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the story of love: going back | daminette

summary: marinette returns to college francois dupont.

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Marinette inhaled deeply as she stood in front of College Francois Dupont.

Damian noticed – he was far too observant sometimes – and placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything’s going to be okay, Angel,” he promised.

Marinette believed him.

As she walked into the school with Damian, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare unabashedly at her and Damian.

When she walked by, Marinette could hear people whispering, dating Damian Wayne and our Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Dating him?

But she ignored them.

**

“Ms Dupain-Cheng, please reconsider your transfer-” whimpered Mssr. Damocles.

Marinette interrupted him sweetly. “With all due respect, sir-” which means none at all, you sniveling idiot, “I am not going to change my mind. Now, please, hand me my transfer papers.”

With a trembling hand, Damocles finally gave the papers to her. “You will have to go back to your classroom, to collect your belongings,” he said faintly.

Marinette was well aware that the only reason he wanted her here was to make his school more popular – not because he cared about her. He never did.

As she and Damian walked out of his office, Damian gave her an appreciative smile. “You handled that situation amazingly, Angel. I’m proud of you.”

Several students stopped to gawk at them when he said that.

Marinette giggled softly and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dami.”

“Are you sure you want to go to your class?” asked Damian worriedly. “I could get your stuff for you, if you want.”

Marinette stroked his cheek fondly. It was nice of him to offer but she had to do this herself. “No, Dami. As much as I would, I can’t. I need closure and so do my classmates.”

Damian scoffed at the mention of her classmates. “Your old-” he emphasized the ‘old’, “-classmates need nothing of the sort. I would like to make the pay for what they did.”

Marinette smirked slyly. “Who said you can’t?”

Lila Rossi had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on.

That morning, while she got ready for school, she expected everyone to welcome her and worship her feet when she walked in.

What she wasn’t expecting was the cold glares and derisive sneers she got from literally everyone in the school.

Like, had Hawkmoth sent another akuma or something? Because otherwise she was going to have a chat with him about it.

When she walked into Mdm. Bustier’s class, Lila hoped at least her sheep would believe her grand tales of Prince Ali’s palace but no one gave her a single glance.

In fact, everyone, including Mdm. Bustier, was glaring at her.

Mdm. Bustier eyed her coldly and asked, “Would you like to explain your lies, Lila?”

Before she could come up with another lie, Lila was interrupted by none other than her worst enemy.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Lila smirked victoriously. No matter if her lies were discovered.

She could pin this on Marinette.

Marinette walked in confidently into her former class.

Seems like everyone was about to gang up on Lie-la, she thought with spiteful amusement.

You could hardly blame Marinette though. Lie-la had made her life a living hell for quite some time now. It was nice to know she would be paying for it.

She was snapped out of her not-so-nice thoughts when Alya yelled, “Marinette!”

The glasses-wearing girl tackled her in a hug – as if they had never stopped being friends, as if she had never ignored her, as if she hadn’t bullied her.

Alya seemed to be oblivious to the fact that her hug was one-sided. Marinette’s arms stayed firmly and stiffly by her side.

When Marinette gave no response to her, Alya finally backed away and looked at her – really looked at her – which meant looking at her stony expression.

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” she faltered, looking at her classmates for help.

And suddenly, they were all clamoring at her yelling about how good it was to have her back and how much they missed her as if they had never broken her heart. As if they weren’t the reason she spent hours wondering why she wasn’t enough for them. As if she they weren’t the reasons she spent innumerable nights crying herself to sleep.

Marinette could feel the anger building inside her body and was currently trying to resist the urge to let it out while simultaneously attempting not to get akumatized.

Hawkmoth was a man without a life and she wasn’t about to show weakness to the likes of him.

Completely ignoring her silence, her classmates and teacher (with the exception of Lila, of course) continued without abandon until finally, finally they shut up and by their fearful expressions – she knew why.

Showing the first semblance of emotions since she got to this hellhole called a class, Marinette flung her arms around her boyfriend and kissed him recklessly – completely ignoring her former-classmates as they had before and had continued to do so for years.

“Miss me?” Damian whispered against her lips.

Marinette nodded fervently. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

It finally, occurred to someone named Adrien that Marinette hadn’t said a word since she entered this cursed classroom.

In a voice that would have had her blushing mere months ago, he asked, “Mari, why haven’t you said anything? Aren’t you happy to see us?”

And then suddenly, the rest of the class was asking favors from her: Mari, will you give me a leg up (Literally everyone); An interview (Alya); A business deal (Adrien).

That was what tipped her over the edge, and judging by Damian’s smirk he knew it too.

Alya was shocked to see the anger that blossomed on Marinette’s face when Adrien said that.

“‘Happy to see you’” she snarled, eyes practically radiating pure anger. “You all could go and rot in hell for all I care.”

Rearing back in fear, Alya said, outraged, “What? But we’re your friends, Mari. How could you say something like that?”

Bad move, darling.

Marinette spun towards her, fists clenching. “Friends, huh?” she spat the word out. “Then where were you when I said Lila was lying? Oh, that’s right…you didn’t believe me!”

Using her momentary pause, Alya interrupted. “But you didn’t have any proof-”

“I was your best friend, Alya, you’re supposed to believe things like that without question.” Marinette glared at her. “And even if you didn’t, you were supposed to do some research about it, weren’t you?”

“But you were jealous! Jealous of your crush on Adrien!” Alya didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for what she said. She half expected Marinette to blush then and there.

It only served to make her angrier. “Yeah? Then who was the one to plan Kagami and Adrien’s date, huh? Me, that’s who!” Marinette advanced like a lion, Alya being the prey. “Then, pray tell me, how could I be jealous when I planned his date with another girl?”

Alya had no answer to that.

Marinette poked a finger into her chest, managing to look bigger even with her short stature. “I”ll tell you why. Because you. Were. A. SHIT. Best friend.”

Alya flinched at every word, knowing somewhere deep, deep down that it was true.

Adrien thought it was time to intervene.

Alya one of the most bull-headed girls he knew – though it served to be a flaw in this case, he thought regretfully – looked like she was going to cry.

“Marinette,” he said gently. “I think you need to calm down before you attract an akuma.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because he was her next target and Adrien couldn’t help but feel a little frightened. Especially, when the Wayne was standing there with a cocky smirk.

“Before I attract an akuma?” Marinette mimicked furiously. “Well, guess what, Adrien, ever since you told me to use the ‘high road’ I attracted 26 akumas because of you!”

Adrien flinched at her volume and Wayne’s sudden glare.

“What do you mean?” asked Rose, sweet Rose.

Marinette looked at him with a terrifying smile. Adrien felt his heart sink. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well for him.

“Adrien,” she said with an eerie calm. “Knew Lila was lying the whole time.”

The class was only able to stare at him in silent shock.

Marinette smirked at him so coldly, Adrien shivered. “And if you’re so concerned about people getting akumatized, then why the hell didn’t you stop your ‘best friend’ Chloe Bourgeois from causing more than half of the akumatizations in the whole of Paris?”

Adrien had nothing to say.

Because he knew she was right.

Caline Bustier did not like the direction this discussion was going in.

The whole class was hounding on Adrien like a pack of dogs and Marinette – her once role-model – was the cause of it.

What happened to the sweet girl she knew?

She didn’t realize she said it out loud until everyone had descended into silence.

Marinette shot her an icy glare. “The ‘sweet girl you knew’” she encased that in finger quotes. “-was a doormat, Bustier.”

Caline flinched.

Ignoring her discomfort, Marinette continued being brutally honest. “That girl would spend nights awake doing jobs for her friends – which you forced her to do – for free, the only payment being a ‘thank you.’ That girl let you dump all of your responsibilities as a teacher on her.”

Caline tried to protest against that. “I didn’t-”

“-dump all of your responsibilities on me?” finished Marinette. “You did. I was the one to plan all the class trips when it should have been you. I was the one to look after the class though it was your job. So tell me Bustier, how is it not?”

Seeing as she had no response, Marinette continued, the fire blazing brighter than ever. “And that bullshit about being the bigger person. Absolute rubbish. Forgiving and forgetting doesn’t make the bully stop. It encourages them. You’re a shit teacher Bustier and you don’t deserve to be one.”

Caline flinched when she heard Marinette use that profanity.

It didn’t make it any less true.

Marinette felt lighter than she had in years. It felt freeing to let all those feelings out.

“Now,” she said, sweetly as if she would have done before. “To the rest of my former-classmates. I hate you, and I hope I never, ever see you again because you all absolutely suck.”

She felt a spiteful sort of satisfaction when she saw their shocked faces.

As Marinette held her hand out, she asked, “My stuff please?”

Lila’s head was reeling. What the hell was happening?

She expected Marinette to accept those idiot’s apologies, not blow up at them!

Nothing was going her way today.

Except for one thing…

Lila allowed herself a tiny smirk when she saw a purple butterfly floating into the room – straight towards Marinette.

Oh no you don’t.

She launched herself up onto a table and trapped the akuma in between her arms. By then, the entire class had noticed her acrobatics and fallen into silent horror when they saw what she did.

But she didn’t care.

After beating Ladybug, Lila would take both of the miraculous and rule the world! She was astounding, wasn’t she?

As she inserted the akuma into her bracelet, she smirked. “Hello, Hawkmoth,” she purred.

“Mdm. Rossi, do you mind?” he hissed through their connection. “I could finally akumatize my target and you came in between.”

Lila felt her heart stop beating in shock. “What?” she gasped. “You want Maribrat to defeat Ladybug? I am so much better!”

She stamped her foot for emphasis, ignoring the people in the room.

Hawkmoth sighed as if she was a 2-year-old child throwing a tantrum. “Don’t you see Mdm. Rossi?” he said with exasperation. “You were only a pawn and perhaps a slightly useful weapon in my game. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was my ultimate akuma to defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Leaving Lila to drown in her outrage, Hawkmoth swiftly guided the akuma from her bracelet and into Marinette’s purse.

Marinette stiffened as she felt Hawkmoth assert his control on her.

“Princess Justice,” he crooned. “I am Hawkm-”

Through his usual spiel, Marinette heard Damian pleading her not to give in.

“-Angel, you need to fight him.” Damian was saying, ignoring her idiot class’s shock at seeing him speak.

Hawkmoth taking no notice of her thoughts, continued. “I will give you the power to make everyone who has wronged you pay-”

Oh, hell no.

Marinette spoke to him for the first time, interrupting his speech. “Does that ‘everyone’ include you, Hawkmoth?”

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, she said, “Because, honestly? My life was a million times better when you didn’t even exist.”

Regaining his tongue, Hawkmoth smoothly said, “Perhaps, after you have made everyone one else pay and have got me-”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous?” Marinette scoffed. “As if. Unless, of course, you’re willing to let me make you pay first.”

Marinette knew he wouldn’t do that.

“Absolutely not-” Hawkmoth tried to finish and persuade her but she interrupted again.

“Then I don’t give a damn.” Marinette growled into the connection. “I will not get akumatized for nothing.”

She examined her purse lightly. “And, just to be clear, I wouldn’t have accepted your akuma anyway.”

Ignoring Hawkmoth’s protests, she continued. “If you try to akumatize me or anyone else in this room, Hawkmoth, I’ll find you and make sure you pay. Starting with a hunt for your head.”

That was not a threat to take lightly.

With that, Marinette tore a teensy-weensy piece of her purse and smirked victoriously as the akuma hurriedly flew away.

Hawkmoth wouldn’t bother her for a while.

As she walked out of the class, Marinette made a mental note to put a restraining order on Alya and Adrien because she had a feeling they wouldn’t leave her alone.

That night, Adrien felt lonelier than ever. After Marinette had left the class with her boyfriend, his friend – no former-friends – made him an outcast.

Which essentially meant he didn’t have any friends except for Chloe.

Adrien expected some kind of support from Plagg, but the only thing his kwami said was, “I told you what to do, kid. You didn’t listen. You made your own bed – now its time to sleep in it.”

The irony was not lost on him. Adrien had never made his own bed in his life.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the last person he was expecting to come jumped into the room.

Ladybug.

Adrien jumped out of his seat and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Ladybug!”

Only, there was something wrong with his lady. Her pretty blue eyes were ice cold and she wasn’t smiling at all. “Chat Noir,” she said stonily.

Adrien opened his mouth to respond but he was unable to speak when he realized what she said. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said nervously.

“Save it.” Ladybug walked closer to him. “I asked Tikki who you are.”

Eyes brightening, Adrien beamed at her. “Does that mean you’ll show me who you are?”

Ladybug hugged him. That was not a response he was expecting.

Nevertheless, Adrien hugged her back, bathing in her scent.

His ears registered her saying, “I’m sorry.”

And the next second, his ring was slipped of his finger and she was smirking at him. “that I’m not sorry, at all.”

Adrien gaped at her. “My Lady! What are you doing? Why are you taking my miraculous away?”

His Lady eyed him critically. “I’ll tell you why. Because you are not fit to be a miraculous-holder. Adrien Agreste, you have misused the miraculous of the Black Cat for your own selfish gain putting the civilians of Paris in danger.”

“But My Lady! We are meant to be!” Adrien whimpered.

“No we are not.” Ladybug said harshly. “This is exactly why your miraculous is being taken from you. You cannot accept the fact that it is not true.”

Adrien was on his knees now, begging. “Please, My Lady. You can’t do this.”

“I can and will.” Ladybug did not look in the least sorry. In fact, she looked relieved? “Because Adrien Agreste you are not worthy of the mantle of a superhero.”

And she launched herself out of the window. With his final friend. With his freedom.

Adrien cried himself to sleep that night, unable to understand why his Lady to his miraculous.

The next day, Marinette felt a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. Finally.

She didn’t realize how much her former-classmates’ actions were bothering her until she let it all out.

When she walked out of the bakery, she saw Alya and Adrien loitering by.

“Marinette! Will you-” “Marinette! I’m sorr-”

Marinette interrupted them both. “You both are meant to stay 20ft away from me. Didn’t you get the papers of the restraining order?”

They both refused to meet her eyes as they backed away slowly. Alya because her parents would murder her if she did anything else and Adrien because, well, he needed to keep Gabriel’s reputation squeaky clean didn’t he?

**

As she walked out walked on the Parisian sidewalks with her boyfriend’s arm around her waist (whose hand, she might add had a new silver ring on it), Marinette felt that she could take the world on with Damian by her side.

Bring it on Hawkmoth.

pretending to get married to your best friend so you can schedule free cake tasting with shops all over town and slowly falling in love along the way

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭?

Pairing: Virgin!Basement Era!Gerard Way x AFAB!Reader Summary: You and Gerard have been best friends for four years. After years of ignoring your crush on him due to your feelings of inadequacy, it begins to seem like maybe he likes you as well...but like always, your personal issues seem to get in the way. Warnings: Gerard is a complete and total virgin but its implied reader is not, oral sex (M receiving), P in V sex, high school AU but they're both 18, lots of angst, kinda slow burn, self-hatred, substance abuse and reader is depressed if you squint, drug use (not by Gee or reader), making out Word Count: 6.5k

If you had been different, you would have kissed Gerard by now.

This thought flashed constantly through your mind every time you were around him. And there were times where you thought you might anyway. Times where you were with him in his basement bedroom as he ranted about the latest cartoon he was watching, curled up on the opposite side of the couch as he was. When it would have been so easy to lean over and place your lips on his, rake your hands through his hair, maybe push yourself into his lap. Maybe do more.

But you never did. Because the thing was, Gerard was the sweetest person you knew. Gerard, who you had met the second day of freshman year when you’d dropped your lunch on the floor in the cafeteria, who had helped you clean up the mess while other students stepped around you or snickered. Gerard, who despite his shy nature had quickly become one of your best friends. Gerard, who would always lend you his sweater if you were cold, knowing even if you didn’t say anything. Who you would rant and cry to about failed romance after failed romance, relationships you knew didn’t work out mainly because of your poor decisions, who would pick you up late at night when you got drunk at some random house party and needed a ride home. Gerard, who was loving and gentle. And you were a mess.

You already felt bad enough about how much he cared for you, knowing you could never truly reciprocate everything he did for you. You knew there was something deeply wrong with you that never allowed you to truly care for someone else in a healthy way. Dragging him into your messy life further than he already was, surely would not result in anything good happening. You loved so hard and overbearingly, and you were scared to drown Gerard—Who you knew had never had a girlfriend, let alone had his first kiss. So how would he be able to handle you? You didn’t wonder about this in an egotistical way. You didn’t believe you were a catch, anything particularly special, in fact you felt quite the opposite. You simply couldn’t imagine a boy as pure and innocent and kind as him not getting overwhelmed by you.

If you had been different, you would have kissed Gerard by now. But you would settle for stolen stares and brief, fleeting touches that meant nothing. There was no harm in that, right?

On Saturday afternoons, you would go over to Gerard’s house, spending the afternoon doing homework and watching horror movies. You would never admit it, but it was what you looked forward to the most every week. The thought of having to go home at the end of the day felt nearly unbearable every time. One day in February, he was walking you home after several pleasant hours of slasher movies and pizza, the winter air crisp, sharp against your lungs. You buried yourself into your coat, eyes flitting over to him.

The pale sunlight cast against his skin made him look undeniably beautiful. In that moment, you wanted to throw caution into the wind and kiss him, to not care about any consequences that may come with the action. These thoughts caused your eyes to flicker down to his lips, an action that unbeknownst to you, he caught, his cheeks dusting a light pink. Your gaze snapped away from his face and onto the ground in front of you when you realized Gerard had stopped talking about his theory about the next Scream movie. You were saved from the awkwardness by arriving at your front door.

You turned to him. “Thanks for walking me,” you said quietly, even though he always did. You stepped forward and gave him a hug, his arms carefully wrapping around your back. He was so gentle. He was always so gentle, and it made your heart squeeze painfully. You pulled away after a moment and looked up at him, his hands immediately leaving your body as you did. He looked slightly flustered. You tried to act as if that alone didn’t make you want to pull him in and—

“I’ll see you at school on Monday,” he mumbled, ruffling your hair awkwardly before turning around and walking away without a glance back at you. You watched him go for a moment before entering your house, shutting out the cold but also the chance to stare at him a little longer. Not that that would do you any good.

It was so frustrating. You were trying, trying so hard to ignore your feelings, but the way Gerard was acting was making it nearly impossible to do so. Whenever you felt like you had successfully pushed down your crush, he did something to remind you of it again. The two of you had been close for years, but the way he looked at you sometimes, especially recently, felt different.

You would catch him staring every so often, while you were doing your homework at his kitchen table or watching a movie. It made you wonder if he felt about you the way you felt about him. Which sent you down another spiral. With all your issues, did he genuinely believe you were worth it? You hoped that he did while simultaneously telling yourself it didn't matter in the first place, that there was no chance he even thought of you that way.

The following Monday at school, you saw him only briefly in the halls, but the slightly tense moment the two of you had shared on Saturday kept you from speaking to him, opting instead to look away quickly as you tried to hide the blush that would creep onto your skin. However, you and Gerard had been paired together for a small project in Chemistry.

Luckily, he seemed unfazed by the interaction that weekend. Unfortunately for your workflow, he received the latest issue of Fangoria the previous night, so his rambling about it distracted you from actually working on the assignment. When the bell rang, he was still speaking about the magazine.

“Shit. We didn’t finish the worksheet, did we,” he said with an embarrassed huff, pushing some hair behind his ear. You smirked at him, amused.

“No, we did not. But you did manage to spoil the entirety of the new Fangoria for me,” you responded teasingly, bumping his shoulder gently with yours.

He blushed slightly. “Oh. Sorry.” He said sheepishly. “We can go to my house after school and finish it. The worksheet. If you’re free,” sounding a bit more nervous than he usually did when he asked you to come over.

You agreed, and parted ways for the rest of the day. After school, he was waiting for you by the main entrance, his hair messy as it always was, his eyes squinted and darting around, searching for you. You waved and ran up to him, absentmindedly wrapping your hand around his upper arm as you began to walk next to him.You could have sworn the tips of his ears flushed at the contact, but ignored it. It could’ve just been the cold.

His hand tentatively reached around your lower back, resting respectfully on the side of your hip. Your heart began to beat a little faster than normal. He usually wasn’t very touchy, even though you were—not like you minded.

After the two of you had finished the worksheet, you spent the afternoon together drawing, sitting on opposite sides of his bed together, the soft sound of the radio playing in the background. You felt Gerard’s gaze constantly flickering over to you, making it hard to focus on your sketch of the view outside his window, something you’d drawn a numerous amount of times. After a while, you became restless, distracted by his eyes on you, and set your sketchbook aside. “What’re you drawing?” You asked him suddenly, looking to him.

He immediately glanced away from you, his face turning a slight pink, trying to subtly tilt his sketchbook away from you. “Nothing,” he said unconvincingly, which piqued your interest even more. You wondered what he possibly could be sketching that he didn’t want you to see.

“Come on, please?” When he didn’t budge, you leaned over to see what he had been working on. Your eyes widened as you saw what it was.

You. He was drawing you. Curled up against his bed frame, your eyes narrowed in concentration. He had captured your essence perfectly, as if he’d studied you for so long that he was able to meticulously catch your energy and place it onto a piece of paper. The realization seemed to enter your bloodstream and curl its way into your heart, flooding you with a dreaded hope that you already knew wasn’t going to do any good. You didn’t speak, just looked up at him. Neither of you dared to break the silence, the eye contact you were holding intense enough to drown out any thoughts.

His widened eyes flickered down to your lips. Once. Twice. You had been leaning forward to see the drawing, your weight on your arms in front of you, and in the back of your mind you registered that your palms were pressed into the mattress on either side of his body. The two of you were so close you could feel his breath on your skin. Noses almost brushing, lips almost meeting, causing a tingling sensation of anticipation across your skin. Almost. Out of nowhere, you got a startling snap of reality. Almost there, but not quite enough. You were not enough. Not enough to lean forward just a couple more inches.

As his eyelids began to flutter shut, you suddenly felt just as embarrassed as he’d looked when you’d asked to see his drawing, warmth spreading to your cheeks. You retreated at the last moment, clearing your throat. “Um. It’s good. It looks good. The drawing,” you stumbled over your words.

Gerard looked confused as you spoke, and you wished you hadn’t seen the flicker of disappointment across his features. “The drawing,” he repeated, blinking slowly. “Thanks.”

“I should go,” you said after a heavy silence. He opened his mouth to speak, but you were already gathering your things and heading for the stairs to leave the basement. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” were your final words as you retreated from the room. You didn’t turn back, no matter how much you wanted to. As you trudged home, countless thoughts were swirling through your brain. The further you walked from his house, the further you separated yourself from the possibilities the afternoon could have held. You could have kissed Gerard. The boy who you’d been yearning for since the beginning of high school, for four years. Who was kinder than any guy you’d ever been with, but the only one you were scared of kissing.

You could easily imagine his lips against yours, how gentle they’d be, but also the thoughts that were bound to flood your mind if that were to happen. You knew you’d feel like you were taking something away from him, you knew you’d feel as if his untouched lips deserved someone better than you to share a first kiss with. That night, you tossed and turned in bed, not able to get the sketch he’d made of you out of your head. The flawless portrayal of your facial expression and body language made you wonder if maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d drawn you. Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Gerard was too good for you. This was something you’d believed for a long time. But for some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you should have leaned in. To his face, to your desires, to the opportunity that had quite literally been right in front of you.

Throughout the next few days at school, you avoided him as much as possible. Which deemed to not be so difficult, seeing as he seemed to be doing the same to you. That bothered you more than it should have. You wanted him to speak to you, ask you why you weren’t talking to him, beg you to. But the thought of going up to him made your stomach drop. It was a clear paradox, just like everything revolving around how you felt about him. He made your head spin, and it was impossible to shut him out of it.

After several days of your mind being clouded by him, you turned to the most idiotic solution for your emotional turbulence, but not an uncommon one for you—going to a shitty house party, one that nearly all your friends were headed to. However, doing your makeup and choosing your outfit while blasting music, lying to your parents and saying you were going to sleep over at a friend's house, hopping on your bike and heading over to the party, didn’t give you the same adrenaline rush it usually did. The intention of getting drunk and dancing with your sweaty classmates and most likely hooking up with one of them didn’t entice you for once, nor divert your thoughts of Gerard, leaving you distracted and off kilter.

You mindlessly left your bike on its side in the front yard, wandering into the party. You allowed yourself to be drawn in and out of conversations for an hour and a half or so, trying to slow yourself down from immediately rushing to the drink table. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup of a crappy vodka bound to get you tipsy quick, a strange guy you recognized from your gym class approached you and somehow got his grimy fingers on the alcohol bottle.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said with a dumb smirk, making the drink for you, of course managing to spill some in the process, you noticed with irritation. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a tight lipped smile as he handed you the red solo cup which you knew you were going to throw away the moment you were out of his line of vision.

Unfortunately for you, he began to follow you around as you weaved through the crowd of people, searching for a familiar face that would help you escape the guy who was still speaking, seemingly not noticing or not caring about your obvious disinterest in him. Eventually, you told him you needed to go to the bathroom, and you were finally able to slip from his sight. You managed to leave through the front door, annoyed that your night had been spoiled, ready to risk stealing a bottle of your parents liquor to sooth your craving for intoxication instead of spending another minute in that house.

You walked toward where you were sure you’d left your bike, only to see it wasn’t there. Frantically, you searched for it, to your dismay finding it rammed against the side of the garage with a group of incredibly drunk kids around it, the one lying on the ground next to the bike obviously the culprit of crashing it. It truly was not fun to be sober around non-sober people, you thought at that moment, bitterly wishing you’d been able to get drunk before that boy had started to throw himself at you. You ran up to the group, cursing and upset, though they were too inebriated to acknowledge you or care. You pushed past them and kneeled down to examine your bike that was clearly broken. It was fixable, but at the moment unrideable, causing you to mutter another string of curses.

To the best of your ability, you dragged the bicycle to the sidewalk in front of the house, sitting down on the concrete next to it with a huff. You supposed you could ask someone at the party to give you a ride home, but most of the kids would be too intoxicated to drive. Then, there was the problem of explaining to your parents why the sleepover you had been at had ended prematurely. You had been relying on spending the night with a hook-up or one of your friends.

But you would have to seek someone out. Going back inside to ask to spend the night with someone meant having to deal with that creepy guy again, standing by on the lawn for someone you recognized to leave was not an option due to how cold out it was, and besides, your appetite for partying—and waiting—had dwindled to be nearly non-existent. You chewed your bottom lip as you faced the only real solution you could think of—calling Gerard. He’d picked you up at parties countless times, but this wasn’t the same, right?

You weren’t drunk, for one. It was different. Everything had felt different the past few days. In fact, that was the problem. It would’ve felt easier to call if you hadn’t nearly shared a kiss the last time you’d seen each other, if you hadn’t pulled away from him. As you rang his number, you wondered if he’d even pick up.

He did. He always did. His voice was clearly raspy with sleep as he answered the phone. “Hello?”

You sucked in a breath before speaking. “Hey. It’s me. I was at a party and this gross guy wouldn’t leave me alone, then some fucknut broke my bike and I can't fix it and I don't have another way to get home. I just—”

“It’s okay. I’ll come get you,” he said in his soft voice. “Where are you?”

You were surprised but also deeply comforted by his response to your predicament, behaving as he always was when you were in a situation like this. A part of you had expected him to act differently than he usually did, given the current state your friendship had been in, but you realized in that moment how much you’d overlooked just how much Gerard cared for you, causing an cascading wave of emotions to crash over you, so intense that you had to take a moment to respond to his question.

“The Johnson’s. I’ll check the house number.” He stayed on the phone until he knew exactly where to find you. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your tone almost guilty. You heard the sound of his engine revving up, knowing he’d be there soon.

“Of course,” he responded in a gentle tone that made you want to cry. A part of you wished he wasn’t so caring. If he was less forgiving, less tender, the thought of him waking up late at night to come get you wouldn’t’ve made you feel so bad. You hung up the phone, and waited, huddled on the corner for the next fifteen minutes, shivering slightly—your thin sweater not doing much to keep the cold from eating away at you.

Relief washed over you when Gerard’s familiar car turned around the corner. You stood up, a weak smile on your face. He parked and got out, walking over to you, his expression unreadable. God, he was so beautiful. Even though he’d already taken the action of coming to get you, you were a bit nervous about how he’d treat you after several days of not speaking to one another. “Hi.” you said awkwardly, the one word spoken almost as a question, your arms wrapped around your body in an attempt to maintain some warmth. He gave you a small smile in greeting which further relieved you of your worries of where your friendship stood. However, they didn’t disappear fully.

Your mind flashed back to his hurt expression after you’d pulled away from him the other day. He noticed your physical state and took off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a word, before bending over to pick up your broken bike. You buried your face in the coat, inhaling the familiar smell of magazine paper and coffee, overwhelmed with gratitude at his kindness, the way he acted even after days of you ignoring him. “I can help—” you began as he carried your bike to his trunk. But he cut you off with a shrug, placing it carefully in the car.

“Come on, let's get you home,” he spoke softly.

You slid into the passenger seat, as he did the same on the driver’s side. You bit down on the inside of your cheek before saying, “Gee, I told my parents I was staying over at a friend’s house tonight.” A silence, similar to the one after your near kiss a few days ago, settled over the two of you for a moment.

“You…can stay at mine,” he said, in a voice that seemed cautious, anticipatory, even though you’d had sleepovers before. You smiled a little, despite yourself, as you thanked him. The ride was quiet, the only sound a soft mixtape of The Smiths and David Bowie songs on low volume that you’d heard many times before. It was strange, to be surrounded by so many familiar things in an atmosphere that felt so utterly different than it had for several years, that had been changed in only a matter of days.

You glanced at him as he drove, wondering if was contemplating the same thing, as he had a thoughtful gleam in his eyes, though they stayed on the road. You wanted to ask. You wanted him to turn around and drive you back to the party, so you could drown your feelings in alcohol and not have to deal with them till the next morning. You wanted to scream at him for acting like nothing was different. You wanted to make him pull over and press your lips to his. But you stayed quiet, opting just to admire his face rather than act on any impulsive emotions, which you registered was very unlike you.

You shook off your musings as you pulled into Gerard’s driveway. Your brain was still slightly muddled, so you barely noticed when he got out of the car and was quickly over at your side, opening your door for you. Your heart squeezed in your chest. He never stopped being kind to you, regardless of how you treated him. You followed him into the house, the silence between you ensuing. It would be comforting if there wasn’t so much you wanted to say. You walked down the stairs to his bedroom, the familiarity relaxing you, making you feel better than you had in days.

You plopped down on his bed, where the two of you had almost kissed. It irritated you how that was all you could think about. You tried to ignore that fact, and the pressing question of if you’d be sleeping in his bed tonight, or upstairs on the couch like you usually did when you slept over. It wouldn’t have even been something you were wondering about if the air wasn’t thick with tension. In the dark room, you watched Gerard’s silhouette move over to his dresser and pull out a pair of shorts and a shirt for you to use as pajamas, walking towards you with the clothes in his hand.

He sat next to you, and you turned to look at his face, highlighted only by the moon, as you took the bundle in your hands. “Will you ever stop doing nice things for me?” you tried to joke, but coming off much more serious and desperate than you’d meant to. His face flushed, his hand tentatively reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You could hear your heartbeat as his hand brushed lightly against your cheek.

“No,” he whispered, his tone mirroring the sincerity in yours. His eyes caught yours, and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a few days prior when you were in nearly this exact same position. His head dipped down slightly, perhaps subconsciously, and this time you didn’t pull away. Still, you didn’t close the gap fully, allowing the question to hang in the air, allowing him to make the final decision.

As he finally leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you expected your mind to be met with a churning storm of guilt for taking Gerard’s first kiss, images of arguments and tears, of his back turned away from you as you inevitably did something to hurt him. But no, you instead tasted coffee and the promise of something real that you couldn’t quite grasp and somehow didn’t feel the need to in the moment. Instead of fear, you felt his gentle hands on you; one on your cheek, the other resting gingerly on your hip. He pulled away after a moment, searching your face anxiously.

“Is…was that good?” he breathed. You nodded in response, too desperate for your hands to be on him to give him a teasing remark, and shortly after, your lips met his again, your fingers finding their way to his hair, while your other hand cupped the back of his neck. The kiss was soft, exploratory on his behalf, his arm snaking around your waist slowly. Your tongue swiped across his bottom lip before entering his mouth, eliciting a small moan from him.

The sound dizzied you, and your worries of ruining Gerard’s innocence immediately left your head. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, gently pushing you down onto the bed. You were slightly surprised by his forwardness, given that this was his first kiss—his first anything—but it was not unwelcome. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he continued to kiss you. You bit down gently on his bottom lip, the kiss still soft, the nip only an encouragement for him to do more. His hand slipped under your shirt, palm pressed against your abdomen.

With the kiss turning more heated, you supposed it would be best to leave your assumptions behind, as this night had consistently proved you wrong; the party hadn’t saved you from your distracted mind, kissing Gerard hadn’t been as scary as you thought, and he was infinitely less timid than you would have guessed, seeing as he was on top of you with his hand up your shirt. The kiss became more passionate, your legs wrapping around his waist.

As you did this, he shifted slightly, trying to hide his obvious erection, instead doing the opposite by making you aware of it. Your breath hitched slightly, hand wandering south. He pulled away for a moment, watching your hand and mumbling against your lips, “I’ve never, um. Done anything before,” (despite the fact that you knew) but making no move to stop what you were doing. You stopped the movement of your hand at his words.

“Do you want to?” you whispered.

“Please. D-don't stop,” he responded, voice trembling with need as he moved his kisses down your jaw. You pushed down his sweatpants with his help, his boxers following shortly after. His breath hitched as your fingers wrapped around him, letting out a shaky moan. After a few pumps of your hand, you pulled back, and he let out a slight whimper at the loss of contact.

“C’mon, sit on the edge of the bed for me,” you said in a soft tone, almost as if you were trying not to scare him away. He got up off of you and moved, and you slid onto the ground between his legs, shifting onto your knees in front of him. Gerard looked down, biting his lip slightly. There was no arrogant smirk or over-confident facial expressions written across his features, the way most guys were in a situation with a girl on their knees in front of them. He instead stared at you with tenderness, lust evident in his gaze but not the main nor most noticeable aspect of it. He seemed nearly startled that he was even in this position, but incredibly willing at the same time—not just willing to be here with any person, but with you.

The thought caused something within you to twist in a way you couldn’t decide made you feel guilty or not. You didn’t want to be worrying right now, when you were finally between the legs of the guy you’d had a crush on for years. You pulled him in by the front of his shirt, giving him a quick kiss before moving your attention down to his dick that was leaking precum, desire swirling in your gut.

You leaned in, licking it off, which caused him to let out a sharp whine, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of him. You smirked slightly, wetting his cock with your tongue before your lips wrapped around it, beginning to suck him off. He began to breathe heavily, his head tilting back slightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck…” he groaned, your name escaping his lips shortly after. His trembling hand went to the back of your head, not pulling your hair but gently holding onto it like he was scared of hurting you, a subtle action that made your heart twinge.

“Is this alright?” he asked between broken breaths, opening his eyes to look into yours. You pulled away for a moment, murmuring a quick yes, before delving back in, mouth moving with purpose, drawing more noises from his throat, his fingers in your hair tightening slightly as his eyelids shut again. You pushed your head further down, eliciting a string of words that bordered on nonsensical from Gerard. This encouraged you further, taking as much of him in your mouth as he could, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you bobbed your head. You weren’t thinking about anything anymore, your only goal to draw as many sounds from him as you could, barely stopping for air as his moans grew louder. His hips began to buck up to meet your mouth, clearly beginning to lose control.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, face flushing.

You let out a small laugh, “It’s okay. I don’t mind,” which seemed to reassure him, his face screwing up in pleasure as you continued. Your heartbeat raced, your only thought was his pleasure. Occasionally he would whisper small words of shy praise between his gasps and moans. After a few more minutes, his whole body was trembling.

“M’gonna—” he gasped out, the hand that wasn't in your hair digging further into his sheets. He finished with your name in his mouth, his cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed it, licking up the remainders along his length as he stared down at you in almost disbelief, still breathing heavily.

“Would you come here?” he whispered to you, and as you stood up from your kneeling position, he gently pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you. He buried his face in your neck.

“God, that was—Thank you,” he said sheepishly against your skin, planting a small kiss against your shoulder. A soft smile spread across your face at his shyness that didn’t fully leave despite his sudden bursts of confidence. Gerard lifted his head up, eyes flickering to your lips as he drew you in to kiss you again. It soon became more intense, and he led you onto your back where you’d been before.

After a moment, he reached for the button on your jeans, looking at you for permission. You were slightly surprised, expecting the night’s activities to have ended at the blowjob, perhaps a bit more kissing and nothing more. However, you were not opposed to the idea of it, nodding for him to continue. He kissed your lips again, whispering a small thank you, before gently undoing the button and pushing your jeans down. You kicked them off, before reaching up and pulling off your shirt, now just left in your bra and underpants.

Gerard’s fingers lightly grazed over your clothed core, then traced light patterns across your bare body as his lips met yours again, your back arching up slightly to help him as he fumbled with your bra clasp. You giggled slightly at the moment that would have been awkward had it been anyone else, causing him to blush as he finally unhooked it, pulling the nylon fabric off your body. He left small nips and kisses between and across your breasts, drawing shivers from you, before kissing you once more. A brush of his bare skin against yours had you craving more. Your hands roamed over his chest before slipping under his shirt, pulling it up and over his head after he gave you a nod of consent.

“D’you have any condoms?” you asked, leaving a peck on his clavicle.

“Yeah. Yes,” he mumbled breathlessly, reaching over to the drawers by his bed and pulling one out.

Once he rolled it on, you kissed him again, and spoke softly, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He nodded, his hand brushing against your hip. “I…I’ve thought about it before. A lot,” he admitted, and even in the dark you could see his face turn red, making you smile. “I really want to.”

“Me too,” you said, shifting yourself under him slightly. He inhaled, planting a final kiss to your neck before lining his dick up with you and pushing in. Gerard let out a quiet moan, a sound similar to his leaving you as well. Your fingernails dug soft crescents into his pale skin as he sunk into you.

After a moment of waiting to make sure there was nothing that made either of you want to stop, he began to gently move his hips against yours. He was soft, like he was in every setting, every scenario, but you could feel the passion behind his movements, letting out a soft whine.

“Everything fine?” he whispered, and you responded with a small nod, eyelids fluttering shut. He sucked a dark spot into your neck as his body rocked against yours. Your breath hastened along with his as Gerard quickened his pace, causing the whimpers and moans of the both of you to gradually become louder. He kept his hand on your hip, his other arm propping him up.

Your fingernails dragged up and down his back, a clear contradiction to his gentle movements, which somehow didn’t leave you feeling like a thief of innocence, maybe because he didn’t seem to mind at all. You left small kisses and marks against his throat periodically, which would prompt him to move faster.

His hands and lips traveled across your skin, slowly, mapping out every inch and committing it to memory. His fingers across your stomach made you weak, drawing another shaky moan from your mouth. As he treated your body with nothing but tenderness, you realized it had never mattered to Gerard that you were a mess. He had always seen past it, and you’d never noticed the way he still thought you were beautiful when you were crying or hysterical, the way he still admired you when you were falling apart. You had always known that he was the most understanding person you’d ever met, but never imagined his empathy applied to you as well—at least not to this extent.

But right here, right now, with his loving hands across your body, you knew that he saw all of you—and still wanted all of you. Every emotion, every touch, became heightened, your body beginning to reach its limit. Near the end, he sped up, his movements growing slightly sloppy but never losing the gentleness he always carried, no matter how hard your nails were digging into him. He shifted slightly, hitting a new angle within you, the sounds leaving both of your throats becoming uncontrollable.

He finished right before you did, moaning out your name, continuing to move his body against yours until he was sure you were done too. Your fingers dug into his back a final time as you reached your peak, causing him to shiver, and he pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone. You both stayed still for a moment, wrapped in each others’ arms, the rate of your hearts gradually slowing down, pressing shaky pecks onto the other's skin.

After a while, he pulled out and threw the condom in the trash, still breathing heavily as he pulled his clothes back on. You looked at him as you dressed in the shirt and shorts he had given you to wear earlier, sitting up, and grateful you’d decided to finally ignore your fears and kiss the boy you had wanted to kiss for so long. His hand brushed against your jaw, pulling you closer to him.

“Are you okay? Was that…okay?” he asked, looking slightly nervous. “I mean, I thought it was. Not just okay. More than okay. Like, I really liked it. I really—” You smiled at him through a bitten lip, cutting off his rambling although you were still a bit short on breath.

“Don’t worry,” you softly peppered his lips with small pecks. “It was really good. You were really good. Especially for a virgin,” you added the last sentence teasingly, seeing the tips of his ears flush when you spoke. He didn’t know how to respond, instead leaning forward and kissing you slowly again.

You didn’t exactly know what else to say either, with so many thoughts swirling through your head it felt impossible, gratefully leaning in. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” You suggested after a little while. He nodded, lips grazing your neck, and you nestled under the blankets together, head pressed against his chest as you listened to the still quickened beat of his heart, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on your hip.

“I really did. Like you for a long time,” he said after a moment of silence. You lifted your head up to look at him, a stupid grin on your face.

“I should’ve kissed you sooner,” but behind the casual way you said it, you meant it sincerely. With those words, you meant that you should have realized how he saw you, accepted yourself and the fact that he desired you. He returned the smile, perhaps not understanding the meaning behind the five simple words, giving you a final trail of pecks against your lips and neck before leaning his head down and closing his eyes.

Gerard would probably never know about your internal battle to act on how much you wanted him. He would never know about the nights you had spent, wishing you were different so that you would be worthy of his lips on yours. He would never know about the guilt that tore away at you when he dealt with your problems or looked after you, or all the times you had nearly taken a chance, but hadn’t.

But as you drifted off to sleep that night, you decided it didn’t matter. You would make it work, because the very thing that had held you back from him was the very thing that would make you stay: Gerard was the sweetest person you knew. You would never allow yourself to lose him because you would be better for him than you ever had in a relationship.

If you had been different, you would have kissed Gerard. But in the end, he had not wanted a perfect girl, one who you yearned to be. He had chosen you.

childhood best friends to enemies to lovers has got to be the best trope to ever exist idccc

I think I finally found my OTP !

Click for better quality

I juste finish The Flash and Green Lantern: The Brave and the Bold and why is there so little content about them ??? They're just so awesome together !! Best buddys and best lovers, I freaking love this kind of ship 💚❤️

Process

Tonight we are young

author:

ukyoish

summary:

Ukyo and Hyoga are NOT dating.

Ukyo's friends think they are nonetheless.

I have surprisingly unspoken rizz!

When She Loved Me

[Summary]: How does one live when life is bound to end? 

[Theme]: Terminally Ill Reader, Non Idol AU, CEO Jungkook AU, Engaged AU, Married AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes and innuendoes, a truly heart wrenching piece. Please read with caution and with full intent to break your own heart. 

[Word Count]: 11,265

[A/N]: I truly broke my soul with this one. If you really want to cry, listen to my muse for this piece: “When She Loved Me” by Sarah McClain (yes, the one from Toy Story) or “Stuff We Did” by Michael Gaicchino (from UP)

[Materialist]

Keep reading

before we walk in i straighten his tie and he smiles at me in a way that makes me wonder what we are

You have to read . It's a MUST. FOLLOW THEM. It was an amazing story for me at 1 am . 🤩

MOB!BUCKY MASTERLIST

18+ | Mob!Bucky x Best Friend!Reader

the adventures of bucky and his little fairy.

recommended to be read in order, but most can be read as standalones.

just let me see them

your best friend, bucky, has done some research about makeup for you. it's imperative that you show him your boobs.

look at me forever

continuation of just let me see them.

watch me cry

request: can you write some with mob!bucky x best friend!reader where he makes her cry and they stop talking for awhile? please make it angsty!!

big mouth

you have a bad habit of running your mouth when you're tipsy. luckily, your best friend is always prepared to help you out of any trouble that big mouth of yours gets you in.

tug of war

ex!pietro wants you back, but bucky will never give you up. you're his, and his alone.

just like a fairy

the start of the most loving friendship in history.

one of mine

bucky and fairy's second meeting; a chaotic gunfight.

how you love me

bucky's high out of his mind, and paranoid about saving you from apparent danger. taking advantage of the fact that he won't recall any of this, you reveal your true feelings to him.

a fairy's beloved object

never steal from a fairy. the consequences could be deadly.

clingy as fuck

you overhear bucky telling sam about how clingy you are, which breaks your heart.

friends that kiss

bucky and fairy get high together.

constant

bucky gets a tattoo of your name for your birthday.

permanent marker

you get a tattoo of bucky's name.

cruel

touching bucky's fairy is suicide.

friends having fun

bucky and fairy get a little carried away after a night out.

play pretend

in order to appease his uncle, bucky needs to prove that he's a family man. what better way to get that image across than with a loving wife? there's only one problem: bucky doesn't have a wife. he does, however, have a little fairy.

best friend

in the face of adversity, you make a tough decision. continuation of play pretend.

something blue

dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of two lives.

alternate timeline

how things would have ended if fairy chose to leave.

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." MASTERPOST

A best friends to lovers Christmas story featuring the best JB song of all time: Mistletoe.

Set in the too-white Winter Wonderland of a bungalow and the Cheshire Christmas Market, Bunny and Sunflower spend their first Christmas Eve together alone.

A sparkling 39.3k words, this is a holiday whirlwind of a story that's both soft and fluffy like the winter snow, and warm and crackling at the touch like sitting by the fireside.

My gift for myself and to all of you,

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, lovelies! 🌟

Chapters:

- The First Cup of Hot Chocolate

- The Second Serving of Cranberry Sausage Rolls

- The Third Piece of Mistletoe Cookies

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." - Chapter Three

The Third Piece of Mistletoe Cookies 🎄

- Story Masterpost for the other chapters

Sophia ends up being wrong.

She does still know her best friend.

Well a semblance of the totality of her best friend, when Harry went to activate his all-protective mode on her like the norm whenever he senses Sophia starting to feel uncomfortable, starting once they walked back to the Cheshire Christmas Market.

For some reason, there were so many people heading their way inside at the same time as Harry and Sophia. It’s like every single person in the town of Cheshire for the holidays, have all booked their Christmas Eve night to go to the tree lighting event.

There’s nothing wrong with that, people should do whatever the hell they want in the most wonderful time of the year. But too many individuals with excited families and friends huddling together creates crowds and Sophia does not like crowds, especially loud and exciting ones.

Despite all of Harry’s earlier teasing that he doesn’t let Sophia wait in lines for any of his concerts both solo and the band days, they both know it’s something deeper than Harry being unreasonably overprotective. Sophia gets easily overwhelmed in the presence of a culmination of people, she feels crowded both physically and mentally that she tends to spiral in her head in the state of irrational panic.

Harry had known it earlier on during the times they played at the local park near their homes. Every time other kids decided to swarm her favorite slide, Sophia would end up crying somewhere in the chaos of playing children before Harry came up to save her from her head by securing his arms around her sobbing body. Harry wanted to avoid that same thing happening to her when they grew-up and it was only fitting that he didn’t leave her waiting in line with screaming girls or crowds who would do anything just to touch his and his bandmates’ hands.

Even with the massive cloak of confusion that covered Sophia earlier at the end of their dinner, she actually sang in big relief when Harry instantly shielded her body from the crowds by placing her in front of him with a secure hold wrapped around her waist from the back.

They maneuvered the moving crowds that way, Sophia clutching tightly on Harry’s coat clad arms, mind seeming to pull farther away from her battling thoughts and emotions the more they walk into much deeper crowds. By the time they’ve reached the entrance, all Sophia wanted to do was see the damn tree getting lit up, and then walking straight back to the parking lot so she can sleep in the car while Harry drove them back to their too-white Winter Wonderland bungalow. Walking and the crowds had made her knackered to do anything more than that.

Harry must feel the same way, Sophia feeling his body deflate on her back once they’ve found the perfect position to watch the tree lighting ceremony without being submerged in the bustle of people around them.

“This place good, sunflower?” Harry whispers in her ear.

Sophia nods her head slowly in answer despite Harry being positioned behind her, not seeing the motion clearly. When Harry begins to disentangle his hold around her, Sophia promptly stops him by reaching back to pull his body back to hers.

Sophia moves her head sideward to whisper to Harry, “Stay, please bunny?”

She doesn’t think her sanity could have taken Harry replying in disagreement, her soul too tired to fight the glowing pull inside her to just want Harry to surround her and make everything better again, make every drop of foggy confusion inside her crystal clear like he had always done.

Harry doesn’t take the chances of breaking Sophia’s reason as he envelops his warm hold against hers once again, chin bending down to rest on her shoulders as Sophia releases a breath of consolation with her head tilting to the side to rest against Harry’s own. She allows herself to breathe in the comforting notes of Harry’s favorite perfume, her nose nudging against his temple and jaw in a gentle touch, letting the curls escaping the confines of his newly purchased denim baker boy’s hat (he just had to buy it and Sophia’s not even mad) tickle her skin.

It’s good to feel something familiar, to feel things start to resemble something jolly and bright once again. Being in Harry’s warmth evokes the same emotions to Sophia, their comfortable silence is enough to suffice her weary state. The two let the people around them do all the talking and singing of Christmas music as Harry and Sophia contently watch it all occur in front of them.

Sophia feels herself truly relaxed when the one minute countdown for the tree to light up begins. Her tight and frantic hold on Harry loosens to a soft hold as she feels Harry pull her closer to his chest, showing no intentions of moving away regardless if she isn’t in a frenzied tired haze anymore.

The deafening cheers of everyone around them pulls a glowing beam in Sophia’s face, the twinkling lights of the massive Christmas tree dances in front of her eyes like a complete magical experience. She almost wants to laugh at herself from the bizarre curving points of her emotions and thoughts for the entirety of the day. All those mess seeming so silly when just looking at this fucking dazzling Christmas tree makes every single nerve in her body much lighter, tingle happier.

That’s why when Harry softly whispers directly to her ear the words, “I love you, my baby sunflower.”

There’s nothing stopping Sophia inside her to reply in the most genuine and honest way she had ever felt within herself whenever Harry uttered those adoring words.

“I love you too, bunny, so much.”

In that moment, with Harry wounded tightly behind her back and the sparkling glory of the Christmas lights blanketing her in a pure light of unbridled joy, Sophia didn’t care that it’s the first time she had said I love you to Harry, sure and confident within herself that her intent was more than platonic.

Sophia basks in the simple kiss Harry places on her temple, lets her nose run along his in a reverent pattern. The love that she feels for Christmas time and the boy beside her, does not leave Sophia’s system even when they start making their way to the parking lot ready to leave the Christmas market.

Sophia blames it on her honeyed gaze of her pleasant emotions and her easily affected tired state when her focus zeros on a chocolatier stall that’s selling artisan chocolates in the kiosk near the exit of the market. She tugs on Harry’s hand that’s tight on her, wanting him to stop walking and lead her to the stall that’s calling for her name.

Harry follows her line of vision when she successfully stops him from making his gigantic strides, her pouting face tilting up towards his amused one.

“Chocolate, really?”

Sophia smiles, “I’m hungry?”

That makes Harry chuckle as he lets go of her hand to properly look at her, “Is that a question you’re asking me, because I don’t think I can answer that for you, sunflower.”

Sophia pouts again, “Not asking, just want you to take the hint and buy me those chocolates. The Advent calendar box one, please.”

“And why would I do that?” Harry laughs, arms crossing on his chest while giving Sophia a teasing look. “You’re the one who’s been having my head off for the entire day for buying ‘unnecessary Christmas shit’ as you’ve called it kindly, and now you want me to buy you a box of artisan chocolate Advent calendar?”

Sophia just nods, “Uh-huh.”

“Well I don’t know how to tell you this kindly the same way you’ve told me earlier: it’s Christmas Eve, sunflower. I don’t think you need that box of chocolate Advent calendar when it’s the bloody last day of Advent today.”

“You don’t have to think about it that way,” Sophia soothes, “bunny, just think of this as a means for you to offer me some consolation price for all the unnecessary Christmas shopping stress you gave me earlier.”

That makes Harry release a huffing laugh, “That’s not the point, sunflower!”

“What’s the point then?” Sophia slants her head to the side in confusion.

“My point is that you wanting those chocolates as a consolation prize does not make you less of a hypocrite for criticizing my Christmas spending spree earlier.”

Harry has a valid point, but Sophia’s sleepy and she’s happy and no one can take that last one away from her on Christmas Eve.

“Baby, please? May you please buy me the chocolate Advent calendar box? Pretty please?”

That perks up Harry in an instant.

“You want it that badly, huh baby?”

Sophia never calls Harry ‘baby’. It’s already too much for her whenever Harry calls her that, imagine all the things she wants to let out into the world if she decides to call him baby on the regular.

Harry is my absolute baby and I want to treasure him forever and keep him in my pocket cause he’s my adorable little baby, no one else's.

That’s absolutely impossible, and borderline creepy in various angles, but Sophia understands right away why Harry is quickly engrossed in complete curiosity when she lets out that pet name that she rarely uses on him.

Too timid to reply verbally, Sophia meekly nods in affirmation, eyes fluttering downwards on the cold England soil. She sees Harry’s boots moving towards her own, minimizing the remaining space between them. His cold gloved hand perches a hold on her chin, tilting it up for their eyes to meet. Sophia swears there’s actually literal stars (or the entire galaxy if we want to be more specific) in Harry’s eyes, it’s glow intensifying from the colorful Christmas lights encompassing them.

“If I buy you those,” Harry rasps, warm breath hitting Sophia’s cheeks from how near they are from each other, a lovely relief from the cold air constantly hitting their faces, “what are we going to do with the tins of Quality Street and Celebrations waiting in the car for you?”

Sophia frowns, “What? You got me some?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, a bashful shine underneath it. “After I landed at the airport, I went straight to the nearest Tesco to get them. And then they didn’t have some because apparently, I’ve been months late for every holiday thing, so I took the extra drive to head for a Waitrose and thank fuck they had them in store.”

Endeared does not encapsulate Sophia’s tremendous and numerous blissful emotions, “Really? You did that all for me?”

Harry exhales a cheery laugh like Sophia is lost for even asking that question, arms dropping to hold Sophia’s waist, the latter bringing her arms up to wrap around the back of Harry’s neck.

“Sunflower, you’ve been having my ear off about those chocolate tins for the last FaceTime calls we’ve had. There’s no way I wasn’t going to get you some.”

Sophia giggles at the disbelief in Harry’s tone, leaning her warming chin on his chest for all the sunny laughter spilling out of Harry, “Yeah, but that was like the start of the ‘ber months’ which is practically September when I was missing anything related to life in England. There’s no way you remembered it for that long.”

“Call me nuts for taking note of it then,” Harry curls the girl closer to his warmth, “I even started arranging things with Jeff already, finding a personal shopper in the UK that can buy me both tins. Since I was in the States and you were in Australia, Jeff and I were finalizing the private jet that will deliver the chocolate goods to you because there’s no way you’re going to get them in time, and in perfect shape if I got it delivered overseas the regular way.”

Color Sophia shocked all the way, “What?!” she squeaks, “A personal shopper and a private jet? Are you bloody insane?” Harry’s tone of complete casualness has rendered Sophia baffled in his arms.

“Probably?” Harry shrugs, smirking widely at the unmoving expression of surprise and awe in Sophia’s cold-flushed face. “It is kind of crazy for me to cancel all those plans and drive my tired self to get the chocolate tins in person at 11pm. And I’m probably a proper loon now since I’ll still gladly buy you that Advent calendar box of artisan chocolates.”

Maybe, just maybe, this Christmas Eve, Sophia and Harry can be loons together.

Two lunatics with their tins of Quality Street and Celebrations waiting for them to be picked upon with their personal favorites traded between each other. Let’s also not forget the fancy box of artisan chocolates that the both of them devoured merrily on the way home to their very own Winter Wonderland of a bungalow.

It would be amusing to any outsider to see the current situation of Harry and Sophia in their kitchen. The immense carefulness that Harry is exhibiting to properly assemble Christmas cookies on a little plate beside a glass that Sophia slowly filled with milk, will make someone think these 27 year-old individuals still think Father Christmas is real. How pathetic, huh?

In Sophia’s opinion, everyone else is the pathetic and ludicrous one for missing out on the rather immaculate intelligence that both her and Harry had discovered.

Like the rest of us that have gone from the innocence of childhood to the angsty stages of teenagehood, Sophia and Harry had obviously found out the hard truth that Santa is in fact, not real. The two had taken the news pretty lightly, considering that it was the pair’s tradition to prepare the food for Santa before they head to bed on Christmas Eve.

That’s what sucked most, removing that miniscule but special tradition of spending time together crafting and decorating Father Christmas’ sweet goodies, with the two of them having his leftovers come Christmas morning because Santa (their parents, apparently) can’t possibly finish six sugar cookies and a pint of sweet milk.

But who said you had to remove that tradition? That’s where everyone got it all wrong.

Sophia and Harry had come upon this colossal genius idea of still continuing their tradition of preparing Santa’s late night treats, but with the intention of actually eating it together on the morning of the 25th. Their parents and Gemma had found it to be very strange, though they just can’t completely understand how the pair can practically inhale all these dozens of sugar cookies in one go. Tricking their mind into thinking that they have to save up some for Santa tonight, would slow down their appetites. Come Christmas morning the next day, they still have sugar cookies to enjoy thanks to their past selves. Aren’t they genius?

Well Sophia and Harry surely think they are if they're still up with this tradition of theirs even to this very Christmas Eve.

Upon their arrival back at the bungalow, the pair had taken their individual showers having an agreement that they’ll meet the other at the kitchen to studiously prepare Father Christmas’ goodies, and then after that they can watch one Christmas film before heading to bed.

If that sequence of events somehow also included Sophia finishing her shower and heading back to the room in her fluffy dressing gown only to see Harry wearing the garish Christmas jumper he bought earlier, pouting and fluttering his eyes all pretty at Sophia as he sat waiting on the end of their bed with her matching gaudy knitted garment in his lap, nobody needed to know that Harry didn’t need to force her or even say anything before she’s reaching for the bundle of atrocity on his hold and heading back to the bathroom to change.

So now in their matching ugly Christmas jumpers that Harry had instantly asked for them to take a photo together to post on his close friends IG stories (sorry, Harries), Sophia feels content having Harry’s wide grin be directed towards her every once in a while that their eyes meet as they painstakingly do their own tasks in the kitchen.

It’s Christmas Eve, Sophia thinks she’s allowed to properly bathe in all of Harry’s affectionate glow in the way she wants. Her pining heart and muddled-confused and worried mind can wait for Christmas morning where Sophia will once again set herself straight with the reminders of the possible dangers of more.

But right now, she’d rather choose to berate Harry for stealing yet another cookie on the Christmas plate he’s arranging, thinking that Sophia can’t see him from where she’s standing with her back on him, cutting pieces of carrots to be placed on a reindeer-shaped bowl.

“Bunny, stop munching on those cookies. Those aren’t for you, well yet. Just wait for tomorrow or else this thing of ours will be pointless.”

“How do you know what I’m doing here?” Harry asks, Sophia doesn’t need to turn to look at him to see the evidence of crumbs on his lips, “I thought I was being sneaky.”

“You do this every time.” Sophia giggles, “and every year you think you’re being sneaky but you’re not.”

Harry grunts, “Well, why do you give me this job of the sugar cookies if you know each time I’d be tempted to get some.”

Sophia finally turns to look at her best friend, filling the corners of her mouth tug upwards when her assumptions are correct, seeing the unmistakable green and red frosting dotted on Harry’s lips. “You also never like cutting the carrots every Christmas Eve so I don’t think I’m at fault here.”

That makes Harry nod in recognition, lips pursing in thought, “Oh, I remember now. I also ask you each time we do this why you still need to cut carrots when we technically don’t need to because these aren’t really for the reindeers that we’ve been deceived to believe. Like, who would want to eat carrots on Christmas morning?”

“No one.” Sophia confirms, “But we’d thank our past selves once again for providing some sort of nutrients for all the sugar overload that will be putting on our bodies for the rest of the holiday season.”

Harry’s quirked lips turn brighter from the same spiel Sophia always provides every year that he questions the purpose of her carrots. He looks so amused for someone that has heard the same answer every year which makes Sophia giggle at how silly he is.

Shaking her head in little giggles, Sophia says, “Why don’t I go and finish this up and then I’ll help you fix the Christmas cookies there to make sure that you won’t get tempted to eat anymore. Also, to check which ones you’ve already stolen. We can’t have all the mistletoe cookies for Santa, bunny.”

Because they bought the cookies near the closing of the Christmas market, only a handful of designs were still available. They bought eight sugar cookies (four each in the morning) and Sophia remembers seeing four mistletoe designed cookies, and the other four were a mixture of Santas and snowmen and one Christmas wreath. Harry better not have eaten the latter four or Sophia would remove his privilege of picking their Christmas movie because she can’t have just all mistletoe cookies in the flat-lay she’ll be posting on her IG.

“Good, you’ve managed to eat one mistletoe cookie.” Sophia says impressed, standing beside Harry on the kitchen counter looking at his progress.

Harry scoffed in faux offense, his beaming smile still etched on his face, “I’m impressed that you have little faith in me, sunflower. I actually won’t ruin your Christmas morning by taking any of your cookie shares so I don’t plan on pocketing anymore than one cookie tonight.”

Sophia slightly narrows her eyes in suspicion at Harry’s specific choice of wording. Though no further actions were taken on her side as Harry winked cheekily at her before returning his focus on the Christmas delicacies in front of them. Since there are no imminent signs of mischievousness from her best friend, Sophia shrugs and begins to assist Harry in the finishing touches of their little feast for them to munch on tomorrow morning.

Sophia smiles fondly as Harry lights the red Christmas Eve scented candle they got a while ago, placing it in their kitchen set-up as the pair exchanged guesses of what the notes of the candle contained, making a little game out of it as they wafted the sweet and spicy aroma of the candle.

Busy in finding the perfect angle to take a breathtaking picture of their holiday spread for Santa, Sophia doesn’t notice the slight movement of Harry from beside her. Doesn’t register that the arm going around her waist was not to hug her close to his side, chin landing on the crease of where her neck and shoulder meet as Harry shares interest in the selection of pictures Sophia took, displayed on the screen of her phone.

It was apparently a deceptive act for Harry to reach over the table, slyly looting another Christmas sugar cookie. Thankfully his gangly limbs are not that far away from his muscular arms that despite the heftiness of his biceps that Sophia always gets distracted over, Harry’s still rather clumsy in all regards. The clinking sound of the plate moving was enough for Sophia to whip her head towards Harry.

“What did you do?” Sophia questions, editing of her picture on pause as she places her phone on the surface of the kitchen counter to deal with later.

“Nothing.” Harry smiles, arms rounding behind his back trying to look innocent when it’s nothing but in Sophia’s watchful eyes.

“I heard the plate move, bunny. I’m not daft to not know you took something from our spread on the kitchen counter again.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry chuckles lightheartedly in an attempt for a distraction, arm snaking around Sophia’s shoulder so her back was behind their food. “You keep talking about our Christmas treats, maybe you’re the one starving right now, sunflower.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Sophia giggles despite Harry’s efforts of steering the conversation to her, “You’re hugging me because you don’t want me to see what you took again. Which is quite smart of you because I was totally ready to count the cookies and I’m sure that’s what you got again you little cookie monster!”

Before Harry can spew anymore of his nonsense, Sophia takes the first tickle attack as her nimble fingers lurched upwards directly on the back of the shell of Harry’s ears where she knows he’s the ticklish. Harry lets out a loud squeak in the dimly lit quiet kitchen, retaliating by tickling Sophia’s sides in her chunky jumper.

“BUNNY!” Sophia screeches loudly, giggles erupting from her squirming body, trying to get away from Harry’s close hold on her.

Harry’s own laughter is ringing all around the compact space of the bungalow's little kitchen. Sophia’s cheeks spread wide in an unrelenting smile, it almost hurts from how spread out it is just like her sides that Harry has still yet to stop attacking with his deft fingers despite Sophia’s lack of attempt in tickling him back.

“Bunny, stop, please!” Sophia pleads in complete laughter, hands landing on Harry’s hips to squeeze firmly as an attempt to stop his merciless motions. “I promise I won’t tickle your cute little ears anymore, just please stop tickling my sides as well.”

Harry does stop after she says that, Sophia tilting her head up to be able to look at the tall boy properly. She sees the glint of undeniable fondness in Harry’s green gems as he looks down at her, though something in his smile stirs questions on her mind having not seen that particular touch before.

The feeling gradually gets defeated by the wild flapping butterflies on her stomach when the familiar smirk of Harry graces his features that never fails to send Sophia hurling in a dreamy, hot daze whenever it’s directed towards her.

“Oh would you look at that,” Harry breaks their quiet reprieve in a tone of light surprise, “we’re under a mistletoe.”

Sophia feels her heart lurch in the implication of Harry’s words, before confusion settles on her features knowing well that there isn’t a single mistletoe in this hazardous too-white Winter Wonderland of a bungalow they got styled for them.

Harry’s close and attentive eyes, probably spot the dips in Sophia’s brow in plain confusion. He puckers his lips and motions it above, eyes raising upwards as well in a cheeky manner. Sophia follows his line of vision, mouth gaping open at what he’s done.

Harry has his free arm raised above them, the recent sugar cookie he had stolen is held between his sparkling gold manicured fingers, the mistletoe shaped cookie pointed perfectly on the top of their heads.

“Bunny, wh-”

“Alexa, play Mistletoe by Justin Bieber.”

Sophia doesn’t know where to be most shocked about. For Harry’s rather rude interruption of her question, the fact that there’s apparently a working AI in the bungalow that she has not been informed about, or the one that Harry apparently knows how to operate one despite being a grandpa in today’s advanced and helpful technologies.

The answer hits Sophia quickly straight to her gobsmacked soul, and it’s not even in the list of the things she’d pointed out above.

That irritatingly pretty and attractive smirk of his is still present on Harry’s face, green stars locking intently with Sophia’s own surprised clouded eyes, the Christmas bells of her favorite holiday song echoing in the background.

Sophia doesn’t even have the capacity to hear Justin Bieber’s angelic voice star singing, all attention wrapped on the man before her as he starts singing along with the song he despises the most every Christmas time.

“It’s the most beautiful time of the year,

Lights fill the streets, spreading so much cheer.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

That’s the most surprising thing out of anything. Harry Styles and his deep melodious voice singing Sophia's favorite Christmas song in front of her, for her.

Sophia is so surprised that Harry’s actually singing it seriously, not like all the other times he’s done so mockingly in the past, that she doesn’t notice Harry placing back the mistletoe cookie on the kitchen counter, quickly moving away from their close distance to sing his heart out in a calm breeze.

“I don’t wanna miss out on the holiday,

But I can’t stop staring at your face.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

“Sunflower, sing it with me!” Harry swiftly glides across the kitchen space, picking-up two baking spatulas on the kitchen counter stand, throwing one to an unmoving Sophia who thankfully catches it. Harry winks all unhelpfully at her as he continues the chorus, body moving side to side like the total performer that he is.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, Sunflower, come and join me already! I can’t be the only one having a blast here!”

And who was Sophia to think she even has a drop of ability in her to resist such a crazy request?

So Sophia catches her bearings back, returning Harry’s cheeky and encouraging smile as she briskly sang the second verse along with the Biebs, placing her all in her voice like all the damn time she shook her bloody arse while jamming to this to wherever Harry and her were spending Christmas the past years.

“Everyone’s gathering around the fire,

Chestnuts roasting like a hot July.

I should be chilling with my folks, I know,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

With Sophia’s hand clutched tightly on the candy cane printed baking spatula acting as her microphone, she winks at a gleefully swaying Harry for him to take the next part. Sophia giggles in absolute wonder as Harry dramatically leans his head back to sing with his own Christmas tree printed baking spatula under his lips.

“Words on the street, Santa’s coming tonight.

Reindeers flying through the sky so high.

I should be making a list, I know,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

Sophia cackles loudly when Harry enthusiastically sings the ‘I know’ part of the song with complete hand gestures with his index finger raised up and going down in a swivel just like the curl of his voice all singer diva like.

Harry doesn’t let her get away from not singing though, coasting towards her with the captivating move of his body, swaying to the holiday tune like a total dreamboat. His floating movements placed Sophia in a bubbly stupor, making her sing along with him in the chorus in an encompassing carefree bubble containing them in.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.”

The pair’s voices harmonizing flawlessly, reeling their buoyant bodies near each other as they continued singing the chorus with gazes locked, matching smiles of exuberance makes Sophia’s mind all lovely-whirly.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.”

Because it has been previously established that Sophia and Harry work in perfect synch without the need for any verbal instructions, Sophia takes the bridge by herself while trying to not end up toppling in laughter at Harry’s quick cheeky commentary while she sings Justin’s words.

“Ayy love, the wise man followed the star.”

“What star, sunflower?”

“The way I followed my heart.”

“Oh really? Did you use a sat nav?”

“And it led me to a miracle.”

“Aww, did you just call me a miracle? Baby, stop!”

“Ayy love, don’t you buy me nothing,”

“Why not sunflower? Tell me why!”

“Cause I am feeling one thing,”

“Don’t you dare break into a One Direction song you bugger!”

Sophia rolls her eyes at Harry’s comment, smiling with her pearly whites on full display before continuing the song. Red manicured fingertips tapping her lips at the following words.

“Your lips on my lips.

That’s a merry, merry Christmas.”

And she winks suggestively causing a howling laughter spilling out of Harry. His pointer finger coming up to wiggle side to side in a disapproving nature at her.

“Naughty, naughty, Santa won’t likey!”

The opposite of Harry’s words is displayed through his next actions. He closes the miniscule distance between Sophia and him, palms landing on the dips of her waist in an anchoring hold. Sophia’s head raises up to look at her best friend in their new close proximity, arms raising up as well to snake around the back of Harry’s neck, forearms resting comfortably on his shoulders as they gently sway each other in tune of the first verse once again.

Except this time, they sing the words straight to each other’s beaming faces, voices dropping in volume to accommodate their intimate distance. Harry’s deep tone expertly hitting Justin’s high ones as Sophia sang softly along, not one to resist the candy-sweet feeling in her veins when being lucky enough to hear Harry sing this closely and this effortlessly.

“It’s the most beautiful time of the year,

Light’s fill the street spreading so much cheer.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.

I don’t wanna miss out on the holiday,

But I can’t stop staring at your face.”

‘Same Justin, same.’ Sophia thinks as an afterthought as she feels her cheek heating-up abnormally while staring at Harry’s handsome face, the colorful Christmas lights of the mini tree in the kitchen illuminating the fine edges of his features.

“I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I’ma be under the mistletoe.”

Sophia hopes Harry will not notice her blushing pink cheeks, the dim lit room increasing her chances. But the way Harry’s eyes begin to light up in a semblance of astounded recognition, tells Sophia otherwise. She can't find it in herself to be embarrassed though, especially when Harry’s thumb enters the picture as he cradles one hand on the plump of her flushed cheek, softly stroking her skin there with the same glint of amazement in his eyes.

The last chorus of the song comes, Sophia and Harry exchanging the words between them in complete reverence like every single one of them is the last they’re about to speak to each other.

“With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, shawty with you.

With you, under the mistletoe.

Under the mistletoe.”

As the chorus fades into the outro, so does Sophia’s voice. There’s something in the look that Harry’s giving her that sends a sudden chill in her bones, a cutting gaze of realization.

If earlier at the end of their dinner, Sophia had felt the world fall under her feet in the stark realization that she couldn’t read her best friend for the first time in her life, right in this moment it’s the complete 360 degree turn.

Harry’s wide green gems are staring at Sophia in utter earnest, sparkling irises are suddenly so open, so vulnerable, giving Sophia the key to the answers of all her earlier confusions.

She wanted the answers earlier, couldn’t take the unknown expectant look Harry had given her after she had read that note on the folded gold paper he gave her.

And now she has it, can see it, can feel it in his gaze, can reach for it if she wanted to because Harry’s look tells her he’d willingly give her anything she had wanted in that moment. Sophia only needs to ask and Harry would be toppling over on his endless limbs to make it happen.

But Sophia is scared, and has the right to feel scared when Harry likes dropping serious shit like this on her when she’s completely unguarded.

That’s why on the outro, it’s only Harry who sings it. Voice much softer than ever, whispering tenderly as if he’s singing directly to Sophia’s rapidly beating heart. They’re practically slow dancing at this point to be honest.

“Kiss me underneath the mistletoe,

Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh, oh, oh, oh.

Kiss me underneath the mistletoe,

Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh, oh, oh, oh.”

The apparent change of lyrics instantly creates a deeper flush on Sophia’s cheeks, the whole fucking zoo migrating to her stomach as it thumps wildly at Harry’s words dripping with honesty. No traces of jest is given to Sophia, not in his words, not in his tone, not in his touch, and surely not in his gaze.

Harry slowly drops his forehead to reach the level of Sophia’s own, delicately resting his skin on hers. Sophia’s gaze drops downwards, eyes skimming Harry’s tattooed arms holding her body securely to his chest. She can’t seem to look Harry in the eye, she can feel the heat of its stare on her suddenly too-warm skin. Sophia settles in breathing in Harry’s comforting scent deeply, in the same pattern that Harry’s own breath hits her senses with the tip of his nose affectionately rubbing against the slope of her slender nose.

Sophia feels overwhelmed to say the least. The main priority of arranging her whirling thoughts has resulted in her lack of attention that Harry’s lips are barely an inch apart from her own plump ones.

“Did you mean it?” Sophia whispers, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. She needs to say something before Harry does something he might regret if he has yet to understand the depth of Sophia’s emotions for him.

This is going to be their first kiss together, and bloody curse Sophia for believing that she’d rather not continue with it if Harry wouldn’t want to have something more with her after. Harry Styles pining shaped heart or not, Sophia is still anchored by her self-integrity.

“Hm?” Harry hums, lips moving some inches away with his long lashes blinking, hitting the top most part of Sophia’s cheekbones from how close their faces have remained, “That I want you to show me how you love me, and how you should do that by kissing me underneath a mistletoe? Yes, sunflower. I mean it.”

That’s not really helpful, in Sophia’s opinion.

It’s like already a given fact that Sophia would want to do that and Harry is not completely dumb to not know even just a smidge about her crush on him. There’s only so many times Sophia can be caught blatantly staring at Harry’s bare, hot, tattooed chest without it giving Harry a slight peek into her pining thoughts.

“Not that,” Sophia says breathlessly because it’s still a bombshell hearing her best friend openly tell her that he wants Sophia to kiss him like she’s not been dreaming how that would feel ever since she understood what kissing meant.

“Dinner, I was referring to our dinner earlier. The golden paper and all that.”

Harry hums once again before replying, the flat side of index finger coming up to stroke Sophia’s lashes gently like some sort of mascara wand. Sophia is taken back to a time where a young Harry would stay cuddled on the couch with her, a Christmas movie forgotten in the background as he instead maps Sophia’s face with gentle fingertips like he’s memorizing each and every crease and crevice of her round features.

“Of course I meant it.” Harry straight-away replies in a firm whisper, “Thinking back now, maybe I shouldn’t have written it on a piece of paper that’s generally known for having jokes in them, but I just get so bloody flustered when it comes to you and my emotions for you. It makes me do impulsive and ridiculous shit that I should probably think over better before going along with it. Though I can’t say I regret anything, not even singing to bloody Justin Bieber because it’s your favorite Christmas song and who was I to not capitalize on that when I finally fucking admit my feelings for you on Christmas Eve.”

And if that’s not a verbal response to any of Sophia’s confusion and worries of the repercussions of wanting more, then Sophia is a right madman.

Sophia defends that she has already, self-proclaimed since earlier that she is a right loon this Christmas Eve, so she thinks it’s justified when she asks a question again instead of replying to Harry’s rather abrupt confession.

“How about that other time? In Italy this summer. Did you mean that?”

There must be something in Sophia’s tone that sounded urgent, almost pleading for an honest answer that makes Harry detach their glued faces to be able to look at her properly.

This time, Sophia doesn’t scare away from finding Harry’s eyes, feeling a sense of relief when she doesn’t see him frowning at her endless questions. Instead, Harry is even giving her that fond-filled smile like the one over breakfast when Sophia simply giggled at his self-deprecating joke of being a gangly giant.

“Yes, I meant it.” Harry replies without any faffing about, both hands coming up to cradle Sophia’s full cheeks in his warm palms while his green pools brighten in remembrance. “I meant it when I said that if by 30 years-old I still have yet to find the one for me, I’d marry you in a heartbeat because you’re-”

“My soulmate for life.” Sophia utters together with Harry, the four words that have caused an epiphany that solidified her emotions towards her best friend. The same four words that have hunted Sophia’s heart ever since they came back to real life from that absolute dream of an Italian holiday.

Harry’s grin might just break his face from how big it is upon realizing Sophia remembered his words, verbatim. “Yes, that’s you sunflower,” lovingly bopping the tip of her nose with a gentle pad of his finger, repeating the heart-plummeting words, “my soulmate for life, that’s you baby.”

Sophia finds herself reaching for Harry’s wrists that’s still raised up cupping her cheeks, circling her dainty hands around them firmly to ground herself in the moment, making a conscious effort to picture this moment in her memory forever.

“Again, you make me so flustered and do stupid shit,” Harry continues in a light giggle, “so it probably wasn’t the best idea to tell you those word while I was Italian sun drunk, red wine drunk, and a doting Sophia drunk. Nevertheless, I’m telling you now that I meant those words in every thing that I have, my whole entity and soul if you will. I’m not even going to actively look for others when I already know you’re my person, the one I’d marry and knock-up after.”

“Bunny!” Sophia laughs in total surprise at the sudden change in angle of their conversation.

“What?” Harry giggles gleefully at the way Sophia widens her eyes at him, “It’s true! Would it suffice you if I say instead: you’re my person, the one I’d marry and love eternally, and in that process of eternal love, I’d knock you up with my children.”

Truly, Sophia has no words left to say to that.

Here goes Harry cheekily smiling at her, just confessed that he feels the same way as Sophia of wanting more. Except his wanting more is apparently way more than Sophia has ever envisioned about with him including babies and knocking her up.

“How about you use the term: get you pregnant, so as to not make me sound like your breeder instead of your future wife who’d bear you our future babies.”

It’s nice to see the etching of surprise on Harry’s face, all movements stilling. He might have thought more when it comes to them and having babies, but Sophia has certainly reached the thoughts of more with them being married and all.

The boy likes everything personalized, placing his name on whatever he can get his hands on. It’s not Sophia’s complete fault that she has developed this amazing idea of being one of those that have Harry’s surname on it.

“First you don’t give me my joke in my Christmas Cracker,” Harry points out, “and then now you’re tempting me about marriage, and domesticity with you? That’s rather cruel, sunflower. Don’t tell me things like that if you can’t take the extent of sharing the name ‘Styles’. I’ll have it, me, imprinted on you in whatever way I can.”

Harry said Sophia was cruel, Sophia thinks she’s far from it. However, she can make that Christmas wish of his come true.

“How about we start with you imprinting your name on my lips?” Sophia’s question further solidifies Harry’s flabbergasted stupor, “Snog me silly until all I can only remember is your name?”

Harry actually groans at the clear jab at his earlier note, forehead dropping back against Sophia’s, breathing heavily at the latter’s smirking face.

“I like that you’re acting this confident, winding me up so easily after knowing my real feelings for you. But I can’t just simply kiss you without knowing how you feel. I’m not going to be cross if you genuinely do not think of me in that w-”

Sophia rolls her eyes in the hardest way she has ever done so, cutting Harry’s words of utter shit with her own.

“I love you, bunny. I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

And then she’s crashing her waiting lips on Harry’s, levitating on the kitchen floor of the bungalow when Sophia’s finally got a taste of Harry’s sweet, plump lips. No teeth or nipping, just the wet and silky glide of tongues and lips as they both savored each other’s sugary taste, their hands roaming each other’s bodies in loving caresses, nothing brash or heated.

Sophia allows Harry to adore her in this novel way, his lips not leaving any inch of her skin as Harry moves it to litter sweet kisses on the entirety of her face. Sophia, basking in all the loving attention she’s getting from her bunny, could never comprehend that this is how good it would feel when she finally got that more, finally brave enough to to reach for that more.

Harry’s kisses are that good that the last thing Sophia has in her mind before Harry carries her to the living room to continue making-out, is how she just found a deeper love for her favorite Christmas song.

It would make perfect sense later on when she finally gets Harry to make a Christmas song because he’s an easily flustered sap for Sophia. Would do about anything for her like making a cover of Mistletoe because it reminds her of that life-altering time when they confessed their love for each other that one Christmas Eve.

It’s the 25th of December, Christmas morning.

Not like any Christmas morning though. This year, Sophia and Harry don’t find the need to rush downstairs to gobble-up the fake Santa treats they’ve essentially saved for them to make it in time for the opening of presents with their family.

This Christmas morning, Sophia and Harry don’t need to go down any stairs as the two fell asleep in each other’s arms at the couch in the living room after making-out all night with the telly showing Home Alone becoming their background noise. At least it shows that they actually tried to detach from each other, but Sophia couldn’t just continue watching Kevin’s mom frantically realize he was missing in the airport when Harry was right there beside her, sneaking kisses on her neck and collarbone by pulling at the edge of her garish Christmas jumper.

This Christmas morning, the pair also don’t need to rush anything because it’s their first Christmas alone, just the two of them. Pressies can wait under the tree that is just in front of them in the living room. They need more time to spend with each other in this new chapter of their relationship without the chaos of torn gift wrappers and heartfelt Christmas cards from friends and family.

But, the most distinct feature of this year’s Christmas morning is that Sophia and Harry do not have the specific appetite to eat their sweet, Christmas spread. Harry for one, is up for a different delicacy this morning.

“I’m going to eat you out. I’m craving for your pussy this Christmas morning.”

That’s the same sentence that greeted Sophia this morning upon waking-up, feeling the cold seep between Harry’s warm body plastered on top of her. It was snowing outside that’s why Harry’s body heat and the heating of the house was not enough to soothe her cold self, but Harry didn't give her ample time to get another blanket upstairs when her bunny began giving her unrelenting kisses.

And then those kisses turned heated way too quickly, the cold situation turning ironic because instead of getting more layers to warm them up, Sophia and Harry are discarding their matching ugly Christmas jumpers, pyjama bottoms following next until they’re both just down in their underwear.

Except Sophia has her knickers pushed to the side now, Harry kneeling on the carpeted floor with Sophia perched at the edge of the couch breathing heavy moans as Harry’s ravenous tongue leaves wet licks and loud sucks on her pussy lips.

“Good?” Harry asks in that grave morning voice of his, Sophia realizing how much more tingles it delivers to her soul knowing that deep drawl is also laced with that of want, and arousal for her.

“Yeah.” Sophia replies breathlessly, “Holy shit.” she suddenly curses after Harry blows air on her spread-open cunt, everything in full display for Harry.

Harry chuckles at her winded reaction, fingers coming into action through gently rubbing and toying of her pussy lips, never prodding inside despite the wetness leaking out of Sophia clearly suggesting she needs more.

“I haven’t even touched that special button of yours and I’m already getting all the sweet noises from you.”

That makes Sophia open her eyes from being closed as she lazed on the feeling of Harry spreading her wetness at the entire surface of her pink, puffy mound.

She gives him a deadpan look, “My clit.”

Harry stares up at her from where he’s back to licking at her cunt, the traces of her early pleasure staining the full of his lips, “Yeah, you’re special button.” he repeats.

Sophia rolls her eyes, “My clit. Don’t call it a ‘special button’ that’s like so cheesy and so not hot, bunny.”

That makes Harry chuckle because he’s apparently the type of person who laughs during sex when their partner tries to say what she does and doesn’t like. Sophia is given no time to criticize his choice of words when she feels her pussy being spread wider than it already was.

“Okay,” Harry smirks from where he’s got his fingers unfurling Sophia’s cunt like some never-ending wrapped pressie, “Let’s see if I hear any more complaints when I get my lips on your clit now.”

Sophia knows with the way Harry’s got her pussy lips spread open, that her clit is definitely in full display for him. But, it’s still a shock to her entire system when Harry dives down straight to the sensitive nub, lips puckered like a vacuum as Harry sucked deep, and hard on her clit without regard for the sudden spurt of viscous wetness releasing from Sophia at the deep cutting pleasure of finally getting some action on her clit. The thick wetness surely stained the couch and hit Harry’s chin.

“Oh, oh god.” Sophia mewls when Harry removes his lips from her clit only to smile devilishly at her wrecked state with her wetness lingering at his lips. Harry quickly gathers the thick gush that came out from Sophia earlier, furiously scooping some and rubbing it on her now highly sensitive and swollen clit.

“Fuck, jesus christ..oh bunny.” Sophia moans loudly, eyes closing due to the intense intoxication Harry’s giving her cunt, and that fiery green gaze pointed on her naked, pleased form, is enough to intensify everything.

“Open your eyes, sunflower.” Harry says encouragingly, tone laced with firmness that Sophia could not fathom to ignore. “I need to see your eyes when I make you feel good with just my hands and mouth. Wouldn’t want my baby to miss everything I’m going to do for her.”

Sophia already knew that Harry is generally a people pleaser, finds comfort and joy in making people receive some semblance of pleasure from being around him or from something he’s done for them. She just didn’t realized how that facet of his is escalated when it comes to the realm of sexual pleasure.

She gets front row seats right now though, Harry’s plump lips back to suctioning her clit, two of his massive fingers now breaching the opening of her pussy lips, her unrelenting gush of wetness making it easy to enter her hot, throbbing cunt.

“Oh my god, you’re insane, oh bloody shit!” Sophia cries when Harry sucks hard on her clit, tongue pressing hard on the sensitive button just as the same time as his fingers began ramming her pussy in the fastest and deepest way it has ever been finger-fucked.

What makes Sophia’s cries of pleasure ring louder, is Harry’s potent stare with his green, wide eyes burning holes in Sophia’s delirious tinted irises. The unmistakable look of simmering desire is present in his gaze, the most prominent one though is Harry’s heady gaze of wanting to hear Sophia praise his amazing, world-shattering actions he’s doing for her.

“You’re so good, so amazing, bunny.” Sophia moans out, hands reaching down, curling in a tight fist Harry’s messy locks, “Yeah, fuck me like that with your mouth..jesus! Your fingers are so deep, my pussy is going to be gaping wide after this, oh..oh god that’s so fucking good!”

Harry groans at the last bit of Sophia’s comment, fingers crooking inside her cunt in that spongy, soul-numbing spot inside her. That toe-curling feeling spurs Sophia with her words.

“You like that? You like to hear how my pussy is going to be so gaped, been fucked so good just after your big fingers being inside my soaked pussy? Those fucking amazing fingers meant for my cunt to get fucked on?”

Sophia’s met with a harsh nip to her clit making her screech in utter ecstasy as the pain and pleasure collide in one massive collision of goodness. She thinks that it better be that good from all the F-bombs she’s throwing.

“I bet,” Sophia continues after gaining back her breath, “you’d love it even more that my pussy is so open from how thoroughly deep you’ve fucked me that you can just stick your cock inside me without any problem. Do you like the thought of that bunny? My dripping pussy needing your cock inside to feel me up? I thi-BLOODY HELL!”

Another thing Sophia learns is just a mention of Harry’s cock being anywhere near Sophia’s pussy, apparently makes her bunny a fucking beast of a sexual being. Sophia screams in surprise when Harry all but rips the cotton of her panties, freeing her modesty from any restraints.

Harry is literally rubbing Sophia’s pussy raw, as he quickly replaced his mouth on her clit with his other hand. Now having furious attention on her clit, and Harry’s merciless fingers fucking deep insider her pulsating cunt, Sophia is left crying in pleasure on the couch. Hands grasped tightly on the white sheet-cover, mouth perpetually hanging open watching Harry’s smug, devious smile.

“I think that was enough talking for you, sunflower.” Harry rasps, hands not stopping their ministrations on her pussy like the total dark magic that he is, the sloshing wet sound of his fingers digging deeper into her cunt is echoing around the room. “Now I need you to come like a good girl because you deserve it from giving me so many kind words earlier. Too kind in fact that I think you also deserve to get fuck on my cock after this. Do you like the thought of that, sunflower?”

Harry’s taunting words of her earlier statement is the last thing Sophia registers before she’s babbling words of sexual fervor. Her back arching as she chases Harry’s unrelenting pounding fingers every time it so much as retracts even just a centimeter from the inside of her searing cunt.

“Yes, please. Fuck, please bunny!” Sophia cries, feeling her stomach coil in her near release, chasing her nearing orgasm by moving her lower body to meet Harry’s soaked fingers unabashedly. “Please fuck me, bunny!”

“Aren’t I already doing so, huh baby?” Harry chuckles darkly, index and thumb pinching her clit as Sophia turns to an absolute mess of shrieking moans.

“Yes, yes!” Sophia chants deliriously, body rocking faster, wanting his fingers deeper into her cunt. “Wanna get fucked by your cock later. My pussy needs to be impaled by your big cock so bad, bunny please! Please fuck me! Fuckmefuckmefuckm-”

And that Harry did.

Sophia wasn’t even able to finish her ardent cursing as she feels everything drip out of her like a fucking stream of sexual zenith.

“Fucking hell!” Harry curses loudly as Sophia’s thick ropes of cum coats his entire hand that he slowly removed from her flushed red, throbbing raw pussy. The strings of her release sticking in every small crevice of Harry’s large hand.

“I told you,” Sophia says while catching her breath, tired and sated smile on her lips. “I don’t need much prep if you just wanted to stick it in earlier.” She slumps her tired body on the warm couch, the cushions feeling toasty despite the clear signs of the snow falling that’s peeking at the living room’s small window.

Sophia blames Harry for making her feel too warm during winter in England, and the audacity of the man to make her sweat on Christmas morning is simply preposterous.

Speaking of said man, Harry had stood-up from his kneeling position on the floor, eyes rolling at Sophia’s earlier comment with his own pleased smile giving away no real trace of annoyance.

“Sunflower, I think I made it pretty clear after that,” Harry purses his lips to point at Sophia’s still uncovered modesty, the latter finding no shame of being arse-naked in front of Harry now that they’re both clear with what they want in their relationship. Having her cum-covered cunt on full display seems to be appreciated in Harry’s hungry lingering stares anyway.

“I wasn’t exactly under the intention of just preparing you for my dick.” Harry notes further, winking at Sophia’s still heaving body, “Baby, you better get used to my pussy cravings because now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, this,” he brings his whole palm up for emphasis, his big paw that’s covered in Sophia’s creamy wetness, “simply won’t be enough.”

And Harry brings his littlest finger to his mouth, widely opening, tongue-first as he sucks on his little digit obscenely making through work of cleaning Sophia’s release on that single finger. The lewd popping sound as he releases his pinky from his mouth is the only thing Sophia’s ardor clouded soul can comprehend.

Sophia misses the first few words Harry says with that devious tilt back on his features, only catching the latter part of his remark.

“You ready?” Harry asks in clear anticipation.

“Huh?” Sophia dumbly replies because that’s apparently what sex with her best friend does to her: lust-loopy, desire-dumb, sex-speechless.

Harry knows what he’s doing to her, the visceral effect of their first intimate rendezvous not lost in his too-proud glinting eyes, “I was asking if you were ready for my cock? Because I didn’t just want to assume that having your legs exposed like that is a clear invitation for my prick to just stick it right in your leaking, open hole.”

Harry’s slightly mocking tone of Sophia’s early statement was more of an awakening push than the blatant crudeness of his chosen words. She sits up her slouched body, bringing her legs up as she plants both feet on the couch with no single intent of closing her legs together like a demure lady who’s trying hard to get. In fact, Sophia makes sure her legs are opened wide at its maximum, hands gently gripping the sides of her knees to showcase her flexibility as she pulls it backwards to bare more of her messy pussy to Harry with her knees nearly touching the backrest of the couch.

The desired effect is not lost, Harry’s eyes widening and glowing darker just a tad more from how it’s already been. Sophia wants more though, wants that blazing fire back on his gems like the same way it had scorched her skin when she had said all that filth earlier straight to his face as Harry ate her out like it’s the most delicious Christmas feast ever.

So Sophia decides to cup her own wet mound in answer to Harry’s previous question, eyes purposely rounding innocently as she bats her long lashes at Harry’s smoldering pools of green. Said focused beams are now stuck looking at Sophia’s dainty fingers spreading her own release at the entirety of her pussy, making everything messier down there. Sophia delivers a sound and stinging tap directly to her clit, the wet sound reverberates mingled with Sophia’s hungered whine.

“Bunny, how many times to I have to cry-out in pleasure for you to really fuck me that would make you actually take out your cock? You’re seriously so overdressed right now.”

Harry groans in a symphony of arousal and agony, Sophia can only imagine how his dick probably hurts from still being restrained in his Polar bear-printed boxers because he’s an actual child who takes Christmas outfits very seriously even down to his pants. Except that what Sophia sees is nowhere near innocence with how obscenely Harry is tenting said festive boxers.

Harry doesn’t even reply to her clear teasing, just quickly takes to action by freeing his cock from any more barriers. Sophia almost fears that she’d rendered Harry banter-less which is a big no-no considering she loves that side of Harry so much. The table turns quite drastically though, Sophia being the one proper voiceless upon Harry’s succeeding shameless actions.

The moment Harry’s boxers are thrown somewhere around the living room, his extremely hard cock springs straight-up to his toned stomach, pre-come trickling from the engorged tip of his cock smearing just slightly above his belly button. The whole girth of his huge prick is flushed red, Sophia licking her lips in brazen delight at the resemblance of its dark hue from a candy cane, thinking of how much she would want to have a lick of Harry’s dick instead of the minty treat.

Those wishful thoughts stay as wishes in Sophia’s dismay as Harry proceeds to take a hold of his own cock, clearly missing the entire prerogative of Christmas which is the spirit of gift giving and he just took away Sophia’s morning gift of being able to get her mouth on that thick and loaded length just for his own pleasure.

But then Harry does the most unprecedented thing you can ever do on Christmas morning.

Harry begins to jerk his cock off using his palm that’s still covered in Sophia’s cum. How the fuck has her wetness not dried yet?

Sophia’s eyes bug-out of its sockets at the extremely glorious and dirty image standing in front of her. Harry has his head thrown back in pleasure, long chocolate locks slightly shielding his sweaty, pleasure-contorted face as his hand that’s coated with Sophia’s creamy substances kept moving up and down in a frenzied manner.

Sophia actually whines while watching Harry vulgarly jerk his own cock off and illicit moans of sexual rapture by his own doing.

It’s simply un-fucking-fair is what it is and Sophia makes sure it doesn’t stay that way any longer, whimpering loudly in a tone of honest distress which gives her the opportunity to get Harry’s desire-painted eyes back on her, where they should be.

“Bunny, you really have to fuck me already with your cock before I actually start crying!”

It was enough of a threat to get Harry lunging on her naked form on the couch. Body colliding with hers as Harry takes seat on the gap between her widely parted thighs. Sophia’s moan of surprised delight at Harry accidentally pressing his proud-standing cock on her bare folds is masked by Harry enveloping her mouth with a straight out passion-riddled kiss.

Sophia absolutely melts at the attention of Harry’s eager kisses that she’s missed from her pussy having it undivided time earlier. Just like most things involving Harry’s mouth, his pink broad tongue is out in complete keenness as it seeks to lick, flick, and tangle with Sophia’s own. The kissing is wet and messy, Harry’s cock is still pressed firmly on Sophia’s throbbing folds from how plastered their naked torsos are, letting moans of pleasure leave their lips whenever the tip of his leaking dick comes into contact with her sensitive clit.

Sophia has to stop Harry from the clear trajectory of his next action, big paws already dropping down to cup Sophia’s breasts.

“Baby, please.” Sophia says in a shaky tone, catching her breath as Harry bends his head downward to capture a nipple of hers to his searing mouth, green blazed eyes locking on hers. Sophia moans, eyes closing for a minute as Harry expertly circles her rosy bud with his avid tongue.

“Bunny, please.” Sophia repeats more purposefully, trembling hands coming up to clutch on Harry’s dark curls to pull his sinful mouth away from her breast. “No more, want your dick in me already.”

Harry listens straight away, lips leaving one last deep suck on her nipple that makes Sophia’s toes curl at the heady feeling. The popping noise and the string of saliva connecting Harry’s lips from her tit brings Sophia back in the present, mind still hazy but clear enough to still notice Harry’s stupidly handsome smirk back on his dimpled cheeks.

“Are you sure, sunflower?” Harry asks unhelpfully, “Are you really ready for me to put it in?” and the twat intentionally rocks his body forward for the tip of his stiff cock to slide on Sophia’s constantly wet pussy lips just enough for Sophia to feel the ghost of his leaking tip at her winking opening.

If the resounding high-pitched moan that Sophia releases can be any indication, Sophia answers Harry’s annoying question by moving her body to further hump on his cock that frustratingly just glides on her pussy lips instead of breaching her cunt like where it’s supposed to be.

“Bloody shit,” Sophia whimpers, head thrown back at the couch as Harry can’t resist to grind with her movements, “is this enough for an answer for you to fucking get on with it already?”

And because Sophia will actually sob in utter agony if Harry even makes a cheeky comment as a response, she proposes,

“Bunny, I’d let you eat me out again later after you’ve properly fuck me. But please, I just need you already.”

That halts any of Harry’s movements. Sophia doesn’t know if it’s because her bunny is a wild boy that enjoys orally pleasuring women that he made a Grammy-winning song about it, or because the mention of Sophia needing him, always gets him weak at the knees trying to quickly comply with her wishes to make her feel better whether for sexual inhibitions or not.

Harry nods his head, sharp jawline clenching in determination as he eyes Sophia with the softest look he has ever given her since the start of their first intimate moment. Sophia’s heart absurdly flutters at the sudden shift of their sexually-charged bubble to that of a sugary, pillow sweet one.

“Okay, sunflower. You have me.” Harry’s smile is gentle, the excited spark in his eyes is not missed nor unmatched in Sophia’s own. “I’ll just go and get some condoms upstairs.” he says, standing up far too quickly for Sophia’s still passion-pureed brain.

“Bunny, stop!” Sophia whines in alarm, “Don’t leave me!”

Stark naked and still outrageously hard Harry, standing right by the arch of the living room entrance, would be funny in any other situations. But right now, Sophia feels nowhere near any sense of jest. Harry seems to pick-up on that note too, the pair always working and thinking as a unit.

“Sunflower, I’m not leaving you,” Harry placates Sophia, though unmoving from his position of leaving. “Baby, I’m just going to get some supplies upstairs because I didn’t really expect to have Christmas morning sex with you.”

Sophia’s brows furrow, “What supplies do you need?”

Harry looks amused at her question, “The condoms, sunflower. They’re upstairs.”

That makes Sophia pout, “Why do you need to get condoms? Are we not doing it bare?”

If Harry wasn’t already weak at the knees earlier from Sophia saying she needs him, then hearing Sophia’s question makes him look like he’s literally, about to drop on his knees in shock. Sophia giggles in her own amusement when Harry braces himself by finding hold on the sides of the archway of the living room wall as he almost stumbled on his feet from Sophia’s casual words.

Harry actually groans at her, green eyes big and pleading, “Baby. Don’t talk about going bare with me when you’re only joking, that’s not nice at all.”

Smirking, Sophia tilts her head in interest, “Who said I was joking? I want you to fuck me bare, bunny.” she says in pure honesty.

The expression of solid surprise displayed on Harry’s face is like he’s just hearing everything for the first time again. It’s also not missed in the way he stutters his next words.

“A-are you sure, sunflower? Cause I..I’ve never done it ba-bare before. Ha-have you?”

It's a genuine question, Sophia is aware. But it’s kind of really rude for her best friend to think that her Harry-Styles-forever-beating heart would even ever consider having someone else do her bare except him.

That’s why the fiery tone couldn’t be hidden in Sophia’s voice as she says, “Of fucking course, I haven’t! Why the fuck would you think I’d let anyone do me bare when you’re the one I’d been dreaming to have inside me like that since I knew what sex with someone you love sounded like.”

And that’s maybe a big confession-bomb to drop in this moment considering Harry’s still rock hard and naked across the living room for her, but Sophia rejoices in the way her answer made Harry curse loudly.

“Bloody hell, you’re killing me with your words, sunflower!”

Because Sophia lives for killing Harry’s confident demeanor every once in a while, she asks with a raised brow, “Why? Have you had sex without a condom before that’s why you don’t want to be my first anymore?”

Harry actually gasps in wounded offense, “Fuck no! That never even crossed my mind except when it’s you that I’m picturing having bare sex with while I’m jerking off in some hotel room or shit.”

Interesting information, Sophia notes, smirking at Harry’s flustered state, “Then it’s settled. We’ll be each other’s first and last bare sex experience, right now this Christmas morning!” because she’s happy, Sophia claps her hands in excitement.

But Harry wants to remain a twat and asks, “Are you really sure about this sunflower? Like this is a big relationship stuff we’re going to pass and we haven’t even been intimate together except for today.”

Sophia rolls her eyes, “Yes, I’m so sure about this, bunny. I don’t know about you, but my soul has been pretty much committed to you since I knew I loved you more than friends. Having sex without a condom is not some big thing for me to think or even do anymore when it comes to you.”

The way Harry straightens his body upward is a clear indication he’s preening from Sophia’s words, “Really?” he asks dreamily, like his cock is not impressively still hard for him to be warranted such a gentle tone, “That’s so sweet, baby. But how do you even know I’m clean?”

Sophia groans in growing frustration, “Why are you asking so many questions? I know you’re clean because Jeff gave me your medical results before you went on tour.”

Harry frowns, “Why the hell would Jeff give you that?”

“Because you wouldn’t take it back after he already used it for work purposes and he hates clutter so he gave it to me.”

“Still. That doesn’t excuse the fact that it’s invasion of my privacy that he just willingly gave my medical resu-”

“Are we seriously going to be arguing over Jeff or do you not want to see your cum leaking out of my cunt?”

Not even a second later and a growling Harry is cornering Sophia on the couch looking like the ravenous sexual beast he was at the beginning of their fucking.

Sophia’s putty under Harry’s firm hands as he easily manhandles her by flipping her laxed body on the couch, stomach and chest pressed tightly on the soft cushions while Sophia feels Harry kneel in between her flat legs.

“You asking me if I want to see my cum leak out of your pussy?” Harry suddenly rasps on Sophia’s ear, his body heat looming above her arching back as he carefully but firmly gathers her blonde locks and pulls at it for Sophia’s blissed-out face to look directly at his.

Sophia only whimpers wantonly after seeing Harry’s starving eyes, nodding her head when Harry tightens his grasp around it, eyelids threatening to close at the shot of burning rapture shooting up her spine.

“Words, baby. I need to hear your pretty voice.” Harry instructs, lips curling into a devious smirk at the way his words had made Sophia’s eyes dilate in passion-filled wonder.

“Yes.” Sophia whispers, mesmerized by Harry’s eyes, “Yes. I want your cum to leak out of my pussy.”

Harry chuckles at her answer, “That wasn’t really an answer to my question but it does confirm my suspicions that you’re really gagging for my cock, huh, sunflower?”

“Yes, yes I want it please.” Sophia cries shamelessly, willing her body to move to be able to face Harry’s body fully and just take a hold of his cock and ram it inside her hungry hole already.

“Na-uh.” Harry says, gently pushing her head back on the cushions of the couch as he removes his hold around her hair, “I want you on your belly when I first fuck my cock in you, sunflower. Need to see how good you take me later when I fuck you from behind.”

“Oh fuck!” Sophia moans with her mouth wide-open as Harry surprised her by guiding the engorged head of his cock to rub on her pussy lips like earlier.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled darkly at her shameless reaction, “I haven’t even done anything yet and you're already sounding so needy.”

Sophia doesn’t attempt to even stifle her ear-piercing moans when she feels and hears Harry spit on her pussy from behind, mercilessly rubbing his own trickling cock on the raw folds of her sensitive cunt.

“Please, please. Bunny, please!” Sophia is reduced into pathetic pleads not even a full minute of Harry teasing her already fluttering hole, starving for his cock.

“What, sunflower? What do you need from me?”

“Your cock! Need you to stuff me full, bunny! Need your big cock to fill my fucking hole and just take me, please!”

Sophia shivers when she hears Harry’s loud moan from behind her laid-out form, gasps in surprise and delight at the way Harry’s heavy hands began to knead and grasp her arse cheeks, the deep pleasure of feeling Harry’s firm and quick slaps at the plumpness of her behind makes Sophia cry in euphoria.

“Fuck.” Harry curses intensely, “You have one filthy mouth, sunflower. Fuck. I can’t take it anymore, I need to fill you already, baby.”

Sophia might have just died at that moment. Too blissed out in need for Harry that hearing him say that’s he’s fucking going to put it inside her already, has Sophia seeing the gates of heaven in her closed-pleased eyes.

Though Sophia’s not that angelic to miss being properly fucked bare for the first time so she just calls out for Harry in desperate need, “Bunny, need you near me please. Go on my back, baby. I need to touch you, need you near me, pleasepleasepl-”

“Okay, okay, sunflower, I’m here.” Harry complies quickly at Sophia’s wretched cries, his entire body fitting above Sophia’s back confirming the latter’s assumption that their bodies are really made to fit perfectly when snuggled together as she savors their warm contact, limbs and souls now entangled in a lovely mess.

Except this isn’t anything like the innocent cuddling the pair have always done since they were seven. Right now, it’s Harry’s naked torso pressed tightly on Sophia’s naked back pinning her on the couch with his whole body, his muscular tattooed arms coming up to weigh down on Sophia’s own that’s outstretched above her head. Hands finding each other to grasp tightly, fingers filling the gap of any miniscule space that doesn’t connect Sophia and Harry together.

Harry’s weight above her is a welcome touch, Sophia sighing in contentment at how secure she feels having Harry’s skin glued to hers in the most intimate way possible. If she wasn’t quite so greedy, Sophia would think this was already enough to satisfy her needs.

But ever since she’s decided that she’d gladly be in Santa’s naughty list this year just to give Harry’s present of seeing his own cum dripping out of her sated pussy, Sophia takes no shame in wiggling her ass where Harry’s cock has found solace at its crease, indicating her need to still be filled by him.

“Baby, please?” Sophia noses at Harry’s cheek from where his head is resting on the side of her own, eagerly rubbing her face on any surface of Harry’s stubbled cheek and jaw that she can reach.

It doesn’t take anymore pleading for Harry before he’s whispering, “Alright, sunflower. I’m going to give it to you now. I love you, my baby.” and because he’s the real angel between the two of them (though a devil in the sheets without a doubt, don’t you let him fool anyone), Harry reverently maps kisses on Sophia’s cheeks before reaching her temple and leaving that last sweet one she’s always loved and dearly cherished.

And then Sophia feels him moving from behind, body never leaving hers as he takes care of connecting them fully. It doesn’t even give Sophia a moment to take a deep breath in when she feels Harry scooping some of her steady coming wetness to coat his cock, and then its sizable head is finally breaching her pussy lips.

“Oh my god,” Sophia exhales in a breathy satisfaction as Harry slowly pushes his entire length inside her, the grunts leaving his lips not missed from how close Harry’s face is resting on the side of hers.

So pinned close to her space that Sophia can see from the corner of her eye how Harry’s expressive handsome face has formed into that one of immense satisfaction when his entire length has sheathed her core, bottomed out snugly. The same rational-numbing pleasure shoots up in Sophia’s system feeling how deep Harry is inside her.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. So warm, sunflower.” Harry rasps in a tone of pained ecstasy, hips slowly rabbiting his cock in and out of Sophia in deep driven fashion.

Sophia moans at the heady sensation of feeling Harry envelop her everywhere, his cock ramming in her pussy is accompanied by Harry’s lips littering the skin of her nape, the side of her neck, face, and every single inch of her heated skin that his kiss-bruised lips can reach with adoring kisses and hungered bites.

Unlike their earlier tryst of filthy passion with Harry messily going down on her, Sophia doesn’t need to offer any provocative words to get Harry in that headspace of unbridled desire.

It’s the resounding silence of their intimate moment, with Sophia’s breathy moans and unrelenting litany of pleased whimpers that drives Harry to plaster himself tighter on Sophia’s back, hips moving faster and faster for his cock to reach every single crevice in Sophia’s cunt.

It’s Sophia breathing ‘I love yous’ on his sweat-slicked skin that got Harry to pound harder and deeper into her pussy, their bodies dancing in the same pattern as the couch rocks together with their visceral movements.

It’s the way Harry takes the time to reply, ‘I love you always, can’t believe I can have you like this.’ for every single time Sophia cries words of adoration on his skin that’s got Sophia meeting each and every thrust Harry gives her. The sound of skin slapping on skin and the growing scent of pure arousal around the room, clouds over all the senses of the pair.

That’s why it’s no surprise that when Sophia finds her lips capturing Harry’s little ear to suck hotly, whispering the words, ‘I love you forever, baby. You have me as long as you want me,’ while Harry continues his unceasing hard, ardent thrusts, it makes him release the most refined noise of fulfillment.

Who would have thought that those genuine words of love is what ignites the spirit of a literal sex god embody Harry, cock furiously pounding into Sophia’s soaked cunt, his hand finding place on her hips to help her bounce back more eagerly than by her tired self.

“Oh my god,” Sophia mewls, body feeling passion-possessed as it rabbitted back to Harry’s every forceful thrusts, his lips that never left any surface of her skin sucking bites the more his momentum of fucking her pussy quickened. “oh my god, bunny.”

“Fuck!” Harry curses, most probably feeling Sophia’s insanely pulsating cunt clamping tight on his prick, indication that she’s nearing her release.

What takes Sophia hurling into the cliff of her orgasm is the moment Harry sneakily slid his hand under Sophia’s body. Catching her in total surprise when Harry suddenly pinches her clit so hard Sophia might actually have blacked-out for a second from the ultimate concoction of pain and pleasure that it brought her.

Sophia’s release bursts out of her, body trembling from head to toe. She can feel the thick, warm wetness gushing out, can hear how it affects Harry not only from the slick sounds it produces of their skin slapping together with Harry’s continuous pumping of his cock in and out of her, but also in the way Harry whimpers sharply in exhilaration straight to her ear that he’s nibbling.

Sex with Harry, is a spiritual experience, Sophia thinks with her eyes closed as she basks in the moment Harry’s pounding stopped into that glorious last deep thrust, his thick length twitching before warm cum begins to spill out deep spurts inside of Sophia’s womb.

Sophia has always thought that once she attains a relationship with Harry that goes beyond the platonic realms of their friendship, she couldn’t possibly want anything more.

She’s finding herself wrong once again.

Sex with Harry has opened Sophia’s eyes to new rooms of possibilities. Wanting more can’t even describe the fathomless extent of what she wants, needs sex with Harry to be.

Though unlike her pining dilemmas, this one might not even be a point of problem when Harry’s effortlessly flipping her sated body to rest on her back, mischievous eyes giving her a wink before his diving down once again, tongue out and feeding their combined releases back inside Sophia’s spent pussy as it started to trickle down her parted thighs.

“Merry Christmas, my baby sunflower.” Harry cheekily whispers to her cunt more than Sophia herself, his eager to please mouth clamps down to lap and prod at Sophia’s leaking, gaped pussy.

Sophia can’t be blamed when her return greeting of ‘Merry Christmas, bunny’ was less of heartfelt words and more of a screech of sexed-out exuberance.

Harry is definitely not complaining from the looks of it as he gets Sophia to squirt directly on his face less than three minutes after that. Extremely messy face grinning smugly like a madman saying,

“Merry Christmas, you filthy animal.”

After Sophia and Harry have gotten cleaned up and all that jazz after their Christmas rendezvous, Sophia feels slightly grumpy for being ordered by Harry to sit back on the now clean couch in just a pair of fresh knickers (unripped, thank you very much Harry) and one of their heavy wool blankets to protect her bare skin from the cold.

You see, Sophia understands the appeal of feeling comfortable and free in your own skin without any clothes. She even has subscribed to the notion that she’d effortlessly shed the majority of her clothes when she’s in the confines of her or Harry’s home because now the both of them can enjoy that intimate time together with literally no barriers between them.

All that, Sophia will allow. What she doesn’t understand is the fact that Harry sees the steady fall of snow in every window of the bungalow and yet he insists to get Sophia with nothing but her new festive red cheeky panties, bundled only with a woolen blanket like it’s not bloody winter and the temperature isn’t constantly dropping low to a freezing cold.

“Bunny, I’m literally going to freeze my fucking nips off because of you.” Sophia huffs out in annoyance, Harry’s fresh pair of Christmas baubles-printed boxers the only thing she can see from the man in question as he’s bum is literally the only thing on display with his bended form finding something under the Christmas tree.

“Stop being dramatic,” Harry replies, attention still not on Sophia’s pouting face, “I swear just a few minutes more. I’m just looking for the specific present I need you to open.”

“You need me to open a pressie with just my knickers on?” Sophia asks in a tone of disbelief.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m really going to swat your festive clad bum if you still don’t find that fucking thing your looking for in the next ten seconds.”

It’s clearly a joke, but Sophia finds delight in seeing Harry sprang into action making his search quicker than necessary. He’s for sure tired from all their fucking spree just moments ago, but Sophia thinks Harry kind of deserves some teasing after not only making Sophia come down the stairs with nothing but her panties, but also for the fact that he gatekeeped her from having their Christmas breakfast. Don’t you dare think for even a second that Sophia forgot the special sweet treats they prepared last night, dick-drunk or not.

Since Harry wanted to do presents first before having their delicious feast of edible food this time, Sophia asks Harry to also fetch her gift for him under the tree before he excitedly plops his own self beside her on the couch. Sophia’s pout ceases when Harry instantly raises his arm in clear invitation to burrow on his side.

Sophia and Harry have never been one for material gifts after realizing that the best gift they can ever give each other is to just simply spend time together. It was a hard pill to swallow on both ends when they realized their passions in life also meant spending less and less time together as a unit. That’s why it had always been an imperative of a pressie to cuddle each other on whatever soft surface their accommodations offer them in whatever country they were currently in.

But their deep care and love for each other couldn’t just lose the idea of spoiling one another with simple gifts that go beyond being together during the holiday season. Sophia in particular is actually quite keen to see Harry’s reaction when he opens the large emerald green, glittery paper bag that contains his gift this year.

They exchange parcels after reluctantly letting go of each other’s warm orbit in order to have space to open their gifts. Harry clapped his hands with excited sparkling eyes as he carefully put a hold on Sophia’s gift for him that’s now resting on his lap.

“You go first, sunflower.” Harry smiles at her. His words are the total opposite of what a younger Harry would have said to a less eager kid Sophia when it’s opening presents time. Even at a young age, Sophia was more drawn to the Christmas food waiting at her parent’s kitchen while Harry was the quintessential gift-excited kid awake at the crack of dawn, jumping at his parents bed to cause the usual Christmas morning mayhem.

Sophia would have agreed easily to Harry’s request, except for the fact that she really wants to see and savor Harry’s reaction when he opens his gift before her mind gets sidetracked to whatever amazing goodie Harry had given her this year. Knowing the man pretty well, he’s never one to pick ‘go small’ over ‘go big’ when it comes to anything holiday related, or anything to dote and spoil Sophia with really.

If she just wasn’t feeling the cold break into the warm barrier of her soft blanket, Sophia would have indulged with a back and forth of ‘No bunny, you go first. Nope, you go first sunflower. Na-uh bunny, you first. Sunflower, you’re the one who’s supposed to open your pressie first’ type of annoying banter that’s essentially flirting once Sophia has acknowledged that she has been openly flirting with Harry every time none of them wanted to drop the call first during her pathetic longing days.

Sophia chooses to compromise after all, saying, “Bunny, let’s just open our gifts at the same time before we actually catch hypothermia because of your dorky and borderline highly dangerous antics that I really don’t fucking know how you get me to do.”

Harry laughs, the jovial sound pushing warmth in Sophia’s chilly skin making her shiver at how disgustingly cheesy the boy has influenced her to feel.

“Ever the smart one, my sunflower. Just not one when I unleash my puppy eyes and my irresistible pout.” Harry winks, Sophia only rolling her eyes because the boy’s not lying and she has no strength to put up a fight and deny it fruitlessly.

The two of them do a countdown from three to zero, matching gleeful eyes locking together before reaching the end of the countdown and dropping their focus on each other’s laps.

If it was even possible, Christmas just got a lot crazier than matching confession of love, and mindblowing morning sex.

Sophia and Harry look at each other with the same dumbstruck expression carved on their faces, each other’s gifts now unwrapped and within their hold.

“For fucks sake.” The two of them simultaneously breath out in surprise, surprising themselves even more when they unintentionally just uttered the same words verbatim. They break into childish giggles, eyes maneuvering down to their coincidentally, matching gifts.

“I can’t believe we got the same thing for each other,” Sophia marvels, the black Gucci x Balenciaga Hacker BB puffer jacket soft on her fingertips, cold crisp skin itching to wear the absolute cloud of warmth.

Sophia doesn’t hesitate in doing so, especially when Harry already has his matching designer puffer jacket in the color beige this time, already covering his shirtless torso. Now Sophia has actually caught up with why Harry had wanted them to open their gifts first in nothing but tiny underwear covering their modesty.

“I can’t believe you’re the one who got the last beige one!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, index finger pointing in accusation at a gasping Sophia who’s now bundled in the warm and soft fluff of her new puffer jacket, the lower half of her face contently being shielded from Harry’s harsh words.

“Excuse you?!”

“Yeah, it was you!” Harry affirms, offending finger that’s back with its signature ring still directed at Sophia. “I was supposed to get the beige one for myself while I gifted you the black one. But Lambert said someone already got the last beige one. And that’s apparently you, you sneaky little thing.” Harry snides, head shaking in distrust as he folds his arms across his puffed chest.

Sophia narrows her eyes at Harry, “Well I was supposed to get the black one for myself, and then Lamby said the last piece was already reserved for someone else. And that’s you, you sly bugger.”

Harry dramatically gasps, both ringed hands coming to rest on his chest, “How very dare you call me that this Christmas morning? Your audacity to call my stylist to do your gift shopping is extremely audacious!”

Sophia rolls her eyes, “Lamby is your stylist, made total sense because he knew your size.”

“And you don’t?”

“Of course I do!” Sophia actually gets hit by that one since she has been buying Harry gifts that fit him perfectly even during the years that his sudden growth spurts make his sizing complicated. She doesn’t need any help from anyone to properly dress her bunny, thank you very much.

“Then why didn’t you just buy the jacket on the rack itself?” Harry questions with a raised brow.

Sophia doesn’t back down on the challenge. “Because Lambert has direct contact with Gucci already. Why didn’t you just buy it in the store too?”

“Because contrary to you, Lambert is actually my stylist. He works for me.”

“And that includes doing your Christmas shopping for you?” Sophia scoffs, smirking, “Be thankful that Lamby’s too kind to scold your lazy arse when it comes to pressie shopping.”

“Am not lazy!” Harry defends, pouting, “Lambert likes buying me clothes so he did it out of his freewill and enjoyment.”

“Well Lamby enjoys dressing me up too so I don’t see the problem of asking him to get me a special gift.”

“But he’s not your stylist!”

“Doesn’t matter!”

“Does too!”

“The fucking head of Gucci love me more than you so I get more rights of buying the puffer jackets than you, hah!”

Silence resurfaces after Sophia heatedly spilled those words. The latter, a mixture of embarrassed - for her childish outburst - and amused - for Harry’s jaw dropped on the floor in a flabbergasted nature.

And then Harry’s giggling, escalating quickly to his honking laughter as Sophia amazedly watches him contort his body in this direction to that in complete paralyzing laughter.

“Fucking hell!” Harry lets out, hands thumbing away the little tears of laughter that fell from his cheery eyes. “Sunflower, I have to give you that one,” he surrenders with his palms raised, “I can’t argue with your statement with how much I’m reminded everyday that Lallo loves you more than me every time you wear that necklace on your neck.”

The wistful sigh of disappointment Harry breathes out, triggers Sophia in her own spiraling laughter.

It’s true, is the thing. Alessandro Michelle’s utter adoration for Harry was quickly transferred to Sophia after they had first met in Italy when Harry brought her along with him for the Gucci Cruise collection that year. Lallo and Sophia had clicked instantly, the two abandoning a pouting Harry on that trip to spend some quality time alone to get a better grasp of each other as Alessandro toured Sophia around the local towns in Rome.

Their close friendship was further solidified when Alessandro had surprised Sophia with her own initials in a jewelry piece that he usually gifts to his loved ones. Unlike every other person who gets them in a set of two rings, Sophia got her chunky gold initials in the form of a necklace.

Sophia thinks it’s rather adorable how Harry had acted wounded like a neglected kitten when Lallo had first clasped the necklace around her neck over a dinner the three of them had when their friend was visiting London. But she thinks it’s rather unfair that because of the tangible proof that Lallo loves Sophia more, Harry has made it his job to not invite Sophia to any Gucci related trips he needs to attend, even going the extra mile of prohibiting Sophia to fly to Italy without him.

It’s not like Sophia was going to replace Harry as her bestest friend in the world just because the head of Gucci got her a special necklace. She tells the same thing to a sulking Harry every time the man admits feeling slightly threatened that Sophia spending more alone time with Alessandro would make her realize how much of a better friend he is than Harry.

The idea itself was just simply preposterous, Sophia taking her time to say and show Harry it was impossible for anything like that to happen, can’t plainly fathom flying to another country just to cuddle anyone else other than Harry.

Thankfully Sophia doesn’t have to do anything strenuous to do the same thing right now.

“You know that I love you more, right?” Sophia smiles, making grabby hands at an unmoving, pouting Harry.

“I guess.” Harry shrugs, ignoring Sophia’s blatant needy little noises for him. “But you still love Lallo a lot, too.”

“Bunny,” Sophia giggles at Harry’s stubbornness, “I’m in-love with you, baby. Is that enough for you to come and smother me with your hugs now?”

Unlike Sophia, Harry makes it much easier for her to see whenever he gets affected by her words. His little ears are pinking right now, a clear sign of flusteredness making Sophia giggle harder under the confines of her fluffy puffer jacket.

Harry is launching himself on Sophia not even a minute later. The abrupt movement and their matching puffer jackets colliding together, causes Sophia to fall on her back to lie down on the cushions of the couch. The pair’s laughter echoed around the room as Harry made himself at home atop Sophia’s body, tangling their limbs together as Harry sneaked his nose inside the neck of Sophia’s warm cocoon to nuzzle his cold nose on the soft skin of her neck.

Sophia hisses at the chilly contact, smiling like an idiot when Harry warms her up again by leaving a searing kiss on her neck, no doubt littered with lovebites from their earlier bouts of pleasure.

“I love it when you call me baby.” Harry confesses quietly on Sophia’s skin, the latter’s hands finding its way to card through Harry’s messy curls in a soothing pattern.

“Hm.” Sophia hums, “So does that mean you don’t want me to call you bunny anymore?”

Harry’s answer of a ‘no’ is displaced by the unexpected movement of Harry’s lower half accidentally nudging against Sophia’s still barely covered modesty of her little knickers that can’t be covered by Harry’s pressie for her. The now familiar sensation makes Sophia moan and Harry to still.

“I don’t think it’s fitting to stop calling you bunny when it seems like you want to fuck like bunnies.” and Sophia makes it a point by raising her lower half to grind on Harry’s half-chubbed length.

“Sunflower!” Harry admonishes the laughing minx, “Stop teasing or I might actually get hard enough to just slip it in again.” he’s wiggling his eyebrows, no real attempts of taking their teasing any further.

Sophia’s lips curl upwards at Harry’s usual display of ridiculousness. It’s comforting to know that despite having discovered the passion-potent and extremely crass route that their intimate moments together can lead to, their ridiculous banter and cheeky comments aimed at each other is not lost whilst keeping close and snuggled in each other’s secure auras.

Wrapping one long curly lock on her pointer finger, Sophia says, “Not allowed to enter me until you tell me you’re in-love with me too.”

It sounds more like a demand than anything else, but Harry is giving Sophia this soft hued look that makes it seem as if he had just melted into a puddle of love goo just from Sophia’s words. It’s kind of an unnerving sight to see, Sophia having always thought that only Harry had that ability to render her entire being into pure mush, just from the simple touches and actions that Harry never thought meant a lot more to Sophia than nonsensical sweet nothings.

Harry’s lips are on Sophia’s not a moment later, her bunny kissing her like it was the only appropriate thing to do.

Their lips disconnect just enough for Harry to mouth the words on her spit-slicked lips.

“I love you too, sunflower. I’m in-love with you, my baby.”

Sophia is not capable of holding back her lips from latching onto Harry’s once again, the two easily meeting in another round of sweet sucks and gentle presses of plump lips.

“I love you too, bunny. So much.” Sophia exhales, Harry’s lips trailing kisses from the side of her mouth, to the entire expanse of her left cheek, until he reaches her temple where he lands that treasured peck.

Like second nature, Sophia tilts her head upwards to nose along Harry’s own, the cold tip of her button nose circling affectionately at Harry’s similar chilly pink ones.

“I love you,” Harry whispers again, “but that doesn’t mean I’d let you get away with out-gifting me that easily.”

Without a doubt, Sophia did not have a clue of what Harry said to her before he cheekily grabbed her bare bum to instruct her to get up and head to the kitchen.

Accidentally (it was fate) buying each other the same Christmas gifts, noting that they’re also rather expensive, doesn’t really equal the concept of anyone out-gifting anyone. It’s plainly a stupid idea without even needing to think about it.

Sophia wasn’t sure what she was expecting when Harry had held her cold hand and placed it inside the front pouch of his beige puffer jacket while they walked the short distance to the kitchen.

It definitely wasn’t the Christmas feast perfectly arranged on the kitchen counter that has the potential of rivaling the holiday feast at Hogwarts.

Well, maybe Sophia was exaggerating. The assortment of festive-printed and bright colored tins and boxes that came from Trader Joe’s, isn’t exactly anywhere near fancy nor magical than the self-replenishing food at the Great Hall of the wizarding school.

But it’s the meaning behind the food that ultimately matters.

“You remembered also?” Sophia turns to Harry, holding hands clutching tightly as her gaze and voice pierces him with unadulterated wonder.

“That you wanted to have some taste of American Christmas and how you’ve always wanted to do a holiday shopping spree at Trader Joe’s?” Harry asks, smiling adoringly at an awestruck Sophia who’s got her head tilted up like Harry had just hung the moon and the stars right in front of her eyes.

“Yeah, I did.” Harry answered his own question, admission more bashful than confident unlike his ordinary expression.

The red flush on Harry’s little ears poking out of his dark curls makes Sophia coo.

“Bunny, you’re so sweet.” Sophia titters, highly endeared and feeling nothing but happy swirls in her tummy at Harry’s adorable shyness for being the best person in the world. “I love you a lot.”

Sophia raises to her tiptoes, asking for a kiss which Harry gladly returns in a heartbeat. Soft, closed lips pressing into one another in blissful contact.

Sophia thumbs at Harry’s dimple softly, “Mind giving me a tour of your holiday selections, baby?”

Harry joyfully pulls her to the kitchen counter, hands dropping to her hips as he helps Sophia to sit up on the marbled counter itself. Harry lets Sophia get her excited hands on the various Christmas treats from America.

He tells her the story of how he had convinced Jeff to raid the holiday goodies at Trader Joe’s in LA right as the store had opened to prevent from getting stopped by fans. Sophia laughs learning that it was the morning after the end of the tour party, Harry heating-up the mince pies they bought yesterday in the oven while sharing to Sophia that Jeff almost puked in the middle of the holiday aisle in the grocery from being so hungover.

“And you weren’t in the same state?” Sophia asks, opening the tin of Trader Joe’s Jingle Jangle, eyes instantly caught by the chocolate-covered popcorn, popping it straight to her mouth as a pleased sound leaves her lips.

“Of course not,” Harry answers, bringing to the counter their plate of warm mince pies. “I left the party earlier so we can have our own FaceTime party, remember?”

Instead of replying, Sophia picks-up another of the chocolate-covered popcorn, motioning for Harry to open his mouth as she feeds it to him.

“Oh, that’s good.” Harry hums in the same pleased tone as Sophia’s. “Dark chocolate?”

“I think so.” Sophia says, stuffing her mouth this time with a mini pretzel also coated with chocolate, dainty fingers feeding Harry’s waiting mouth as well. “And how could I forget our sleeping FaceTime party. No wonder you were feeling fine as a peach the next morning.”

“Heyyy..” Harry whines, dimples still indented on his cheeks while he fits himself on Sophia’s parted thighs, “I said I was sorry for falling asleep in the middle of our call. I sang Kiwi two times that night.”

“And you sang it three times on your first tour and you still had the energy to dance with me on the dance floor at that after party while Toxic by Britney Spears played.”

Harry smiles at her fondly, thumb coming up to wipe-off the chocolate crumbs on the side of her lips, “We owned that dance floor, how could I forget?”

Sophia also doesn’t know how, and she makes sure that it doesn’t happen again as they reminisce and trade their favorite tour stories while opening the other boxes and tins to taste test the other holiday goodies. Harry’s mouth, perpetually open for Sophia to feed a candy cane chocolate-covered almond, or a piece of the peppermint bark. Harry on the other hand, contently gives the two of them breaks from the sweet treats to feed himself and Sophia with pieces of their savory mince pie and the carrot slices Sophia cut for them last night, she knew it would come in handy.

Harry had just finished showing Sophia some of the selfies he took with baby Rowland during his freshly completed tour when Sophia gave him a pleading look all of a sudden.

Harry chuckles, recognizing those wide-set eyes without any context needed, “What do you want, sunflower?”

Sophia curls her lips in a cute smile, “May you please make us hot chocolate using these magnificent babies?” She holds up the box of Trader Joe’s Hot Cocoa Ornaments. “These glittery baubles are calling for my name.”

Harry chuckles, large hand on her thighs squeezing lovingly, “And what are you going to do while I slave-away and make us some hot cuppas of glittery cocoa?”

“I don’t know?” Sophia shrugs her shoulders playfully, “Open the tins of our half-finished Quality Street and Celebrations while I guard our Christmas sugar cookies from last night?”

Harry’s merry laughter is squished in Sophia’s smiling lips as he kisses her soundly, green dreamy-tinted eyes leaving Sophia a soft look before turning his back on her and begins fetching some Christmas themed mugs on top of the cupboards.

Sophia sighs in pure happiness, legs swinging back and forth as she quietly watches Harry move around the kitchen; a sight she's seen a million times already but has never failed to make her heart flutter and butterflies roam freely inside her entire being.

Domestic Harry Styles is in a whole completely different category than everything good in life.

Sophia’s in-love with her best friend.

How can she not feel like she’s swimming in a pool of affection as Harry happily stirs their cups of hot chocolate like it’s the most fulfilling thing to do, words dripping with care as he softly tells Sophia to be careful of the steaming drink. The clear admiration in his eyes when he watched Sophia take the first sip as if he’d rather drink in her happy little slits of blue eyes, hands reaching to feed Sophia one of their Christmas cookies, the action filled with true devotion at how simply sacred it felt for Harry to attend to her in such a simple, regular way.

Sophia never imagined that hugging, warmed bodies completely flushed together in the kitchen while slowly swaying to a non-existent music, can actually be a reality to some few, to her. It’s so cheesy and cliché like something a sappy Harry will write about in his songs.

Except right now, clutched tightly in each other’s blissfully warm energies, slow dancing in their pants and matching puffer jackets with no real thought behind it, eyes trained on the clear sliding doors of the bungalow as they watched the flecks of snow falling slowly outside their own imperfectly beautiful Winter Wonderland, Harry’s not singing sweet words about being domestic and twirling Sophia this way and that as he kept an arm around her floating form while they glided across the heated kitchen floors.

Harry Styles is peacefully humming Mistletoe directly on Sophia’s ear, singing the following words like a litany of whispered prayer, worshiping her.

“Kiss me underneath the mistletoe,

Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh, oh, oh, oh.”

Sophia doesn’t need a mistletoe to show her bunny that she loves him, worships him just the same with no sugary sweet words or dulcet tones of Christmas tunes serenading him back.

She proves it to him by standing on her tiptoes to kiss his temple like how Harry had first shown his love for her. Will always show his love for his person.

"Show your Bunny that you love him so-oh-oh.." - Chapter Two

The Second Serving of Cranberry Sausage Rolls 🎄

- Story Masterpost for the other chapters

“Oh my god, I think I’m in paradise.”

Sophia moans out together with Harry, their eyelids that have shut during their first bite, savoring the initial burst of flavor of the cranberry sausage rolls, open in an instant, locking at each other’s gaze of surprise at their exact same utterance of food pleasure.

“I knew you were my best friend for a reason!” Harry joyfully calls out, finishing his first roll in just two bites, and to be honest, Sophia isn’t far behind.

“I can’t argue with you on that note,” Sophia gladly reaches out on the box of cranberry sausage rolls in front of the two of them for her second one, “Thank the lord they’ve added tables and chairs to sit on around here. I don’t think I’m quite young to be going around the Christmas market without any time to rest my tired legs.”

“I’m the one with the bad back,” Harry shares around his second roll, third ready and waiting on his right hand, “and I’m not even complaining.”

“That’s because you’re already stuffing your face with pure goodness.” Sophia protests, shaking her hands together to remove any crumbs from the puff pastry of the sausage roll, “If we had waited just a few more minutes without already getting our favorite Christmas snack, you’d for sure be a right grump already.”

“Not true.”

“So is- hey!” Sophia does not hesitate to slap away Harry’s sneaky hand trying to get her third roll. The box only had six cranberry sausage rolls and they promised to share one box so they only got three each. “Don’t be greedy, bunny. The last one’s mine cause you already ate the last of your share.”

Harry narrows his eyes at Sophia, brows pulled together in contemplation as his right hand remained atop the last cranberry sausage roll on the sadly too empty box. Sophia arches her own brow at him, a look of challenge not missed on her features as her own dainty hand remained wrapped around Harry’s wrist trying to stop his earlier actions of deception.

“Fine.” Harry relents, bottom lip sticking out on a pout, “Why do you always get the last piece, anyway? Seems unfair to me.”

Sophia just giggles at Harry’s ridiculous act of petulance as she happily takes a bite of her cranberry sausage roll that she is the rightful owner of.

“Since when have I always been the person who gets the last piece of heaven?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugs his shoulder from where he’s sitting in front of Sophia on the table, arms folded across his chest with his pout still going strong like the absolute picture of stubbornness, “like all the time our families have been here every Christmas? Better yet, the first time we ever met and you already got the last piece they sold that day. I don’t know about you, but that last point of mine already speaks volumes about your character.”

After Harry mentions that, Sophia can’t help but feel a surge of utter fondness take over her system every time someone mentions the day Harry and her had first met ever in their lives.

To reiterate an earlier thought, Sophia and Harry actually met in the same Cheshire Christmas Market that they’re visiting now, only back when they were young children whose only problem was to get the last order of the cranberry sausage rolls. That might still be a problem for present day Harry and Sophia, but the latter won’t cry because of it anymore.

Sophia can’t really remember anything clear that she might have done that day except for the moment she had first met Harry.

She remembers it was also Christmas Eve when her and her parents went to the Christmas market, but what she did specifically before asking permission and some cash from her parents to buy these heavenly rolls, has been lost from her memory.

It’s not the first time Sophia had ever been in the market, so after a few more of her impatient mumbling at her parents telling them to wrap-up their shopping for them to finally buy her sausage rolls she’s been whining for, Sophia’s parents allowed her to go to the stall herself. Since it was only two stalls across from where her parents were getting their items wrapped, Sophia and her parents all felt comfortable allowing her some little independence that she didn’t have much at that age.

Sophia remembers happily skipping her way to the stall, her parents calling out to tell her to be careful because it was lightly snowing and she might slip on the floor from all her excited energy.

She didn’t fall for the record, and had safely arrived at the sausage rolls kiosk with her cold gloved hands pressing close in awe at the glass display, containing the freshly baked treats.

Though she can’t say the same thing from the kid that seemed to run at full speed to the kiosk. Sophia still feels that woosh in the nippy air from how fast this kid had run, so fast that he almost slipped before finding his balance through also placing his hands on the glass case where Sophia’s hands were still smoothed over, feeling the heat of the freshly baked sausage rolls permeating the wool of her small gloved hands.

The kid that almost slipped turned out to be Harry.

But at that time, all Sophia knew about him was that he was the kid wearing a similar puffer jacket like her, only in a baby blue color while hers was in a soft dusty pink tone. Harry was pretty covered up from the cold winter weather like her, so Sophia remembers landing her eyes on his cherubic face.

Harry’s cheeks were rounded, flushed a light red due to the cold, little specks of snow had fallen on the tips of his nose, big green eyes filled with her same twinkling spark of elation as they stayed trained on the sausage rolls in front of them.

Sophia was so captivated by this young boy, interest had now fallen on the curls poking out his knitted cream beanie that she misses her turn to order, only breaking from her immersed state after the lady had replied to her that there were no cranberry sausage rolls left and the child beside her had already gotten the last box.

All the shimmering Christmas lights around her only intensified the sudden red that Sophia saw upon hearing those god-awful words.

Eyes narrowing at the vibrating excited nerves of a little bundled-up boy beside her, Sophia had seethed on his side profile, “But I was here first.”

The young boy had probably felt that the words were directed at him, a smiling gaze turning towards Sophia only to be replaced by an arch of the brow, “Na-uh, I was here first.”

The sass of his tone made Sophia frown, small arms crossing above her puffed jacket, “No, liar! I was here first! I saw you almost slipping before going here, so obviously I was already here first.”

The young boy’s expression turned to that of complete shock like she had just insulted him, “I’m not a liar! Only naughty boys are liars and my mummy said I’m not one! You’re the liar because I didn’t slip! I’ve been working on my balance with my sister because mummy said I can be quite clumsy!”

Sophia remembers feeling confused on what in the world was the kid talking about? A similar feeling she would often feel later on in the following years of her life. But his tone of accusation was what little Sophia had zeroed on, the harsh tone had only made her frown deepen, and don’t think she didn’t hear him calling her a liar.

“I’m not the liar here!” Sophia had defended in the same hard tone she had been using that any seven-year olds can be proud of themselves to have gained, “You could even ask the kind lady here and she’d say I was here first.”

The unwavering confidence in Sophia’s tone caught up on the young boy as the look on his face definitely suggested he knew Sophia was in the right there, that she’s the one being truthful in that moment.

But like many times after that fateful day, Sophia would learn how absolutely stubborn the young boy was.

“Well, maybe you were here first but I didn’t hear you order. So that means I still get the last cranberry sausage rolls, and that you’re still the liar!”

That had actually made sense to the young Sophia, her pout emerged just as her brows pulled even deeper together while she thought of something to say to the annoying boy who kept calling her a liar. It’s not good to be called a liar at that age, that’s basically one of the biggest sins one can commit at that age so there was no way Sophia was just going to let this boy tell lies about her character.

Sophia was a total angel at seven-years old. Complete with the blonde locks and melodious, high pitched voice.

But before Sophia could even reply back, the young boy had begun to remove his own frown and turned it into that of a mischievous smile before saying the most hurtful words that he could ever say to Sophia even years later now that they’re best friends for life.

“I really can’t be the liar here because my mummy said naughty boys don’t get gifts from Santa, so I’ve been a good boy because I want my pressies from Father Christmas.” and in the most way anyone can ever look, this kid arched his brow at Sophia condescendingly, “But I’m not sure if I can say the same thing about you because you’ve been lying and naughty liars don’t deserve cranberry sausage rolls, or gifts from Santa. So your cheeky attitude, as my sister likes to call it, doesn't deserve any baked goods, and your naughty behavior won’t get you any gifts from Father Christmas either. How sad?”

Sophia will tell you how.

It’s one thing to be denied access to cranberry sausage rolls, and a complete other horrendous thing to be told that she won’t be getting any gifts from Father Christmas! Seven-year old Sophia had basically been told that she’d committed the biggest sin in her Christmas bible and now she has to pay the consequences for something vile that she didn’t even do!

It’s not a shocker to anyone when big, fat tears begin to fall from Sophia’s eyes, and Harry should be downright alarmed for what he had caused.

The sinister part of Sophia today, does an evil laugh at remembering Harry’s panic-stricken expression once young Sophia had let the dams out as she sobbed her little, seven-year old crushed heart from the extremely mean things that young foolish Harry had said to her.

What always makes Sophia stop in her tracks when reminiscing this story, is when she remembers how her crying had ceased the instant young Harry had pulled her to his chest in a hug, just seconds later that he had caused the offending drops to begin with. She can still feel even years later, the abrupt shot of comfort that hug gave her, always gives her whenever they embrace today. The closest thing Sophia can describe the emotion is that her entire soul feels like it’s being blanketed by the finest knitted blanket, made out of the softest yarn that leaves tender touches on her skin like gentle fingertips tapping warmth on every inch of her cold surface.

It’s everything that her child wondered mind had the ability to focus on.

Sophia and Harry’s parents came to them not a few minutes later, she remembers hearing their concerned calls only to be brought closer on the young boy’s hold, her own arms circling back on his body when it still allowed her to do so easily as at that time, Harry was not yet the giant that he is today.

Everything seemed too much for little Sophia, not really registering anything except the young boy’s whispered apologies on her cold ears, her own body hiccupping from her earlier crying fit. She can’t even pin-point how they’re parents got them to disentangle from their hug, or how the boy had recapped what had happened to their parents on why Sophia had been upset.

The next thing Sophia can clearly distinguish was when the young boy introduced himself to her.

“I’m Harry.” his earlier mischievous glint had been replaced by an ethereal smile, glove covered hand extending to Sophia as if he hadn’t just been a complete little devil to her earlier.

The quick change was so bizarre to little Sophia that she let out a mixture of a hiccup and a squeak which resulted in little giggles coming out of Harry’s mouth. Sophia returns his giggle when Harry waves his still extended hand at her, reminding her that she had yet to introduce herself.

Smiling now despite her apparent red and blotchy face from crying, Sophia returned Harry’s handshake as she replied, “I’m Sophia.”

And just like everything that had occurred after Harry had made her burst into tears, Harry acts as if nothing of such had even took place as he easily placed his small arm around Sophia’s shoulders making them both face the kind lady behind the sausage roll stand who had been watching their entire exchange (how embarrassing, Sophia of today now thinks) and Harry had said to the lady:

“Hi! I’m still going to get the cranberry sausage rolls, please. But I’m going to give it to Sophia here because I’ve been really mean to her and mummy says I should never be unkind to anybody and say mean things even if that means I can’t have my share of cranberry sausage rolls.”

In Sophia’s opinion, that had been the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her at the darling age of seven. She can’t say it’s the sweetest thing Harry had ever told her like ever, she does particularly think that having ‘cranberry sausage rolls’ in the sentence just can’t be justified as the candy sugary thing he had said to her in the entire time they’ve known each other.

Regardless, that statement had been the stepping-stone to their friendship as Anne invited them to dinner that night as a form of apology from her son’s actions.

And that had been that.

Present day Sophia and Harry fastened their eyes on each other once again after Sophia had reminisced the first time they met years ago. But since they have this weird connection where both of them at random times of the day seem to just have an excellent grasp on what the other is thinking, Harry continues Sophia’s train of thought like he was just going down memory lane right beside her.

“And after that dinner mum had done in apology for my foolish actions, I continued to be stupid and let you hold me captive for the next how many years.”

Sophia laughs, “How very dare you. If there was anyone holding anyone captive, it'd be you.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry shakes his head, growing angelic locks swaying along the movement making him run a hand through them to smooth the curls away from his eyes, “I was the angel that gave you the last box of cranberry sausage rolls.”

“Only because you had ruined my Christmas Eve that year!” Sophia defends with utmost conviction. “You’re no angel if you’ve done something out of pure guilt.”

“And that’s exactly my point!” Harry triumphs, making Sophia totally confused once again because he just agreed to her without any fight.

“What’s your point there, bunny? You literally just admitted that I’m the angel in this friendship, and you’re the devil that ruined my sweet, seven-year old’s Christmas Eve.”

“You wish!” Harry snorts, putting all their rubbish on the empty sausage roll box, “What I’m trying to say is that you just admitted that you always get the last of the cranberry sausage rolls.”

Of course that’s what he had been referring to, it’s not like Sophia had just gone for a long tangent about how they met in her head and became slightly sentimental about their friendship and how even back then, there were already signs of how much Harry would mean to her.

Of course it didn’t matter that she just realized how much that first fateful day made everything much clearer that Harry was someone special in her life, and it’s totally not the platonic type of special.

“Is it my fault though if you willingly give me the last piece all the time?” Sophia questions, her own hands running up to fix her hair in an attempt to shake her thoughts away.

That makes Harry think for a moment, Sophia giggling when he begins to do that thing with his thumb and index finger, squeezing his bottom lip when he’s in deep thought.

“I think it depends,” Harry slowly draws out, “because what if I don’t actually willingly give it, and you’re just forcing me to do it without me knowing that you are coercing me into doing it.”

Guffawing at his ridiculous statement, Sophia replies, “How can I even coerce you to do something for me without you knowing I was doing it?”

Harry casually shrugs, “I don’t know.” and then he gives her this cheesy smile that he always does when something incredibly sappy comes out of his mouth, “Maybe it’s your undeniable love that’s making me do it without me knowing I’m already giving you the last piece of heaven.”

Rolling her eyes every time Harry says something even remotely sickeningly syrupy, Sophia responds with a soft smile still etched on her face. “I think it’s more that you love me undeniably so you’ll willingly give me the last piece of heaven, no coercion needed.”

Harry’s reply after that, makes Sophia bolts out and off her seat to drag the laughing Harry to the skating rink without any time to spare for all the butterflies he had just unknowingly awoken inside her belly.

“Of course, I love my sunflower baby.”

Fuck. Sophia was actually blushing.

“Bunny, come here, please! Tie my skates for me.”

Sophia smiles innocently up at Harry while sitting on the bench waiting for him to drop to his knees and follow her request, her skates already waiting for him on the ground.

Harry chuckles, eyeing her in amusement, “And why would I do that?”

Sophia blinks her lashes extra fast for it to be anything but innocence, “Because I’m your best friend and you care about me.”

“Try again,” Harry smiles with his arms crossed on his chest, Sophia noticing his own skates already laced on his feet, the quick bugger.

Sophia shows her pearly whites and honestly replies this time, “Because the Harries need an updated footage of you tying someone’s skates like that in the Night Changes music video.”

Harry looks as if he did not expect that answer, brows pulling close on his forehead probably thinking back to what he did at that specific 1D music video. Sophia swears Harry has locked that certain part of his life away at the recess of his mind, not even able to give Sophia an answer when she had once asked if she could borrow that suit he wore for the 2015 AMAs to wear at the first nights of Love on Tour.

Harry had seriously asked her in total confusion what suit she was referring about, like what the fuck? Harry Styles who loves all his fancy suits like his own little infants, can’t remember that iconic, white floral Gucci suit that gave the Harries the first taste of what was to come on the start of his solo era? That’s bloody preposterous!

Thank heavens Harry Lambert had come and saved the day. Sophia ends up wearing the suit, minus the pants because it can’t fit her waist and Sophia’s not one for public indecency, unlike Harry with his tits out for thousands to see.

The first show of Love on Tour had Sophia preening in all the acclaim and compliments people gave her (and they remember where the suit came from, hah!) despite Harry’s protests that all praises should be thrown at him because it was his tour, thus he was the only star of the show. No matter what he kept on saying though, Sophia still felt the all-night stares of Harry on her form, dressed in his suit, every time they were in the same room. His green orbs filled with silent praises that can’t compete with any kind words that Sophia had gotten that night.

Harry’s unrelenting looks of fondness and appreciation was definitely no good for Sophia’s pining heart, but give the girl a rest is what she thought. That night in Vegas, Sophia did not give a fuck if she basked in Harry’s sweet glances and rapt attention with an air of casualness than her usual frenzied state.

“Sunflower,” Harry chuckles when it finally clicked on his grandpa-like head, “you’re so odd sometimes.”

And you're always forgetful, is the tip on Sophia’s tongue, stopping herself from teasing Harry or they will take ages before he finally accepts her request. “Whatever you want to say, bunny. My toes are waiting for some loving.”

Sophia raises her feet slightly, wiggling her toes just the same with her eyebrows in a ridiculous manner making Harry chuckle at her attempt at being hilarious.

Harry sighs before slowly crouching down on his knees, “The things I do for you, really.”

“Correction, for me and the Harries, bunny.”

Sophia just giggles as Harry begins to gently take her polka dotted sock-covered feet and places it inside her rented skates. Sophia delightfully opens the camera application from her phone, telling Harry to pose for pictures while tying her silver laces.

“I don’t think I was even posing in that video, sunflower.” Harry lightly chides when Sophia asks him for the fourth time to do cute poses for the camera.

“Well at least you were smiling there,” Sophia notes, bending over a little to fix the longer curls on Harry’s head that are falling on his eyes, head bent low attending to Sophia’s skates. “Come on, bunny. Just smile for me, please?”

Harry sighs once again, but Sophia does not deter from her conviction of getting Harry to smile for her camera when she sees the unmistakable entertained little curve on Harry’s lips.

“It is the Christmas season of giving after all,” is all Harry says before he finally indulges Sophia’s wishes and does his usual charming and adorable cutie face for her camera.

It’s times like this that Sophia thinks she can honestly survive this Christmas alone with Harry because wanting more didn’t seem to be something that pressing.

When you got Harry Styles tying your shoelaces for you with little to none convincing to accomplish, do you really still need more than that when he’s already doing boyfriend-y things whilst unknowingly?

The Harries seem to think it’s adequate enough as they quickly flooded Sophia’s IG account with messages of thanks for always giving them the ‘best holidayboyfriend!H content’ just after a few minutes of posting it. Sophia on the other hand, falls once again to her own answer: definitely not good enough as she wistfully watches Harry allow himself to get flirted on by the lady on the skate renting kiosk as he went ahead to give their boots for keeping.

If Sophia had more, she wouldn’t need to see such a saddening sight because Harry would not be leaving her side to easily get flirted on like that.

Before Sophia can even shoot daggers towards the irresponsible flirting lady who should be doing more working than eye-fucking, Harry suddenly appears by Sophia’s side, easy smile adorned on his lips.

“Ready to head inside the rink?” He asks, pointing towards the entrance of the circular rink where quite a few are already having a good time skating and swirling around.

Sophia nods her head, trying to school her previously frowning face to mimic Harry’s smile, “Lead the way.”

Harry looks at her for a moment, most probably using his sixth bestie sense that they both got before shrugging his shoulders when he didn’t see anything much odd on her features. Sophia quietly sighs in relief at that, turning one last time to the flirting lady a while ago to give her a squint of her eyes to show her displeasure at the lady’s earlier actions, before walking beside Harry while trying to match his big gigantic strides.

Upon their entrance, Sophia has regained her bright, cheery, and Christmas appropriate demeanor as she gives Harry a cheeky expression, one gloved hand (Harry had forced her to buy some despite her protests of it being a fashion disaster with her current outfit) out-stretched towards Harry in invitation.

“Come here, bunny, hold my hand.”

Harry lifts a brow at her request, dimpling confusedly before following as he laces their both gloved hands together. “What’s this one for this time? Going to film me while we held hands and as I go skating in front of you like the one in the music video as well?”

Sophia shrugs, tilting her head in a look of innocence, “Not really. I just think it’s necessary to hold your hand while we’re skating knowing how your Bambi legs operate on the daily. No matter how long they are, they’re not meant for skating, bunny.”

The clear rib on her tone is not lost from Harry’s ear, the latter breaking-off their hold dramatically. “Oh bugger off! I can fucking skate just fine.”

Sophia laughs loudly at the prominent defensive tone of his voice, “I’m just trying to be careful! No amount of your growth spurt can ever make you outgrow your clumsiness.”

“For fucks sake.” Harry shakes his head in faux annoyance as Sophia continues laughing wholeheartedly without a care of anyone around them, hands on her knees type of glee. “You go calm yourself down while I show you how much of a fab skater I am.” and then he was out skating away with a little wave left for a still giggling Sophia, her cackling laughter returning when Harry abruptly turned around to flip her the bird.

Truth be told, Harry actually isn’t shit at ice-skating. When they were still youngsters and had the time to visit their local ice rinks on the weekends, Harry was the one plastered at Sophia’s side because the latter is actually the one who’s crap at ice-skating.

Harry made sure he had some hold around Sophia the entire time, the latter once again failing to notice how even in those early stages of their friendship, the security and ease Harry’s touch had given her compared to anyone else who had helped her, was a clear indicator that he’s simply something more to her.

Though soon after, Sophia took skating lessons just for the fun of it and despite petulantly missing Harry’s attentive and securing touch on her, the lessons definitely paid off as she joins Harry’s little show-off contest right now.

“That’s unfair! You can’t use techniques from your ice-skating classes!” Harry calls out after Sophia had flawlessly nailed a simple ice-skating sequence she’d learned before and thankfully had not forgotten just to get the chance to see Harry’s ridiculous pout.

“It’s absolutely fair because I never said you learning how to play the guitar was unfair because you didn’t tell me you were going to.”

Sophia’s reply only made Harry pout deeper, “You’re only saying that cause you’re still bitter you didn’t get to spend extra time with Niall unlike me who he taught the basics of guitar playing.”

“Now don’t go rubbing it in!” Sophia gasps as she skates towards Harry’s standing figure at the edge of the rink, taking place beside him, “You know how jealous I get when it comes to sharing that blonde one.”

Harry just rolls his eyes at her, an amused quirk to his pink lips nonetheless, “Well I promise to stop if you promise to have our last five minutes here already cause I’m bloody knackered, sunflower.”

Sophia merely nods, watchful eyes already seeing the lines of tiredness painted on Harry’s flushed face from the cold weather, “Promise, bunny. As long as you also promise we head to dinner right after.” her covered hands go directly to rub her tummy, “I’m quite peckish already.” she pouts.

Harry giggles at her actions, raising a hand towards her direction, “Alright, I promise baby. Let’s seal it then.”

And like the utter children that they are, Sophia returns Harry’s handshake with the utmost look of seriousness reflected on their faces to signify the importance of sealing their promises. It was only proper that they also burst-out in rambunctious laughter because even the most miniscule of things are funny to them, before they turned around and skated for the last few minutes.

This time around, Harry didn't need Sophia to offer her hand for him to take.

Harry just didn’t let go of her hand as they glided on the frozen ice, pure joy bubbling in Sophia’s chest whenever Harry squeezed their clasped hands as if to remind her that, ‘Hey, I’m here, sunflower. I’m not going to let you fall no matter how much of a Bambi I can be. I promise I’m here.’ like all the other times he did at times when Sophia felt so unsure on her own two feet.

Harry made her feel comfortable again, there’s nothing more she can wish for.

Harry likes to be humble in all regards. Earning millions for single shows and guestings can surely be enough to overflow his naturally narcissistic tendencies. With that being said, Harry tries his best to surround himself with things or people that remind him to be grounded. All those have worked in his favor, and there’s never a time Harry had ever exemplified any arrogant action towards Sophia except when it’s done in jest.

The only situation that Harry can actually be just a smidge cocky, is when he takes his loved ones out to some amazing restaurant. He places the reservation under his name that never fails to make him let out a proud smirk whenever the receptionist of the restaurant would call-out, ‘Harry Edward Styles?’ It’s really the only time Harry likes his full name to be said allowed.

Usually, hearing his full name comes in the form of a shout. Never a good sign that one, often it’s Anne or Sophia being cross with him for his usual cheeky escapades. At least it helps in making Harry feel more grounded despite Sophia totally detesting ever feeling upset with her best friend.

Tonight was no different. Harry’s too-proud reply of ‘yes’ matched with his winning smile is exhibited in front of Sophia as tonight’s restaurant receptionist said his full name to check if it was the correct information.

Sophia let’s Harry have his moment of slight arrogance, eyes wandering around the cabin-like atmosphere of the restaurant. She tries to lower down her smile when Harry reaches behind his back, asking Sophia to hold his hands. They follow the receptionist just like that to their table, Harry in front of Sophia with her pressed closely to his back and their hands woven comfortably together.

Sophia gives her thanks to the ever gentleman Harry who pulls a chair out for her before taking his own seat in front of Sophia. She’s not going to lie, all the shopping around the Christmas market, swirls and glides on the ice rink, and the short walk they had to take to go to this restaurant, had made Sophia tired. The restaurant Harry reserved a table for, was just across the entrance of the Cheshire Christmas market, but Sophia isn’t young anymore and effects of jet-lag are not easy to remove despite a whole day of hibernation completed.

Sophia makes sure to place her phone on the surface of the table, having placed an alarm for when they should head back to the Christmas market. The tree lighting of the massive pine tree in the center of the market was due to start in about two hours, Sophia reminding that fact to Harry as they browsed the menu.

“A classic Christmas Eve chicken roast with roasted veggies of potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and beetroots, and with three servings each of Yorkshire pudding?” Harry reads aloud to Sophia, the two of them always having the same choice of Christmas Eve dinner.

“How about a basket of Yorkshire pudding?” Sophia suggests knowingly, making Harry chuckle at the truth behind her words.

“You’re not making this easier for us,” Harry notes, “we already ate a box of sausage rolls earlier.”

“And?” Sophia arches a brow in question, “We both know we’ll still end up ordering another three servings each of Yorkshire pudding once we finish our first three.”

Harry nods his head in agreement, albeit with a dry smile. “My trainer is going to kill me for this sunflower.”

Sophia snorts, “Bunny, it’s Christmas! Eat all the fucking carbs and sweets you want. Better yet, I’d send a picture of our dinner with the basket of Yorkshire pudding to your trainer to show him how much he has starved you.”

Harry laughs at that, raising his hand to call for the waiter. “You don’t even have his number.”

“Wouldn’t stop me.” Sophia confidently shares, “I’d have a word to whoever has kept my bunny away from his bread.”

Harry just shakes his head at her words, the craters on his cheek made prominent by the soft look he’s throwing her way. It gives Sophia time to breathe and not melt on her seat when the waiter that Harry called finally arrived to take their orders, gladly letting Harry take the lead on that one.

Looking around the restaurant and its other patrons, Sophia notes that tonight’s warm atmosphere is the perfect in-between of not being in a fine dining setting, but not one of a rowdy pub either. Sophia finds it to be the ultimate balance fit for her taste.

Tonight’s restaurant allows her the reprieve of not always having to check her posture while eating, nor have the ardent pressure placed on her to know what utensil to use for what specific dish, like in a lot of the places Harry had brought her to before. At the same time, Sophia feels comfortable that she can pop a few buttons of her leather trousers later when the food coma settles in, but she wouldn’t be exactly at ease to burp without a care in the world like what normally happens to her when Harry takes her to a pub and feeds her every greasy item there.

“You pick a good place tonight, bunny.” Sophia shares to Harry after their orders have been taken.

“You haven’t even tasted the food,” Harry replies, which Sophia disregards since it did not miss her attentive eyes how Harry had preened at her compliment for his good choices. The ever people pleaser this man is.

Sophia wasn’t in the mood to take the piss out of Harry after he had deflected the compliment, preferring to converse with him about the last bits of his tour that he had yet to share with her since they’ve both spent their first day back together in bed, cuddling in sleep. She lets Harry talk her ears off about all the backstage shenanigans that occurred between him, the band, and the crew, casually mentioning all the times he’d ‘kindly abducted’ baby Rowland without informing Mitch or either Sarah that he wanted to babysit the newborn.

“I only had pure intentions, sunflower.” Harry defends when Sophia questions the morality of his statement, “I wanted the two of them to have some rest since I know baby Rowland can be quite the menace at night time. Besides, it’s not my fault baby Rowland distracted me with his adorable arm rolls that it completely lost my mind to inform his parents that I was taking him out with me on a walk. Baby Rowland’s arm rolls are simply delectable looking, sunflower! You won’t question me again if you saw it yourself.”

Sophia giggles, still slightly bewildered at Harry’s story, “I’m really going to have a word with your trainer if you found an innocent infant’s arm rolls delectable.”

Harry laughs with his green orbs rolling, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“So you weren’t thinking of bread rolls or anything?”

Harry’s eyes widen while releasing a loud cackle, “Baby! I’m not exactly the witch from Hansel and Gretel who will eat innocent children like some cannibal. Who do you think I am?”

Sophia catches their order being walked to their table before replying, the perfect time really. “A person who’s too kind to eat innocent infants and really, really nice that he’d give his best friend one of his Yorkshire puddings.”

Her own demure smile clearly does not work as Harry quickly snatches the basket of Yorkshire pudding from the waiter’s tray, obstructing Sophia to reach for them.

“Not a chance, lady!”

Sophia has no room to push her argument as her entire attention begins to be pulled by all the Christmas Eve roast amazingness placed on the surface of their table.

Similar to everything in their friendship, Christmas roasts are also a symphonic task to both Sophia and Harry.

Like clockwork, they push their big plates in the middle of the table. Sophia goes first in practiced ease as she transfers all the beetroot on her plate to Harry’s, and then Harry does the same by placing all his parsnips to Sophia’s own mound of food. After, Harry begins to pour some of his gravy on the assortment of food on his plate, delightfully handing the little gravy pitcher to Sophia, saying her thanks as she pours the remaining on her plate combined with the contents of her own small pitcher.

As per tradition every meal, Sophia meets Harry’s waiting puckered lips that’s reaching for her temple on top of their table, tilting her head for his lips to kiss her there, Sophia’s own nose coming down to brush affectionately at the side of Harry’s in an Eskimos kiss like earlier this morning in the bungalow.

After that sweet gesture, Sophia and Harry began to ignore each other for the pile of holiday goodness in front of them.

Sophia doesn’t know how others do it. Harry and her simply can’t be conversing while eating the mouth-watering Christmas roast. How can they savor the rich flavors of it all if they’re blabbering their mouths to each other? Harry can wait to tell his jokes, and Sophia can take a break from the tedious cycle of taking the piss out of Harry or pining ridiculously over him.

Conversation between the two of them only resumed when Harry had burped loudly, Sophia had wiped her greasy lips with a napkin, and when the both of them popped a button from their own too-tight trousers when the food belly made out of Christmas tastiness began to show.

“I’ve reached the finish line,” Sophia breathes out blissfully, “I survived another Christmas Eve dinner!”

Harry giggles in reply, one of his hands splayed on his bloated stomach, “I’ve begun to show.” he notes before burping once again, “It hasn’t even been an hour after I made love with my savory roasted chicken, had the pleasure of tasting the sweet kiss of the beetroots, and oh god, I can’t forget about the supple touch of my Yorkshire puddings, and now our baby is showing in my stomach. Sunflower, look.”

Sophia tries to control the intensity of her laughter, Harry’s crazy antics is not good for her full stomach. “I can’t believe you just moaned and referenced sex in the presence of all the families here. The children, H.”

“Is in my stomach, I know.” Harry replies nonchalantly, ringed hands rubbing on said body part. “I wonder if mum was also this swollen when she was carrying me in her womb.”

Sophia snorts at his actions, “You’re not actually pregnant. That’s just the food coma hitting you bad and messing with your head.”

“You’re just jealous that my baby bump is bigger than yours.” Harry chides childishly, making Sophia scoff. “Sunflower, let’s show each other our bumps, come on. Let’s be like those mums that take prenatal yoga together.”

Sophia squawks a noise, “Bunny! I’m not doing that, stop being ridiculous!” The perfect distraction for Harry’s persistence comes to Sophia as the surface of her own bloated stomach hits her Gucci bag resting on her lap.

“Oh, the Christmas Crackers!” Sophia lets out, fetching out the pointed edge that nudged her stomach inside the sleek black bag. “Bunny, let's exchange before we head back to the tree lighting. Goodness knows I cannot walk in this state just yet.”

“I agree,” Harry says while reaching inside his coat pocket that’s behind the extra chair on their table, “Little Chicken and I refuse to waddle on the cold streets of Cheshire.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you just named your food baby, but alright!” Sophia claps her hand in unrestrained excitement, smiling brightly at the similarly beaming Harry before they exchange Christmas Crackers over their obliterated Christmas Eve dinner table.

This was another part of Christmas that made Sophia second guess herself when she made the definite decision to spend it alone, a hundred miles away from Harry in the hopes of sparing her bemoaning for more heart.

As part of their celebration in this season of gift giving, Sophia and Harry had made a tradition of getting their own Christmas Crackers customized for each other after they had the means to go the extra mile and replace the truly saddening, generic Christmas Crackers they had growing up. This way, Sophia could receive something better than a keychain, and Harry can write whatever joke he wants, and how many.

He once did 25 jokes equaling 25 pieces of folded paper within the cylinder cracker and Sophia had almost thought he had given her something extra special (like a miniature Gucci bag, perhaps?) from how hefty it looked. She just ended up being slightly disappointed when it was nothing but festive colored pieces of paper that were no better than the napkins Harry scribbled Sophia’s dad jokes on.

Thankfully that this year, there was only one piece of a gold folded paper that fell on the table when Harry gladly helped her pull the other end of her Christmas Cracker he had made specifically for her, the popping sound making them flush in festive cheer. She returns the gesture to Harry’s own cracker that she got freshly made in Australia. But unlike Sophia who then places her folded paper at the side to read last, Harry keenly reached for his red one and focused all his attention there.

Sophia waits for Harry’s reaction before she takes a good look at the contents of her Christmas Cracker. She doesn’t regret her decision when Harry’s previous smile of excitement quickly morphed into that of horror when he read, or did not read, the red paper from Sophia.

“Sunflower!” Harry gasped as if scandalized, “Why is there no joke?! Like there’s nothing written on it! Do I have to go down under to complain myself about this rubbish job they’ve done on my Christmas Cracker?! This has to be some sort of mistake!”

Forget about Sophia’s bloated stomach as she lets her howling laughter take her senses in absolute glee at Harry’s extremely perturbed face. “No, it’s not a mistake. I really instructed them to leave it blank.”

“What?!” Harry exclaims with the look of horror on his face multiplied to a hundred, “Why the fuck did you do that?! Are you nuts?!”

Sophia motions for him to quiet down since she really didn’t want to disturb the families dining along them as she herself tries to calm her on-going laughing spree.

“I’m not nuts,” Sophia defends despite the look of doubt in Harry’s face, “I just wanted to have a laugh myself this time around. You’re always the one shitting your pants from laughing at the jokes I give you, and it only gets amplified when you let me read mine like you’re not that one that gave it to me. It’s good I finally had the taste of what laughter on Christmas Eve feels like.”

Sophia winks at Harry to show some sort of appreciation for taking part in her plan (unknowingly, of course) but the man just gives her a deadpan look.

“You just ruined my Christmas Eve. It’s done for, gone.” Harry harrumphs with arms raised in dramatics before he begins to pointedly ignore Sophia who’s still giggling in her seat.

Harry’s ignoring act only lasts for a couple of seconds though. He’s back to giving appreciative coos to Sophia as he took the time to assess the goodies Sophia had given him this year.

There’s nothing traditional in the Christmas Crackers they got customized except for the little joke folded in a paper. Everything else after that, is unique to them which can be seen as Harry toys around his fingers the new snowman-printed little plastic clips that Sophia gave him with the thought of Harry’s growing chocolate curls in mind. Amongst the little tidbits that Sophia had gifted Harry from a few glitter guitar picks to a miniature crochet rainbow as a case for his AirPods, Harry takes the most giddiness at the koala charm that Sophia had bought in one of the local jewelry stores in Australia.

“Why isn’t there no chain?” Harry pouts at Sophia who has taken her time to watch Harry’s reaction to everything she had given without taking a peek on her own pile of small goodies from Harry.

“Because you never actually take-off your cross necklace so I thought there was no point in giving you a chained-necklace when you don’t like the layering look that much.”

Harry smiles that one they give each other when they want to express, ‘you know me so well, how?’ without really expressing it verbally.

“Then how am I supposed to wear this then?”

“You just attach it to the chain of your cross necklace, gimmie.” Sophia makes grabby hands at Harry’s chest where the infamous cross necklace familiarly rests.

Harry doesn’t waste any time unclasping it from the back of his neck and handing it easily to Sophia’s waiting hands. Her little fingers take no time at all as she expertly slots the end of the chain to the small hole on top of the koala charm. Smiling proudly, Sophia hands Harry’s necklace back to him, telling him to wear it again so they can see the final product.

“Oh, how adorable.” Harry coos with his head dipped downwards, index finger coming up to stroke the back of the koala charm like it actually is a real animal in need of some gentle petting. “Thank you so much, sunflower.”

The undeniable tone of sincerity combined with the soft tone and look on Harry’s smiling face was enough threat for Sophia to duck her own head down so as to not damage her poor combusting heart. She’s not made to withstand this amount of keen attention from Harry after months of her trying to get herself immune from it through the acts of gradual withdrawal of too much contact with the star-eyed boy.

Sophia finds her ultimate escape from getting sucked-in the wonderful pools of green gems that are Harry Styles’ eyes when her downturned eyes catch a glimpse of some of Harry’s gifts for her from the Christmas Cracker he customized.

“Is this what I think it is?” Sophia slowly says with a voice of incredulous fascination, picking up with her finger the item in question.

“Yup!” Harry nods in a gleeful manner as Sophia begins to inspect probably the oddest thing Harry had ever given her. “An air freshener with my face on it! Isn’t that so genius? I had to ask Jeff where they got them so I had some extra made for you.”

“Well, aren't I special?” Sophia mutters sarcastically, “Why in the world do you have your annoying mug on an air freshener, of all things, to begin with?”

“In which angle do I look annoying there?” Harry asks with a confident grin, “I’ll even go ahead and say that my team chose a rather flattering picture of me for the air freshener.”

You always look flattering, Sophia’s traitorous mind supplies when Harry just can’t stop with his slow drawl and answer Sophia’s question before she starts thinking into tricking herself that she really is so special to have received a one of a kind Harry Styles air freshener. Again, of all things rare it’s this one she feels super special about.

“They used some of it for the little Love on Tour vintage van display I had in some of the venues,” Harry supplies as an answer to Sophia’s question. “But, I did make sure to change the scent on yours to that of a lavender one cause I know you like those and they make you feel calm.”

“That is true,” Sophia agrees despite wanting to just plainly be weirded out instead of the fondness trying to seep in her skin at the fact that Harry remembers that she liked lavender scents when having a slight obsession of hoarding different aromas of scented candles would make it difficult for Harry to remember that information.

But of course, he’s just the best at making Sophia’s heart leap out of her chest at the most random of times!

Sophia can’t let Harry know that though, let her have her last Christmas Eve before she lets Harry do the mushiest shit to take the last blow on her weak heart.

“Though I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Sophia clears her love-crazy thoughts aside, “I don’t want to particularly get too calm on the roads that I end up falling asleep and then crashing my car on the next lamppost or something tragic like that.”

Harry merely shrugs, “Nah, I don’t reckon so. Just put your car on self-driving mode, that would do the job.”

Sophia looks at him confusedly, not the first time today that she’s been having the same expression, “What are you talking about? My car does not have that fancy option and you know it Mr. Multimillionaire who doesn’t like cheap sports cars and would rather buy the real, expensive, vintage vehicles.”

When Harry does not take the obvious door for him to take the dig on Sophia having less monetary means than him, Sophia starts to get suspicious. Her worries are not made better by the coy look that flashes on Harry’s face, bottom lip being captured by his teeth like he’s hiding something from her.

And then it clicks.

“Harry Edward Styles, if you got me a fucking Tesla for Christmas I will actually consider ruining your Christmas for good, like it’s going to be your last Christmas ever.”

Instead of getting Harry to fess-up and feeling threatened like Sophia had wished, Harry only whistles teasingly, “Saying my whole name twice in a singular day? I think that’s a new record for you, sunflower.”

Groaning, Sophia continues, “And I’ll say it for the rest of your life, which is ticking down every second that you don’t answer my question about you buying me fucking expensive shit that I don’t need.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know if I did.” Harry smarts back with a wink.

“Considering I asked more than once already, I think it’s a given point that I do wanna know.”

“Well too bad I’m not gonna answer because it’s not pressies time yet baby, wait till tomorrow morning on proper Christmas day.”

Before Sophia can hackle Harry even more to just spit it out, and completely disregarding the fact that him calling her baby has just thrown her off her momentum of interrogation, Harry points to the discarded folded gold paper near Sophia's hand that’s resting on the table.

“That one has been waiting for you since earlier.” Harry says, coy tilt in his features remerging, making Sophia squint her eyes in outright suspicion.

“If this piece of paper actually says you bought me a Tesla, I swear to fucking god Sty-”

“Sunflower! Just read it and shush!” Harry instructs in pleased laughter. Wow, good to know that Sophia’s threats of bodily harm are amusing for him.

Having no choice but to follow what he said, Sophia sighs and rolls her eyes at the suddenly highly attentive Harry as she picks up the little gold paper to hold in her hands. She unfolds it with ease as her eyes scan down to the impressive cursive strokes written on the paper.

Sophia was hoping to get a laugh out of what she reads this year, except laughing is apparently the farthest thing from what she would be doing as the words written on the paper punched the air straight out of her body.

“I don’t need the Biebs to tell you to kiss me under the mistletoe. I’d kiss you anywhere, and anytime I damn please. All the mistletoes can burn to ashes for all I care, it still won’t stop me from snogging you silly.”

It’s not a dad joke, is what Sophia’s mind first registers. And then it all went spiraling down a rabbit whole after she pieced together all the words and what they could possibly mean, the words, ‘he wants to snog me silly’ repeating in endless loops on Sophia’s head like a rollercoaster ride on steroids.

Sophia was far from laughing, the ringing on her ears repeating every single consonant and vowel from the words written on the paper that’s clenched tightly in her hands. She can feel the axis of the earth tilt beneath her, reality warping into a rose-tinted dimension because surely, this has got to be a joke right?

There’s no fucking way Harry would actually say these things to her, or worse, act upon these words. Harry is the most vocal person Sophia’s ever met, he’s not afraid to be vulnerable in the name of love, wears his bloody heart out on his sleeves for anyone to care or ruin. It doesn’t make sense to Sophia how that same boy would write these world-altering sentences instead of saying it to her face or even just dropping hints that he wants to snog Sophia until she’s lost all her wits and has become a total loon.

Well Sophia feels like a total loon right now, Harry’s successful in accomplishing that.

Her pining heart molded in the shape of her best friend is clashing with her rational head that cannot fit in that same mold. It’s like her heart is a cookie cutter shaped like a little gingerbread man, wanting to cut as many pieces of the dough, to always have more. But there’s this snowman cookie cutter who takes up all the other spaces of the dough, hindering the gingerbread cookie cutter from developing foolish notions that she can have more.

There’s no way anyone would want all their sugar cookies to be in the shape of a little gingerbread man when there are so many other cookie cutter shapes available. Just like there’s no way Harry would want something more than their friendship with her when there were so many people out there that are much bigger and brighter than Sophia could ever be.

There’s no way this isn’t a joke, some sick fucking joke.

Sophia breaks from her crazed thoughts and echoes of ‘more, more, no, no’ when she hears Harry calling her name.

Instead of feeling shock at the sudden turn of events just from reading a bloody piece of paper from a Christmas Cracker (again, of all things), Sophia feels a strong wave of confusion bloom in her chest, wrapping around both her thoughts and feelings like a vine connecting the two contrasting perceptions from earlier.

Sure, Sophia’s heart still wants more and her mind is still thinks that it’s a stupid idea to pursue. But as she’s returning Harry’s silent stare, Sophia just feels so bloody confused about everything.

For the first time in what feels like ever, Sophia can’t seem to read Harry’s face if he looks nervous because he might have just confessed his feelings for her, or if he’s trying to control a smirk because he thinks this is the best joke ever. Of course Sophia knows Harry cannot be that awful of a person, would never joke about that stuff with anyone, but he’s just staring at her with an expectant glow in his eyes.

What’s he expecting from her?

And because nobody wants to give Sophia straight answers for her question, her phone decides to start blaring-up, their alarm to head out back to the Christmas market breaking their stare-off.

Harry is the first one to remove his eyes on her, calling for a waiter to ask for their check. Sophia should feel relieved that the unsettling feeling of not being able to read Harry’s face like the back of her hand like the usual, can be put to rest for later as the next item on their Christmas Eve agenda is waiting for them.

But Sophia doesn’t think she can simply rest it.

Harry and Sophia are both in tune with each other in all regards whether it’s the good stuff or the bad ones. And not being able to have that tonight is beyond unsettling for Sophia, there’s no fucking way she can simply brush this off for a later time to analyze.

What is she even to analyze when it feels like she doesn’t even know her best friend anymore?