leave him, toru thinks he can persuade you to come back to him with works of charm and material things.

    + except it’s the opposite, all you’ve ever wanted was confirmation that your insecurities were illusions of past doings.

    “He’s a dumbass y/n. Don’t dwell on him longer than needed,” Hajime reassures you as you hand him the last of Toru’s belongings. his words sound too familiar. It’s not like you’ve heard him say that to you before, but it seems as though he has said the same phrase to a million of girls, a million times before.

    The only thing you can give him is a watery smile in response, and he shoots you a pitiful one back.

    "Bye Hajime,” you whisper. Shutting the door with a thud.

    daichi sawamura

    + see.. this one hurts

    + daichi shows zero signs of even having an ounce of unloyalty. He’s a social butterfly but the looks of adoration he throws your way, convinces you that he might indeed be the one.

    + daichi would be the one to cheat during a drunken haze. a night out with sugawara and ashai.

    “Suga what is it,” you chuckle. Tufts of air emerging from your lips due to the cold frigid air. Rubbing your glove-covered hands you wait for him to tell you what he called you in front of the café for.

    “lastweekwhenwewenttothebardaichiwenthomewitharandomlady,” he puffs out in one breath, his cheeks flushed from the low temperature.

    In response, you blink, only catching random bits, “yeah..daichi went drinking with you guys last week, did something happen?

    “y/n, when we went to the bar, daichi got drunk and left with a random lady.”

    “oh.” suga can literally see your heart break. He sees it in the way your shoulders slouch forward and your eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

    “I- I- guessed that daichi didn’t tell you and he’s probably beating himself up for it, but it’s just not fai-” he stops mid sentence when you give him a smile. it’s an eerie one, your cheeks are wet with tears and your expression is borderline with the emotion of anguish. 

    “thank you for telling me koshi,” you whisper while taking his hands. you give him a kiss on the cheek disguised as the word goodbye and walk off. 

    when you get home to daichi you’re spurred on with too many clashing emotions to keep calm. you breakdown and yell out obscenities’. daichi tries his best to rationalize with you but you’re just too angry. to cool off, you phone a friend and ask if you could stay over. you don’t take your stuff, deciding that you would do so when the timing was right. by the time you get to your best friend’s house, you’re a babbling mess. with your face in her chest and tissues strewn wheresoever around her living room floor, the only explanation you can muster is that daichi was indeed, not the one. 

    back to m.list


    request for ceoverse! pls make where the wifey visits him at work ((wherein the employees still dont know how she looks like)) and his secretary kinda looks down at her like “who r u, do u even have an appointment lol” ... i want angry ceo!harry and shook employees PLEASE +++ hes all soft w her in front of them and they are all like HUH 🤨

    TEMP OPENING (mini blurb)

  • Reminder: Harry is not nice! He’s an asshole to everyone but his wife and baby.
  • -

    Y/N was a bit frazzled. She was suppose to drop off important documents, that her husband had forgotten at home, to Harry’s office an hour and a half ago.

    Ivy decided that it’d be best to throw a temper tantrum because she didn’t want to stop playing with her toy kitchen set.

    After a half hour of wriggly, angry toddler chaos - Ivy was strapped into her car seat with a furious expression.

    Especially because YN didn’t let her bring a toy along because of her behavior. It was her attempting to kick the back of the leather seat until YN firmly asked her to stop.

    When she wouldn’t, YN pulled out her last resort card. She didn’t use it much because she didn’t want it to lose luster.

    “Did I need to tell Daddy how you’re treating mummy?” YN looks in the rearview mirror at her red-faced daughter.

    Ivy looked comical. She’d refused to let her mother comb her wild curls or change her white shirt that was covered in berry stains.

    “No!” She shrieks but stops kicking and huffs as she looks out the window to the passing scenery.

    The temper of her father, YN swears.


    She manages to scurry through the building without many glances. A few people know who she is but not any of the lower level employees.

    They don’t recognize Ivy either because she is rarely in the building and if she happens to be they keep her on the secluded top floor where his office is.

    YN is rushing, feeing awful about not getting the papers to him sooner. She doesn’t look much better than her baby.

    Hair is a messy bun atop her head, a ripped up vintage shirt, and grey biker shorts that have similar berry stains to her daughters.

    She is basically dragging her toddler along as she isn’t very willing to use her feet at this very moment. Stopping and staring at everything then grumbling when her mum pulls her away.

    Finally she arrives at the office that houses his secretary before the massive doors that lead into his office.

    When she pushes through, there are two men sitting on the sofa with briefcases in their laps - obviously waiting for a meeting.

    The women behind the desk isn’t the usual grey haired grandmother-like women that she and Ivy love.

    Harry’s normal secretary was on a week vacation and there was a younger, raven-haired girl sitting in her usual position.

    She looks YN up and down with judgemental eyes before she smirks and says, “Mr. Styles isn’t hiring for the cleaning crew right now.”

    It takes moment of confusion to realize that the girl is implying that how she looks - unprofessional and a hot mess means she’s less than.

    Even though any job is a good job.

    YN is about to comment on how rude the comment is but Ivy bolts to the side of the office to view a large very much alive plant.

    She reaches up to curiously pick at the leaves in her child-like wonder but ends up pulling the whole thing over, soil spilling all over the plush white carpeting.

    It startled Ivy into tears, rushing back to her mum and begging to be picked up. YN can feel the men and the secretary’s eyes on them.

    “Mummy, it’s scary,” Her daughter whines, sniffling and burying her face into her mum’s neck. Hiding.

    “You’re okay, it’s fine,” YN soothes, rubbing her back comfortingly.

    “It’s really not okay because now I have to clean that up. Maybe you should get that little brat under control.”

    It’s perfect timing when Harry’s door opens and he hears the girl call his daughter a brat.

    His perfect little baby.

    All eyes go to Harry, he demands attention anywhere he goes but this is his territory. He’s fucking furious.

    “Hayley, why are you talking to your boss that way?” Harry asks in a calm, taunting tone. He casually rests against the doorframe.

    Hayley looks at him confused, “What do you mean? I was just telling this women that her daughter is out of control.”

    “First off, that women is your boss just as much as me. Seeing as she has 50% ownership of the company,” He replies cooly, pursing his lips in irritation.

    “Second off, I’m not going to tolerate you insulting our daughter. She’s a fuckin’ baby, she’s going to do things kids do,” Harry motions to the plant lying lifelessly on the ground.

    YN shoots his a look, no cursing in front of Ivy, and he automatically sends her an apologetic look. Their daughter has popped up and is dimpling at her father.

    “Daddy! Missed you!” Ivy chirps happily.

    The two men are wide-eyes and quiet, they look at each other once - communicating silently.

    “Anything else I need to address, pet?” Harry asks his wife, accepting Ivy when she makes grabby hands at her father.

    Harry smiles down at his child, “Hi Vee. Y’missed Daddy? I missed you, my little lovie.”

    YN usually would let it alone and not be catty - truly.

    Insult her all they want but they do not talk about their daughter like that.

    “She said that they’re not hiring janitorial staff. I guess my appearance gave off that kind of signal,” YN smirks, even though the rock on her finger should have given it away.

    “Hmm, isn’t that interesting?” Harry hums, mocking that he’s thinking hard.

    It’s amazing how he can still be intimidating with a little clone of himself in his arms - who’s currently wrapping her fingers in his cross necklace.

    “Wha-what?” The confused, nervous girl answers as she realizes the pit she dug herself into.

    “It’s interesting because we may not have a janitorial position available but we have a new opening for a temp secretary,” Harry smiles widely with no empathy for the girl.

    Then he’s turning to the other men, “D’you two have anything t’say? I’m always willin’ to open your positions too.”

    They shake their heads in unison and don’t open their mouths at all. They actually look at their feet.

    “You’re a fucking asshole,” Hayley spits at him, standing up and throwing her purse over her shoulder.

    “You better hurry. The unemployment office closes at two,” Her husband tells the girl before ignoring her mutters to kiss his daughter’s cheek.

    YN steps over, murmuring “She has been a brat all day but she’s our brat.”

    “Eh, her mummy is a brat half the time too,” Harry replies, lowly so the men can’t hear.

    He can’t help but reach his hand around and squeeze quickly at her bum.

    “H,” YN squeaks, smacking him playfully, “Here’s those papers. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

    “Never be sorry, s’okay. These guys have been sitting there for the last two hours waitin’ on them to start the meeting. They’re fine.”

    YN flushes, avoiding the men’s gazes, and hands them to her husband, “You really are an awful boss.”

    “I know, s’fun,” Harry smiles, pressing a kiss to her lips before kissing Ivy’s nose to hear her giggle.

    After meeting, the men will discuss - one: how hot his wife is and two: how Harry was whipped for her and his baby.

    Enjoy 😊

    imagine having a crush on kageyama, but not doing anything about it because he’s too focused on volleyball. he doesn’t even notice how you always help him on his missed school works, how you always bring him a box of milk just before practice starts, how you always laugh at his weird jokes, and how you always seem to be there for him. but little do you know that whenever you do those things, he always gets red in the face and stumble over his words. it’s not until when he offered to walk you home that he gathered up his courage to finally do something about it. as you were walking in silence, he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. surprised as you were, you placed your hand on his waist and looked up at him and not noticing that he was slowly moving closer. he stopped just as your noses touched, silently asking for permission. with wide eyes and your heart hammering in your chest, you found it hard to believe but here you were. with a quick glance at his lips, you closed the gap between you two, melting into one another, and you thought, “finally.” and kageyama thought the same.


    How about pegging dominant harry? You're fucking him senseless but he's still telling you what to do, how he wants to be fucked, how good you're being for him.

    I like this concept a lot I can’t believe I’m sweating gallons

    Okay so just imagine Harry coming back from the New York premiere, feeling all high and mighty because for the last couple of days he’s been surrounded by people praising him for his talents and kissing the ground he walks on so he’s feeling cocky.

    He gets to the hotel, walking into the room with his shoulders back, buttons on his expensive shirt already half undone and he’s working the knot in his tie loose, toeing off his leather shoes carefully and walking around the side of the bed. You’re watching a rerun of Scooby Doo, smelling him before you even see him. He’s wearing his favorite Tom Ford cologne, smelling all musky and manly with notes of citrus, cedarwood and ocean salts and he’s just so damn tempting.

    Harry kneels onto the bed, mattress dipping under his weight as he crawls towards you, one arm stretching onto the opposite side of your torso, caging you under him as he hovers over you’re body, tie hanging from around his neck and shirt wide open to expose all of the tats on his tanned chest.

    “Y'miss me?”

    “Yeah,” you answer softly, arms reaching up to drape over his shoulders and wrap around his neck, pulling him down to your lips.

    The kiss is slow and tender at first, with gentle sucking and a little bit of tongue. His body gives and melts on top of yours, one knee propped against the bed in between your legs as the other straddles your thigh. One hand is cupping your jaw as the other grips the back of the opposite thigh roughly, all of his chunky rings biting at your skin over the material of your bunny pajama pants.

    Harry is the one who takes the first step in making it a heated night. He bites at your bottom lip all of the sudden, causing you to yelp into his mouth, pulling back in surprise. But he refuses to let you, suckling at your now swollen lip and hissing into your mouth.

    “Fuck me.” His voice is deep and raspy, yet smooth like velvet and thick like molasses. The hand groping your thigh begins to rock your leg back and forth, resulting in your center rubbing against the knee he has placed between your own.

    His eyes bore into you, a dark mossy green with bronze specks littered throughout its depth. They show nothing but utter lust and a twinge of haughtiness.

    “Yeah?” You tug at the collar of his dress shirt, pushing it back until it starts to roll down his shoulders. “Want me to ride you?”

    But Harry shakes his head, thumb caressing your chin as an ominous smirk pinches his dimples into place. “I don’t mean it as in, ‘fuck me.’ I mean it as in fuck me.”

    Keep reading

    at the beginning

    fwb!harry x reader

    i had a lot of fun with this idea & i’ve been holding onto it for a while, so i hope you enjoy 💗 anyways, if you do please reblog and let me know what you think, i have an ego to stroke <3 im teasing....


    WARNING: sexual content, 18+ please :) i didnt intend for this to be OU, so i didnt really focus on dates/ real life events, this is very much just a product of my soupy brain :D also it might be best to read this on the browser instead of the app!

    WORD COUNT: 18.5k

    SUMMARY: you and Harry just want to have some fun. But friends don’t really have fun in the way that you do, and maybe you’re not prepared for what comes next. Or the six years after that.


    Harry is just a friend. That’s something you have to remind yourself of all the time, because there’s something about being friends with Harry that makes you feel like you’re more than just friends.

    Like when the two of you are drunk dancing at a wedding, swaying to all the songs playing from the speakers until your feet are sore, or when you guys make eye contact and suddenly everyone else disappears, or when a group of your friends are hanging out to watch a movie, but you and Harry can’t stop laughing about the less-than-realistic sex scenes.

    It’s a Saturday night and Harry has invited you and a few other friends to his apartment for a movie night that will probably drag on into the early hours of the next day. Somehow you’ve all chosen the worst movie to watch, because you and Harry keep glancing at each other and grin wildly from opposite ends of the couch whenever something outrageous happens, which ends up being about every ten minutes. On his side, Harry has claimed the fluffy pink blanket that you bought him last Christmas, only letting Xander share a small corner of the blanket with him.

    The both of them are hogging most of the good snacks, but Carina is sitting next to them and they never say no to her when she asks for anything. Josey sits next to Carina, checking her phone to text her partner every once in a while, but otherwise she’s actually invested in the movie. She shoots you and Harry harsh looks when your laughter is too loud, but aside from that the two of you get no other reactions. And at the very end of the couch is you and Zayn. Despite how massive Harry’s couch is, the two of you still end up squished together (you blame Carina and her long legs that take up half the couch) with the other half of the snacks and a blanket that Zayn was smart enough to bring from home.

    You almost doze off several times because of how warm Zayn’s side is, but he mutters funny commentary on the movie that goes unheard by the rest of the group and that keeps you present. You nearly fall asleep again with your head leaning against Zayn’s shoulder, but he shifts your body towards Josey and slowly slides off the couch, grabbing his coat off of the couch’s arm as he gets ready to leave.

    Harry is the first to notice Zayn’s movement, because he never misses anything with his hawk-like eyes. “Where’re you going, mate? There’s still an hour left of the movie.”

    Zayn runs his fingers through his hair and ducks his head at the sudden attention on him from everyone else. He shrugs and makes a move to get his jacket on.

    “My mum wants to have brunch tomorrow with the whole family again, and this time I think I should try to make it on time. You know how she gets,” Zayn says while making sure to give everyone a quick hug before he leaves. When he lets go of his hug with Harry, Harry grabs his hand for an extra second.

    “Make sure to tell your mum hi from me, and from the rest of the gang, yeah?” Harry lets go only when he gets a nod of affirmation from Zayn.

    As Zayn walks back towards your side of the couch to leave, you scramble off of Josey’s shoulder so that you can grab onto him from the tips of his fingers.

    “No, please don’t leave, Zayn. You’re supposed to be my cuddle buddy.” You pout at the end of your words to try to get Zayn to change his mind.

    But he just shakes his head and ruffles your hair playfully. “Harry’s a good cuddler, why don’t you go use him?”

    Zayn’s already got his boots on and is practically out of the door before you can complain again, so you dump the snacks from your lap onto the coffee table in front of you and wrap Zayn’s blanket around Josey. Before Harry or Xander can say anything, you squeeze yourself in between them, getting everyone else to scooch over so you can curl into Harry’s warm body. Your head is leaning into his shoulder and hidden under the edge of the blanket. Even though your eyes are glued to the television screen, you can feel Harry watching you intensely.

    You turn your head to look up at him, quirking your head to the side with the unasked question at the tip of your tongue. Harry just stares back at you, giving you a smile that’s somehow both soft and smug.

    “Hey,” he says casually, eye contact still not breaking between the two of you.

    To keep yourself from showing him exactly how he makes you feel, you smile at him for a moment before turning back to the movie, even though you don’t really care about whatever’s happening with the plot right now.

    “Hey yourself,” you whisper so as to keep from disturbing your other friends.

    After a second of thought, you lean into him further, curling your body towards him to get some extra warmth. Harry immediately pulls you under his arm, letting you get into the most comfortable position to watch the movie.

    You definitely remember being conscious for at least another twenty minutes, but everything after that is hazy, so when you wake up to a dark and empty living room, you figure that you’ve fallen asleep for at least a few hours. Xander has disappeared from his spot next to you, and so have Carina and Josey. The only evidence of life is Harry lightly snoring in your ear. He has his nose pressed against your neck and you can feel the little puffs of his hot breath against your skin.

    Making sure that you don’t wake Harry up, you slowly reach into your pocket to check the time on your phone screen. It’s already four in the morning, and under the time you can see a message from Josey that she had sent at around one telling you that she’s sorry that she left without you, but that she’s sure Harry won’t mind bringing you back to your place in the morning.

    Seeing as Josey was your ride to Harry’s and that it's way too early to think about getting an Uber back home, you sink back into the couch and try to get back to sleep, with Harry’s arm across your stomach and his curls in your face.

    It’s not so bad of a deal, and you’re back to sleep in seconds.

    The next time you wake up, Harry isn’t in his spot on the couch, and you feel ten times colder. The blanket looks as though it was freshly spread over you, and you can hear Harry moving around in his kitchen. You fold the blanket as best you can and walk through the doorway of Harry’s large kitchen. He’s standing with his back facing you, and you can see an apron tied around his waist. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake, because he’s busy whistling a random tune—knowing Harry, it’s probably a melody to one of his unfinished songs. He has a messy spatula in one hand and a large measuring cup filled with pancake batter in the other.

    You walk over and knock into him, wrapping your arms around the middle of his stomach, and peek over his shoulder. The pancakes that he’s making have blueberries placed on top of them, and you’re quite impressed with Harry’s cooking abilities, because it smells really good.

    “Morning,” he says, turning his neck to look down at you. Again with the eye contact, you have to pretend that staring at him isn’t the most intense feeling ever.

    “Good morning. I didn’t know you were such a chef.”

    Harry turns back to the pancake that’s on the hot pan, flipping it carefully as he says, “I don’t know if you know this but I used to be a baker, I’ve got the skills.”

    You groan and sit up on the counter near Harry, so that you can continue your conversation comfortably. “I think you’ve exaggerated that teeny tiny fact about a hundred times since I’ve met you. Doesn’t sound as impressive hearing it for two and a half years.”

    “Hm, well I think it’s impressive,” Harry mutters, pouting dramatically at you.

    “And you’re the only one who thinks so,” you tease him, which earns you a raspberry blown in your direction.

    Harry finishes off the last of the batter, adding all the pancakes to a large plate and pulling out two plates and some forks for the two of you. You help him carry everything to the table and he even pulls out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. A gentleman in nothing but an apron and a pair of comfy shorts. You’re not so put together yourself—you’re in the same pajamas from the movie night—so if anything you feel like you’re dressed quite appropriately.

    You cut off a bite of your pancake and notice that Harry is watching you, a fist under his chin. When you finish that first bite of pancake, Harry looks at you expectantly, motioning towards the plate.

    “Well? How is it?” You think he looks a little nervous for your response, so you try to give him a serious look to hide your smile.

    “I think that’s one hell of a pancake, think I’ll have to give my compliments to the chef,” you tell him, and the satisfied grin on Harry’s face is a little shock to you. Like, he genuinely wants to know what you think.

    Once it gets the seal of approval, you guys continue your meal, easy conversation passing between the two of you while you eat. Harry is the type of person to have about a million topics that he cycles between while talking to someone, never really leaving any space for silence. You finish your pancakes before Harry, giving him time to catch up.

    “If this is the kind of food you make for Xander when he’s staying with you in LA, I think I’m a little jealous. You seriously gotta share your gifts with the rest of us, H.”

    He shrugs and pushes the pancake bits around on his plate. He hesitates for a moment and bites his lip and you can practically see the wheels in his head turning.

    “We should do this again next week, I can make chocolate croissants or maybe something easier and we can hang out before I go on tour again. If—if you want.” Harry tries to stop his ramble by shoving some pancake into his mouth. He watches you, waiting for your thoughts on his idea.

    You nod thoughtfully and say, “That’s a really good plan, maybe everyone can bring something and we’ll make it like a potluck breakfast.”

    The smile on Harry’s face falters a little, but you think it might just be your imagination because suddenly his smile widens and he’s nodding along to your words. “Yeah, totally, we can all meet here next week or something. I’ll text the group chat later.”

    You pick up your empty plate as well as Harry’s and make your way over to his sink. Harry leaps up from his seat to help you, trying to take the plates from you so that he can clean them off. After a short minute of silently going back and forth trying to take the plates from one another, you finally relent and hand the plates to Harry. He lets out a hum of victory and places the dishes in the sink so that he can run the hot water.

    You wait by the corner counter and wait for him to finish washing them, your hands leaning back against the countertop.

    “Do you want something to drink before you leave? Tea? Or coffee?”

    You don’t really want to leave yet, so you accept his offer. “I’ll have a cup of coffee, if that’s okay.”

    Harry dries his hands and moves to stand almost directly in front of you.

    “Sorry, I just need to—” He cuts himself to reach for the cabinet to your left. Even though he probably doesn’t mean to, Harry’s chest brushes against yours when he reaches for the mugs in the cabinet. It’s quite impossible to ignore how close the two of you are and the tension that surrounds you.

    He looks at you and opens his mouth to apologize, but something about how he’s staring at you sets something aflame inside of you. The two of you stare at each other, the same question simmering behind your eyes. Gently, so that Harry can pull away if he wants, you raise yourself onto your tiptoes and kiss him softly. You pull back to watch his eyes, looking for some kind of reaction. Harry doesn’t waste a moment to cup your cheeks in his larger hands and kiss you again, this time much deeper. You can feel his tongue working against your lips, so you immediately open your mouth and let him take over. Harry drags his hands along your sides and curls them under your thighs to help you loop your legs around his waist. He pulls away to catch his breath for a moment, rubbing his thumb against the small of your back.

    “Before we do anything, I just want to make sure there are no feelings between us. This isn’t…it’s just sex.”

    You know Harry is just your friend, and feelings make everything more complicated. You don’t even know what you feel towards Harry, you don’t know how to tell what’s platonic and what’s romantic with him. But you do know that you very much want to have sex with him right now, feelings or not.

    So you grin up at him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “Yeah, of course. Just sex.”

    Harry lets you down and intertwines your fingers together as you walk out of the kitchen towards his bedroom. People who are just friends don’t share kisses in a kitchen. They don’t stare at each other like they’re staring straight into each other’s souls. They don’t have sex like there’s nothing more complicated going on between them. But none of that matters with Harry’s fingers curling into your palm and the heat rushing towards your thighs.

    Harry shuts the door to his room once you’re inside, pressing you against the wall so that he can kiss you again. You immediately drag your hands through his curls, relishing the needy hum he lets out in response. Harry hikes your left leg up and presses it against the outside of his own hip, raising his opposite knees so that it presses against your core. When you tilt your head back against the wall, he takes the opportunity to scatter hot kisses against your throat, sinking his teeth into the skin before soothing it with his wet tongue.

    “Fuck, maybe I should have seduced you ages ago,” you say, gripping onto Harry’s bicep when he runs his tongue along a more sensitive spot on your neck.

    Harry pulls away and stares at you, a look of amusement interrupting the horny part of his brain. “Does anyone actually say that anymore…seduced? Makes you sound like a lady from the sixties, or somethin’.”

    You palm Harry’s growing bulge in response, getting a quiet hiss from him and causing him to drop his face against your shoulder. You get your hand under the waistband of his boxers, pulling out his dick so that you can pump it slowly once, twice. Harry lets out a broken sigh and leads you over to the bed, helping you get his shorts off quickly so that he can sit at the edge of the bed with you standing in front of him. After you toss the shorts off to somewhere in the room, Harry returns the favor by getting your t-shirt and sweatpants off, eyes on yours the whole time. He sucks in a breath at the sight of you before him, dragging his fingers along your hips so that they rest against the edge of your underwear. You have a pair of cotton boy shorts on, having no idea you’d end up like this, but by the way Harry is staring at you, you’d think you were wearing a new set of lingerie. He fiddles with the edge of the underwear for a moment, looking up at you before he actually takes them off.

    “You’re sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like…obligated or anything like that.”

    You lean down to kiss Harry at the corner of his lips before flicking your eyes up to look at him. Harry isn’t usually the kind to need reassurance, so you want to make sure he knows you feel comfortable with him right now.

    “I really want to have sex with you, Harry. If the little guy is up for it.” You try to add a bit of humor into your voice, waiting for Harry’s familiar grin.

    He rolls his eyes, but nods and continues to tug your underwear off. He fumbles with your bra for only a second or two, successfully tossing it away faster than you usually do, if you’re being honest. The green of his eyes darken when he gets a good look at your tits. He leans forward and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud until it hardens. When it does, he switches to the other nipple, wetting it with his mouth as he rubs at the other one with the pads of his finger. While he shows love to your boobs by pressing kisses all across your chest, he makes sure to drag his large hands over the backs of your thighs until he’s palming at your ass. Harry keeps his head suffocated in your tits, moaning against your skin softly when you tug the ends of his hair. Although you quite enjoy the fact that Harry’s good at appreciating a pair of tits and ass, you really want him inside of you, so you pull him back gently by his hair so that he can move the two of you to the middle of the bed.

    He scoots onto the bed with you, kissing you wherever he can reach and hissing when you press your thumb against his leaking slit. He ends up nibbling kisses along your jaw from your ear until he gets to your chin.

    “D’you wanna be on top?” Harry asks, words muffled because he still has his lips against you.

    You almost want to laugh. “Fuck no, I do not have the energy for that right now.”

    Harry huffs a breath and twists the two of you so that your back is resting on the mattress and he’s hovering above you. He uses one arm to hold himself up and the other travels down until his fingers are hovering just along your core.

    “I can already feel how wet you are, all this ‘cause of me?” He asks, his voice low and dripping like honey. You let out a hum of agreement and roll your hips lightly in the direction of his hand.

    He circles his middle finger against your clit and watches your face for cues. He drags the same finger through your folds, adding another finger to brush against you before getting his fingers inside of you. He gets a little bit of a rhythm going, curling his fingers as deep as he can to reach the sensitive spot inside of you. You try to help him out too, blindly reaching for his dick and running your fist along it and making sure to smear his precum across his berry red tip with your thumb. Harry drops his head into the crook of your neck and tries not to slow the rhythm of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

    “Fuck, just—shit—just like that,” he whimpers, and you can’t even look at him as you moan in response, adding some more pressure with your hand and dragging your fingers along the underside of his dick.

    He lifts his head away from you and pulls his fingers out of you before you can really get close to cumming, pausing for a moment before swirling his tongue over his drenched fingers as you stare at him. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and take his fingers into your own mouth, licking your tongue around his digits until they brush the back of your throat.

    Harry bites his bottom lip and stares at you darkly. “You are unbelievable, did you know that?”

    “Yes, I am well aware. Now can you please fuck me?”

    Harry grins down at you. “Gladly.”

    He reaches over to his bedside table drawer and pulls out a condom. He tears it open with his mouth and you help him roll it on, giving him one last pump before he takes over again. Harry rests one of his hands on your hip and the other runs his dick through your folds before aligning it and slowly entering you. He lets you take little by little, waiting for you to adjust when he’s finally all the way in with his hips pressing against yours.

    You grip onto his bicep to keep yourself grounded in some way until you’re comfortable with his size.

    “Fuck, you’re big,” you groan, leaning forward to kiss his smile away when he gets that stupid smug look on his face.

    Once you’re ready, Harry pulls out until only his tip is pressing into you. With a strong grip on your hips, he thrusts back into you and all you can do is curse loudly and dig your nails into his shoulders. Harry creates a steady rhythm, fucking in and out of you at an almost constant and deep pace. You want to feel more of him, so you hook your legs around his bare ass and pull him closer to you. It doesn’t give Harry much room to pull all the way out on each thrust, but he makes it up with how deep inside of you he reaches.

    God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, dragging his hand over your forehead, which is beginning to moisten with perspiration. His touch, brushing your loose hair away from your face, is extremely gentle in comparison to the rough way he’s fucking into you.

    You can already feel your orgasm creeping up on you the more Harry thrusts into you and the more he presses wet kisses against your throat and the more he grunts and groans and whimpers against you. Neither of you even try to mute the sounds you bring out of one another.

    Harry notices that you’re approaching your highof course he does—and nearly falls apart himself as he thrusts in and out of you much quicker and sloppier than when he started.

    “Harry—holy fuck—please.” You drag your nails across his back on a particularly harsh slam of his hips, the sound of your naked skin slapping against one another over and over again.

    Harry brings one hand down and against your clit, rubbing his thumb over it in slow circles as he watches his dick go in and out of you.

    “Can you cum for me, love? Wanna see you fall apart.”

    You whine and dip your head against his neck, spreading kisses over his reddening throat and collarbones as your orgasm washes over you. You roll your hips in rhythm with Harry’s to chase down the overwhelming feeling washing over you. The feeling of you clenching on him is enough to get Harry to cum right after you, gripping onto the wooden headboard behind you. He doesn’t pull out of you for another few seconds, letting the two of you gasp for breath in sync.

    Harry rolls off of your body and lays on his back next to you, with a strong arm resting under his head and his breath still heavy. You dig the heels of your palms against your closed eyes and try to catch your breath with Harry. He tosses the condom in the little trash bin next to his bed. You both take a few minutes to recover, physically and mentally. Harry twists his upper body so that he can look at you when he speaks.

    “That was a one time thing, yeah? Don’t want us ruining what we’ve got.” Harry’s voice is light. Hesitant.

    You can’t really tell where he stands on all this. What is there between you two to be ruined in the first place? But you don’t even want to think about complicating things with Harry, his friendship is way too important to you. So you both need to agree on this, whatever this is.

    “Don’t worry, buddy, you only get one chance with all of this,” you say while motioning playfully at your nude body. “Remember it while you still can.”

    Harry chuckles and drags his eyes along your body until he meets your eyes. “Okay, at least that’s settled.”

    As it turns out, the two of you don’t know how to settle for shit. Not even two weeks later, you’re both making out in his car right before a night out at the club with your friends. There’s a moment of tension between the two of you the second before he digs his right hand into the back of your neck to kiss you in the tiny parking lot of the club. It takes a minute to register in your minds what you’re doing, and when it does Harry jerks back and stares at you with his lips parted.

    You tilt your head to the side and offer up, “Moment of weakness?”

    Harry just groans and rubs his hand over his face, getting out of the driver’s side of the car and helping you out so that the two of you can meet up with everyone else inside. Your kiss in the car gets pushed to the back of your mind once you have a few drinks in your system.

    And then not even ten minutes later you and Harry are dancing awkwardly in a quieter spot of the club. He drapes his arms loosely around your waist and you rest your head on his chest while you dance off-beat to whichever 2014 hit songs are playing. It’s something you two do often when you both end up drunk enough to not care, but there’s a lot more touch between you that goes unnoticed by everyone else. To them, you just look like two friends having a good time. But Harry’s hand dragging across your thigh to pinch your bum and your mouth against the shell of his ear means much more between you, knowing what you know.

    And what you know doesn’t stop Harry from being his usual self. When he’s done dancing with you, he’s off chatting up a girl he met while grabbing a drink. And when she leaves, he stays close to your hip until someone else grabs his attention. You’re not sure if this is just him trying to figure out his emotions or if he sees you like he does them—just someone to have fun with. You shouldn’t be mad, because Harry did tell you weeks ago that he doesn’t feel anything for you. But he’s your friend, and you want him to feel for you stronger than he does for a stranger at the club. You’re way too unsure about whatever you’re doing with Harry, and you’re not sure if this risk will be worth it at the end.

    That doesn't stop the two of you from making sex a regular part of your relationship. You both still insist to one another that what you’re doing is completely fine, there are no emotions keeping you from seeing other people or making the sex feel different. Harry is still your friend first and foremost, you both just get the added bonus of having sex whenever you crave each other so strongly. You both go on like this for months, convincing yourselves that you can stop whenever you want, if you want. And every time you both think of stopping, it only lasts a few weeks tops before you’re both back together and giving in to your desires. Every time becomes the last time, and you keep telling each other that as if it's going to come true eventually.

    You both play a very dangerous game, testing how far you can push the affection for one another in front of your friends without them noticing anything different about you and Harry. They don’t notice that the two of you often carpool to hangouts, or that you’re always the first to arrive at his house and the last to leave, or that the two of you are much more playful with each other than you’ve ever been.

    You pretend that there are no emotions involved in the relationship (you might as well call it that now), even though you both haven’t talked to other people for months. You and Harry won’t admit it to each other, but you feel that things with Harry have escalated to the point where it really does feel like it's just you and him. It feels like you’re already in a relationship without having told one another that you are. And for now, you’re okay with that. But you know that eventually your feelings are going to change and things will be much more complicated and much harder to handle.

    It happens slowly, so slowly that you don’t even realize when. It could be when Harry takes you out for dinner one night, not for a date but just because he felt like treating you to a night out. Or maybe it's when you FaceTime him and he stays up with you to talk about nothing and everything until you fall asleep with your face against the screen. It’s also possibly the way he looks at you when you’re with your friends, because the way he looks at you makes you feel like a thousand butterflies are filling up your chest. You don’t know what it is, but something makes you realize that you want more. More from him, more with him, just something that will make the tug in your stomach go away. You don’t want any more uncertainty with him, because in the past few months you’ve begun to recognize how you feel and what you want out of a relationship. You don’t know much, but you do know that you want to go through it with Harry. You care about him, but you think he might not reciprocate those feelings. Actually, you’re very sure he doesn’t feel the same way.

    You notice bit by bit that Harry shows just how little he cares about you, compared to how you feel about him. He keeps everything about you two a secret from your friends. Whenever you’re with Harry and the “lads” decide that they want to come over, he rushes to get you out of his apartment, because god forbid anyone finds out that you’re with Harry at all. And when the whole gang is hanging out, whether at someone’s home or at the bar, he makes an effort to keep the two of you from being next to each other for more than a few moments, always buddying up with Xander, or Josey, or Zayn. He makes you feel like you can’t even be friends with him in public anymore, which hurts so deeply because your friendship with him is what you wanted to protect the most out of all of this. He doesn’t joke around with you like he used to, and your friends are starting to notice the tension between you and Harry.

    It’s the exact opposite of what Harry was trying to do, and it makes it harder for the two of you to keep acting like nothing’s wrong. You go between periods of not seeing each other for weeks to having sex multiple times within the span of a few days. You know, and you’re sure Harry knows, that what you guys are doing isn’t healthy in the slightest. Instead of talking about where you stand, you use sex to act like nothing is falling apart. It sucks that sex has become something so meaningless after everything you’ve felt with him.

    You two are not healthy for each other with how you’re behaving, and you need to do something about it before you ruin your chances at getting back the friendship that you had with Harry. He doesn’t seem too inclined to repair things from his end, and you don’t even know if he realizes exactly what's going on with your relationship. It’s the hardest conversation to have, but it is the most important one that you’ll have in a long time.

    You bring it up one evening when the two of you are at his apartment, cuddling under his covers with you in nothing but his t-shirt. It takes you time to figure out exactly what you want to say and how to say it, because there’s a lot to deal with and you don’t want to be the bad guy in this situation. This has been the first night in a while that you guys actually have the time to relax with each other instead of going straight to jumping his bone. You play with Harry’s hand, fiddling with the few rings on his fingers while he rests his head on your shoulder. There’s a show playing from his laptop, but neither of you are really paying attention.

    “Harry, we need to talk,” you say softly. Even though your words are spoken in the most delicate way possible, Harry hears you and immediately pauses the show that’s playing, lifting his head so he can give you his full attention.

    “What about? Did you want to watch something else?”

    You shake your head and trace the lines of his palm to calm your racing heart. “No, this is serious. What are we doing? Like…what are we?”

    Harry has his brows furrowed and you can see the gears turning in his head. “We’re just…us. Nothing’s changed.”

    “Okay, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, pushing his hand away from you. His hand hovers in mid-air and he tries to give it back to you, almost offended that you don’t want to fiddle with his rings.

    “What? We’ve known the whole time that we’re just friends, and we still are. What’s wrong?”

    You pinch the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and try not to get mad. “You can stop pretending that everything’s okay, Harry. You wont even talk to me when we’re with our friends, how are we supposed to be all good?”

    Harry pulls away from you and you almost miss his warmth until you remember that you’re upset at him. He has that look on his face, the one that makes it look like he’s completely frustrated with whoever he’s looking at and you hate that it's directed at you.

    “I thought we agreed that this was all just for fun. It doesn’t mean anything.”

    You push his hand away again and huff, “I don’t want fun, Harry. I want someone who’s actually going to care about me. This isn’t enough, I don’t want to have to run out of here every day feeling like you’re just using me. I don’t just want to be fuck buddies, I want more. With you.”

    Harry doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but by the way his lips are curving into a frown, you know that you were right about him.

    “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I thought we had agreed we didn’t have feelings for each other.”

    You never expected Harry to reciprocate your feelings or to have some big confession from him, but it kind of stings hearing him say it out loud. A small part of your brain had hoped that you meant something to him, that all the little moments put together made things more real between you and Harry. You were so wrong. And your pride hurts too much to roll over and agree to pretend like everything is normal.

    “If that’s really how you feel, I don’t think this is going to work out anymore.”

    You throw the blanket off of you and get out of his bed to search for the rest of your clothes.

    Harry sits up quickly and says, “Hold on, where are you going?”

    You look up at him while tugging your jeans on. Harry’s eyes look wide and…concerned, maybe? But you don’t really know what to believe about him anymore, so it’s probably a trick of your mind.

    “I’m gonna call Josey to pick me up, I don’t really want to deal with you right now.”

    Harry fully on frowns now, shaking his head when you reach for your phone and purse.

    “Come on, don’t be like that. We can talk again in the morning and I can drive you home, just don’t do this now.”

    You turn from your spot at the door to look at him. You’re just so, so mad and you can’t stop yourself from letting your anger boil over.I hate you. I hate that you don’t care enough about me to ask me how I feel. I hate that you’re going to move on from this like it's nothing, because this is nothing to you. I hate your stupid curly hair and your stupidly tight jeans and I hate how you make me feel like it’s just you and me when we’re together.”

    Harry doesn’t say anything and the silence in the room makes the tiny sob that escapes you sound that much louder.

    “I hate you for making me think you actually could have liked me.”

    “y/n, don’t go—” you slam his door shut, before he can get you to change your mind, and walk into his living room. You wait there for a few minutes so that you can text Josey. Harry doesn’t follow you out and you don’t go back into his bedroom.

    You leave his apartment to wait for Josey outside. You don’t trust yourself being that close to Harry, so you’d rather sit in the cold. It’s not the same as his warm body, but at least it’s much kinder. That’s how Josey finds you, sitting on the sidewalk and trying not to cry. The second she notices your teary eyes, she scoots next to you and lets you tuck your head against her shoulder. It’s not the same as his comforting hugs. But it’s still much kinder.

    “Oh, baby, what happened? Do I need to go up there and yell at him for you? Lob him over the head?”

    You dry your cheeks with your cold palms and shake your head miserably. “Can I just stay at your place for the rest of the night?”

    “Yeah, of course. C’mon, let’s get out of the cold.” Josey stands and helps you up, leading you over to where she’d left her car running.

    She doesn’t ask you any questions on the way to her place, doesn’t bring up Harry or any conversation that could lead to him. She just talks about her new puppy and the donuts she had earlier and her new favorite songs. Josey even gives you control over the aux so you can pick the music you guys listen to on your way to her place. She doesn’t even say anything when you play Before He Cheats twice in a row. It helps you forget about the past hour, you’re too busy screaming lyrics with Josey to care about Harry or the several calls that you’re ignoring from him. He leaves five voicemail messages for you, but you don’t open them tonight. Instead, you fall asleep on Josey’s cozy couch, drowning in blankets with her tiny pup resting on your chest.

    You stay with her the next day too, just so that she can check up on you and make sure you don’t even think about calling Harry. Josey distracts you by having you run errands with her all morning, and it works pretty well. The messages he’s left for you go forgotten up until you’re back home alone with no one around to tell you not to do something stupid. There’s about three minutes in between each message and the timestamps show that he sent them almost an hour after you left his apartment. You try to put off listening to them as much as possible, but you’re itching to hear what he has to say. Not that it’ll really fix anything between the two of you at this point. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to hear his familiar voice.

    The first voicemail is fairly short. You can hear him mumble for a few seconds before he realizes the recording has started. “y/n, all the things you said…you have to know that you mean a lot to me. ‘M sorry, we can work it all out, yeah? Please, please call me back.”

    After that message, it seems as though he waited all of ten minutes before sending a second one. This one is about three minutes long, but most of that time is because of the pauses he leaves in between his sentences, where you can hear him moving around in the background. In the message, he reiterates his desire to see you, to try and fix things when the two of you have calmed down.

    After that longer message, there are few that he’s sent after that, which end up just being short messages of him asking for you to call him back or to reply to his messages.

    But you don’t really want to work things out with him, not to the degree that he does at least. Harry sounds like he wants to get right back to the weird intimate relationship the two of you were balancing, with the empty sex and tense interactions. There’s a small part of you that wants to give in, to take any amount of affection that you can get from Harry. But you know that if you do, you’re not going to be happy at all, and in fact you’re sure that you would come to hate Harry. The two of you want different things, so even though you like him very much, being with him right now is probably the worst thing you could do to the both of you. You think that maybe you deserve better, and you know that’s not a selfish thing to ask for, how could it be?

    Even though you’re very certain that you’ve made the best decision for yourself, you replay Harry’s voice messages a few times, ignoring the sinking feeling inside of you and just let his voice bring back some peace within you. You’re laying in the middle of your bed with your phone beside you so that you can focus on everything before your unfortunate downfall with Harry. You remember all the times the two of you would dance no matter what everyone else was doing, and how you’d make each other laugh so hard that you could barely breathe, and how you were the best of friends before you went ahead and ruined everything. You have this feeling that no matter what, you and Harry will never be able to be as close as you had been before.

    You’re right, of course, because in the months after your fall out with Harry, the rest of your friend group sort of falls apart as well. It’s not necessarily because of you and Harry, everyone just ends up moving in different directions in their lives. One by one, people are getting new jobs and moving to different cities and getting into relationships and there’s just not enough time for anyone to meet up for a drink or a movie night. You don’t really speak to Harry at all after everything, there’s only room for the random text every now and then and long gaps of radio silence.

    At this point you’ve accepted the fact that you and Harry are never going to be friends again, so when you get a call from him one night while you’re asleep, you’re not quite sure what to expect. Harry has always been impossible to figure out.

    “Hello?” Your voice is rough with sleep, and you take a quick glance at your alarm clock when you sit up. “It’s two in the morning, what do you want?”

    You can hear quiet gasps and sniffles from his end of the phone, and you’re not exactly sure what to do until you recognize the sound. “Harry, are you—are you crying?”

    There isn’t a response right away from him, so you wait until he’s ready to speak. You don’t know what to do, and you don’t know why he’s coming to you when he has other people that hes actually close with.

    “Zayn’s leaving,” you hear him mutter finally.

    You trap the phone between your ear and shoulder and try to get what he means. “Leaving…to go back home? Or, like…?”

    There’s another muffled sniffle from Harry when he goes, “He’s leaving the band, for good. I don’t—I don’t know why he’s done. I mean, I do now, but I feel so fucking dense because I never noticed how draining it was for him. I didn’t notice and I feel so, so terrible. I don’t notice when my best mate isn’t doing good when we practically live together on tour and I don’t notice when our friendship is going to bits because I can’t fucking keep it together. I—I’m just so fucked.”

    His voice wobbles several times while speaking, but you patiently wait for him to finish. The last part, you know he’s talking about you and him but you don’t know how to make it better.

    You let out a sigh. “About Zayn, you’re never going to know everything that a person is feeling, Harry. Whatever it is that he’s going through, all you can do is help and support him right now. You can’t go back in time.”

    You can hear Harry push a breath past his lips before saying, “And about you?”

    You rub your face when you hear the hope in his voice.

    “You can’t go back in time,” you repeat. “We can’t…I just don’t think we can go back to how things were, I’m sorry.”

    “I just miss you so much, I don’t want this. I don’t want to not be with you.”

    You hear something odd in his voice, in the way all his words slur together, and you have to ask, “Harry, are you drunk?”

    He groans and rolls over. “Mmm. Maybe. A little, yes. But—but I mean what I said! About me and you.”

    You frown, though Harry can’t see it. “I don’t want to talk to you like this. I don’t think I trust anything you say about us when you’re drunk.”

    “No, no, y/n, just let me—”

    Maybe it’s because it’s two in the morning, maybe it’s because you’re indefinitely frustrated with him, but you can’t stop yourself from snapping at Harry. “I am not having this conversation right now, not after months of literally nothing from you. Call me again when you’re not drunk off of your ass.”

    You shut off your phone before he can respond, relieving the slight headache that had been starting to form while talking to Harry. You promise yourself that when he calls you at a reasonable time in the next few days, you’ll actually sit down and talk to him. You think that you’d be willing to repair a bit of the damage that the two of you recklessly caused, as long as you get to still be friends with him.

    As it turns out, what you think doesn’t really matter all that much, because Harry never calls you again after that night.

    AND AT THE END, 2020


    There’s no way you could have predicted anything about the sudden changes so early into the new year. It starts out slow, a friend here and there mentioning cases of a new virus and seeing stories on the news about it spreading overseas until it reaches the United States.

    You’re staying in LA with your friend Maisy for a little bit to do some apartment hunting when it starts to get worse, stores closing and flights canceling left and right. You can’t get a flight back home to London, and even if you could the stories in the news are frightening enough. So for the time being, you’re stranded in LA to wait for everything to calm down. Maisy has assured you that you’re welcome to stay for as long as necessary, and you’re sure that without her you’d be in quite a bit of trouble.

    The two of you are enjoying a calm evening in her living room in the first week of your quarantining when she asks, “I have some friends that are stuck here until this COVID situation passes, would you be alright with them staying with us?”

    “Yeah of course, this is your house y’know.”

    Maisy snorts and looks down at her phone, and you guess that she’s probably still texting these friends of hers. “Yeah, it’s just that two of them are dating, so I’ll probably set them up in the guest room. But their other friend, I think you and him will have to share the pull-out. Dunno how you feel about that.”

    “Oh, please don’t worry about me, I’ve done much weirder things than sharing a pull-out couch with some random guy.” You pat Maisy’s leg comfortingly and turn back to the worn down novel in your hands. You don’t even recognize any of the words from the page you're on because you’re too busy thinking about who these friends of Maisy can be.

    Maisy hums happily and says, “They’ll be here tomorrow at four o’clock, but let me know at any time if you change your mind. We can always switch around the sleeping arrangements.”

    “Don’t worry, I think it’ll all work out just fine,” you assure her.

    The next day, you spend most of your time trying to get through your book while you wait for Maisy’s friends to arrive. You end up turning the television on to some baking show that you have absolutely no interest in. With the volume low enough so that you don’t actually pay any attention to the show, the background noise helps you not go mad from the silence while you’re reading. Maisy is sitting on the opposite side of the couch, scrolling through Tik Tok and occasionally leaning over to show you a particularly funny video.

    Her old cat has taken a liking to you over the week and a half you’ve spent in the house and is curled up by your thigh. You appreciate that you can absentmindedly run your fingers through the sleeping cat’s soft fur.

    There’s a sudden knock at the front door and a quick glance at your phone’s clock lets you know that it must be Maisy’s friends. She hops off the couch and slides into the hall to open the door for your temporary roommates. You can hear a little bit of light conversation and the rattling of suitcase wheels on the front porch as they enter the house.

    “Sarah! It’s been way too long, I didn’t even know you were in the US again. Oh, come in, the bathroom is down the hall if any of you guys want to use it.”

    You can hear everyone entering the house, shoes scuffling and bags shifting around as the three guests get more settled. For a split second, you consider greeting Maisy’s guests, but that thought flutters away quickly. You just settle into the couch and listen to the mumbling of voices, though you can’t actually recognize any words.

    The cat stretches from her place next to you, leaping over your body and strutting over to join the commotion in the hallway. You groan and place your book on the small table that’s off to the side.

    “Angel, come back! Why’d you leave me all alone, huh?”

    The cat ignores you, sitting in the hallway as she waits to be showered with attention. And someone gives her just that, dropping his bags by his feet and sinking to the floor so he can scratch behind Angel’s ear and over the top of her head. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when you recognize who’s caught the cat’s attention. Of course you would recognize him, even though it’s been six years and he’s cut his hair shorter and his muscles bulge out more. You haven’t seen his face yet and he hasn’t noticed you, but you know. And you’re not sure how you’ll survive sharing a house with him. A small part of your brain pricks at the thought that this is the first time you’ve seen him in years and he’s here with his partner. So much for all the moving on you’ve done in the past six years.

    His deep voice brings you back, “Sorry, I think that’s my doing. This little bugger just wants all the attention, I suppose.”

    Harry looks up to smile at who he thinks is a stranger and you can tell the exact moment when he realizes it’s you. His eyes widen a bit and he can’t seem to keep his jaw shut. You can guess that your face is quite the same, and the two of you don’t get a single word out. Your eyes are still locked on his when his two companions appear in the hall behind him. You do your best to wipe the shocked expression off of your face and exchange it for a polite smile directed towards Harry’s friends. You hop off of the couch and try to appear as a welcoming host.

    “Hi! It’s so very nice to meet you guys, though Maisy’s never mentioned any names.”

    The woman steps forward and makes the introductions for you all. “You’re y/n, right? I’m Sarah, this is my boyfriend Mitch, and this is Harry.”

    Oh. You can’t help it when a part of you brightens at the fact that Harry is single, probably. Woah. You force that down almost immediately after you think of it. Why do you care that he’s single?

    You glance at Harry from the corner of your eye, watching him hesitantly extend his hand for you to shake. It’s an offer, you think, a chance to make peace while stuck in the house together for who knows how long. Maybe he’s sure that the two of you are mature enough to put old matters behind you, at least for now. Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he did years ago.

    You pretend you don’t notice him and instead smile sweetly at Sarah and Mitch, giving them your full attention. Harry is left with the cat to soothe the sting as he slowly lowers his hand.

    “Right! I just need to move a few of my things from the guest room and then it’s all yours to get settled into.”

    Mitch adjusts the bag that’s over his shoulder so that he can reach over and firmly shake your hand and after that you get a quick hug from Sarah, who you already know you’re going to warm up to. Harry just stands awkwardly, pretending to busy himself with his bag’s strap when you barely spare him another glance. You don’t think you’ll give him the silent treatment for too long, but you want him to know that you haven’t forgotten anything in the last few years and that he is most certainly not on your good side, at least for right now. Tomorrow, you can be an adult about it, but today you think you deserve to be just a little bit petty.

    “I’ll go and move my things, I won’t be too long. It’s so nice to meet you two, by the way,” you tell Mitch and Sarah before turning to go store your things in Maisy’s bedroom. You can hear them start to talk as you leave.

    “What did you do,” you hear Mitch mutter to Harry, “to get a reaction like that?”

    You can just barely hear Harry sigh as you’re leaving the living room. “Do you remember what I told you while we were writing the first album?”

    “How…interesting.” Mitch muses humorously. “This is gonna be an interesting few weeks.”

    You spend the rest of the day avoiding stumbling into Harry, which is actually quite hard considering the house isn’t big enough to keep your paths from crossing. There are moments where you almost bump into each other in the hallways upstairs, a long pause where you stare at each other silently trying to figure out if one of you will have the courage to say something first. Neither of you do, but you can tell that Harry definitely wants to say something to you each time. There’s the quirk of his lips when he opens them halfway before pressing his lips together to stop himself from saying anything. You hate that you still know him like that.

    But for the most part, he’s busy unpacking his bags into the guest room and you’re moving your things into the extra dresser in Maisy’s room.

    That’s where she finds you, sitting in front of the dresser while trying to organize your clothes and other essentials in the limited space. She flops onto her bed behind you and watches as you fold your clothes. You can feel her stare, and you know she wants to say something, but she’s forcing herself to stay quiet. Maisy is always vibrating with energy, and you can tell when she’s about to burst.

    You twist your body towards the bed and look up at her. “I know you want to say something, Maze, spit it out.”

    She wrinkles her nose at being caught, but sighs and goes, “I heard that you, uh, didn’t have such a friendly meeting with Harry. I know he’s a whole rockstar and everything and I didn’t tell you that before, but I hope it’s not too weird to be sharing a bed with Harry Styles.”

    You giggle and rest your head on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that, Maisy. I think I’ve gotten used to being around so many famous people because of work and especially since coming here.”

    Maisy furrows her dark brows and asks, “So what is it then?”

    You groan and rub your palms against your face. You haven’t talked about Harry to anyone in years, so it feels strange opening up to Maisy now, with the man in question right down the hall no less.

    “I know Harry, knew him, I mean. He was my friend and then we were…something, and then we were nothing. I haven’t seen him in years.”

    Maisy’s eyes widen a little. “Oh shit. So he’s, like, your ex or something?”

    “Something like that. He’s never actually liked me like that, so I guess we’re not really exes.”

    Maisy pouts at your words and wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you against the bed. “’M so sorry, bug. If you want I can sleep on the pullout and you can get my bed. So you don’t have to share with him.”

    You pat her arms and she lets you go so you can keep putting your clothes away.

    “Thanks, Maisy, but I think I can handle him. I’m a big girl now, and I’m not going to let some guy from six years ago ruin my mood. Even if he is Harry Styles.”

    Maisy over dramatically smashes kisses to the top of your head. “That’s my girl. And if he steps a pinky out of line, I’ll buy one of those big dog houses for him and he can stay in the backyard.”


    She rolls off the bed and yanks the door open, leaning back into the room for a second just so that she can grin at you and say, “Im kidding, but anyways I’m gonna be in the kitchen making that spicy risotto, if you’d like to join me. Oh! Do you know if Harry eats shrimp? I’m defrosting some for the risotto, but I can do tofu or something instead.”

    She’s waiting at the door for your answer, but you don’t really have one for her. “How am I supposed to know if he eats shrimp? Ask Sarah. Or better yet, maybe just ask him.”

    “Okay, okay, Mrs. Styles—hey!” She has to duck to avoid the bra you throw at her. “Not nice, I will see you downstairs.”

    She tries to close the door behind her, but your bra keeps it from staying shut. You sigh and get off the carpet so that you can grab it and then go down to help Maisy. It’s almost like the universe has decided that, no actually, you can’t have more than five minutes of peace. As soon as you lift the bra off the ground and take a quick look at it, who else would walk past and see you other than Harry himself. His eyes jump to you and then to your lacy bra for maybe a millisecond but it feels like you might as well have waved it in his face with how quickly his head ducks down as he passes Maisy’s room. When he finally disappears down the hall, you groan and throw the bra behind you into the room and slam the door closed.

    “You’ve done it now,” you mutter to yourself. Great, really great.”

    When you get down to the kitchen, you find Maisy running around opening cabinets and pulling out ingredients. Harry is sitting at the island counter, examining some of the ingredients that Maisy sets in front of him. Before you can back out of the kitchen, Maisy spots you and grins eagerly.

    “y/n, good, you’re here. Why don’t you be a doll and help Harry measure out all the spices for me?”

    You deliver to her a sickly sweet smile that barely hides the panic in your eyes. You don’t know what she’s doing or why she’s setting you up so badly, but Maisy is just like that sometimes. Harry smiles at you hesitantly. He has a container of paprika rolling around between his hands while he waits for a reaction from you. Maybe there’s no point in you being harsh towards Harry at all, and honestly it’s only your stubbornness that kept you going on like this all day. You don’t hate him, and you don’t want him to think you do, no matter how much you show it. So you shrug and slide into the high chair across from Harry, holding out your hand towards him.

    He stares at your hand for a long moment, his green eyes wide when they meet yours.

    “The recipe book? Can I have a look at it?” You motion your extended hand towards the large book that is currently sitting under the several spices in front of Harry.

    He nods meekly and slides the book to you. You stare at the list of ingredients and run your finger along the list until you find all the spices listed. You and Harry measure out the spices that you’ll need to add to the risotto. There is minimal talk between the two of you as you work, but you can see Harry’s eyes flicker to you from the corner of your vision. Like Maisy, you can tell when there’s something he’s itching to say, even if you haven’t been around him in ages. He almost adds the wrong amount of salt to the small bowl of spices that sits between the two of you because of how distracted he is.

    You notice it right as his hand hovers over the bowl, a spoon of salt in his grip. You grab his wrist quickly before he can dump it into the bowl. He doesn’t notice his mistake, only the touch of your fingers against him. His skin feels soft under the grip of your fingers. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you then at your connected hands.

    “If you put too much salt it’s gonna ruin the risotto, the recipe only needs a fourth of that.”

    Harry looks down at the recipe and finds the listing of the salt. He hums in agreement and you let go of his wrist when you notice you’re holding onto it for much longer than you need to be.

    You clear your throat and step away from the counter. You mumble something about seeing if Maisy needs help and then turn away from him quickly. Maisy is facing the two of you from across the kitchen, grinning innocently when you stick your tongue out at her when Harry can’t see your face. You can hear the glass containers rattle from Harry as he finishes adding the spices, so you whisper your threats into her ear quickly and sharply before Harry can notice. You glance over at him and a part of you melts at the sight of his lowered head carefully watching as he measures out the spice in his hand, his tongue peaking out due to his concentration. The other part of you smashes any affection for him immediately, reminding yourself that there’s nothing special about him, though you’re not sure you’ve really convinced yourself of anything.

    For the rest of dinner, you huddle in your seat next to Maisy and mainly just listen to the conversation around the table, only really speaking when someone talks to you. When Sarah or Mitch asks you a question, your eyes skim over Harry, who watches you when you add something to the conversation.

    You’ve almost forgotten how intense staring into his eyes can be, and when your eyes meet you almost jerk backwards in your seat. You have to duck your head to avoid the smile on his face that you know is directed to you. You push around the food on your plate to keep your curious eyes away from his figure. If you look up, you’re sure that you’ll find bright green eyes waiting for you.

    “So, Harry,” Maisy says to call the man’s attention away from you. “How’s the second album been so far? Sarah tells me you’re working on some music video ideas.”

    Harry wipes his mouth with a tissue and smiles bashfully at Maisy. “Yeah, the album has been really good, I’m really happy with how it’s turned out. Loads of ideas always floating around up here.”

    He taps a finger to his temple at the end of his sentence. You’re very familiar with his album, both of them actually. You won’t admit it but you listened to them in full when they were released, grasping at whatever you could of Harry. There was always a sinking feeling while hearing him sing, about other relationships and other people who were able to satisfy him in ways you couldn’t. You really, really don’t want to think about the inspirations behind his second album, because no matter what you might say to convince yourself otherwise, Harry hasn’t thought about you like you had of him at all in the past six years. You’re just the what-could-have-been in his autobiography, shoved somewhere in the first few chapters as the person who just wasn’t quite doing it for him.

    Or something like that. Maybe you’re over exaggerating a tiny bit.

    You barely pay attention to Harry, who’s talking about some video ideas he has planned for the summer, if everything clears up. You’re hardly processing what Maisy says in response, or where the conversation goes after that, too busy thinking about how you’ll survive sharing a sofa bed with Harry to care about what the others are saying. It’s been forever since you’ve thought about Harry, and even longer since you’ve seen him, so you don’t understand how his presence can fuck you up this badly.

    It doesn’t get any easier when you have to tuck into the bed with him later that evening after doing your best to hide out in Maisy’s room for just a little longer. Sarah and Mitch have already gone to bed, and you aren’t sure if it’s better to get into the bed before Harry and pretend to be knocked out cold or if you’d rather crawl in after he’s asleep.

    After a certain point, Maisy kicks you out and tells you to go to bed. You sneak your way down to the living room, peeking into the room to see if Harry’s asleep yet. You can’t really tell, but his back is facing you at least. You do a little jog-walk to your side of the long couch and quickly tuck yourself under your covers, hitting your head against the pillow and covering your face with the blanket.

    You press your lips together and try not to breathe too loudly while you wait to see if Harry is actually asleep. If he’s still anything like how he was before, he might be enough of a light sleeper to hear you moving around so much. You’re right about him, and maybe not for the last time, because you can hear his cover shift around as he twists his body towards you.


    You can practically feel how fast your heartbeat is pressing against your chest when he addresses you directly for the first time. Something about how smoothly your name rolls off of his tongue feels unreal. Like after all this time, it shouldn’t still fit so well in his mouth. It’s not fair.

    You turn your head to his side of the bed, squinting your eyes as you try to find him in the dark.

    “What?” Your voice comes out rough and awkward. He ignores it.

    “I’m sorry if this isif I am unwelcome.”

    You definitely don’t think that now, when you’re both too tired to function, is a good time to have this conversation. So you half-shrug and say, “It’s okay, it’s not like you could have done anything.”

    There are a few long minutes of absolute quiet, and you assume he’s turned and fallen asleep to the sound of the clock on the wall ticking away. You can kind of hear his breath start to get heavy with sleep so you tuck in the opposite direction and shut your eyes tight.

    “y/n?” His voice cuts through the silent room when you’ve almost succumbed to sleep.

    You hum in acknowledgment and wait for him to ask whatever it is that he wants to ask.

    “I’m really glad to see you again.”

    You suck in a breath through your teeth, a little louder than you would have wished to, and shake your head slightly to stop your mind from wandering off to unwanted thoughts.

    He is just being nice. He’s being polite, because he’s Harry and that’s what he does. Or at least it’s what he would have done before. There’s always that wordthe before of all of this. It’s such a nasty word because it just reminds you what you had and what you lost.

    There is before and there’s now, and now Harry doesn’t know you like he did before. He doesn’t get to miss you and you should know better than to miss him. Otherwise all the moving on you’ve done would have been for nothing. But at the same time maybe Harry won’t break your heart like the way he did before. At the very least, you won’t let him get close enough to even try.

    You don’t answer Harry, and you’re sure he isn’t expecting a response from you anyways. The blanket is pulled all the way up to right under your chin and you press your face into the pillow and try to ignore the fact that just a few feet to your left is Harry.

    You’re thinking too much about that small detail to calm down enough to fall asleep peacefully. There is no part of this situation that can put you at ease. Just the sound of Harry’s deep breathing is almost enough to push you over the edge of sanity.

    It’s always been this way, always toeing the line of losing yourself because Harry does something to throw you completely off balance. It’s absolutely unbearable but maybe there’s a growing part of you that has always enjoyed it.

    As it turns out, that feeling that was once the most exciting part of your relationship with Harry only twists your stomach into a tight knot, and you can’t have Harry there to unravel it for you.

    The next morning, there’s no evidence that Harry had been sleeping next to you on the mattress. His blanket had been folded and his pillow hidden away sometime while you were asleep. You get off the mattress and stretch your arms above your head to crack your stiffened joints, afterwards tucking away your own blanket and pillow on your side of the couch. You leave the sofa pulled out for now, you can always get help from Maisy to close it later.

    Right now though, your nose leads you to the kitchen, where you can smell fresh coffee and something sweet wafting through the air. As soon as you push the door to the kitchen, you’re hit with a blast of hot air from the open oven. Maisy is hovering over it as she pulls out a tray of cinnamon rolls, laughing while she tries to concentrate on not getting burnt. You smile at her when she spots you walking in.

    “y/n! Harry just told me this story about how he jumped out of a window while—oh! Have a cinnamon roll, I used a new recipe.”

    You take a peek at the other side of the kitchen and sure enough Harry is grinning from his spot next to the coffee pot. He takes a tiny sip out of one of Maisy’s mushroom themed coffee mugs, his eyes finding yours over the rim of the cup. You turn to Maisy right as she offers you a plate with one of her cinnamon rolls drizzled with icing.

    “Oh, this looks better than last week’s, thanks babes!” You place the plate on the kitchen table and inch your way near Harry so that you can grab a mason jar from the cabinet next to him.

    He sticks his thumb out towards the hot coffee pot and asks, “D’you want me to make you a cup?”

    “Oh yeah, I wonder if you still remember how I take my coffee, you always made it—”

    Harry lifts a finger and proclaims. with pride edging his voice, “Too sweet, because I always used the wide spoon instead of the tiny one with the mermaid tail design at the end of it. I don’t suppose you have the spoon here, but my offer still stands.”

    Your mind is unable to come up with a response for a good few seconds because as always, Harry knocks you off your feet. You recover quickly and grab your favorite mason jar from the cabinet a few feet away from Harry.

    “Thanks, but I’m more of an iced coffee kind of person now.”

    He nods, “Well then I’ll have to learn how you like it.”

    “Hm, as soon as I know out how that is.”

    Harry grins and you can see the glint of determination in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”


    “What’s that?”

    You look up from the book you’re reading to see Harry hovering in front of you, a curious look on his face. The book in question is one of the few worn out copies you had brought for your stay with Maisy, but you’ve reread most of the books in your tiny collection already, having grown bored with them. But this one is too special to be tired of, no matter how many times you’ve read it.

    You tut several times and add in a head shake for emphasis. “Wow, Styles, you’d think they’d tell you what a book was while you were touring all over the world in your teen years. Thats just really sad.”

    Harry rolls his eyes and slumps onto the couch next to you. Maisy, Sarah, and Mitch have volunteered to do the grocery shopping this week, though you have a hunch Maisy is trying to give you and Harry some alone time. A few weeks ago you might have coughed up a fireball about it, but you don’t mind being around Harry all that much anymore. In fact, you very much enjoy his company. All it took was one long game of Monopoly to get the two of you acting like you did before you were more-than-friends and before he broke your heart.

    Maybe it was how outrageously long the game had gone on for or maybe it was the wine, but you and Harry had started bantering like no time had passed at all. It’s a funny thing, that you had been so determined to push him as far away as you could, but it’s impossible when the two of you are so perfectly connected, even without the whole mess of feelings. It had taken less than a week for you to stop telling yourself not to be friendly with Harry because he is just so naturally kind and fun to be around. You don’t even mind the flutters you get in your stomach when you share tender moments because its Harry, and he’s here and he cares about you. Maybe the two of you have grown and have matured and that’s why you can sit in the same living room and talk about books despite your history.

    “Ha ha ha,” he fake-laughs and it sounds so British that you have to giggle. “I have read several books, thank you very much. What’s this one about?”

    You fold the already creased corner of the page to save your spot and turn the cover of the book towards Harry. The Song of Achilles. It’s about two people falling in love so deeply that their souls are intertwined. It’s very bittersweet.”

    Harry’s face is pinched in interest as he watches you flick through the pages quickly. The two of you sit quietly for a second, yet you notice Harry is still peeking at the book as you fiddle with the pages.

    You hesitate for a moment but then nudge it in his direction. “You can read it if you want.”

    Harry stares at the cover then at you, passing his tongue over his bottom lip. “Are you sure? You seem very into it, I wouldn’t want to disrupt.”

    “Please, I’ve read it so many times I could probably recite it in my sleep. Besides, if you read it I’ll finally have someone to talk about it with. Maisy’s cat isn’t much of a listener.”

    He chuckles and finally accepts the book, opening it to the first few pages to find where the first chapter begins. When you see the messy black ink in the margins of a page, you quickly slap a hand over Harry’s ring covered one. He looks back at you in surprise, and you can see the green of his eyes twinkle when he widens them.

    “I just remembered that I have annotations scribbled all over this book, you can, uh,” you scrunch your nose as you try to recall what it is exactly that you wrote, “you can just ignore those, they’re very dramatic. And embarrassing.”

    Harry winks and taps his pointer finger at the tip of your nose, which only makes you scrunch it even deeper. “Well then I’ll make sure to read each and every one of them.”

    He carries the book with him everywhere around the house, and you begin to notice just how often he reads it. During dinners, he flips through the pages quizzically, going back and forth and humming to himself softly when he comes across one of your annotations. He has to tuck the book in his lap to keep it away from the food, but you can see his head duck down to read bits and pieces of the book. You’re not sure what page he’s on, but you do know the feeling of wanting to read and read until you’ve gotten answers to all of the questions brewing in your mind.

    It’s when he has the book tucked into the waistband of his pants when your small group is on a hike in the wooded trail by Maisy’s house that you start questioning his thought process. He’s just passing by you and is walking along with Mitch, having what seems like a deep conversation, when you see it jutting out of the front of his sweatpants.

    You tug on his elbow lightly to get his attention and he takes a glance at you, saying something to Mitch quickly before falling back to walk along next to you. He hums cheerily while he waits for you to speak up.

    You huff and say, “You better not be rubbing your junk all over my book, or I swear to god you owe me a new one.”

    He brings his hand down to rest on his waistband as if to pull it down. “D’you want me to show you that it isn’t touching m’junk? Or do you trust me not to be that gross?”

    You shove him away from you jokingly and use your left hand to cover your eyes. “Agh, don’t you dare! I trust you, I trust you, you don’t need to be arrested for public nudity.”

    Harry lowers his hand and swings his arm around your shoulder to squish you up against his side. You can’t see the lower half of his face under his mask but you can tell that he’s smiling. His long legs take him farther than you can walk, so he ends up nearly dragging you along with him behind the others. They’ve already saved the wooden picnic table pushed to the side of the trail, and you catch eyes with Maisy, who winks at you as she pulls her mask down to take a sip of water.

    Maisy hasn’t let the two of you have any peace at all in the past few months, always making jokes or comments that leave you and Harry stuttering and having to avoid eye contact until she shows you mercy. You’d never tell her, but you appreciate it a little bit because it forces the two of you to stop being so cautious and awkward around one another.

    Maisy, Sarah, and Mitch have already settled on the table to munch on trail mix and talk amongst themselves. Harry lets go of his hold around your shoulder and sits on top of the table, pulling out the book from the spot not-touching-his-junk, but you don’t want to join them.

    You point your finger in the direction where the trail continues. “I’m gonna keep going, I heard there’s supposed to be a really pretty view somewhere ahead. I’ll be back soon.”

    The others nod and go back to talking, but Harry shuts the book, with his pointer finger holding his place, and leaps up to stand next to you. “I’ll come with you, I don’t want you to go all alone.”

    “I’ll be fine, it’s not like anyone else is walking the trail right now,” you point out.

    But Harry just shrugs and walks besides you as you follow the trail past your friends. “True, but there are so many tree roots, what if you trip and fall and break your leg and we’re all just eating trail mix?”

    You roll your eyes but sigh and relent. There’s no use to saying no to Harry, especially since you do enjoy his company. Even when he gets annoying.

    You don’t know how long the trail is, but Harry spends a few minutes excitedly calling attention to the different butterflies and birds and lizards he can name, and you just nod along because you’re not sure if he’s right or not. After a while though, he pulls out your book and picks up from where he left off, barely paying attention to the worn path he walks. No thanks to him, you stumble on so many of the tree roots and large rocks jutting out of the path, almost falling several times and grabbing onto his forearm before you do.

    After the tenth time of almost tripping over, you tell him, “You know, with all that reading you’re doing, you might just fall yourself.”

    Harry closes the book and looks at you, amusement taking over his face. “Maybe so, but who’s the one who’s been almost falling this whole time?”

    You stick your tongue out at him and wait a bit before you say, “Yeah, but maybe you’ll—woah!”

    Not even a minute after Harry says that to you and here he is, tripping over the largest root you’ve seen and tumbling onto his ass. You step in front of him to help him up, but you can’t compose yourself enough to actually help him. Your hands are resting at your knees as you try to stop giggling. Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and tries to stand, but his ankle gives out and he has to sit again.

    “I think I twisted my ankle—stop laughing—you need to help me up.”

    You let out a few last chuckles before helping Harry up, resting his weight on the tree next to him while you get your arm around him.

    “Here let me,” you pause to sling his arm over your shoulder and wait for him to steady himself, “let me make sure you won’t fall over. Because otherwise we’re both gonna topple.”

    Once you can both stand upright with his arm over your shoulder and your arm just above his waist, you help him walk back towards your friends, making sure to avoid any of the roots sticking out of the dirt path. Thankfully the two of you haven’t walked very far off, because you can already hear the sound of Maisy’s laugh and everyone’s voices getting louder and louder and you come close. Which is good for you, because you’re starting to struggle with keeping Harry steady.

    “Sorry,” he grunts as you wobble to the left a bit, “I think it’s all this pure muscle, you know?”

    You squeeze the side of his hip that’s under your hand and try not to wheeze. “Very funny, now let’s make sure we can actually get you back without any other incident.”

    When you can see the picnic table you call out to your friends, “Hello! We have a damsel in distress here, someone pull out the ice pack.”

    You can tell that Harry is playing up the dramatics because he tucks his head against your neck when you get to the table. Mitch is busy opening a water bottle and handing it to Sarah, so Maisy opens the cooler and gets an ice pack for you. Harry sits at the end of the bench and stretches his leg out so you can rest the cold pack on it. You’re looking over his ankle to check if it’s swelling when you feel his eyes burning into you. You look up, and sure enough he’s watching you.

    “What is it? Gonna thank me for saving your life from the dangerous wilderness?”

    He rolls his eyes and rests his hand against his heart. He exclaims in the most deadpanned voice, “Yes, you’ve rescued me, oh brave knight, how ever could I thank you?”

    You snort and watch Harry flutter his eyelashes for extra effect. He tugs at his bottom lip with his fingers, watching you intensely.

    “Sorry you couldn’t see that view. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be prancing around the forest by now,” he apologizes.

    You shrug and smile easily at Harry. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I like your company. Besides, I might have fallen all alone and you lot would have been sitting here eating trail mix!”

    Harry lifts his head in excitement. “Then I could have rescued you!”

    You stare at his happy face and just shake your head in disbelief. This is just one of those moments where you can’t wrap your head around the fact that Harry is real and in front of you. It feels like you’re living a dream and any second your alarm clock is going to go off and you’re going to wake up, alone and without a friend in Harry.

    When you all get back home, Harry finds you in the hallway, the book in his hand a now familiar sight. He has his reading glasses on and he looks a little shy so you wait for him to speak first.

    “I finished the book, so I figured I’d give this back to you before I lose it somewhere,” he tells you while extending the book to you.

    You watch his nervous appearance. He’s never usually like this, so you’re a little suspicious as to what he’s done to the book. But you just shrug and take the book from him. You can deal with that at a different time.

    “Thanks, maybe we can talk about it later. I hope you liked it, it’s got a really special place in my heart.”

    Harry smiles bashfully and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Yeah, I noticed. I really enjoyed your notes.”

    You groan and squeeze your eyes shut. “You were supposed to ignore those. I wrote them, like, a long time ago. Long, long time ago.”

    Harry laughs and turns to leave, probably to go take a nap and rest his sore ankle. He pauses and looks at you briefly. “I’m…I’m glad I read them. They’re good. They’re very you.”

    When you go to your room and return the book to your suitcase, you notice a slip of paper sticking out from a page towards the end of the book. You open it to where it’s been bookmarked and can’t help but smile when you see that the torn piece of lined paper has a few scattered doodles of cartoon cats all over it. Harry even scribbled a little fish riding the back of one of his cat drawings.

    You go to return the homemade bookmark in between the pages, but something stops you. Under one of your annotations (it reads No way he just did that for Achilles. He hates war, why would he do that?”), in Harry’s familiar messy handwriting he wrote “Love can make people do crazy things.” Extremely corny, but very expected from him.

    Flipping to a few pages prior, you see that he’s left another little message. It’s very faint and in pencil, almost as if he’s already apologizing for adding anything at all. But it makes you smile to think that he read your notes and wanted to leave his own to converse with yours. He cares enough about how you feel about the book to leave his own mark. And you like that about him, that he cares. It’s more than you ever had of him.

    With all the time that you’ve spent with the group getting to know everyone better, you forget that you ever thought of hating Harry a few months ago. And at the end of each day, you find yourself crawling into the pull-out bed with him, tucking yourself at the far end of the mattress and clutching onto the blanket to keep your body from automatically curling towards his warmth. It feels like the past six years of mulling over what could have been is starting to catch up with you, and you don’t want to get anything wrong this time.


    You’ve been very careful each night spent on the sofa bed with Harry. Especially after realizing you might still have feelings for him (which is an entirely separate issue), you’ve made sure to never roll onto him in your sleep. You curl up all the way at the other side of the mattress, to the point where you’re practically hanging off of it, and you have your duvet tucked along your sides to keep you from turning in your sleep as much. For about two months you’ve been quite good with that, you and Harry never end up subconsciously cuddling each other in your deep sleep. It’s saved the two of you from awkward mornings because as long as you don’t touch Harry, you can pretend he doesn’t make your heart flutter.

    It’s made sharing the bed a lot easier to think about, but all those months of precaution mean nothing when you wake up one morning to find your face shoved into his chestnut curls and your left arm draped over his waist. Harry has his left arm over yours, keeping you in place behind him. It seems as though in your sleep the two of you accidentally found yourselves in a comfortable spooning position with Harry as your little spoon.

    You don’t move at first because your brain is still clouded with sleep, but once the drowsiness has worn off a bit more and the nature of your position has settled in your mind, you jerk your arm away from Harry and pull your face away from his soft, coconut-scented hair. You peek to make sure he’s still snoring away before sliding farther away from him on the mattress. It never happened. Harry didn’t see it, so it never happened and you’ll never speak of it to anyone, not even Maisy. It feels too personal and too close to a history you don’t want to unlock.

    Cuddling with him isn't the issue, you’re a very affectionate person with your friends and you enjoy clinging onto them. It’s the fact that when you have your body pressed up against Harry, all you want is to keep holding onto him, and for him to hold onto you. The butterflies in your stomach are traitorous signs of more feelings than you care to have.

    Still, you can’t stop yourself from peeking back at Harry. You lift your head from its hiding place in your palms, only to see Harry staring back at you. He has a soft smile on his face, but you know the look behind his eyes far too well. There’s a smugness in his expression that sort of makes you want to tear your hair out. You’ve been caught, and you can’t just ignore it now.

    “Sorry about that, uh, let’s pretend it never happened.”

    “I mean, it wasn’t so bad, yeah? I like being the little spoon,” Harry says. He smirks at you, and god you want to be annoyed but he just looks so good first thing in the morning with his stupid messy hair and stupid raspy voice. So stupid.

    It makes you want to toss a pillow at his head, so you do. He tries to dodge it, but it still hits him on the side of his face. He hugs the pillow to his chest and pouts at you. Satisfied, you roll out of bed and grab your toiletries so that you can wash up in the bathroom.

    Harry reaches over to tap the back of your hand to grab your attention, and when he has it, he tells you, “Don’t forget to come back to the living room when you're done, we’re all gonna watch the music video when it drops.”

    You widen your eyes and pull a face. “Shit, that’s today. I totally forgot. Okay, give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to Watermelon Sugar boogie.”

    “What does that even mean?” Harry asks, almost in offense. “Please never say that again.”

    You blow a kiss in his direction and waggle your fingers at him before skipping off to the bathroom. He teases you much too often, so you’ve decided it’s your turn to get him worked up, even just a little bit. Especially today, because you’re all going to watch his new music video and tell him all your thoughts on his “pussy eating summer anthem”, as Mitch likes to call it.

    When you get back to the living room, everyone else is already seated on the couches. Maisy is splayed out on the vintage bird patterned armchair, with her cat curled up in her lap. Sarah and Mitch are squished on top of each other on one side of the sofa and Harry has his legs stretched out on the rest of the couch space. When he sees you, he lets his legs down and pats the cushion for you to sit next to him. You grin at him and slouch next to him, pressing yourself into his side. He automatically wraps his arm around the couch behind your head. Maisy has connected the laptop to her TV, so you’re all watching as the livestream loading page does a mini countdown.

    The video starts eventually, and you bop your head along to the music and watch as Harry flaunts around the beach with the group of people. You can hear Sarah laugh when Harry starts running his fingers over the slice of watermelon. You chuckle with her and poke Harry’s cheek when he slumps on top of you, but you’re trying very hard not to think too hard about what’s going on in the video. Not with Harry sitting right next to you and not with your mind still so confused about your feelings for him. So you just enjoy the melody and Harry with his fun outfits and silly little dancing.

    It’s actually quite a good song and once the video is over you make sure to shower Harry with praise. “Magnifico! Bravo! That was so lovely, I really think this song is gonna be the song of the summer.”

    Harry smiles and shrugs his shoulders, but you can see how shy he is in how he ducks his head and how his ears redden.

    “It’s gonna be so popular, and to think that this is a song about eating pu—”

    “Okay!” Harry leaps up off the couch and shuts the laptop quickly. “Enough of that, thank you so much, thank you, no more.”

    You laugh at him and his constant denial of the song’s meaning. “Whatever you say, but you wrote it, I’m just here to tell it how it is.”

    Harry groans and sinks back into the couch next to you as everyone else stretches and gets out of their spots to finally get a bite of breakfast. “Maybe, but I really hope this isn’t the only thing I’m known for.”

    You give him an evil smile, and promise, “Oh, I’ll make sure it’s all anyone talks about. Every news article will be about ‘Harry Styles, oral sex enthusiast’. Has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”

    Harry tilts his head and gives you a look that makes you think that you may have said something wrong. He licks his lips and asks, “And how do you plan on doing that? Hm?”


    You open your mouth to say something but you’re not sure how to play it off. Harry must know by now what your feelings are, it's not like you’ve made any effort to hide your affections. So you just watch him as he watches your eyes, and then lower at your lips. He smooths his tongue over his top lip and looks back up at you. There’s a question hiding behind his eyes, and of course the answer is yes. It’s always yes with him. He leans forward and closes the gap between you two, and you meet him halfway, pressing your lips against his softly. You practically melt into him, fitting your mouth over his and refamiliarizing yourself with his lips. Harry tilts his head closer to you, cupping his hand under your ear and rubbing his thumb over your jaw delicately. You want to sit here with him all day, but Maisy breaks you two apart by calling for you guys in the kitchen.

    You have to pull away from Harry reluctantly and when you do, he’s there smiling back at you blissfully.

    “That was…” You can’t finish your sentence because you don’t know what to say.

    But Harry still nods in agreement. “Yeah. We should probably go see what Maisy wants.”

    You let out a short huff of breath. “Fine, but I think we really should talk after. This is…a lot.”

    Harry hums and brushes his fingers across your cheek and along your jaw. “We can talk, we can do more than talk, whatever you prefer.”

    “I think I would prefer you shut up,” you say and scowl playfully at him.

    He just laughs back at you.


    After being friends with Harry for so long and then after everything that you’ve been through, you would have thought that kissing him on Maisy’s couch after six years of silence would complicate everything between you two to the point where you’d never be able to speak to each other again. As it turns out, you don’t feel like you’re going to have a falling out with Harry any time soon, if anything you two find yourselves catching each other’s gaze and grinning like you’ve got an inside joke to laugh at in secret. For the past few months there’s been all this pent up tension between you and Harry and it so suddenly dissipated when you kissed.

    The two of you haven’t really talked about what happened other than a quick chat in bed that night to make sure that you’re both okay with whatever’s going on between you guys. It ends with you cuddled up to his side and his hand tracing over your arm. It’s a feeling that both gives you goosebumps and nearly lulls you to sleep. You listen to him talk about whatever; you don’t even hear what he’s saying but his voice sends a wave of heat down your back. You could definitely kiss him again, but you don’t tell him that.

    You and Harry have done everything with each other all out of order and you’re at a point where you’re mostly confident in your feelings for him, you just don’t think there’s a reason to pursue anything with him when there’s absolutely no privacy when you literally sleep out in the open of Maisy’s living room. It doesn’t stop the two of you from going to bed a lot more comfortably, but you don’t want to make a big deal of anything when this year has been so unexpected. Especially when you and Harry are both so emotionally complicated.

    You’ve talked about flying back home to London soon, seeing as you’ve definitely overstayed your time in Los Angeles and at Maisy’s place. Since you and Harry are on much better terms, you’re both eager to catch up more once you’re both home overseas. For now you just have to worry about getting through the week.

    The two of you are assigned with buying this week’s groceries as Sarah and Mitch have gone out for a picnic and Maisy says she needs her rest (she does a very bad job at winking subtly at you when she gives Harry her excuse, but whatever). You offer to drive, leaving Harry with control over the aux and the messy grocery list that everyone has written all over. You have to admit that Harry’s got a great car playlist and he has a pretty good taste in music.

    You tell him as much while he hums along to one of the songs, watching him from the corner of your eye before turning back to the traffic. “Hmm, nice songs. When are you gonna play one of yours next?”

    Harry makes a ‘humph’ sound and you can practically feel him rolling his eyes. “That’s just weird isn’t it? Like, to play my own music?”

    “I mean if they’re good songs, you can enjoy them, yeah? Doesn’t matter if they’re yours.”

    He pulls his bottom lip with his fingers and hums in agreement. “Yeah, I guess. Actually, if you want—only if you’re okay with it—could I play a song for you? It’s still not finished, but I’ve been holding onto it for a bit. I think I need a different opinion than from Mitch or Tyler right now.”

    You nod your head towards him, still with your eyes on the road, and say, “I can’t believe I get an exclusive listen. Go for it.”

    Harry fiddles with the aux cord while scrolling through his phone for this unreleased song, and you can bet he has a lot more music hiding in that phone of his. You can remember back when he’d pull out his phone to record a line he wanted to use in a song, and how you’d always roll your eyes at how eager he was. And now you’re sitting here again with him as he scrolls through his phone with determination.

    When the song starts playing, you can already say you enjoy the smooth melody that’s layered with a slow and melancholy trumpet. It reminds you of the trumpets in his other music, but this song is still very soft-sounding. The entire piece feels like something you’d listen to while working yourself through an intense crying session. It’s very beautiful, but listening to it brings out this feeling of sadness that you don’t understand.

    When it ends, you can see Harry bite his bottom lip so hard that it almost goes white. You know that he’s waiting for a reaction from you, so you tell him, “That was really great, Harry. Very sad, but very well-written. I think anyone would be happy to have you write a song about them.”

    Harry snorts and shakes his head. “Really?”

    “Oh, definitely. Like for example I know you’re writing one about me right now called ‘The prettiest, smartest, and most interesting person I know’. That title is just a suggestion, we can work on it.” You laugh at your own bad joke, but Harry has a bit of a serious look on his face.

    “I guess I should be honest with you about that, huh?” His voice is just as serious as his facial expression, but you assume he’s playing along with your joke.

    You giggle and nod along. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see that on the next album.”

    You feel his warm hand rest on yours as he tries to catch your attention. When you have the chance, you glance over at him to see that there’s no humor in his face, only a nervous energy that you're quite familiar with.

    “I’ve—I have written some songs about you, about us,” he admits shyly. “Two in particular, but I think a lot of the music I made reminded me of you.”

    You don’t know what to say, and even if you did, your mouth feels too dry to speak. So you let him continue.

    “I wrote Olivia after what you said that night, and it was like a confession. I didn’t know how to talk to you so I tried to do it through the song. I think I hoped you would hear it and know what I meant.” He pauses, and you can feel his gaze on you.

    “I didn’t think this was about me,” you squeak out. “I thought you moved on, I didn’t think you felt like that about me.”

    He looks taken aback, but you don’t know why since he was the one who rejected you.

    “What was the other song?” Your curiosity far overwhelms any remaining feelings of anger towards Harry.

    Meet Me in the Hallway. I wrote it sometime after that last phone call. I wanted to write something to help me feel better after everything, but I don’t know that it worked. I tried so hard to forget about you but as soon as I saw you sitting on that couch, I think I knew I was a goner.”

    “Harry, I—” you can’t believe his words, and your mind is useless right now.  “Why didn’t you tell me all of this years ago? Why wait until now?”

    Harry works his teeth over his bottom lip, tugging at it while he tries to put words together. “I was scared, I think. Scared that I would mess up and you’d never want to speak to me again. Still fucked it up, didn’t I?”

    You laugh lightly to alleviate the tension clouding your brain and shrug. “Yeah, maybe a little bit. But we’re here, aren’t we? So,” you lift your hand towards his so you can clasp your fingers together, “what do we do now?”

    “Now,” he starts slowly, “if you’ll have me, I’ll spend forever trying to make up for those years I pushed you away.”

    You chuckle and let go of his hand so that you can poke his cheek. “Way to go, Mr. Darcy, you’ve won the girl. Nerd.”

    He lifts his eyebrows and grins back at you, then tilts his head a bit to the side. “Oh, have I? Then I guess I need to work twice as hard to keep her happy.”

    You smile at Harry, watching the quirk of his eyebrow and the familiar shine in his eyes. Years ago, looking at him like this might have set your chest into a flutter, your stomach twisting on itself at the mere sight of him. But right now all you feel is calm, you can practically feel the peace between the two of you. You know him, you can guess what every expression on his face means, you can see a reflection of yourself in him. There’s the 20 year old version of him that you recognize hidden under his skin and you wonder if he remembers the old you when he looks at you too.

    Your mind can’t quite stop thinking about how you left things those years ago. There’s all the things you could have done, what he could have said, this and this and this. You’ll drive yourself mad trying to think of everything you could have done right. Harry must hear your thoughts because his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers gently as he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

    You realize it doesn’t matter how you could have done things differently, because he’s here with you now, and you can work things out with him now. You’re so far in your own head that when he gives your hand a squeeze, it takes you a moment to realize.

    When you look over at him, he has a smug and playful grin on his face.

    “So what are we gonna tell the others?”


    i heard ur manifesting requests so here i am shamelessly begging for semi eita content

    it could be anything like headcanons or short one shots, just something with semi bc the fandom is sleeping on him

    i heard ur manifesting requests so here i am shamelessly begging for semi eita content

    it could be anything like headcanons or short one shots, just something with semi bc the fandom is sleeping on him


    an semi is the most slept on character and also the prettiest? pick a struggle wtf. anyway bff i hope u enjoy xx



  • he loves you. holy fuck, he loves you so much. you can’t tell me semi doesn’t love wholeheartedly and unashamedly. he doesn’t seem like the type to date casually - he’s in it for the long run. 
  • although, you do have to share his love with his guitar, which is definitely named [your name] jr. or something dumb like that. 
  • he writes songs about you. endless songs, stretching way over five minutes because he can’t quite put his feelings into concise words. 
  • you can’t convince me his love language isn’t physical touch. he has to have his hands on you at any given time, or else he feels as though you might float away. he’s always touching you, hands on your waist or your shoulders, fingers linked through yours, tangled in your hair, chin on your shoulder, legs thrown over yours on the couch, head resting in your lap. 
  • play fights. semi doesn’t always know how to express his need to touch you, so he resorts to kicking your legs out from underneath you and instigating a faux wrestling match. he almost always lets you win. 
  • he’s clingy but not overbearing: he often feels second-best and needs the reassurance. 
  • he goes red so easily. it starts at the tip of his ears and quickly bleeds into his face and neck, until every visible part of his upper body is dark pink. and all you did was kiss the end of his nose. 
  • he picks up some of your mannerisms purely because he watches you every chance he gets. the way you stretch, the funny way you say certain words or the way you swear suddenly become the way you both do those things. his friends tease him, but they’re habits he can’t unlearn.
  • semi’s shoulders are freckled. change my mind. like, really freckled. all over his shoulders, his collarbones, the back of his neck. 
  • he likes it when you paint his nails. realistically, he’s probably better at it than you are, but he prefers to watch you hanging over his fingers with a crease between your eyebrows, shakily holding the brush over his nails. 
  • he wants you to do his makeup all the time, too. he’s scared of using the eyeliner himself and always begs you to do it for him, because it’s an excuse to be centimeters away from your face and it means he won’t poke himself in the eye with the pencil. 
  • i think his laugh is probably deep and throaty most of the time, but when he’s alone with you he giggles. like, seriously giggles. high pitched and nasal, like a six-year-old on the playground. he rolls around clutching his stomach, gasping and squeaking like a little kid. 
  • semi’s straightedge and always asks you to draw the crosses on his hands before he goes to bars or venues - whether it’s his concert or someone else’s. he can never get them bold or neat enough, and he likes it when you hold his hand. 
  • dating semi eita is basically like adopting a six-foot-tall sentient toddler - he wants you to do everything for him, to only pay attention to him, to baby him. and you do it, because heck, you’re in love with him too. 
  • image

    an - as a ginger i felt the need to tell everyone about how beautiful this man and his ginger features are. requests are open!


    hinata is covered in freckles. all across his nose, his chin, neck, shoulders, down his arms, his belly, and his legs. any part of him ever exposed to sunlight is freckled like the sky - dusty and disorganised, like a dot-to-dot you could never finish.

    and in the summer they get denser, darker, they multiply like bacteria on the surface of his skin. people never bother him for them - too busy noticing his height and the colour of his hair to point out the storm of dust spread across every visible inch of porcelain skin. 

    they glow like stars under the golden light of the sunrise that bleeds through the spaces in the curtains, soft and sparkly, all over his shoulders and the gentleness of his relaxed, sleeping face. he loves when you trace them with a careful fingertip, he loves waking up to the warmth of your finger loosely trailing across his shoulders and chest. 

    his eyelashes are pale, long, transparent, and they cast feather-light shadows on his cheeks when the sun hits them right. they curve upwards at the perfect angle, brushing against the fat of his browbone. his eyes are as pale as they are brown, and they drink in every particle of light that seems to radiate from him, reflecting it back out in a golden, honey glow that reminds you of the setting sun. he has freckles here, too - sprinkled across his eyelids like hundreds-and-thousands pressed into the icing on a cupcake. 

    the pinkish undertones in his skin are his blessing and his curse: rosy cheeks and a flushed nose, pretty pink knuckles and blushing joints that stand out oddly against his pale skin, perhaps even more so in his black volleyball jersey. he bruises so easily, always sporting new purplish spots on his wrists and fingertips, his chest often dark red with bruises after long games and gruelling practices. 

    most importantly, his hair. it’s thick and curly, but soft and well taken-care of. he cuts it himself, tongue between his teeth as he maneuvers the scissors around the nape of his freckled neck once a month. the colour is so bright - even so late into his twenties, his friends liken him to a tangerine. 

    hinata doesn’t mind any of it. you always said your favourite colour was orange. 


    [ #EEF3B4 ] — choi beomgyu

    pairing: choi beomgyu x gn! reader. genre: fluff, sensual, established relationship au. warning: kissing. word count: 1.1k

    "why did you pick this movie, anyway?" beomgyu sighed, throwing his head back against your brown pleather couch. he wasn't actually annoyed by your film choices, just in the mood to do something much more physically affectionate.

    "I like this movie a lot, gyu." you popped a handful of popcorn into your mouth, ignoring the stray pieces that fell onto the navy blue blanket spread across your criss-crossed legs. you and beomgyu had been together long enough for you to not feel awkward about your messy eating habits around him. you kept your eyes glued to the TV screen, much to beomgyu's dismay. he wanted —no, needed— all of your attention right now.

    no matter. beomgyu knew how dim-witted you could be sometimes. you had been completely oblivious to his advances back when the two of you were just friends, forcing him to outright tell you that he had a huge crush on you to your face, mere inches away from your lips. he didn't mind it at all. your slow-at-catching-on persona was considered utterly adorable to beomgyu.

    he poked your cheek with his finger. "____. look at me please." he pouted his lips. "I missed looking into your eyes the whole time I was gone."

    you turned your face away from the movie to look at your boyfriend in the gold fluorescent luster of the fairy lights webbed across your living room ceiling. beomgyu was met with one of your famous small smiles. your heart skipped a beat. he looked so pretty in this lighting. his hair was disheveled from the amount of times he had thrown his head back, and he was dressed comfortably in a pair of grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and black ankle socks. his shirt was rumpled upwards from the way he was slouched on the sofa. maybe if you weren't so dense you would understand why beomgyu thought this particular setting was perfect to do something besides watch a movie.

    "what's up with you, gyu?"

    beomgyu let out a fake wail of discomfort. his face scrunched up the way a baby's would when crying. "I just told you how much I missed looking into your eyes and you ask me what's up?" gyu playfully sniffled. "I've been gone for a month and this is how I'm treated when I get back." he dramatically threw himself across your lap, almost knocking your bowl of popcorn to the floor.

    "beomgyu." you jokingly rolled your eyes, setting the bowl on top of the end table on your other side. "you didn't tell me how much you missed it, just that you missed it," you corrected.

    beomgyu jumped up from your lap, his previous act being dismissed by the both of you. "I missed you this much," he informed you while opening his arms as wide as he could.

    "that's so little," you teased, before turning back towards the TV.

    beomgyu went back to pouting. "can we do something else?" he whined. he gave you a knowing look, one that resembled that of a puppy. you tilted your head to the side in curiosity, causing the soft look on gyu's face to vanish almost immediately. his once innocent-looking expression transitioned into a smirk as he put his two fingers to walk up your arm towards your collarbone.

    his actions went over your head. "we can do whatever you want later. we're only thirty minutes into the movie."

    beomgyu sighed and leaned back onto the couch, defeated. "fine." he lifted his legs up onto the cushions, curling up next to you. "is this the ghibli movie with the cats?" he questioned.

    "there's a lot of ghibli movies with cats," you told him. "but no, this isn't a ghibli movie. it's night on the galactic railroad. I like this movie 'cause the author of the book wrote the storyline while in sorrow. you can definitely feel the plot on a more universal and emotional level knowing that. it's actually kind of sad, too. towards the ending"

    you had lost beomgyu at "there's a lot", and he went to work at pulling on the waistband of your butterscotch-colored track shorts before letting go. the band snapped back against the skin of your hip. it didn't hurt, but it definitely caught you by surprise.

    beomgyu chuckled at your dumbfounded expression. "can we kiss?"

    "gyu- I-" you gulped hard. so that's what he wanted to do, you thought to yourself, finally catching on. "I just ate popcorn." you tried to stall as beomgyu's finger tips ghosted over your collarbone. you could feel your face becoming hotter by the second. it's not that you didn't want to kiss your loving and mischievous boyfriend. you had always been a bit shy when it came to somewhat sinful affection.

    beomgyu picked up a leftover piece of popcorn, one of the few that had sprinkled onto your lap when you were eating without any manners. he popped it into his mouth. "there. now we're even."

    you nodded your head, palms sweaty and kneecaps tingling. you leaned in towards your lover and pecked his lips. the both of you had shared kisses plenty of times, but you were always too nervous to initiate anything that wasn't a handful of short-term smooches.

    "that's it?" beomgyu whined. "you clearly didn't miss me as much as I missed you." he held your face in your hands to keep you still, squishing your cheeks just a bit. "well, i missed you this much," beomgyu declared, before giving you a lengthy kiss.

    your lips moved in sync with his. his hands traveled to your torso. you felt his palms trail along your sides, forming the yellow brick road.

    you pulled away, feeling satisfied and less hesitant, then dived back in, delivering a school of kisses all over beomgyu's face. he burst into a fit of giggles. whenever you kissed him, he felt more than just butterflies. there was a beautiful botanical garden of buttercups and poppies, rhododendron and forsythia shrubs, swarmed with clouded yellow and holly blue butterflies within his stomach. and that was just every time you peppered him.

    when you touched him —traced your fingertips along his smooth-as-milk skin— he was a volcano bound to erupt and let his love form obsidian visions of you.

    several minutes passed. the two of you opened your eyes, taking in each other's flushed expressions; your shy sighs and beomgyu's blushing cheeks. you flicked one of his candy apple tinted ears, and he rushed to pat down his hair to cover both. he was never scared to initiate things, but afterwards he was always a cute wreck.

    beomgyu curled up into your side again. "i just wanted to kiss you for a bit." he knew you understood now, but still felt the need to explain himself.

    "i get that," you assured him. you reached for a handful of popcorn, stuffing your mouth full before feeding some to gyu.

    "what movie is this again?"

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