now why would he need to be staying at a hotel with harry

The Bus 1 Conspiracy.

On August 10, 2013, Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Malik from the band One Direction paid a visit to Los Angeles’ Shamrock Social Club tattoo parlor. The pair got two sets of matching tattoos that morning, one set being of a tic-tac-toe boards. More famously recognized is the other set of matching tattoos, the words “Bus 1.”

Pictured: Zayn and Louis, bros for life with their matching tattoos.

The two were very fond of their matching tattoos, showing them off in interviews and being all cute.

Look at their lil arms.

While this whole matching tattoo thing is adorable as hell, what if the meaning behind these tattoos isn’t? Let’s take a deeper look, shall we?

When asked what the meaning of “Bus 1″ is, the pair said it was the bus where the two of them spent a lot of their time while on tour. Rather than stay in the hotels with the other boys, Zayn and Louis opted to stay in the tour bus most of the time. Hm…

Bus 1′s interior. Quite swanky, eh?

Now the real question is: What exactly happens on Bus 1? Why are the two so keen on spending so much time in there? Or… is it a cover up for something even bigger?

Well, if you say “Bus 1″ really fast, it sounds like “bust one.” That’s right guys… Zayn and Louis are undercover cops and are busting the crooks left and right.

Which one plays the good cop and which one plays the bad cop?

Bus 1 not only was a hint towards their side job, but it also was where Zayn and Louis could discuss tactics with each other without the other boys around. The information they handled was classified and for the eyes and ears of official police officers only.

2/5 are actual cops. The other 3 are just goons.

Being an undercover police officer isn’t as easy as it seems. It takes a lot of covering up, which is evident since we didn’t even discover their secret lifestyle until now. However, you need to be mysterious and have a love for danger, which are qualities emulated by the two boys.

Hints about their profession revealed in the “Steal My Girl” music video, directed by Danny Devito.

While the boys have been sneaky covering up their true profession, there have been quite a few slip ups. And no, we are not talking about Harry slipping on stage, we are talking about Zayn and Louis screwing up and giving us the hints that helped piece this all together.

1. Zayn seen riding in police car. The driver is not visible, but we do not need evidence to know that Louis is definitely driving that vehicle.

Zayn with a rolled down window, exposing himself to the elements and exposing his secret.

2. Louis seen talking with a fellow police officer. He’s wearing a trench coat, which is basically a red alert for anyone trying to hide a secret.

Why are trench coats always so mysterious? What’s under that jacket, Louis?

3. Louis likes handcuffs. He must’ve dropped a pair of them on stage, so fellow bandmate, Harry Styles, lends a helping hand to give them back. Were we supposed to see this? Oops!

We promise it’s not as kinky as it looks… or is it?

4. Self-explanatory. These girls are locked up, thanks to the Bus 1 Team.

They probably tried to touch Harry’s curls, leading them to a life sentence in prison.

5. Louis was spotted driving a police boat in London, taking One Direction on a police guided tour through the waters.

Only police officers know how to drive boats, so Niall was shocked to find out that Louis had this skill.

6. In the Zouis weed video, we hear Louis referring to the “popo.” This was quite the slip up, considering Louis is an undercover cop. He must’ve been so high that he forgot about his secret.

Joint lit, happy days.

7. Zayn has many tattoos besides “Bus 1.” One of them is of a checkered flag.

Zayn Malik, man of many tattoos.

Where have we seen this mysterious pattern before? That’s right, on the hats of British police officers. 

Zayn accepting a police award in his checkered hat, matching his flag tattoo perfectly.

Zayn and Louis were pulling a 21 Jump Street scenario on us this entire time. If anyone was to accomplish it, not surprised it would be these two. The dynamic duo works best together.

Even in his dreams, Louis turns to Zayn for backup.

We are entirely unsure as to what their mission was, but we suspect it had something to do with the shady blond one. We tried reaching out to Louis and Zayn’s reps, but they were too preoccupied in a twitter fight with each other. Even with all of this evidence, the Bus 1 conspiracy remains


-The Expired Kiwi

World’s Best Pie

This is my submission for @avasmommy224 #JennsBirthdayChallenge

My prompt is: “I’ll have what she’s having”

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,600

Warning: Smut, a lot of it


“World’s best pie,” Dean muttered as he pulled into the small diner’s parking lot. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Grabbing a seat at the counter Dean looked to the specials board. A loud sensual groan snapped his head around. His jaw dropped a little at the sight of you. Eyes rolling into your head as it felt back, a look of pure satisfied bliss on your face.

As your eyes opened you immediately went bright red when you found a gorgeous man at the counter staring at you. “Sorry, it’s just really good pie. Like, we’re talking orgasmically good here!”

“Yeah I’ll bet, it sounds like you just had one!” his face went bright red as his eyes got wide. “Oh my god I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just gonna turn around now and mind my own business.”

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Just wanted to give you all something for the weekend as a thank you for all the love you have given “The Offer” (which part two is in the works!) enjoy (; - M xx

“Fuck me,” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers curling into fists on the pillow his head tossed and turned against, his stomach lying flat on the white sheets as he squints at the alarm clock next to his hotel bed: 3AM.

He groans, frustrated as he has been desperate to get some actual sleep since his body fell on top of the duvet after the concert. At first, Harry was convinced it was just jet lag as it was usually the case (though it seemed like he should be used to it all as he has been doing this for some time now). But when his hips involuntarily press down onto the mattress to perceive the enticed erection in his boxers, Harry was fully aware as to what prevented him from having enough hours to sleep; and he knew there was only way to resolve this. 

Harry turned to his back and pulled his boxers down to his knees, gasping as he felt the warm and sticky skin against his cold fingers; his thumb rubbing slowly and softly on the angry red tip.

“Oh fuck me,” he mutters again, a low, almost inaudible moan following behind it. 

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Whipped...friends?? Or...not anymore??

Had Harry known Y/N was gonna be in New York he would have picked her up at the airport. He would have given her no other choice but to finally confront him because surely she wouldn’t have wanted to walk in this cold weather.

And he should’ve taken that moment back at the restaurant. Pulled her away from that bloke and asked who the hell he was. He would’ve told her he misses her, that in all honesty he’s very confused because he doesn’t know what he did to have her acting like he doesn’t exist. He can’t understand how she’s able to cut him out of her life this easily. He would tell her it hurts that she’s managed to do so. He should’ve taken that moment at the restaurant, but he didn’t.

And what infuriates him the most, is that Gemma knew.

He’s been on the phone with her for the past fifteen minutes. Ten of those spent going on about having seen her out with some guy he’s never before seen in his life. Harry’s moaned and complained, because ‘maybe she really is seeing someone, Gem. Maybe ’ve really lost m'chance.’

It wasn’t until then that Gemma decided to come forth with this information, coyly telling Harry that 'Y/N came over a few days ago to borrow a duffle cause she left hers at yours or summat.’

And Harry doesn’t know why she didn’t pop by his place to pick it up. Not like she was gonna run into him.

“You’re meant t’ tell me these type of things. M'ye’ brother.”

Harry’s been practically burning his hotel room floor from so much pacing, trying to figure out why in green Earth Gemma didn’t see 'fit’ to tell Harry that Y/N had told her she would be flying to the big apple.

“She hasn’t called ye’?” And what kind of question is that? She knows Harry’s not spoken to her since she left in a hurry that night.

“I’ve not gotten a single text, Gem.”

On the other end of line it sounds like Gemma’s shuffling about, and Harry can only imagine she’s just sat up by the tone to her next words.

“She hasn’t?,” and she sounds genuinely appalled.

Harry stops dead on his tracks, eyebrows furrowing deeper in thought. Why does he feel like she’s hiding something from him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends in frustration, “what’re ye not tellin’ me, Gemma?”

She’s quiet for about a minute, so Harry presses.


“I thought she was going t’ see you, Haz.”

“Why would she? She’s not been answerin’ m'calls. Why would she go out of her way and come t’ New York t’ see me?”

Was she? Why wouldn’t she call him when she landed?

“Wait, how did she know I was here?”

Again, a slight pause.

“I might’ve told her a few ago when we went out t’ brunch.” Gemma sounded sheepish, knowing fully well there was no reason to tell Y/N of his whereabouts. Not when apparently she wanted nothing to do with him.

“She’d asked me how ye’ were. If ye’ were doin’ alright. So I told her. She didn’t say much about it. And then when she came over for the duffle, I just. I had t’ ask Harry.”

She sounds even more nervous now.

“Ask wha’?” This has Harry feeling uneasy.

“She’s your best friend for Christ’ sake.”

“What did ye’ ask her, Gemma?”

He feels like he has to sit down for this. And when he reaches the edge of the bed and sits, he doubles over, elbows on his knees. One hand holding his phone up to his ear, the other pinching at his bottom lip.

“I honestly can’t understand why she cut all contact with you. So I asked her why. And when she didn’t wanna talk about it, I insisted.”

But he feels like that’s not all they talked. “Wha’ did she say?”

“She broke down, Harry. She told me she couldn’t be friends with you knowing you loved someone else.”


Why would she think that? Most importantly, why would she stop talking to him all together because of that.

“Tha’s what I said. Told her you would’ve told me if you had. Also told her that was no reason to drop the friendship. And so she finally confessed her feelings for you to me.”

Harry can almost hear his heart rate pick up.

“She said as much as she loves you, she couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else.”

“She said she loves me.” He’s whispering it to himself. This is why she didn’t want to see him? How could she possibly think he could love anyone else but her. He thought he’d made it so obvious. “Gemma, tell me ye’ didn’t-.”

“Of course not,” she cuts him off, “-tha’s yours to tell her. Which you should have, you git. Shoulda told her a long time ago.”

“D'y'know where she’s staying?”

He’s gotten up from the bed so fast it makes his head woozy. He’s not even fully pulled his hoodie over his shoulders when he slips on his boots.

“Harry, it’s one in the morning where you are.”

But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’ll have to hail a cab so late at night instead of searching for the keys to his rental, because frankly he doesn’t remember where he’s left them and he can’t be bothered to spend any more time looking for them.

“Gemma tell me where she is.”

It doesn’t take long for Harry to get a cabbie’s attention, he is Harry Styles after all.

In the blur of it all, he’s somehow ended up with the boys hollering over the phone at him. Cheering him on and telling him to go get his girl.

“Honest, s'bout time it happened for the pair o'ya.” Next to Harry, he reckons Liam’s probably the most romantic out of the lot.

“Wha’ if she doesn’t want me? Wha’ if s'too late and she’s happy with tha’ other bloke?”

To the rest of the world, it would be insane for anyone to think Harry Styles has moments like these. Moments of doubt when he radiates confidence. But honestly he’s just like any other human being trying to find love and someone to give his own to.

“Who? Her cousin? That’d be weird,man,” Niall chimes nonchalantly.

He can hear what sounds like two slaps to the arm before hearing Niall grunts in dissatisfaction.

Has everyone been hiding these vital specs of information from him.

But he doesn’t even have to ask before Niall’s explaining.

“Okay, yeh I knew she was goin’ t’ New York.”

Of course. In retrospect, Harry should’ve know Niall might’ve known. Next to Harry, Niall’s the closest to Y/N. What with him going back and forth dealing with the film and the magazine a few months ago, Liam doing his solo project and preparing for his and Cheryl’s baby, and Louis in LA most than not for Freddie; Niall’s the only one who’s just so happened to not travel much during the hiatus. And he never really minded taking Y/N with him when he did have things to do.

“She tol’ me she needed t'see you. N’ I didn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

“Well tha’s great, innit? Everyone knew but me? Anythin’ else any o'ye would like t'share?”

He doesn’t mean to sound frustrated, but he Had he known all of this, everything would have gotten resolved earlier, and he wouldn’t have had to sulk over Y/N being out with a cousin. He wouldn’t have had to watch her walk away and out of that restaurant, an awful feeling in his heart at she sight of her with someone else.

But it’s all done, and at least now he knows the way she’d look at him, like she was smitten, wasn’t all in his head.

“Quit your mopping, Harold and just tell her how much you miss her.”

After Harry had told the boys what’d happened and asked them not to hassle him about it, they’d let off the teasing, didn’t wanna strike a nerve and make Harry feel bad. He is the baby after all. Now, Harry can’t help but smile sheepishly at the sound of all three making kissy noises on the other end of the line.

With whole hearted 'good luck’s from the boys, Harry hangs up and his mind goes back to wondering what will happen after tonight.

The rest of the drive there his mind’s still trying to process the fact that Y/N told Gemma she loves him. His Y/N loves him.

And when he reaches her suite, he’s not sure if she’ll open the door. Or if she’s even gotten into bed yet.

But he knocks nonetheless, and when he hears light footsteps getting closer on the other side, the butterflies in his tummy go wild.

“Who is it?” Oh how he’s missed hearing that voice.

“Room service.” He can’t risk her not opening if he tells her it’s him.

The door slides open just a bit then, and he sees her peek through it before hearing her yawn.

“Please,” is the first thing his head can muster up, “don’ shut me out, poppet.”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say…what to feel. After not seeing Harry for so long, here he is, stood in front of her hotel room, palm on the door as if to prevent her from closing it.

And she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t miss him. Hearing him plead for her not to deny him entrance.

She’s lost in a trance, looking him over, his eyes tired and hair a mess. Pink lips pursed into a line against the pale of his skin. And his green eyes, burning into her with a sad look.

But she doesn’t say anything. Just steps back into the darkness of the room, allowing Harry to slip in and shut the door behind him.

“I miss ye, kitten.” He breathes in relief, finally able to tell her so she doesn’t think he doesn’t.

She sighs, her back facing him, “Harry, can we please do this tomorrow?”

Harry can’t deny that deflates him a bit. As much of a long shot as it was, he was really hoping she’d say she misses him too.

He strides over to her, but keeps his hands to himself even though he’s been dying to hug her again. There’s nothing else he can do with them but thumb at the rings to twist them around his fingers.

“No,” he whispers, determined. “M'not leaving until y'tell me wha’ I did wrong.” He wants to hear it from her lips.

She turns to look at him, towering above her. Too close, but too far. “You did nothing, Harry.”

“Then why’ve ye’ not been answerin’ m'calls?”


“Or replyin’ t’m'texts?”

She’s fiddling with the hem of her shirt, unsure of what to say. Surely she can’t tell him she couldn’t stand the chuckles and secret whispers between him and the guys over Harry’s probably now girlfriend. She can’t tell him she’s stupidly fallen in love with her best friend and him denying her would break her. But the way he’s looking at her right now makes her wanna melt back into his arms.  

She needs to say something, anything to end this conversation before she explodes.

“Don’t know how to say this. But I started seeing someone, and I wanna dedicate more of my time to him.”

Harry can’t believe she’s really trying to feed him that excuse.

“Oh really? Does he live here? Is tha’ why you’re in New York? Wha’s his name?” He challenges.

She stutters for longer than she should.

“Surely you’ve not forgotten the name of this said bloke you’re seein’?”

Y/N can feel herself getting frustrated. Not because she’s choked up on a simple name, or because it doesn’t seem like Harry will be leaving any time soon. No, she’s frustrated at the fact that Harry knows her so well he’s able to see past it and know she’s lying.

But she tries anyway, “umm, his name’s, umm-”

“Bullshit!” He’s calling her out. He’s gonna make her say it even if he has to stay til well into the next day.

It catches Y/N just a bit off guard though. But it’s enough for her to reach her limit.

“I don’t have to give you any explanations Harry!” And Harry doesn’t recall ever hearing her raise her voice. Other than at the telly during intense scenes from a show or a film, or when she’s driving.

“I don’t have to tell you who I’m dating. You sure as hell don’t tell me!” She brings her index finger up to poke at his chest. “But that’s okay because you don’t owe me any explanations either. So don’t ask me why I’ve not been coming around because I can’t give you an answer. So I hope you’ll be happy with your new girlfriend and I hope you have a great life together-”

“There was never anyone.” He tries to cut in, failing to stop her ramble.

“-because I’m sure she’s perfect in every sense of the word because you’d blush every time Niall or Louis or Liam whispered to you about her-”

“Tha’ was you they were teasin’ 'bout.” Another failed attempt.

“-and you deserve that Harry, you do.  Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine an-”

She grabs at her wrists to stop the gestures.

“Y/N. I love you.”

“And I know y-.”

That’s shuts her right up. And Y/N was really never expecting that.

“You what?” Almost an inaudible whisper.

Harry takes her hand in his then, intertwining their fingers, staring at how hers fit perfectly into his.

He scans her eyes as he brings his hands to cup neck, thumbs running over her jaw. And he honestly cannot understand why she would think he doesn’t.

His thumb pads graze the bottom of her lip before repeating himself.

“I love you.”

It’s then that she brings her hands to his hips, clenching the grey material of his hoodie.

“Harry, I-”

“Jus’ say it, poppet. M'right here.”

“I love you, too.”

Harry can’t hold back anymore.

So he closes the space between them, lips ghosting over hers. And when Y/N puckers her lips to firmly press into his, he knows she means what she’s said.

With a smile and another kiss.

Harry whispers one last time.

“I love you, so much.”

A/N: Wanna take a moment and say thank you to every single one of my readers, whether you follow or not. Thank you for taking the time and reading this unexpected short trilogy. Thank you for being patient with me when I was feeling uneasy about that second part.

And thank you to the anon who requested this.

I hope whilst you all read that it felt at least a bit real, even the slightest to brighten up your day.

Much love, LouM xx

“Rum & Coconuts” - h.s. Part 2

Part 1



You could see Charlie’s large sun hat before you saw her face once you landed in the airport. Though Harry had attempted to roll both yours and his suitcase in a chivalrous way, you had given him a look as if to say, “Really?” before lugging your own behind you as Harry led you and Savie through the airport.

“Charlie!” you called, waving your arm frantically as you attempted to catch her attention. She turned, her long, luxurious and silky hair swishing around her as a large smile overcame her face and she waved back, jogging to meet up with you. 

“Y/N!” she cried and nearly sprinted into your arms. “Oh it’s been so long! When Harry called I nearly thought he was joking saying you’d be visiting! It’s so good to see you!”

You and Savie had known Charlie since university. She’d been the Armenian girl down the hall whose grandmother always sent her nice treats. You’d gone with her on her first trip to her home country when her parents had asked if she wanted to spend the summer there. Her answer was yes, and that she wanted to bring friends. 

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Milkshake | A Valentine’s Day One Shot

I know it’s a day early but here we have one in which Harry fucks up because I hate Valentine’s Day and we don’t need any extra sappy-ness, ok? It’s hard enough being permanently single without having a special day to rub it in my face.

“Date night Tuesday, yeah? For Valentine’s Day?” Harry says as you lie your head on his chest. There’s a show on the telly at the end of the bed but neither of you are really paying attention, more interested in the whispered conversation you’re having. He’s been home for a while but soon he’ll be gone again and you wish you could keep him by your side like this forever so he could never leave. But Gucci clothes don’t buy themselves, do they? Oh but yes they do, you reason, when they’re sent to him for free.

“Gotta be seen to be wearing ‘em, makes everyone money,” he justifies with a small giggle.

“Yeah but I still don’t understand why they give the free stuff to the very people who can afford to pay for it? This is how rich people stay rich, you know? They don’t have to buy anything for themselves. I read that Lady GaGa got given a £10k place to stay for the Super Bowl for free by Air BnB, I mean, what the fuck?”

“Are you saying you don’t like the dress YSL sent you?”

“That is completely beside the point, Harry. Entirely. I can’t afford it, you can.”

“Oh, of course, sorry, I forgot you can’t afford anything with your multi-millionaire fiancé,” he rolls his eyes.

“Nope. What’s yours is yours until you get that ring on my finger,” you tease.

“Still think we should skip the big wedding and jus’ go t’ Vegas.”

“Your mother would kill us both,” you laugh. “And why Vegas, of all places? Could go anywhere in the world on our own and you choose Vegas?”

“When we’re in LA sometime…quick flight to Vegas, married an hour later, done.”

“Gosh, remember when I thought you were romantic?”

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✰ * º ❛ harry styles lyrics ask meme. ❜

‘  meet me in the hallway.  ’
‘  i just left your bedroom.  ’
‘  give me some morphine.  ’
‘  is there any more to do?  ’
‘  just let me know, i’ll be at the door hoping you’ll come around.  ’
‘  maybe we’ll work it out.  ’
‘  i gotta get better.  ’
‘  i walked the streets all day.  ’
‘  give me some more.  ’
‘  just take away the pain.  ’
‘  we don’t talk about it, it’s something we don’t do.  ’
‘  cause once you go without, nothing else will do.  ’
‘  just stop your crying.  ’
‘  it’s a sign of the times.  ’
‘  welcome to the final show.  ’
‘  i hope you’re wearing your best clothes.  ’
‘  you can’t bribe the door on your way to the sky.  ’
‘  you look pretty good down here, but you ain’t really good.  ’
‘  you ain’t really good.  ’
‘  we never learn.  ’
‘  we’ve been here before.  ’
‘  why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?  ’
‘  we gotta get away from here.  ’
‘  they told me that the end is near.  ’
‘  just stop your crying, have the time of your life.  ’
‘  have the time of your life.  ’
‘  things are pretty good from here.  ’
‘  remember, everything will be alright.  ’
‘  we can meet again somewhere.  ’
‘  we can meet again somewhere – somewhere far away from here.  ’
‘  we don’t talk enough.  ’
‘  we should open up before it’s all too much.  ’
‘  will we ever learn?  ’
‘  we’ve been here before. it’s just what we know.  ’
‘  stop your crying, baby.  ’
‘  you say i remind you of home.  ’
‘  feeling oh-so far from home.  ’
‘  better swim before you drown.  ’
‘  you’re a good girl.  ’
‘  you feels so good.  ’
‘  how could you ever turn me down?  ’
‘  there’s not a drink that i think could sink you.  ’
‘  how would i tell you that you’re all i think about?  ’
‘  i met her once and wrote a song about her.  ’
‘  i wanna scream, i wanna shout it out. and i hope you hear me now.  ’
‘  i hope you hear me now.  ’
‘  make me feel so good.  ’
‘  same lips red.  ’
‘  same eyes blue.  ’
‘  same white shirt.  ’
‘  same white shirt, couple more tattoos.  ’
‘  it’s not you and it’s not me.  ’
‘  tastes so sweet, looks so real. sounds like something that i used to feel.  ’
‘  sounds like something that i used to feel.  ’
‘  i can’t touch what i can’t see.  ’
‘  we’re not what we used to be.  ’
‘  we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me.  ’
‘  we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.  ’
‘  the moon dances over your good side.  ’
‘  this was all we used to need.  ’
‘  we don’t say what we really need.  ’
‘  we’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty.  ’
‘  we’re still young.  ’
‘  don’t know where we’re going, but we know where we belong.  ’
‘  it’s hard when we argue. we’re both stubborn, i know.  ’
‘  we’re both stubborn, i know.  ’
‘  wherever i go, you bring me home.  ’
‘  when i run out of rope, you bring me home.  ’
‘  i always think about you and how we don’t speak enough.  ’
‘  i saw this angel.  ’
‘  i really saw an angel.  ’
‘  open up your eyes, shut your mouth, and see that i’m still the only one who’s been in love with me.  ’
‘  open up your eyes, shut your mouth, and see.  ’
‘  i’m just happy getting you stuck between my teeth and there’s nothing i can do about it.  ’
‘  broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door.  ’
‘  couldn’t take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but i think that’s what i like about it.  ’
‘  i must admit i thought i’d like to make you mine.  ’
‘  and there’s nothing we can do about it.  ’
‘  just you wait and see.  ’
‘  it turns out you’re a devil in between the sheets.  ’
‘  wanna die tonight.  ’
‘  you worked your way through a cheap pack of cigarettes.  ’
‘  all the boys, they were saying they were into it.  ’
‘  such a pretty face on a pretty neck.  ’
‘  you’re driving me crazy, but i’m into it.  ’
‘  i’m kind of into it.  ’
‘  it’s getting me crazy, i think i’m losing it.  ’
‘  i’m having your baby, it’s none of your business.  ’
‘  it’s new york, baby, always jacked up.  ’
‘  you’re such an actress.  ’
‘  i’m having your baby.  ’
‘  it’s none of your business.  ’
‘  tell me something.  ’
‘  you don’t know nothing, just pretend you do.  ’
‘  i need something.  ’
‘  tell me something new.  ’
‘  i need something, tell me something new.  ’
‘  choose your words ‘cause there’s no antidote for this curse.  ’
‘  what’s it waiting for?  ’
‘  must this hurt just before you go?  ’
‘  tell me something i don’t already know.  ’
‘  had enough from you.  ’
‘  should we just search romantic comedies on netflix and see what we find?  ’
‘  i’m selfish, i know, but i don’t ever want to see you with him.  ’
‘  i’m selfish, i know.  ’
‘  i don’t ever want to see you with him.  ’
‘  i told you, but i know you never listen.  ’
‘  i hope you can see the shape that i’m in while he’s touching your skin.  ’
‘  i hope you can see the shape that i’m in.  ’
‘  he’s right where i should be.  ’
‘  he’s right where i should be, but you’re making me bleed.  ’
‘  apologies are never gonna fix this.  ’
‘  i’m empty, i know.  ’
‘  promises are broken like a stitch is.  ’
‘  this thing upon me howls like a beast.  ’
‘  woke up alone in this hotel room.  ’
‘  where were you?  ’
‘  i got drunk by noon.  ’
‘  i’ve never felt less cool.  ’
‘  we haven’t spoke since you went away.  ’
‘  comfortable silence is so overrated.  ’
‘  why won’t you ever be the first one to break?  ’
‘  even my phone misses your call, by the way.  ’
‘  i saw your friend that you know from work, he said you feel just find.  ’
‘  i see it’s written all over his face.  ’
‘  why won’t you ever say you can’t me to stay?  ’
‘  maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me you’re sorry too.  ’
‘  maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me you’re sorry too, but you never do.  ’
‘  woke up the girl who looked just like you… i almost said your name.  ’

Whipped...boyfriend!!! Pt.2

If you haven’t, this follows “Whipped…friends??” which you can find here. And the first part to this you can read here.


Y/N had tried her best to fall asleep. Tried to ignore the noise that New York was. She’d hailed a cab from the restaurant to her hotel, bidding good bye to her cousin, thanking him for taking time out of his day to keep her company. 

She didn’t however excuse the sudden need to get out of the restaurant when Harry came into view. And her cousin didn’t ask questions, guys normally don’t.

But in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t keep out the thoughts of Harry taking over her mind. She tossed and turned, checked the clock to see it had only been seven minutes since she’d last checked it.

So when the soft knock on her door caused her to sit up abruptly, she thanked the heavens for the short break it allowed her mind to take from thoughts of Harry.

That is, until she heard his voice.

And if she was being honest, as unprepared as she was for this, she knew she had to talk to him. That is why she came to the city after all, wasn’t it?


Harry’s words were able to erase every doubt that Y/N had before last night. They laughed at how oblivious they both were; at the fact that obvious signs that they wanted more than to stay friends went over their heads.

They sat on the hotel room couch, talking about anything that happened during that short time they weren’t talking. 

Harry listened and watched Y/N talk about how she would still do lunches with Gemma. Even admitted that she would try to find a way to bring Harry into conversation just to see if he was doing okay.

Harry confessed that he knew, because Gemma told him, and Y/N could not have gone a darker shade of pink.

Harry recounted to her every moment he could remember of when the boys teased him, mimicking their voices the best he could to make her laugh.

“So then it was really me you lot were whispering about all those times?” Her giggle has Harry smiling like a child who’s just found out their crush likes them back.

And it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, it’s just nice hearing him say it.

“Wha’ ye’ laughing for?? Was a real pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone ‘bout it.”

She laughs even harder then.

“D'ye know how hard it was t'keep them from sayin’ anythin’ t'ye? Didn’t wan’ ye’ finding out over one of Louis distasteful jokes.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t actually.”

Harry chuckles at that, reminiscing on the countless times Louis’ comments nearly got him caught.

All in all, it was nice.

It was nice to have Harry back. To have him on the verge of tears at her lame jokes. 

“Knock, knock!” Y/N excitement grew because she had honestly just came up with this one.

“Who’s there?” Harry loves jokes. He loves telling them and having people laugh because they think his jokes are witty. He’ll even take people laughing at them because they’re plain idiotic. Harry also loves being told a joke, especially if it’s Y/N.

“Woo.” And she’s trying to contain herself. 

Harry and Y/N are similar in the way that when they’ve got a real funny joke to tell, or at least they think they do, they laugh for a ridiculous amount of time before they’re even able to tell it. Or they’ll start their joke, and as they rehearse it in their head, they’ll explode into laughter, eyes squinty and arms over their tummy because “s'a real good one okay! Jus’ wait.” This usually has others rolling their eyes at them because no one they know takes longer to tell a joke than they do.

“Woo who??”

“She’s an angel.” Harry thinks her excitement is priceless as she points at him with both index fingers. And he follows her lead for the sake of seeing her smile.

“Woo who! My only angel, woo who! She’s an angel, woo who! My my my my only angel!”

After that, she begged for an encore. Actually, she had him sing bits and pieces from songs she wanted to hear raw, unplugged with no instruments. Harry, of course, complied.

Now, waking up to each other isn’t much different now than it was a few weeks ago when they were nothing more than best friends. 

Back then, if Harry wanted to lightly peck at her shoulder for some sort of reassurance that yes, his Y/N was still with him, he would. He would do it first thing when he woke up, a sour taste in his mouth because he needs to wash his teeth. And she never minded, returned his affection with a smile, hooded eyes crinkling because sometimes it was still too early for her. 

Back then, if Harry wanted to cuddle her whilst they lounged about at a friends house, he would. Didn’t matter if he was having a conversation on the couch with someone else. The moment Y/N walked by in front of him, he would tug at her hand until she settled next to him, which never took much. She would roll her eyes at him, but smile none the less as he tucked a hand underneath her knees, moving them to rest on top of his thigh. He would then proceed with the conversation he’d been having, hand on Y/N’s calve.

It was normal for them, and their friends never asked questions anymore.

The only difference now, is that if Harry wanted to wake her up with a kiss to the lips, he can. 

And Y/N no longer feels the need to come up with some excuse when Harry suddenly wakes and catches her staring at him.

Instead, she smiles warmly, gripping at the heavily tattooed hand that rests on her waist. 

“Mmm, mornin’,” he manages, voice raspy enough that he coughs once to try and make his words sound clearer, “starin’ at my face were you?”

Y/N doesn’t try to hide it. She likes the way he’s looking at her, one eye peeking open, half a smile visible because half of his face is still pressed against the soft hotel mattress.

He stirs a bit, propping himself up on his forearm only to plop back down on his tummy, body closer to hers. 

Harry smiles wider at the touch of her fingers raking through his hair to get it away from his face, the pads of them grazing his scalp. 

Still the same. 

Harry’s arm lazily slung over her made her feel comfortable…safe. It’s not nearly as close as they’ve been before when they cuddle in bed, but something about his dopey smile and squinty eye has her feeling giddy. Because finally, she doesn’t have to hide the side of her she’s been wanting him to see. Affectionate in another sense, affectionate in a more free way. 

“S'that bad?” Y/N cuddles herself even closer, turning on her side and leveling her eyes to his. 

Harry says nothing. 

“Tell me again?”

And he doesn’t need to ask what she means by that. 

He simply moves to scoot closer again, lifts up his head to look at her better, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you.”


Y/N doesn’t remember how she got home. 

She can’t believe she let herself get so upset over Harry interacting with his friends that she got so pissed drunk to the point she can’t remember much from last night. 

It’s all a haze, and if she knew she would be sporting a killer hangover, she would have stopped on the second drink. 


She reaches for the water and bottle of pills laid on the night stand, clearly aware that it must’ve been him who placed them there for her. 

Two pills in one gulp.

Even though the window curtains are closed, she can make out the lining of light that manages to seep through the edges of the material. And she really can never thank him enough for always taking care of her, especially when she gets like this and her tolerance wears thin.

"Harry?” She whispers, and again, no answer.

She can see the outline of his body sat on the chair by the corner of the room, slumped over, hands running through his hair.

“Hey. Baby? You okay?" 

As much as she wanted to stay in place, tucked under the comfort of the duvet, she needs to see if he’s okay. So she turns on the nightstand lamp, wincing in the process, and lifts up the covers. She crawls to the foot of the bed, head tilting in a way to try and get a better look at him. 

"C'mere.” She pats the spot next to her. She would get up and go to him if she could, but she doesn’t trust her body enough to get her across the room with out falling at some point.

Harry doesn’t say anything still. But she notices the way his body shakes, and even he can’t completely silence the sobs escaping his lips. 

“Harry! Babe, no, no-” her frantic voice causes Harry to look up for a mere second, long enough for Y/N to make out the redness of his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks.

He wipes at them hastily, bowing his head back down, trying to shut her out. 


How could Harry even think this girl looked anything remotely like his Y/N? 

His heart is racing still, mind going at a million miles an hour, but blank at the same time.

It’s shock that’s keeping him here. Sat on a bed foreign to him, next to a girl who’s seeming to be sleeping peacefully while his world falls apart. 

What the fuck is he to do?? 

He doesn’t think twice, he needs to talk to someone. He needs advice. 

But the minute he does it, the minute he opens his mouth and reaches out to’s out there. 

So if part of him wanted no one to find out, why has he phoned Louis? 

“Calm down, mate.” Harry doesn’t care much for the tone in Louis’ voice, he needs to talk to him.

“Look, Harry. I can’t understand what you’re sayin’ if you won’t call down!”

“Fuck, Louis!” He exasperates, “I fucked up. I fucked up and Y/N’s g'na hate me. I can’t lose her, Lou. Not her.”

Louis can recall a handful of times Harry’s gotten himself into serious trouble. He’s always been able to keep it on the low though. But for Harry to call him this distressed, stumbling over his words, and practically crying. That’s something else. He can’t recall the last time he’s heard him this shaken. 

“I don’ know who she is, Lou. I’ve got no fucking clue who this is.”

“Harry,” Louis really doesn’t wanna assume the worst, but he can’t think of anything else Harry would be frantically going on about that has to do with a chick, “what did you do?”

“I don’ know. I woke up in a bed tha’s not mine. Stripped down t'my briefs.”

“Shit! Harry!”

This is never a conversation either of them thought they’d ever be having.

“Did you use protection?" 

Shit. SHIT! That hadn’t even crossed his mind.

"I don’ know." 


Y/N can’t think of a single thing that might have Harry like this. She hops off the bed almost too fast, but catches herself before she can trip. 

"Love, why’re you crying?” She tugs at his hands to try and pry them away from his face, but he barely budges.

“Talk to me, H. Whatever it is we can get through it." 

The soft strokes of her hands on his thighs do little to nothing. How is he suppose to tell her?? How. What can he say? She’s going to hate him. But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. How could he have done that to her? 

"Harry, please, baby!" 

His heart breaks a bit more at the sound of her voice cracking, unable to contain herself.

He wants to tell her he loves her. He loves her so much that he can’t imagine Harry with out Y/N. Wants to tell her Harry doesn’t exist with out Y/N. But where does he start. 

The silence is eating at Y/N. It’s beginning to feel like there’s not enough air in the room. She continues to beg Harry to tell her what’s wrong. 

"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, H.” But she wishes he would. “Just tell me you’re okay,” still, the strokes of comfort from Y/N’s thumb on his waist fail at calming the uneasiness. 

A million things are going through her mind. But the only one she’s stuck on is literally squeezing at her heart.

What did she do?? Is this the end of them?


mmeyers915  asked:

what about a oneshot where reader is in some kind of trouble (idk what but maybe not the ministry??? idk im stupid) and obliviates newt of all memories of them and he asks what shes doing and she tells him to close his eyes and ANGST (my feelings are going to regret this)

Newt Scamander X Reader – Missing You

A/N – I’ll be honest, this was partially inspired by Lyra’s role in Supergirl. @mmeyers915

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Originally posted by ultrailoveharrystylesblog

You were forgetting something, there was no doubt about it but what? What could possibly be left? As chaotic and cluttered as Newt’s case was, it was only small, gathering all of your items should have been easy. You sighed impatiently, trying to think of the last item before Newt got back. Perhaps the reason you couldn’t think of it was because you didn’t actually want to leave; you’d follow your goofy love to the ends of the Earth if it was possible. This was most likely your subconscious trying to stop you from leaving; if it was, it wasn’t making things any easier. You already hurt enough knowing what you had to do. Carrying your plan out was going to be like losing a piece of yourself. No. It was worse. You’d be losing him.

It was no use, whether you were forgetting something or not, you had to leave. You grabbed your bag, heading to the ladder out of the case, paling upon the sound of Newt’s all too familiar footsteps. Newt stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eager grin turning into a look of utter betrayal and horror as he tried to speak, looking at your packed bag.

“(Y/N)” he breathed, unashamed tears forming. “I don’t understand. Just tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it. I- I can become anything for you. A-A-Am I too shy? Do I spend too much time with my creatures b-b-because-”

You embraced Newt, desperate to make him stop before you found a reason to stay; leaving was already too hard as it was, hearing how much he loved you and was willing to do for you made it a thousand times worse.

“Newt, don’t worry, this isn’t about you, you- you’re perfect just as you are, sweetheart.”

Hearing your calm tone soothed Newt slightly. He became less tense as he waited for some reasonable or even unreasonable excuse as to why you were taking all your things away. It was probably something silly such as a change of fashion, Feng-shui, or, Merlin forbid, creature urine; some smells just seeped into things and couldn’t be fixed as Newt had learned the hard way.

“Then what- What’s going on?” He asked patiently.

You exhaled sickly, trying to think of where to start. “Okay, sit down, this is going to take some explaining.”

You sat on the small cot Newt sometimes used when alone, patting it for him to join you. Warily, he did, eyeing you the way he did a new, mysterious creature; not with excitement but caution.

“To explain… I have to start with a story about something bad a person did.” You gulped, leaving out the part where the person was you, it would become obvious soon enough but you didn’t want to remember the awful things you’d done just yet. “Before I start this, I have to ask you not to interrupt, okay?”

New nodded hesitantly.

“Alright, thank you. Right, well, um- There was this person, and (s)he worked for some wizards who were into collecting rarities, no matter what kind of illegal or disreputable things they had to do to get what they wanted. Now, this person I mentioned earlier… (s)he had a friend who was badly in debt to them and to help them out, (s)he offered to do whatever it took to pay off this friend’s debt. The guys in charge, they made the person steal a lot of stuff, art mostly and no matter what it was (s)he’d mark whoever owned the item originally, get to know them, sometimes date them, and eventually, steal the item in question. There were never any feelings involved because business should never mix with pleasure, not the romantic kind anyway.

Anyway, the guys on top heard a rumour. It was about some crazy guy who’d come across a Thunderbird.”

Pained realisation showed on Newt’s face, he shook his head. “(Y/N), why- Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m not done.” You blinked back tears. “The person stalked the mark for a week before deciding he’d be an easy job, a month at most but then…Then…” You snivelled, unable to recompose yourself for another minute or so. “(S)he fell for him. He was no longer a mark but someone (s)he w-wanted to m-marry and be with forever. The longer (s)he stayed became more d-dangerous though because the g-guys at the top f-figured out what had happened and they- they threatened to kill the mark unless (s)he could pay off her debt with the Thunderbird.”

“(Y/N), no, you… you wouldn’t.”

You nodded, wiping your face. “I couldn’t.” You sniffed. “I promised I’d find something even more valuable but here’s the thing Newt. The only thing I could find is in the ministry and I- I can’t let you get involved in this. When I do this, you can’t even know me. Do you understand?”

“No. We uh,” he grabbed your hands tightly, “We’ll find a way, together. There has to be some way to do this, right?”

You let out a weak, sad laugh. “Newt Scamander, I was afraid you’d say that.” You pecked his cheek, knowing that if it was his lips, you wouldn’t have the strength to do what you needed to do.

After a deep breath, you pulled your hands back, drawing your wand out from your cloak. You aimed it at Newt, who stared at you helplessly, his hurt expression cutting you like a knife.

“Obliviate.” You whispered, watching his eyes roll expressionlessly into his head. You got up, grabbing your bag and making a hasty retreat from the case into the hotel room outside.

Newt wouldn’t remember anything about you but you would remember every shared moment, every kiss, every touch, every lingering word or smell; that would be your cross to bear.

Newt rubbed his eyes tiredly, looking around his small shed. It was odd really, he couldn’t remember why he was there, or any of the previous day.

“I’ve been working too hard.” He murmured, resting his head on the pillow, while trying to recall the day’s events; it must have been a dissatisfying day at the very least because he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that something was missing.

He stretched out, his hand encountered something sharp. Absentmindedly, he grasped it, frowning when he found it to be a necklace with a single Hungarian Horntail scale on it. Although Newt had come to terms with the fact that he’d always be alone because of his strange, nomadic lifestyle, he found himself disturbed by the necklace. It was in his most boyish daydreams that, should he meet somebody he truly loved, he’d make them a necklace just like this, yet he knew he’d never made it; he couldn’t have for there was nobody to wear it.

He ran his free hand through his hair, turning the necklace over in his hands before gently placing it in his pocket. “A mystery for another day.” He thought, thinking of the rest he needed now.

Secret Love Song - Harry Styles Mini Series Part 9

Originally posted by pinkharold

Part 8

You weren’t exactly sure how you made it from the floor of the lobby to the bed in the hotel room, but that’s where you were. The last thing you remembered was walking through the crowd of fans and clutching your chest as you tried to breathe your way through an anxiety attack. 

And now, you were laying on the bed with a very worried boyfriend pacing around the room. 

“How did I-” You mumbled sitting up a bit. 

“Y/N! Oh my god, are you okay?” He said worried, but still keeping his distance. 

“I-I think so,” you whispered. “How did I get up here?” 

“I carried you up here and once you got your breathing under control you just fell asleep,” he whispered. 

“Oh, I uh… I do that sometimes,” you blushed. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?” He asked quickly sitting down on the bed. 

“No, no I’m okay now,” you said. “I just might be tired for a bit.” 

“I knew we should have gone the other way,” he sighed. 

“It’s my fault, I didn’t think it would be that bad,” you said. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He sighed. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” you sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I wish you hadn’t seen that.” 

“Why?” He asked confused. 

“Because now you’ve seen that you don’t have a normal girl for a girlfriend,” you sighed. “That night at the club, when you saw me having an attack, that was nothing compared to this and sometimes they’re worse than what I experienced today. Every single one of my exes, when they’ve seen me have an attack or I talk about my anxiety, they just brush it off like I want attention and then they end up breaking up me or cheating on me when it becomes too much for them,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you really think I would do that?” He asked with hurt in his voice. 

“No, but I’m sure everyone is talking about what happened and it’s going to be everywhere. Not only are people talking about the fact that you have a girlfriend now, but she’s also someone who can’t even walk through a crowd of people without freaking out to the point of exhaustion,” you mumbled. 

“Baby, none of that is your fault,” he whispered. “And I would never… I would never break up with you over it and I’m not going to brush it off. What I saw today scared the shit out of me and I was so worried about you.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whispered. “I didn’t exactly plan it,” you joked. 

“Are you seeing someone for it?” He asked. 

“I have in the past and I’m taking medication for it. Both of those help for the most part, but there are some things like crowds of people or feeling trapped that trigger me,” you said. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He sighed. 

“Because sometimes I’m ashamed of it,” you sighed. “People have this stigma around anxiety that it’s not real and we’re just wanting to attention and then you have people who pretend to have anxiety because they think it’s a cool trend to say that they have it. I mean everyone has a bit of anxiety in them, but when you have a disorder it’s to the extreme.” 

“I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t come to me,” he whispered. 

“It wasn’t that, I’m just used to not talking about it with people. My friends and family don’t really understand and they don’t usually care to either,” you shrugged. 

“Well, not with me,” he whispered. “You can talk to me about this or anything and I’ll be here to listen.” 

You smiled a bit. “Thank you,” you whispered laying your head on his shoulder. 

He kissed your head and wrapped his arms around you. “So, what do you want to do? We could order some dinner in and watch a movie or take a nice warm bath, whatever you’d like,” he smiled. 

“I think dinner and a nice relaxing bath would be great,” you smiled. “I’m afraid I’d fall asleep during the movie.” 

“You don’t have to stay up, love,” he whispered. “If you want to go to sleep, you can. I can fend for myself.”

“I know, but I don’t want to ruin our day any more than I already have,” you smiled. 

“You didn’t ruin it, baby,” he whispered. 

“Maybe not for you, but I did for myself,” you said. “And to be honest I’m quite used to it.” 

Harry sighed looking over at you before kissing your head again and grabbing the room service menu and calling in an order. 


You and Harry were now back in London. He had been busy over the last few days since your return from Paris due to appearances and rehearsals. You had also been busy. You had to pick up your final paycheck from the magazine and clean out your office, something Madison had already done for you and all that was left to get was a box of everything. 

You carried the box to your car and then headed back to your house. You brought the box into the spare room in your flat that you used as a make shift office. Something that would come in handy over these next few weeks as you looked for a job. 

You had been staring at your computer screen for what seemed like hours when the knock on your front door brought you back to reality. You pushed away from your desk and when to answer the door. 

“Finally!” Jess groaned pushing her way through the doorway with bags in her hand. 

“You’ve been waiting for like two minutes, if that,” you laughed shutting the door. 

“This shit is heavy,” she said putting the bags on the table. 

“Jesus, did you buy enough food for an army,” you laughed. 

“No, I just.. anyway, I’ve been looking forward to this day, so come get some food and then spill!” She smirked. 

“What is there to spill?” You asked taking a little bit of each food from the different containers. 

“Um, well, for one how about the fact that you’re dating Harry Styles and went on a romantic getaway with him,” she said with a mouthful. 

“It wasn’t a romantic getaway. He went for work and I just tagged along,” you said innocently. 

“So, you’re telling me that you two didn’t do anything romantic in the least bit?” She asked putting her hands on her hips. 

“I mean… there were some romantic moments, but nothing over the top,” you said. “But then again, most of that was probably because of everything that happened. Between people finding out about us and then my anxiety attack there were a few setbacks on any romantic plans he may have had.” 

“Shit, that sucks,” she sighed. “I saw a video of what happened. There wasn’t a lot to go on because once you were inside there wasn’t any footage of you, but I could tell you were freaking out.” 

“Yep,” you sighed. “It wasn’t my finest moment.” 

“How are you doing with that?” She asked. 

“I’m better now, although I have been staying away from my social media because I don’t need to see what happened,” you sighed. 

“How did Harry handle it?” She asked grabbing more food. 

“Surprisingly well,” you said. “After it happened, I was embarrassed and thought that maybe he’d be embarrassed too or that he’d be freaked out and break up with me.” 

“And I take it that didn’t happen?” She asked. 

“Not at all. He was very supportive and for the first time in a while, I feel like I have someone I can lean on about this. I know that I’ve always had you, but I’ve never had that in a boyfriend…” you whispered. 

“I’m really happy for you, Y/N,” she smiled. “I knew that you seemed different these past few weeks and I’m really glad to know that you’ve found someone that seems to treat you like you deserve.” 

“I am too,” you smiled. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and quite honestly it scares me because I don’t want to ever lose this feeling, but I’m enjoying every second of it.” 

“Speaking of enjoying…” she smirked. “Have you slept with him yet?” 

You don’t respond, just simply take a sip of your drink. 

“HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE!” She exclaimed. 

“We’re so not talking about this,” you said shaking your head. 

“Yes, we are! I can’t believe this. Do you realize how lucky you are? There are like millions of girls and I’m sure guys that would love to be able to say they’ve fucked Harry Styles and you get to do that!” She said. 

You rolled your eyes. “Your fangirl is showing, Jess.” 

“Sorry!” She groaned. 

You laughed. “But if you must know, the first time was in Paris,” you said. “So, we haven’t exactly been at it that long.” 


“Oh my God,” you said. “Can you go an entire conversation without shouting at me?” You laughed. 

“You’ve known me your entire life, when have I ever been quiet?” She laughed. 

“True,” you giggled. 

“Anyway, all fangirling and joking aside, he seems like a real gent and I’m happy that you have someone like that,” she smiled. “Now, does he have any single friends?” 

“I think so,” you laughed. “I’ll have to ask him if any of them are up to par for you though.” 

“You’re the best,” she smirked. 

You laughed and finished your lunch. 


Later that day, you had another visitor, but this time it was your boyfriend. When you opened the door, you saw nothing but a huge bouquet of flowers and legs covered in black skinny jeans. 

“Um… “ You laughed. “Hi..” 

Harry poked his head to the side of the flowers and gave a little smile. “There’s my girl,” he said. 

You smiled moving to the side and letting him in. He put the flowers on the table before taking your hand and pulling you into his arms. “I’ve missed you,” he groaned. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you smiled wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I only have a few weeks of promo once the album is out and then I’ll be all yours for a few more weeks before I have to worry with Dunkirk,” he smiled. 

“Hmm… And what will I do with you having all that time on our hands?” You smirked. 

“I can think of a few things that I’d love for you to do with me,” he joked. 

You laughed. “Anyway, dinner is almost ready. You can sit on the couch if you’d like. The remote to the tele is on the table and I can bring you some wine if you’d like?” 

“I’ll just grab some water,” he smiled. “Do you need any help?” 

“Nope, I’ve got everything,” you said. 

He nodded and grabbed some water before leaning against the counter. “So, how was your day?” He asked. 

“It was okay, Jess came over for lunch and we talked about you,” you laughed. 

“Let me guess, you told her how amazing I was and that your boyfriend is a sex god?” He joked. 

“Oh, yes, word for word,” you giggled. 

“I knew it,” he laughed. 

“She does want to know if you have any single friends,” you laughed. 

“A few,” he said. “Should we set up a double date soon?” 

“We could, but for now, let’s just focus on a date between us,” you smiled. 

After dinner, you and Harry made your way over to your living room. You had put on some music and you sat next to him with your legs on his lap and your head on his shoulder. Harry kissed your head and ran his hands up your legs. 

“How’s the job hunting go?” He asked. 

“It’s not,” you sighed. “I’ve been looking all day, but nothing.” 

“Have you thought about starting your own website and just posting things that you want to post about?” He asked. “I know it’s not really a paycheck sort of thing, but it might help with finding something.” 

“I have thought about it actually,” you said. 

“Then you should do it,” he smiled. “And I really think you should maybe have lunch with sister and she can help you.” 

“I know you’ve mentioned it before, but do you really think she’d help me?” You asked. 

“Yes, you’re my girlfriend,” he smiled. 

“I don’t want her to help me just because I’m your girlfriend though,” you said. 

“Well, I mean it wouldn’t be just because of that, but part of the reason,” he said. “Besides she’s been hounding me to meet you already.” 

“Are we to that step yet?” You asked. 

“I’m fine with it, but I want to make sure you are too,” he said. “Because if you meet my sister just so you know Mum will also want to meet you.” 

You nodded. “I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it,” you smiled. “But I think we’ve had enough talking…” you smirked putting your cup of tea on the table and then turning around to straddle him. 

“More than enough,” he smirked putting his hands on your hips. 

You smiled leaning down to kiss him. You two started off with little pecks and smiles before taking it a little further. Your hands were in his hair while his were running up and down your back as he deepened the kiss. 

He pulled away from your lips and made his way down your neck. You tilted your head to the side and felt his hands inching up under the hem of your blouse. 

You smirked pulling away from him and putting your hands up in the air. With a smirk on his lips, he pulled off your top and ran his hands over the newly naked skin. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he mumbled taking your head in his hands and kissing you deeply again. 

While you were still kissing him, you started to pull on his t-shirt, but his arms were in the way. You groaned and pulled away. 

“Sorry, love,” he laughed removing his hands from your face and letting you take off his shirt. 

You threw the black cotton fabric to the floor and ran your hands over his chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “As much as I love this couch, it’s not exactly the best place to continue this, so we should probably head to my bedroom,” you smirked. 

“Don’t mind if we do,” he smirked standing up and throwing you over his shoulder before practically running to your room. 


The next morning, you wake up to Harry bringing in a tray of food to your room. You laughed sitting up and wrapping the bed sheet around your naked body. 

“What’s this?” You asked. 

“Just wanted to do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend so I thought I make us some breakfast in bed. I’ve got veggie omelets, toast, fruit and some juice,” he said. 

You smiled sitting up against the headboard. Harry sat next to you and you both got your plate and started eating. 

“Oh, yeah, you definitely get the boyfriend of the year award for this,” you joked. 

He laughed. “I’m glad you think so,” he smiled. 

“So, do you anything to do today?” You asked. 

“I do actually,” he said. “I’ve got the music video shoot today.” 

“Oh, wow,” you said. “That’s great.” 

“Yeah. We’re filming it in Scotland,” he said. 

“That’s amazing. I love it there,” you smiled. 

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked. “We’re just going up for the day.” 

“Are you sure you want me to be there?” You asked. “I mean I don’t want to be in the way.” 

“Baby, you wouldn’t be in the way,” he smiled. 

“Well, okay, but only because I just want to go to Scotland,” you joked. 

“Rude!” He said dramatically. “I’m quite hurt, baby.” 

“You’ll live,” you giggled. 

He laughed and grabbed a strawberry off your plate. 

“Hey!” You whined. “That’s mine!” 

“You’ll live,” he mocked. 

“You’re such an ass,” you laughed. 

“What was that? You love my ass?” He smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to take a shower,” you said getting up from the bed and wrapping the sheets around you. 

“No, come back,” he whined reaching for you. “We still have a bit before we have to be at the airport.” 

“I need to get ready,” you laughed. 

“So, come back here,” he whined pulling on the sheet. “And why are you covering yourself up, there’s no need for that.” 

“Maybe I like a little modesty every now and again,” you said. 

“There was no modesty last night when you were riding my-” he smirked. 

“Do not finish that sentence,” you said putting your hand over his mouth. 

He laughed behind your hand before you removed it from his face. You were close enough now that he was able to wrap his arms around you and pull you back onto the bed. 

“We can cuddle for another half hour and then we can start getting ready,” he nodded wrapping his arms around you. 

You laughed when his hands found their way to cupping your chest under the sheet and you rolled your eyes. “Cuddling huh?” You said. 

“Yes, cuddling,” he smirked kissing your shoulders. 

You shook your head knowing that this kind of cuddling was for sure going to lead somewhere else and the two of you would more than likely be late to the airport. 

And late you were. 

danibwills  asked:

A Jon x Sansa New girl AU please !

I hope this is alright! Sorry it’s a million years late! <3 

It was a Wednesday morning when Sansa walked in on Harry arse-naked on top of some blonde in their shared bed. At first, she’d just stood there, thinking about how ugly Harry was and how gross he looked in the throes of sex. Everything about it looked so mechanical and dull – and god, if you’re going to cheat on your girlfriend who you just moved in with then at least throw it all away for a night (or rather morning) of passion. That’s why people cheat, right? They get so overwhelmed by sexual chemistry and something new that they can’t resist themselves, so what does it say about Sansa that her boyfriend of a year cheated on her for mediocre sex?

She’s not sure and it’s better if she pretends she doesn’t know the answer to that question.

“Sans? Where do you want this?”

Her brother is studying her with his arms wrapped tightly around a box labeled ‘shit Sansa doesn’t need’ courtesy of her little sister.

“Um, just… anywhere is good. Thank you, Robb.” The smile she offers is faint and lacking any warmth, but it’s the best she can do considering she’s twenty-six-years-old and moving in with her brother and his two flatmates. She loves Robb and there’s a part of her that still worships the ground he walks on, but she honestly does not want to live with him and his friends. Sansa was supposed to be getting her own space, settling down and being a grown up, only that all went crashing down around her when Harry decided to stick his prick in somewhere else.

She grimaces at the thought and that catches Robb’s attention.


“Harry was gross, wasn’t he?” she asks instead, looking around the room. It’s a decent size with two large windows to one side that faces another apartment complex. It’s not a great view, but the room is well-lit and she likes that.

Her brother chuckles in surprise. “We’re just glad you didn’t catch anything.”

Sansa’s grimace grows and she throws a pillow at his head. “Ew, Robb. Don’t even joke about that!” She’s already been to the GP for a very thorough STI test, and thankfully, she’s clean. She supposes the one good thing Harry has going for him is a healthy knowledge of sexual education and the follow-through to always wear a condom.

“Sorry,” he laughs, putting both hands up in the universal sign of surrender, but when Sansa rolls her eyes, her brother moves towards her swiftly and wraps her in his signature bear hugs. “Hey, you’re better off without him, yeah? You’re way too good for a weasel like Harry.”

“I know that,” she mumbles into his shirt.

“I love you, Lemon.”

“Love you too, Bacon,” she says, shaking her head at their stupid childhood nicknames. Lemon for her for the amount of lemon cakes she used to eat and Bacon for him for the amount of bacon he used to steal from everyone’s plates. In their defence, Sansa had been four and Robb seven.

Once her brother leaves her new room, Sansa flops down on the bed with a heavy groan. She doesn’t know what’s more tragic – the fact that her boyfriend cheated on her or the fact that she doesn’t feel even a smidgen of heartbreak.




Sansa grabs for her towel and runs out into the living room where Robb is sitting on the L-shaped sofa with Jon playing some video game. Both are staring up at them with wide eyes, but she takes no notice of this. She’s too busy glaring daggers at the scrawny man before her.

“How do you not – didn’t you hear the shower going!” She’s not screaming any more but she is still very close to killing him.

“What? Mate, did you fucking walk in on my sister showering?” Robb is now on his feet with a scowl on his face. Theon instinctively recoils back in fear, which really irks Sansa, because he should be more afraid of her.

“I didn’t mean to. I swear it was an accident!” Theon says in a rush. He looks to Sansa and seems to be imploring her with his eyes. “Honest, Sansa! And if it makes you feel any better, you have a very lovely figure.”

“Ugh, douchebag jar now!” she screeches in frustration, grabbing an empty can from the nearby table and hurling it at Theon’s head. He ducks in time but the physical action does make her feel a little better. “You guys need to fix that lock or I swear to god I will make your lives hell.” With that said, she storms back to the shower to finish rinsing out her hair.

Day six of living with the boys is going disastrously. Not only has Theon seen her naked but she’s pretty sure she’s heard her brother having sex multiple times now, and if it happens again, she’s going to cut off her ears.


It’s Valentine’s Day and Sansa officially hates her life. Harry and her had plans to travel down to London and stay at a nice hotel. Of course now her Valentine’s Day consists of cocooning herself in a duvet while watching Bridget Jones’ Diary and drinking wine. It’s mean and petty but she’s fuming that everyone she knows has plans. Even Theon sodding Greyjoy has a date! How did that buffoon trick someone into going out with him is beyond her, but she supposes the silver lining is that she has the flat to herself.

Bridget has just shown up to the garden party in a little bunny outfit when the door to the flat bursts open and Jon comes stumbling in decked out in his fireman uniform. He looks weary and exhausted, and it takes him several minutes to notice her. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have at all if she hadn’t shifted on the sofa causing the leather to squelch underneath her.

Fuck!” he exclaims, jumping back in surprise. His curly hair is in such disarray and his eyes are so comically wide she has a hard time stifling the giggle rising up her throat. “I didn’t – I thought you’d be out or something.”

Sansa arches a brow. “With who? My non-existent boyfriend or my illustrious ex?”

Jon flushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Right, sorry. I just thought you of all people would have a date.”

Me of all people? What’s that supposed to mean?”

If it’s possible for a person to turn into a tomato, Jon is doing a very good job right now with that transformation. “Nothing. Um… Bridget Jones?”

“You like Bridget Jones?” This is news to her. But then most of what she’s found out about Robb’s sullen best friend is news to her. “Didn’t peg you as the type.”

He shrugs as he kicks off his shoes and drops down next to her. “It’s alright.” But thirty minutes later, Jon is completely gripped by the story. He’s laughing and shaking his head in time to each crazy or absurd thing Bridget does. It’s surprisingly endearing and Sansa finds herself watching him for the rest of the film instead. He has a very expressive face when it’s not wearing that grumpy mask he has on most of the time.

“Why aren’t you on a date?” Sansa asks once the credits start rolling.

Jon blinks at her, fingers clenching and unclenching around his coffee mug filled to the brim with red wine. “Don’t really feel like dating.”

“Bad breakup?” she pushes, because she really doesn’t know a thing about Jon and she should considering they’re now flatmates. He’s also the most sane one out of the three of them.

“Does it count as a reason if it was over two years ago?”

Sansa surprises herself by laughing at that. “Yeah, sure. If it was bad enough.”

“Is my ex getting into a car accident, going into a coma for three months and waking up only to decide to travel the world without me bad enough?” he asks, and if it isn’t for the glimmer of a smile on his lips, Sansa would be horrified by that tale.

She pretends to think about it for a second. “Hmm… I guess I can give you that one.”

“You’re so gracious,” Jon says, chuckling. “So what was your bad breakup? Robb didn’t really tell us anything other than Harry is a twat and he’s going to gut him like a fish.”

“Oh god,” she sighs. Robb really needs to get a grip on this overprotective brother thing. If she hears he actually tried to fight Harry, she’ll kill them both. “I think you have me beat on the bad breakup front but I think coming home to see your boyfriend breaking in your new mattress with someone that’s not you is pretty rubbish.”

“Ouch,” Jon says, as he reaches over to place a comforting hand over her own. His hand is big and warm, calloused but still soft enough to make her body shiver from the contact. “That is shit, Sansa. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s okay,” Sansa says automatically, before feeling emboldened by the wine to add, “but you know what’s the most screwed up part? I’m actually more upset about the mattress than I am about Harry. I mean – I paid for half of that mattress and mattresses are expensive, Jon. They’re supposed to be an investment, right? Except now I’ll never be able to use it.”

He shakes his head, smiling bemusedly at her. “You’ll buy a new mattress.”

“But it was a really good mattress!” she whines. “It has one of those memory foam things.”

“Oh jesus, yeah, that’s definitely a real loss,” Jon nods with a completely serious expression. “I’m sorry for your pain.”

“Shut up.” She swats at him with one of the ends of the duvet. “You’re an asshole.”

Jon grins, grabbing the remote from her and flicking through Netflix for something else to watch. “I hate to break it to you, Sans, but everyone in this flat is an asshole. Even you.”

“Excuse me?” she cries out indignantly.

Uhuh, so you’re saying you’re not the one that threw all of Theon’s toiletries into the toilet? Or the one that keeps turning down the boiler so it’s practically the Arctic Circle in here?”

“Well…” Sansa chews on her bottom lip as she hides behind her wine glass. “In my defence, Theon deserved it and – I like the cold.”

“See,” Jon smirks now. “Asshole.”


Theon gets dumped by his girlfriend on a Friday.

In the five months Sansa’s been living with them, Theon’s been with this girl for three of those months and he was actually normal. He only had to add to the douchebag jar every other day as opposed to every day. They were even becoming sort of friends because apparently boyfriend-Theon likes to get Sansa’s opinion on how to dote on his girlfriend. It was cute, which was why when Theon comes home looking as broken as an abandoned puppy, Sansa is game with the boys to taking him out and getting him shitfaced drunk.

She’s not much of a drinker herself. Sansa doesn’t like to lose control. As a Scottish woman from a very Scottish family, this is practically unheard of, but her mother is from a posh family in Oxford, who doesn’t believe in drinking in excess, so that’s probably where she gets it from. It works out in their little ragtag group because by ten-thirty, Theon and Robb are so drunk they’re swaying and stumbling into anyone in a ten-metre radius, and Sansa just knows she’s going to have to shove them in a taxi soon.

Bitch,” Jon slurs beside her. The two of them are leaning against a table, watching as the two idiots tell some wild joke to a group of girls, who look way too young for them.


He glances down at her for a brief second before returning his focus on the boys. “Theon’s ex. She was a bloody bitch.”

“What actually happened?” Sansa asks. She doesn’t know the story and she’s too afraid to ask Theon in case he starts crying, because drunk Theon? She can handle that. Emotional and crying Theon? That’s out of her realm.

Jon sighs and angles his body towards hers so he can lean in to speak more privately.

It is incredibly unfair how attractive he is. Sansa shouldn’t even be thinking that he’s hot because he’s her flatmate, and over the past few months, Jon’s become something like a best friend to her. They spend most weekends together lying on the sofa watching Netflix and drinking wine. He’ll occasionally drop by the preschool she works at if it’s his day off to bring her lunch. And if he’s working late, Sansa will wait up for him just to make sure he’s home in one piece and there’s someone there for him to talk to if it’s a particularly gruesome fire. She doesn’t want to ruin that by something as stupid as attraction.

“She told Theon that he spends an unreasonable amount of time with us,” Jon says lowly, the timbre of his voice sending shivers up her spine. “She actually told him that he shouldn’t have flatmates at his age and gave him an ultimatum to either move in with her or break up.”

“He chose us?” Sansa’s voice wavers and she forgets all about Jon and his stupidly attractive face and body because she’s suddenly overcome with such affection for Theon. Yeah, he’s a bit perverse and has no brain-to-mouth filter, but he chose them.

“Of course he chose us,” Jon says, looking at her incredulously. “Theon may be a prick most of the time but he’s loyal.”

“He just gives off the impression that he’d drop us for the next best thing,” she admits with shame colouring her tone.

To Jon’s credit, he chuckles and touches her shoulder gingerly. “I’m not saying he’s not an opportunistic twat or that he won’t screw us over one day but never intentionally.”

That sounds more like the Theon she knows, but even so, Sansa can’t find it in herself to really hate him for being that kind of person. It’s just who he is. With a father like Balon Greyjoy, it kind of makes sense for him to be the way he is, but Jon’s right. He is good. Given the chance, he would do the right thing – which is exactly the moment Sansa spots his ex-girlfriend and anger curls deep in her chest.

“Wait here,” she tells Jon and starts forward without waiting for a response. As Sansa gets closer and closer to Naiyla Rochelle, she starts to realise she doesn’t exactly have a plan. She wants to punch her but that probably isn’t going to help Theon any. She could tell her if she ever contacts Theon again, Sansa will have her killed and hide her body in the river or something, but that seems very extreme and hyperbolic.

Naiyla,” she greets with a wide obviously fake smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

The brunette startles at seeing Sansa but plasters on an equally fake smile. “Sansa, hi. How are you?”

“Pretty great.” She’s at least a good foot taller than Naiyla so she uses her height to her advantage, straightening her limbs to appear more intimidating. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and Theon. It’s such a shame. But I guess it worked in my favour, you know?” She smiles bashfully. “I’ve always had the biggest crush on Theon.”

“Really, you?” Naiyla looks sceptical.

“Are you kidding?” Sansa says with wide eyes. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, I admit, but when he cares about someone, he’s loyal till the very end. He’ll wade through trash just to get back to the people he loves.” She glances behind her and waves in Theon’s general direction. “Oh, I have to run now. So nice to see you again. Have a good night, Naiyla.”

When she saunters back to Jon, he has one brow arched and a bemused smile on his face. “What did you say to her? She looks ready to kill you.”

Sansa smirks. “Nothing. I was the perfect lady.”

“Yeah,” Jon smiles, fond. “I bet you were.”


Sansa goes away to a teacher convention for four days. It’s the longest she’s been apart from the boys in seven months and she really misses them.

She misses the lazy afternoons with her brother sitting on the roof of their building. She misses Theon yelling and shouting at the football match as he simultaneously tries to explain to her what’s going on. She misses Jon and his hugs and how he always smells like smoke and something distinctly him. She misses the way he catches her eye across the breakfast table and gives her a small barely-there smile. God, it’s pathetic but she even misses the way he would argue with her about the best way to handle problems in the flat.

When Sansa finally returns, it’s to an empty flat and she can’t help the kernel of disappointment from ricocheting around in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting a welcome back party but she did expect something. Dropping her suitcase in her room, Sansa immediately goes to take a shower because three hours on a bus has made her feel gross and sticky. But once she’s done, there’s still no one around. In fact, by the time Sansa finishes her dinner, she’s beginning to get a little worried about where everyone is. It’s a Sunday so they should all be home. None of them ever do anything on a Sunday.

To Flat Fam

Sansa: Where are you guys?

Barely a minute goes by before she gets a response.

Robb: Ur home!? I thought u were getting back on the 10th!

Sansa winces at her brother’s text speak. She hates text speak.

Sansa: It is the 10th!

Robb: Oh shit. Sorry Sans. Theon n I are in Manchester for the footy. We’re getting the late train back. Won’t be in till midnight.

Sansa: Okay. Where’s Jon?

Robb: Wait is he not in his room?

Sansa: No.

Abruptly, her phone starts buzzing and it’s Robb ringing her.

“Uh hello?”

“Okay, so don’t yell at us but we didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to worry you,” Robb greets without preamble.

“What are you on about?”

Her brother sighs heavily on the other end of the line. It’s a bit of a strain to hear him over the roaring crowd in the background. “So Jon, our resident idiot, got himself hurt during a house fire. He had a concussion, a couple of fractured ribs and he lost a lot of blood. He’s okay now but he’s supposed to be on house rest.”

Sansa’s heart slows to a worrying pace. The very thought that she could’ve lost Jon and no one even thought to tell her is making her body shut down, like it just doesn’t know how to react.

“He’s at the station,” Sansa says mechanically, working on autopilot now. “I have to go.”

“Sansa, don’t –”

But she’s already hung up and grabbed someone’s jumper from the back of a chair. Coincidentally, it’s Jon’s. His scent overwhelms her and she’s stuck between being furious with him and just wanting to bury her face in his chest so she can breathe him in and be sure he’s really there.

It takes her nearly twenty minutes to reach the station. The entire time people have been giving her a wide berth as she stomps through town in Jon’s way too large jumper, her pyjama bottoms and the three-inch heeled boots she left lying by the front door. It’s probably not going to get her on any street style list but she’s glad for the space it’s providing her.

When she enters the station, her eyes immediately zero in on one of Jon’s coworker. She’s met all of them several times now at house parties and pub nights, so she doesn’t hesitate to grab him by the shirt.

“Where’s Jon?” Sansa demands. He shrinks from her glare. “Edd, I’m not kidding around. Where is he?”

“Uh… upstairs. In the… um, office.”

Unclenching her fist from around Edd’s shirt, Sansa continues to stomp her way upstairs until she sees the office and barges in. Jon jumps from his seat with a hand over his heart as he stares up at her.

“Not one text!” Sansa shouts at him. “I didn’t get one text from you this entire weekend. You know, at first, I thought to myself, ‘oh he’s probably busy,’ so I didn’t overthink it, but I just found out from Robb that you were in an accident?” He opens his mouth to reply but she cuts him off. “What if it was more serious? What if you had died? And the last thing we ever said to each other was just… I don’t know. I don’t even remember, Jon! I can’t even –” Her voice breaks and she realises belatedly she’s crying. “I can’t remember!”

Jon’s up and out of his chair in seconds, cupping her face in between his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sansa,” he murmurs between kisses to every inch of her cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m here and I’m alive and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that,” Sansa points out, glaring at him even though she’s still crying. “No one can promise that.”

“Okay, how about I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life however short or long it is talking to you every day?” Jon suggests with a faint smile.

She shakes her head. “That’s silly. You don’t have to talk to me every day.”

“But I want to,” he says seriously. “I want to talk to you all of the time. When I don’t, it’s like – nothing feels right, like I’m missing something.” He leans forward slowly to give her ample time to move away and kisses her. It’s barely there, just the soft press of lips, before he’s pulling back. “I’m so bloody in love with you, Sansa.”

Instead of responding, Sansa grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him back to her so she can show him just how much she loves him too, how no one’s opinion has ever meant more to her than his, how he can fix any bad day just by wrapping his arms around her and letting her cling onto him.

When they’re lying in her bed later that night, Sansa rolls over, her cheek pressed into his bare chest and whispers, “I love you too, Jon.”


“You two are real cute and all but I do not want to walk into my own home and be greeted by the sight of my best friend and my baby sister having sex.”

Sansa untucks herself from Jon’s side so she can turn and roll her eyes at her brother. “We’re literally cuddling on the sofa fully clothed.”

“Yeah, well, this is a PDA-free zone,” Robb huffs as he disappears into the kitchen with the groceries, while Theon walks up to the back of the sofa with an awkward smile on his face.

“Uh Sans… Can I talk to you for a second?”

She nods and then turns to Jon to see if he knows what’s going on but her boyfriend just shrugs. Sansa follows Theon out of the living room to the corridor. He looks even more uncomfortable now than he did before, which is really bizarre. She’s never seen him this awkward in her life.

“I ran into Naiyla today,” Theon says. “Apparently, she thinks we’re together?”

Sansa barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, I forgot all about that!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Remember when we took you out after she broke up with you?” she asks, to which he nods. “I saw her there too and I might’ve told her I had a huge crush on you and insinuated she was a pile of trash.” Sansa shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“Sorry?” Theon repeats and laughs loudly, drawing her into a hug. “Oh no, don’t ever fucking apologise for calling her trash! I mean that’s awesome. Thanks, Sans! I didn’t even know you liked me that much.” And in typical Theon fashion, he winks at her.

“Don’t push it,” Sansa says, heaving a sigh. “I like you a small amount but I hate Naiyla more for what she did to you.”

Theon sniggers. “Yeah, she’s a fucking bitch. Tried to get back together and everything.”

No, really!”

“Yeah, apparently she ‘missed me so much’,” Theon mocks and rolls his eyes. “Never again.”

“I’m glad you’re over her,” she says emphatically, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Honestly, you can do way better.”

“It has been like, nearly a year since we broke up, Sans,” Theon says. “I’m ready to move on and whatever.”

“Good! That’s really good. It took me awhile too after Harry but…” She glances back towards the living room to the sounds of Jon’s laughter. “It was worth it to go through all of that shit to get to him.”

A rare genuine smile appears on Theon’s face and she almost wants to comment on it but his next words are even more surprising that she doesn’t get a chance.

“I’ve never seen either of you look so happy… but it’s not just that. It’s like you’re both finally at peace or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little bashfully, like he doesn’t want anyone to know he can actually have meaningful thoughts. “It’s nice to see, that’s all.”

“Aww, Theon, you do have feelings!”

“Oh fuck off, Sansa.”

Hearing My Voice In Your Voice Is Music To My Ears (Seriously Though, You'll Be Hearing From My Lawyers)

@lavellington NICE.

Ok so this might not be my best offering since I’ve only had time for one proofread- may go back over and tweak/fix it later. But I sure had a blast writing it so i hope you have a laugh reading it!

time for fluff, silliness and some slightly gratuitous hitchhiker’s guide references, enjoy! <3

Dirk had never been a fan of the word ‘Anglophile’. Frankly, he thought adding the word ‘phile’ onto any noun was unnecessarily pretentious at best and downright dodgy at worst. But, well, if the shoe fits!

See, Dirk loved England. England and all things English. He loved that there were at least fifty different phrases just to say ‘it’s raining’. He loved fish and chips and thought they hadn’t tasted as good since the chippies stopped serving them in newspapers. He loved tea, brewed to perfection and, to paraphrase Victoria Wood, hot enough to melt the buttons on a flame-proof nightie.

And most of all, he loved the accents. 

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Wine after Whiskey

The post-breakup emotions had washed you clean, there were no more what ifs circling your mind, no more tears flowing, no more breakdowns or questions on what went wrong. 

It was all over­ – so you thought.

It was in the moment that you recognised the familiar head of waves in the same restaurant that you were immersed with all the feelings you thought you left on the bedroom floor, along with with the whisky.

You feel your body go numb, for a moment you can’t even pry your eyes from his figure, his figure bundled in a black coat with a scarf dangling loosely around his neck– The scarf that you brought as a joke because he can never manage to wear scarfs in the correct manner. 

You pull yourself away from the trans that he pulled you into, your eyes waving towards your friend in front of you, her wine scraping her lips as she side-eyes Harry.
“Thought he was in London.” She murmurs as she makes her gaze further obvious, 

“Stop staring. He was in London.” ..“I guess he came back to New York for something.” You shrug, driving the sparkling wine down your throat to satisfy the stinging nerves arising in you as the presence of Harry grows more intense.
She rolls her eyes, placing her wine glass down on the table, her bluish-green eyes narrowing down on you, “More like he came back for you.” You shake your head and scoff,.
There is no way he flew from London to come to New York right before a snow storm is meant to hit, not to mention he is the one who broke off the relationship.
If anything, he is presumably praying that the two of you don’t cross paths. 

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One. Zero. One. Three. Part 2 (An Adlock + Mary Fanfiction)

(Before I start, I just wanted to say that I didn’t expect I will write a second part to this, nor will I have people asking me to, so thanks so much for loving PART ONE. Thanks to battledressthemissadventurer, and thestorywelovebest for the extra motivation!)

Originally posted by gerlocked

There was no point in arguing. 

Sherlock found himself staring out an airplane window, bound for almost a twelve-hour trip to Phuket. Beside him, Mary was reading Restless by William Boyd, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose to see under the passengers’ designated reading light. 

The detective could recall the controlled protests of John when Mary called to asked that before the wedding, it’ll be best to pay Harry a visit and stay the night. Mary passed it off as a weird, cleansing and soul-healing tradition thing that Sherlock found quite absurd, and yet his friend had bought it and agreed. 

Giving them at least two days to spare, it simply felt like an exhausting excursion, or, as Mary puts it, her preferred pre-wedding celebration in place of a bridal shower. 

Still, he could feel his entire body tingling, a disturbing sense of nervousness and excitement that sends an aching sensation at the pit of his stomach. Excusing himself from his seat, he headed to the loo to give his face a quick wash, and to replenish the nicotine patches he has in his arm since the night before. Tapping three new ones firmly over his skin, he headed back, trying hard not to picture Irene Adler’s smirk when he explains why he and Mary decided to pay a visit. 

Taking off his coat and scarf as the heat of the tropics hit him, Sherlock looked over to Mary’s grinning face with a sigh. 

“Well, go on. Give her a call.” Mary instructed, plainly going by her tone that it was an immediate order. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, knowing that there was nothing more that he could do. He took out his phone and pressed on Irene’s number, hoping that she was still in the country and that his silent anticipation was not wasted. 

He knows that it was plain stupid for him to agree to this trip without letting Irene know firsthand that he was flying over, but all rationality was thrown to the side as he realised he would need time to prepare what is to be said regarding the matter. 

After several rings and his patience almost at the brink of expiring, Irene Adler finally answered. 

“I’m assuming that you’re calling to let me know you have arrived. I had arranged for someone to pick you and Mary up and bring you to my hotel. He should be carrying a sign. Code names in place, as usual.” Irene simply said before ending the call, and Sherlock was sure she had a smile playing on her lips as she did. 

He looked aside to Mary, whose eyes were scanning the room as if she was in sync with Irene said, and her eyes stopped at a kind-looking man holding up a sign saying William Scott and Maria Watson

“Come now, dear. There’s our ride.” Mary mused casually, tugging on the bewildered detective. 

“For Ms. Norton.” Mary greeted, and the driver nodded, gladly assisting them with their luggage. 

The soon-to-be Mrs. Watson rolled her eyes playfully at Sherlock’s continuous glare, and simply gestured that they should start occupying the backseat of the car. 

When the wheels started rolling, Sherlock couldn’t help but cuss under his breath. 

“Something the matter, dear?” Mary asked teasingly, tapping Sherlock on the arm. 

“When did both of you have the time to plan this? You didn’t even tell me you knew her already!” Sherlock hissed. 

“Oh, calm down, will you? I got her number from your easily-crackable phone, told her I was John’s fiancee, that I knew she was alive, and that you wouldn’t talk much about your relationship, making me all the more curious to meet her. She was delighted and slightly intrigued by the situation that she obliged. To be fair, Sherlock, I like her already.” Mary proclaimed, raising her eyebrows at the detective as if to say well, what would you expect.

They arrived at Phulay Bay, the hotel resort having the delightful view of the beach, and was escorted by the bellhop to one of the suites. 

Sherlock could feel his fingers twitching for an unknown reason, his mind trying hard to keep the current thoughts whirling in his mind under control. 

When the door opened, he was greeted by her, The Woman, whose skin is slightly pink than pale from the sun, wearing a sheer black cover up and a bikini of the same colour underneath. It was lost for a moment that Irene had her eyes on Mary, for the detective was still in the midst of assessing whether there had been any changes in her measurements. 

“You’ve lost weight.” Sherlock mentioned, whether it was intentional or not, even he himself was unsure. He could see Mary’s amused look from his periphery, obviously holding back a smile. 

“Is that the proper way to introduce me to your friend?” Irene mused, smirking. 

“I take it you already got acquainted before we got here.” Sherlock simply replied. 

“And seeing that he really won’t introduce us, hi, I’m Mary Morstan, John’s fiancee.” Mary interjected, reaching a hand out to Irene, which The Woman took.

“Pleasure. I’m Irene Adler… Sherlock’s… friend.” Irene greeted with a smile, the last word sounding more like a teasing purr. “Would you like some tea?”

Sherlock can’t help but roll his eyes, which made both women laugh. 

“He is quite a handful, isn’t he?” Irene mused. 

“Yes, he is… And yes, to the tea, I mean.” Mary replied with a grin, helping herself to one of the chairs. “So tell me, Irene, why is it that my soon-to-be husband thinks your dead and you seem… well, very much alive?”

Mary then nodded towards Sherlock. “Apart from the obvious explanation.”

Irene eyed Sherlock upon hearing the new information, but the detective averted his eyes. She gave a quick call to room service for the tea before addressing Mary.

“Well, now. I wasn’t aware that the good Doctor Watson doesn’t know. But it’s not much of a surprise that he didn’t tell him. Your fiance can be a little jealous at times, if I recall.” Irene teased, sitting by the bed with her legs crossed. 

“Sherlock can be, too. They have some attachment issues, but they’re both too manly to admit it. But Sherlock likes me too much to even be jealous of me, right dear?” Mary added, to which Sherlock gave a groan. 

“We made a 12-hour trip just to make fun of me, how wonderful.” he said flatly, finding himself a seat. 

Mary giggled. “If my research serves me right, London to Karachi takes about 8 hours, plus the transfers. Now, there are no terrorists to hack with a mighty sword, but this is still very exciting.” 

Irene was trying very hard to wipe the smile of her face. Sherlock, on the other hand, glared at The Woman. 

“What else did you tell her?” Sherlock hissed. 

Irene rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I spared all the passionate details that happened AFTER we got rid of your bloodstained clothes.”

Mary’s eyes widened, her lips forming an amused ‘O’ as she heard what Irene has to say. “You know what? I really don’t mind you telling me.”

Sherlock turned to shot his glare at Mary, but she simply gave him a cheeky smile. To the detective’s relief, room service arrived with the tea, but the feeling was easily replaced  with annoyance when he saw the bellhop eyeing Irene. 

He stood up, cutting in between Irene and the bellhop as he handed him a bill, sending the service man away with a clipped “Thank you for your service.”

Mary had her chin propped on her fingers as she watched the scene, giving Irene a small smile. Sherlock must’ve caught himself and had been aware once more of Mary’s amused look that he hurried back to his seat moodily, his expression enough to convey “Not a word”.

Irene handed each of them a cup and took her own, claiming their previous positions. 

“So tell me, Mary, what is it about me that piqued your interest?” Irene inquired as she took as sip. 

Sherlock was simply watching, tapping his finger on the rim of the cup, knowing that wherever the conversation will go, he will not have control over it. The very reason why he found himself surprised when Mary gave him the liberty to explain the situation. 

“I think it’s best if it comes from Sherlock. That’ll be fair considering I dragged him here almost forcefully.” Mary quipped. 

“Almost forcefully?” Sherlock raised. 

“Yes, dear. Almost. Because truth be told, I honestly think you would’ve taken this trip even without me to ease your nerves before the wedding.” Mary said as-a-matter-of-factly, to which Sherlock had nothing to reply. He figured that fibbing against these two women only leads to embarrassing himself. 

“Well?” Irene cut in, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock. 

As soon as their eyes locked in, Sherlock could almost feel Mary disappearing. It was a typical case with The Woman that he wasn’t even surprised. 

“I forgot to put my phone on vibrate and she heard your specialised text alert. The series of events that followed are as you expect them to be.” Sherlock explained, almost biting his tongue as he realised what he just said. 

“Text alert? You don’t mean… Oh my goodness, Sherlock. You still haven’t changed it?” Irene was grinning now, her body unconsciously leaning towards his direction. 

“Can’t be bothered.” Sherlock replied trying to sound nonchalant about the matter. 

“Oh, please! You did bother a lot considering that you obviously went through a lot of phones from when you met.” Mary teased, making Irene’s smile grow wider. 

“Is this sentiment, Mr. Holmes?” Irene purred. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Both of you are having so much fun, aren’t you?”

Irene nodded. “It can’t be helped.”

“The usual, Sherlock?” Irene asked as if on habit, looking up the dessert menu as they were finishing their dinner.

“Yes.” Sherlock replied, watching her. 

He was aware that he was constantly watching Irene, and also that Mary was observing him in amusement. But after a couple of hours, Sherlock didn’t even bother to stop himself from habits he developed when around The Woman. He believes that Mary is smart enough to draw her own conclusions and that most likely, she will validate it with him as soon as they are alone. 

“You’ve been here before, too?” Mary asked, surprised. 

“I believe it was in another hotel.” Sherlock simply replied. 

“The other hotel where we’re both banned because Sherlock insulted the manager.” Irene added. 

“He was gawking at her like a vulture.” the detective replied in defense, his voice almost too quiet for everyone else to hear. “Not to mention the idiotic words that came out of his mouth.”

Mary placed her fork down and leaned in, much more interested. “Awww, that’s sweet.”

“Oh, it gets better.” Sherlock breathed. 

“How so?” Mary’s eyebrows raised. 

“I gave the guy a good punch.” Irene announced before continuing with a joke. “Sherlock was about to get hit, but I couldn’t get to have those beautiful cheekbones cut so I was the one who got physical.” 

“She dealt with a broken hand after.” Sherlock sounded nostalgic as he said the words, and as he judged by Mary’s expression, it was obvious that she read into his meaning. 

“I enjoyed the nursing I got, to be honest.” says Irene, eyeing Sherlock. 

Mary smiled. “Now, it makes me quite curious how Sherlock slips in and out of Baker Street. None of us honestly suspects it.”

“Dear Martha knows.” Irene replied casually. Sherlock’s eyebrows suddenly knit, surprised that he’s hearing about the information for the first time.

“Mrs. Hudson?!” Sherlock exclaimed. 

“Yes, dear. That lovely woman has been covering up for you. For someone who claims to be smart, you can be naive at times. How do you imagine your brother not being able to check in your flat when you’ve gone silent for a couple of days or so?” Irene confirmed incredulously. 

“When did you even meet Mrs. Hudson?” Mary asked. 

“A couple of years ago when she went up to complain about how much noise her ceiling was making the night before, and found me in Sherlock’s bedroom. We had tea before Sherlock and John came home from a case. She was lovely to talk to.” Irene confessed, smiling. 

Sherlock sighed. “Now I know why she insisted on keeping some of her old clothes under the bed.”

Mary looked confused. “And that means…?”

Irene laughed, sipping on some champagne before replying. “Let’s just say that when Martha found me, my dress was… not wearable anymore. Kind of her to lend me some of her old clothes.”

“Scandalous.” Mary commented with a smile, taking a sip of wine. 

“You are such a joy to talk to. It’s quite disappointing that you can’t be at the wedding.” Mary sighed. 

“We’ll still have time to catch up in the future… just without your husband knowing.” Irene replied with a smirk, which made Mary grin. 

Mary was eyeing Sherlock, the detective being silent the entire time they were walking back to their rooms. She was about to make a comment when there was a sudden shift in the way Sherlock was standing, clearing his throat as he was about to make his proposal. 

“We’re leaving early tomorrow morning. Best to have some rest.” he commented, not meeting any of the women’s eyes. 

“Ah, yes. I should leave you, then. Good night, Mary, Sherlock.” Irene acknowledged, her voice having a clipped edge to it. 

Mary was about to chide in when Sherlock added, “I’ll be right back, Mary. I’ll just walk Miss Adler to her room.”

The other woman smiled at Irene, then to Sherlock, giving a nod and an expression of pure expectation and amusement. “That’s a brilliant idea. Good night, Irene.” 

The Woman nodded in acknowledgement.

As Mary closed the door, Sherlock, whose eyes are not meeting Irene’s, muttered, “Shall we?”

The tension was felt at their every step, and Sherlock could feel his own chest thrumming as they drew close to Irene’s suite. He wanted to say something to her, but was unsure what, for as usual he was unaware how she felt about this sudden visit. 

He could feel his frustration growing as he imagined every tick of the clock drawing close to when he has to say goodbye to her once more and greet his life back in London, but what else is to expect? He was used to feeling this way every time he finds himself alone with The Woman. 

He was woken from his reverie at the sound of Irene’s keycard unlocking the door, The Woman looking at his somber expression. 

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, hand already reaching for the pins on her hair. 

He wanted to say no – to retain a sense of control as Mary was expecting him to come back – but just like all of their past escapades, he found himself succumbing to his impulses.

“Yes.” he muttered, voice almost just to himself. 

He watched as Irene walked over to her bed, continuously taking the pins off her hair and letting them fall loose on her shoulders. Taking the seat opposite her, he folded his fingers together, waiting if she has anything to say. 

“She’s lovely. I can see why you like her.” he heard her as she reached for a hairbrush and started combing her dark locks. 

Sherlock nodded. “She helped me reconcile with John. Plus, she’s incredibly brilliant.”

“I can tell.” Irene replied. “But was it really that urgent that you have to fly in here to meet me?”

Carefully choosing his next words, Sherlock said, “She was curious to meet you after a certain incident.” 

Irene’s brows knit in confusion. “The one about the text alert?” 

“No.” Sherlock’s voice was now quiet, his blue eyes studying Irene’s expression closely. “My passcode.”

“And why would that pique her interest this much?” Irene asked. 

Sherlock handed her his phone. “Give it a try.”

Irene looked at him as if he was making such a ridiculous request, but she never backed down in any of their past games, and counted this as one of those. She took the phone with her eyes on him, evident that her mind was calculating the possibilities. 

Sherlock simply gave her a nod, as if he read her mind that they were both thinking of that fateful night when she almost brought the nation to its knees. Irene’s eyes narrowed as she came to an epiphany, the words “this is your heart” echoing in her mind.

Being playful as usual, a smile grew on her red lips as she stroked the phone with her finger, punching the numbers slowly. The phone unlocked. 

“One. Zero. One. Three.” Irene announced with a smirk, her eyes boring deep into the detective’s. “Karachi.”

Silence passed between them, as if one was carefully thinking their next move. It was then that Sherlock figured that just like the past, it has become tradition to consider every night as their last night.

Drawing in closer, with his eyes never leaving hers as he moved, Sherlock breathed, “Do you think Mary will mind?”

And as expected, Irene met him halfway, her voice a sweet whisper when she replied, “Not at all.”

Once all checked in and settled, everything was in full circle as Sherlock sat on his designated seat in the plane. Noticing Mary’s lack of curiosity as to how he spent the night, he simply said, “Sorry if I kept you waiting last night. Did you wait long?”

To his surprise, Mary replied with a grin, “I went straight to bed after you left, to be honest.”

Sherlock looked at her curiously. “Why?”

Mary rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m not dumb, dear. I’m sure you already know the answer to your question.”

Music Series: Ditmas by Mumford & Sons

I like for my stories to be as believable and relatable as possible. I think, at least for fan fiction that engages the reader, it makes it a more enjoyable read. Thats why I really hate AU’s. I want the real thing, or at least my version of it. I like to keep Harry as close to what our view of him is as I can. He’s a real person. He’s not a fictional character. So I always try to be respectful in my writing, hoping I never offend him should I be blessed by him reading it.

All of that being said, not all song lyrics easily fit into this context of relatable or believable, requiring me to either put a twist into it to make it work, take it less literal than the lyrics convey, or by context not lyrics, or regretfully not write the request at all.

I like this song and I like the group who sings it, but wow, the story sure isn’t coming easily to me. Going to try my best, so I hope you all approve. Sometimes those stories end up being the best ones. Another I’ve written and rewritten a few times until I was content with it, so I apologize that it’s taken so long. This interpretation is not exactly as I feel the singers intended, but for the purpose of this imagine, I hope it makes sense to you.

This is “Ditmas” by Mumford & Sons. You can hear it HERE on Spotify.

Just a note…some Spotify links I post are to the song only, while others are to the song via one of my playlists, linking you to my account, which is @charligirlmusic. If it links only to the song, that means I’ve not added it to a playlist, so to find me, you’ll need to search.

Thanks to those who follow me there and here! Much love to you all! xo



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Las Vegas Mood Board as H+L Fics

In honor of the @larriedinvegasficfest!

(To see more mood boards as H+L fics, click here)

Top Left:Oops We Got Married” AU
It all started with a few too many shots and ended with Louis drunkenly betting Harry to marry him – apparently “You won’t” is enough incentive for both of them, because now they’re at a rundown motel with a 24 hour chapel, and they’re giggling and kissing in the pews as they wait their turn. Except Louis sort of lost his buzz an hour or so ago, but he’s too afraid to say anything. Where does ‘marrying your best friend under false pretenses’ fall in terms of moral ambiguity? (Louis almost calls it off right then and there, until Harry admits he’s also dead sober, but… why not go home with one hell of a story anyway?)

Top Middle: Bachelor Party AU
Harry and Louis decided the best plan for their joint bachelor party was a boys’ night out in Vegas. Except now Niall is missing, Liam is drunkenly belting out show tunes everywhere they go, and Harry won’t stop crying over how excited he is to be Mr. Tomlinson. Apparently Louis is the only one who can hold his liquor, and he’s going to need to be the one to come up with a plan to get the Irish one back. If only he could remember where they left him…

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#189 - For xi3ls

Filling the prompt “reader is friends w/ the guys & works for catb, & her & Van sort of start a secret relationship & try to keep it hidden from the guys. Maybe they tease one another in front of the guys to turn the other on secretly.” from @xi3ls

It was seeing Van in a hoodie that did it to you. Before, in the button ups and with the quiet listening he did during meetings, he was different. He was a guy in a band that was too cool for you to think about as more than a coworker. Then, he was all jokes and shower fresh scented and soft. He was sitting on the floor of the bus, in the room he and Larry cohabitated, looking up at you. 

“Why you looking at me like that?” he asked. 

“Like what?" 

You handed him the mug of tea you’d made him and passed the other over to Larry, who was stretched out on one of the tiny sofas. Van had dragged the thin foam mattress off his designated bunk into the room. He’d taken all the mattresses from the unclaimed bunks too. A small nest had been constructed, and watching him sit among the pillows and clothing spilling out of an open bag, you fell in love. It happened instantly and out of nowhere and hit you with such a force that you became breathless. 

"I don’t know. Just lookin’ at me funny,” he replied, sipping the tea. 

“Sorry. Do you guys need anything else?" 

"Y/N, you ain’t a P.A. anymore. Tour manager, yeah? Don’t worry about making tea and checkin’ on us. Go… manage,” Larry said with a warm smile. You nodded and left the room under the weight of Van’s gaze. 

You went back downstairs to sit at the ‘kitchen’ table and double check all the bookings and pretend to be calm. Bob came down and quietly made you a cup of tea. He sat opposite you at the table and uploaded photos from his camera to his laptop. His company was reassuring, even if he didn’t mean it to be.  

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It’s Okay

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader based on the movie P.S. I Love You. Instead of the woman receiving the letters, it’s Spencer, after his wife died in the field. She wrote letters to him in the event that she died so that he would be able to move on with his life. @coveofmemories


“Kid,” Morgan said as he knocked on the door. “I know how you feel, but you have to let us in some time. We’re here when you need us.” Two weeks ago, just weeks before her 34th birthday and his 37th, Spencer’s wife, Y/N had been shot and killed in the field. He hadn’t left the apartment since.

Since that night in the hospital, when he’d seen the light leave her eyes, his life hadn’t returned. Ever since, he felt numb. Walking around the apartment in a daze. The first night, he’d cried his eyes out, and since, he couldn’t cry anymore. It had been days since he showered - his hair greasy and falling over in his face. He knew he couldn’t stay in his apartment forever, but he still couldn’t get himself to leave. Instead, he clutched their wedding picture in his hands. In however many years he had left on this earth, he’d never forget how beautiful she looked that day, and every day since. As he went to lie down, a drop of water fell on the frame - he thought he couldn’t cry anymore.


Ten days later, it was Y/N’s birthday. The day before, Spencer had been feeling like he might want to get outside, but when he remembered it was Y/N’s birthday, he collapsed in the middle of the floor and sobbed for hours, ending any possibility of him going out that day. 

Only four days later, it was Spencer’s birthday.

Knock. Knock.

“Kid,” Morgan said from outside the door, “Everyone is here and we wanna take you out for your birthday. Open up.” Thankfully, Spencer had showered that morning, which was a good thing because he had absolutely no desire to do it right now. Without saying a word, he let everyone into the apartment and went to his room to get changed, coming out in a pair of jeans, muted red t-shirt and a black blazer. 

After they sat down at the table, the team attempted to get Spencer to talk. He said a few words here and there, but not much else. When the employees at the restaurant came over, cake in hand and singing happy birthday, Spencer began to cry. Along with Todd, one of his and Y/N’s friends at the restaurant, came a letter from him to Spencer.

“What is this?” Spencer asked, confused at the piece of paper in Todd’s hand.

“Just take it,” he replied. “I was supposed to give it to you if Y/N ever passed away.”

A tear slipped from his eye onto the paper in his hand as he opened it. “What does it say?” Garcia asked misty-eyed. He read aloud.

My dearest Spencer,

We’ve been together since we were kids. Started as best friends, awkwardly got together at 16, joined the Bureau and started a beautiful life together. If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m no longer there. That’s what this letter, and future ones, will be for - to help you move on in the wake of my passing. I know you, and I know that you’ll be devastated over my loss. I am pretty awesome, so I understand, but you’re too young to let my loss derail your entire life. Tonight, I imagine you’re out with everyone. Send them my love. Anyway, I want you to enjoy a piece of that cake we had when we first moved to DC - you know, the unbelievably decadent chocolate layer cake that gave me a foodgasm a la When Harry Met Sally? I want you to eat that. If not for you, then for me. Damn I want that cake now. After that, I want you and everyone else to go to the park a take a walk around the lake. Look around, take some solace under one of the big oak trees, and know I’m right there with you. 

I know your brain and I know you’re going to try and figure out when your next letter is coming, but don’t. It will ruin the spontaneity and that’s the point of this - get you out of that beautiful head of yours. Not in it.

It’s okay to grieve, and it’s okay to move on.

I love you, 


Folding the letter carefully so as not to damage it, Spencer put it in his pocket, but not before quite a few tears fell onto the worn parchment. Without ordering, Todd brought him a piece of cake, and with the slightest smile, he took a bite, bringing to mind the way Y/N’s eyes rolled into the back of her head when she’d taken her first taste.

“Ready to go to the park?” Hotch asked, after they paid the bill. Spencer looked at his friends with guilt, like they didn’t need to go with him, but Hotch read his mind. “Of course we’re going with you.” As they stood up from the table, Hotch clapped him on the back. “We’ll always be with you.”


A month later, Spencer had been back to work, but he was by no means okay. Every day, he woke up and for a split second, he felt that she wasn’t gone; he felt like he could breathe again. It would always feel like she was right next to him, but when he’d turn to the side, she wouldn’t be there.

It was the weekend. The team wanted him to go out, get out of the apartment. For the past week or so he’d been isolating himself again, but he had no desire to get out. All of a sudden, he heard a knock at the door.

“Spencer,” he heard from outside the door. It sounded a lot like Y/N, just older. His mother-in-law?

“Mom?” he called as he opened the door. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to give you this,” she said, handing him an envelope. “Call me after you read it, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” he cracked. “I’ll talk to you later.”

As he returned to the couch, he opened the envelope. 

My forever love,

My second letter. Brought to you by my mother. Since we were kids, she hoped we’d be together. Well, she got her wish. Although she didn’t want to think about the possibility, I insisted she hold my second letter for you. Remember how we always talked about going to Italy one day? I wanted to get in touch with my roots? Well, you’re going. With my mom and dad. They’re going to introduce you to the land of my relatives and because I’m always with you, I’ll be able to go there too. If you haven’t seen it already, inside the envelope is a plane ticket. My mom actually put it there, probably recently, but you know what I mean. I need you to go. I need you to realize that it is okay to do things that remind you of me without feeling guilty about it. I want you to go. Take some time off. Tell Hotch the order was from me, I don’t think he’ll disobey my wishes lest I haunt him from beyond the grave. When you get over there, have some lemon gelato for me. I’ve always wanted to try it. Remember, no matter where you go, I’ll be there and my parents will always love you. Have fun and remember…

It’s okay to grieve and it’s okay to move on.

I love you,


At Y/N’s behest, Spencer walked into work the next day and asked for two weeks off. When he asked why, Spencer showed him the letter. “She’s right,” he said, “I wouldn’t want her to haunt me from the grave - and I know she would.”

That Friday, he was on the plane to Italy with his mother and father-in-law, and as soon as they touched the ground, the headed to the gelato shop next to the hotel. The fresh, cold lemon taste coated his tongue, bringing a smile to his face as he thought of what Y/N would’ve thought. Foodgasm came to mind.


Upon his return home, Spencer returned to work with pictures and stories of his late wife’s homeland. “So how are you feeling?” Morgan asked as he rifled through the pictures. “How’re you in-laws?”

“They’re pretty okay actually. They miss her, as we all do, but they also know she wouldn’t want anyone wallowing in sadness, so they do their best to move past it. Frankly, they are better at it than I am,” Spencer replied. “As for me…I still need time. I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I can look at her picture without my heart dropping. Maybe it never will, but I need time.”


Week after week went by until it had been almost three months since his last letter, when all of a sudden it came to him. This time, courtesy of JJ. “Hey, Spence. This is from Y/N. I have no idea what it says, but she told me, you might need us after this one, so do you want me to stay while you read it?” He shook his head, inviting her into the apartment as he unfolded the letter, staring at his love’s familiar handwriting. Again, he read it aloud for JJ to hear.

Hi honey,

If I know you, and after nearly 30 years together, as friends and lovers, I think I do, your spirits picked up a bit after the last letter, but our anniversary is in a few weeks and I wanted this to be done before then, when your mood will undoubtedly dip down again…

For a second, he turned away from the letter, laughing at how well his wife knew him. 

That’s why this letter came now. I know you. You know sitting around my things isn’t healthy for you. Sure, there are things you’ll always want to keep, but my clothes? My crap jewelry? The painting on the wall that I love and you hate? There’s no need for these things to remain holding you down. I’m gone. Keep my wedding dress. Keep our childhood pictures together. Keep my good jewelry (if for no other reason than to hock that shit if you ever need money), but don’t keep the unnecessary garbage, just because it’s mine. That’s why I asked JJ to stay - and to have everyone else on call. I know it’s going to be difficult to throw out my things, but they’ll be there to help you, and it needs to be done. I’ll always be with you, whenever you need me. 

Remember…It’s okay to grieve and it’s okay to move on.

I love you,


“Tomorrow?” Spence asked as he turned to JJ.

She got up from the couch, kissing his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. With everyone else in tow.”


The next day, JJ, Morgan, Garcia, Emily, Hotch and Rossi all showed up at Spencer’s door, ready to help in any way they could. When he agreed to this, it was because he had just read the letter and wanted to do what she’d asked of him, but now, seeing them in his apartment, Spencer nearly broke down. He couldn’t do this, could he? Get rid of the remnants of the life they once lived?

However, silently, they made their way into the apartment and over the next couple of hours, they put her clothes into donation bags, her fake jewelry in the garbage, and that painting he hated off the wall. As they were saying goodbye, Spencer panicked, unable (or so he thought) to let go of the past. He collapsed into Morgan’s shoulder, sobbing, but no one left - and no one said a word. After the tears had dried, they took her things with them and when the door closed, somehow, he felt lighter.


In less than a month, it would be a year since she’d passed. Every day was a little bit better than the last. He still saw his in-laws all the time - and every day he still grieved, but it was getting better. Months upon months had passed between the letters this time, but this time, he found the letter himself.

My Predictable Husband,

You’re looking in the wedding album, aren’t you? Haven’t been able to since my funeral? This will be my last letter. My first memory of you was when we were four and you were pushing me on the swing. In my own four-year-old way, I knew I loved you then. Over the next 30 years, you were my best friend, my confidant and the absolute love of my life. It was an honor to have been your wife - to spend what little time I had with you. I was who I was because you loved me and for that I will always love you. My last wish for you is this…don’t close yourself off to the idea of love again. One day, some lucky lady will come across the beautiful BAU doctor and fall in love with his smiling eyes and fluffy hair. Let her in. I want you to be happy and if you find someone else that makes you happy, take that chance and run with it - and know I’ll be there cheering you on.

Keep these letters. Re-read them occasionally, but don’t let our memories hold you down - let them lift you up to higher places. Remember…

It’s okay to grieve, even years down the road, and it’s okay that you’re moving on.

I love you always,


As he turned the paper over, reading the last words she’d ever say to him, he sobbed, crying out in the middle of the room and looking up to the ceiling. Instead of talking to her, he picked up a pen, writing back.

My beautiful, perfect, forever love,

One day, I may fall in love again, but not now. For now, I’ll focus on other kinds of love. Familial, platonic, love of nature. I’ll take in the beauty of the world because you’d want me to and eventually I’ll start to see it again. I was a better man because of you and I have been honored to be your husband. When you died, a piece of me died too, but you brought me back from the brink of insanity and for that I will always love you. You took the time to write to me, so I’ll keep you updated. No matter where I go, who I’m with…just please don’t leave. I hope to feel your presence around me until my dying breath. I’ll write soon.

I’m starting to move passed it, however I’m not quite there yet. Thank you for convincing me it’ll be okay.

I’ll always love you,