When Sirius starts living in the same flat as Remus, it gets increasingly difficult for Remus to hide his big secret. In his defense, he didn't think his new roommate would be this attractive!
In any case, Sirius can't find out, because it would only endanger him.
But when Sirius starts befriending Remus as his roommate and as the famous hero Spiderman, lines start to blur, and the secret might be more difficult to hide than it seemed at first.
Ships: Wolfstar
Length: 33k words
Feeling: fluffy, a tiny bit of angst
In short: a Remus is spiderman + wolfstar flatmates AU
matching friendship bracelets except they’re custom, matching cock rings that rockstar!eddie bought using the money he’s earned from corroded coffin’s first major tour for him and his flatmate-turned-lover, billy knight. he also spent a considerable amount of money getting you, his other flatmate-turned-lover, an actual bracelet that matches said cock rings while still looking like an actual piece of socially appropriate jewelry and not, well, a cock ring. what can he say? he’s a romantic.
When she gets out of work, she has a text from Hyle asking when he can come by the apartment to get the few things he left there. She feels raw and wrung out, as if someone has spent the last several days squeezing her insides together. It’s a small favor she doesn’t have class tonight, but she made the mistake of taking the bus to work, and the whole ride home she’s holding back tears.
Opening the door to the apartment, there is a momentary sense of relief, grateful it still feels like a sanctuary, but it quickly disappears when she hears muffled laughter from Jaime’s room. He and Ro are here early. She slips down the hall to her room, thankful to have the width of the living space dividing their bedrooms. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she throws a few things in a bag, not thinking. As she’s almost finished, a moan echoes through the vent near the ceiling. “Oh, Jaime.”
Fuck. Brienne’s face flames hot and she scrambles for the earphones on the nightstand, cranking up her music. She sends a flurry of texts and practically stomps out of the apartment.
When Tyrion opens the door to her, she gives him a watery smile. “Hi,” she says, her voice small. “Thanks for this.”
Fic update! Sorry to keep anyone waiting. This is the last chapter before our season finale as I’m finishing (part 1 of) this fic next chapter. It’s been an incredible journey, so thanks everyone for sticking with me. Tagging my mates @queenbessofyork and @harritudur, who I love dearly <3
You can also read it on Ao3.
April was the cruelest month, but she had never felt it so keenly before. Her bedroom bathed in sultry light, the curtains filtering the sunbeams, Lizzie opened the windowpanes to look at the passers-by walking on the street. The sun was up again, and another day prepared for work and silence.
Not the type of silence found in quiet strolls taken beneath the scrawny branches of winter trees. No, but the tedious, everlasting silence hanging heavily between textbooks and libraries while life outside grew greener each day. The urge to go out on town had never felt so tempting now that she was bound to a desk in hopes of memorising every tiny detail she had been taught across two semesters. The education system was hardly fair on the students.
She leaned out the window, her morning apple in hand. Down below people came and went like busy bees. Were these streets always so filled with children? Were they ever so crowded? Lizzie mulled unhappily. It must have been the time of the year. A few feet apart, on her bed, her mobile buzzed with yet another text from Katie and Joan.
Just arrived in Regent's Park
Are you coming?
We brought a picnic basket xx
Lizzie resigned herself to a heavy sigh and a sorrowful reply.
Sorry, I can't.
I've got two chapters to finish today.
But have fun you two xx
As much as life outside called to her, Lizzie felt undeserving of a picnic. Her fingers hovered above the mobile screen, frozen in air. Her contacts list showed the name of a Henry T, the picture one she herself had cropped out from a group photo. The mention of Regent's Park had reminded her of one particular afternoon, autumn leaves, late roses and... him. The last message he had sent to her dated from the 2nd of April.
Spoons will be perfect. 7 it is then. x
Lizzie had not heard from him since. All that was left was a long, uncomfortable, unyielding silence. Rodrigo too had noticed his absence.
"Is Tudor always so busy now? He never drops by anymore." That was his simple remark on the subject, and yet kindly, as if sensing there was something wrong, his only one. Her "How could I know?" was met with a sad and sympathetic look, like the ones bestowed on patients going through a difficult surgery. Rodrigo, him too, had not talk about it since.
As much as she tried to hide it, the truth was that she missed Henry. She missed watching his smug, mischievous smirk unfold. She missed hearing his voice, his quips, that sarcasm that often said everything she thought but was too polite to admit. She missed looking at him, at those eyes that absorbed it all — that hunger that shone through to enquire of all things, to take possession of all things. She missed the thrill of being under that gaze, disarmed in the face of a danger she longed to know, a burning desire to just melt into his arms.
And yet, she would not text Henry. She had thought of hundreds of things she could say to him. She had typed and erased, typed and erased. But what should she say after all? There had been nothing going on between them before. She wasn't even sure she should say something in the first place. Her eyes lingered on the necklace he gave her, that expensive gift laying on her nightstand. She should at least return it.
A wild frenzy took over her then. Hands trembling, Lizzie brought her phone to her right ear and waited.
"Hello?”
“Hi! Is this Maud?” Lizzie tried her brightest, chirpiest tone.
“Yes, it’s her.” The voice coming from the other side of the line, though, didn't sound so bright. “Sorry, but who’s this?”
“Oh, sorry! Sorry, I forgot! It's— It’s Lizzie. Henry’s… friend.” There really wasn’t a right word to describe her status. “Do you remember me? You gave me your number last year. You said I could ring you... if anything should...”
“Oh, Lizzie! Of course I remember you, luv! You alright?”
That was it, her last resort: ringing the girl she had once thought was Henry’s girlfriend. There should be at least some sort of reward for the most desperate of measures.
“Yeah. Hmm, listen… Have you talked to Henry lately?”
“I think we texted a week ago or so. Why? Did something happened?”
Maud sounded oblivious enough, so Henry mustn't have told her. Why not fake it then?
“No, no. Everything’s fine.” She chuckled, forcing again her easy voice. Lizzie didn’t know why she was fake smiling when Maud couldn't see her. “It’s just that, well, I haven’t been able to talk to Henry since... last week, I reckon.”
A lie. It had been more than a fortnight since she had last seen him. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe he’s changed his number?”
“I don’t think so, no. Have you tried his flat?”
Relief flooded over Lizzie. Henry had not moved out yet, her biggest fear. “Yeah, I— I have. But I couldn’t find him there. At least the times I tried.”
Another lie. Lizzie hadn’t had the courage to simply… go to his flat and knock on his door. She had passed in front of his building a couple of times, had longingly stared at his window, but hadn’t done much further. How could she think of meeting him face to face when she couldn't even come up with a text? If she was to meet him, it had to look like it happened by chance.
“Oh, have you checked the campus library? I wouldn’t be surprised to find him there. Harry said your exams are coming up. Yikes.”
“Just so.” Lizzie chuckled, nervously. For the last couple of weeks she had been constantly telling herself she should have started revising ages ago. She had thought that worrying about her exams would be enough to get Henry out of her mind. She had been wrong. “Yes, I’ve checked the library but no. I couldn’t find him.”
In fact, Lizzie had checked every place on campus she had ever seen him at. The library, the café, the students' union hub. She had even gone to a meeting of the Tolkien Society. Not only she had not found Henry there, she had to explain she actually had never seen the last Lord of the Rings film. Embarrassing to say the least.
“Maud, did Henry… Did Henry tell you if he’s doing anything this weekend?”
“Oh, you know what? He actually did!”
“DID HE?!” Lizzie almost dropped her phone.
“Yeah, he said he was going to this party— Promoland, melodrama, something like that.”
Her heart sunk with that strange information. Henry going to a party? Unless… “Oh, I think I know the one. Propaganda. It’s a indie rock scene.”
“Sounds about right."
Lizzie remembered one time she shared earphones with Henry. "Did he… Did he say if he was going there by himself? Or if he’s going with friends?”
“No, luv. I’d be surprised if he told me that much. You know how Harry is.”
Unfortunately, she did. It was hard enough to find a person who didn’t want to be found, but finding someone who didn’t use social media was especially difficult. Henry did have a facebook profile — a meager thing with his basic information and a simple enough profile picture that Lizzie had kept looking at for the past few weeks — but he had not updated it in months. Some employers like to check your profile, he had once said, and that was the only reason he had an account in the first place.
“What if he’s a psychopath?” Her sister Cecily had asked her. She was the only person Lizzie had opened up about Henry. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, Lizzie on her laptop. It looked like stalking really wasn't her forte.
“I mean, why isn't him on twitter or instagram? I wonder what he’s hiding.”
“He’s not hiding anything.” Lizzie took it almost personally. “He’s just a private person, is all.”
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think he's safe.”
“Safe? What— Cece! We lived in the same flat for months! He’s not a psychopath. Henry is just… Henry.”
“Lizzie, are you still there?”
“Oh, yes! Sorry, I was reminiscing. Yeah, I know exactly how he is.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”
“Oh no, no! You’ve helped me tremendously! Truly, thank you.”
A pause.
“...You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong, right?”
“There’s nothing wrong.” Lizzie tried her sweet voice again, her most melodious pitch. Easy lies coated with sugar. She had learned it from her father.
“Yeah, but if you need to talk—”
“Maud, I think there’s someone’s calling me. I should really go.”
“Alright, luv. I won’t press it any further.”
“Thank you again, Maud. Just… please don’t tell Henry I called.”
So this was how Lizzie found herself outside the legendary Electric Ballroom on a Saturday night, elbowing the hordes of undergrads desperately trying to forget about their exams with some late night partying. Those famous clubs of Camden Town, the ones that had seen the likes of The Smiths, U2 and many other rock legends, those were always crowded on the weekends. That would certainly pose a challenge to her quest.
“Is your name on the guest list?” The bouncer asked Lizzie, her voice barely audible above the loud beat reverberating off the club’s brick walls. She tried again, spacing her words and raising her pitch. “Miss, is. your. name. on. the. guest. list?"
"Hmm, yes. Yes, it should be there.” Lizzie tried her best blank face. Of course her name was not on the list. “Name's Elizabeth Regina York.” She hoped her nonchalant tone would do the trick for her.
But her arm was held down when she tried to scurry past the door staff. “I would need to check your ID, miss. But I don’t see your name here.”
“It should be there. There’s got to be some mistake. Certainly it’s there.” Lizzie tried again to step around to get to the ticket booth, but the bouncer blocked her way and held out a hand to her.
“I will have to ask you to get back in the queue.”
Lizzie glanced at the number of people queueing up behind her. At the pace it all was going, Lizzie would get to the club at the end of the party. Who knew if Henry would still be there! “Look, is there anything you can do for me? There’s been some mistake surely.”
The security guard was adamant. “Miss, if your name’s not on the list there’s nothing I can do. House’s full.”
“But I really need to get in there! If you could just—”
“I’m sorry, miss. Not my job, not my problem.”
She tried to grasp at something, anything. “See, my boyfriend’s in there! I really need to talk to him.”
“Then he should’ve waited for you outside, shouldn’t he?” Yes, he should have. Only he wasn't her boyfriend at all. She opened her mouth to plead again but was interrupted. “Get back in the queue, miss.”
A wild commotion was heard. “MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY!” People cleared the path as a drunk girl with a fluorescent pink top was carried outside, hanging on the shoulders of two friends. She vomited, splashing a few people on her way out.
“Teens these days...” The security guard shook her head. She turned back to Lizzie, only to found that she had already vanished inside.
The loud beating of the club partially deafened Lizzie. As her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, the inevitable question came to her: how on earth would she find Henry at such packed and poorly lit rooms? She stood in the corner of the main room, tried to discern the dancing heads from one another. The flickering lights made her uncomfortably dizzy, the heavy boom of the bass shook the floor under her feet.
The DJ on stage made a sign and everyone started cheering. Soon enough the lyrics of Mr. Brightside were heard, people singing along from the top of their lungs. A few Alex Turner’s face masks swam among the crowd.
♫ Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis
But it’s just the price I pay, destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside ♫
People spinning around, arms raised, bobbing their heads, singing. The blasting music was contagious. Everyone looked like having such a good time. Lizzie had never felt so out of place before. Feeling half-defeated, she decided to go to the bar — eventually Henry would have to stop there, she reckoned. Realising she could not simply stand there indefinitely without being asked her drink, she asked for her traditional pint of Strongbow Dark Fruit.
“We don’t have that here.” Lizzie tried to think of another drink, but the bartender’s impatience made her unable to think fast. “Would you like a Carling instead?” She accepted the beer, if only not to let him waiting any longer. She hated letting people down, from people working service jobs to family and friends.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “If you come with me outside I can buy you a Strongbow.” The voice barked at her ear. “There’s a Liddl just down the street.” Lizzie turned her head to look at the unknown man with such a “who-the-fuck-are-you” look that he felt compelled to present himself. “Couldn’t help but notice you standing there, princess.” He offered her a crooked smile and extended his hand to her. “Hi. I'm—”
“Goodbye.” Lizzie grabbed her pint and dashed away.
She stopped by the stairs leading to the ladies and gents. That was another place Henry would have to pass by eventually, wasn’t it? The minutes ticked by, her pint glass was emptied. She bought another. Lizzie checked every guy’s face that came her way, some who looked back unkindly. She sat down, no longer caring whether her seat was too dirty to rest her bum. Further inside The 1975 and other bands were playing. She pulled out her mobile — No messages, no texts, no nothing. Muteness. She decided she didn't care anymore.
Where are you?
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
I miss you.
It felt like carving her heart out. How could those simple words make her feel so vulnerable, so naked? Everything was coming into place, and oh, she was most certainly an idiot! If only her foolish pride hadn't rendered her so blind, she might have seen that... that...
Lizzie wiped the single tear that dared to roll down her cheek. She would not let herself be seen like this. She thought of all the girls she had met crying at nightclubs. She would not be like that, and yet, the thought only made her sadder. She hid her face behind her hands and wept silently, one tear at a time. Bitter tears of frustration.
Not so silently as she would like to. A warm hand landed on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” She peered through her fingers to find the blurred vision of a girl smiling at her. Lizzie cleaned her cheeks.
“I’m ok, thank you.” Maybe if she wasn’t feeling like utter rubbish she might have remembered the features of that girl.
“You don't look ok. What happened?”
Lizzie laughed bitterly. “I happened. I've fucked up everything." The words sounded harsh even to her own ears. "I've botch it all up. That’s what happened.”
The girl offered her that same sympathetic smile Rodrigo had given her. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be.” Lizzie sniffed and smiled weakly. She felt so unbelievably pathetic. She wanted to be left alone to her misery, but it wouldn't be the polite thing to say. "Sorry, there's something I must do. I've gotta go."
She got up from her place and almost ran to the first floor. That was it, Lizzie had decided: she would find Henry right there and then, even if it was the last thing she did. She circled the dance floor, touched shoulders and arms. "Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry." Not him, not him, not that one either. The flickering lights started making her dizzy again, the loud beat hurt her ears.
♫ Well are you mine?
are you mine tomorrow?
Are you mine?
or just mine tonight?
Are you mine?
are you mine tomorrow?
Or just mine tonight? ♫
"Henry!" Her heart jumped. She saw the back of a head that looked just like him. The same haircut and the same slope of the shoulders. She grabbed his arm and he turned and... It wasn't him. She backed off by small tentative steps. "I'm... sorry!" Her steps soon turned into running. She wanted to flee, to disappear. She needed to get out of there.
________________________________________
"I need to get out of here." Henry almost shouted, trying to get his words across. The music was loud enough to muffle his voice.
"What, really?" Ed shouted back. "The party's just started."
"I know." Henry had tried to battle his growing discomfort to no avail. He just wasn't feeling up for a party.
"Alright, mate. Just let me get Tom."
"There's no need to—"
Ed took two long strides and tapped Tom on the shoulder. Though he couldn't hear him, Henry could see the words coming out of his mouth. Tom snapped back his head as if a teacher had just caught him sleeping in class. "What? Now?!" Ed uttered some words back. "He can go. I'm not leaving."
"Tom, c'mon!" Ed's frustration was loud enough to be heard this time.
"I'm not leaving yet! They're playing absolute bangers tonight! And not to mention the girls."
Henry rolled his eyes but moved to intervene. "Guys, guys. There's no need. Stay, both of you. Have a good time."
He strode along the crowd to get to the exit door, the same one that was used as an entrance. He received a few bumps along the way. Thrice damned people. Didn't they all have anything else to do on a Saturday night other than flooding that club? Henry could swear the whole lot of London had rushed to Camden Town.
"Tudor, wait!" Edward shouted behind him. "I'm coming with you!"
They fought their way out, not before witnessing a girl wearing a bright fluorescent top throwing up. She left what could only be called a proper pavement pizza at the entrance door, but they were able to sneak around it unscathed.
Outside, Henry was finally able to raise his arms without hitting someone. He inhaled the nigh air, relishing the feeling of freshness filling his lungs once more. Not that he had really cared about those things in the past few weeks, not in the least. He pulled out his cigarette pack and lighter.
"Hey, mate..." Hands on his pockets, Ed eyed him curiously. "I'm sorry about Tom. He can be quite the prick sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Henry raised an eyebrow at him, lighting up a cigarette.
"I know he can be a dickhead when he wants, ok? But he can also be a good friend... In his own way."
"Yes, I believe you." Henry sniggered, taking a drag. He almost pitied Edward for relying on such poor friends. Or maybe that was his own case, actually, though he preferred not to dwell much on the thought.
"Anyways." He sighed. "Why did you come? Go back to the party. You've still got your wristband. Go. Go have fun."
"No, no. It's quite alright." Ed dismissed it with a simple head shake. "There's a nice takeaway just around the corner where we can buy kebab for a fiver. Oh, and they've got chips for a quid!"
Traditional drunk food. "I'm not pissed enough for that amount of grease, thank you. I think I'll pass." He offered his friend a sardonic smile and clapped him on the shoulder as a way of goodbye.
"Tudor—"
Henry stopped and turned. "What?"
Ed hesitated, looking as if unsure of what to say. He scratched his neck. "Why are you acting so bloody weird lately?"
"Weird?" Henry forced a laugh. "I'm not acting weird."
"C'mon, mate! You so are! You've been sulking like a stroppy cow!"
"This is the normal me." Henry puffed and exhaled a thick white cloud, unfazed. "Nothing's wrong with that."
"Of course something's wrong! See, you took up smoking again. I'm trying to help—"
"Why are you trying at all?" His voice came out strained, harsher than he meant to.
"Cause that's what friends do, you daft old sod!"
Ed losing his cool was a novelty, but not something that could unnerve Henry. "At the moment this daft old sod wants to be left alone. Can the friend understand that, or is that so difficult?"
Ed nodded begrudgingly and looked away. "He can."
"Good." Henry flicked off his cigarette and stepped on it. "And goodbye." He moved to leave, not caring if he was littering. Bloody waste of a good fag, that's what.
"Wait, Tudor!" Henry turned once more, seething. "Just don't do anything stupid, ok?"
"Stupid like taking Tom's pills, for instance?"
Their colleague had offered them his ‘magical’ pills as soon as they entered the club. He had said something along the lines of letting go and forgetting their troubles for the night. Of course Henry wasn't daft enough to be tempted.
"Yeah. Precisely like that. Don't do anything you might regret later."
Henry narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not like that."
"So you say."
"Truly, Ed. You flatter me." He waved him off. "Goodnight."
Henry took the night bus but didn’t go home. Instead he found himself at the banks of the river Thames, feet dangling from the railing. He had another lit cigarette between his knuckles, though he barely kept track of the times it touched his lips. At his side the bright lights of Millennium Bridge crossed the river like an arrow to lead into a pitch of nothingness. They had turned off the lights of St Paul's cathedral that night. It looked abandoned and alone among the financial buildings of the City. A dreary thing that had outlived its time. How very apt, Henry thought, that it should be dark tonight.
Henry sat on the railing looking at that shadowed dome for long stretching minutes. The Bankside area was oddly deserted that hour. If Henry were to go to, say, Covent Garden, or Soho, or Mayfair, or any other area around Westminster, he'd found more than the distant sounds of the passing ambulances or the occasional tourists walking along the river. He liked it that way. He had sat on that same spot another time.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
She had recited, the sun setting brightly on her hair. They had stopped at that place one winter afternoon, having visited Bray's office in the City. Lizzie had fetched some papers to take to her mother that day. At the time, the lawsuit against her uncle was an ugly business, one tainted by greed and long-held family grievances. Henry, who had grown up with a loving and supportive uncle, couldn't quite image how it felt like.
"I like to think there's more to life than simply struggling." She said, crossing her ankles and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I like to think there's happiness to be found, if only we look for it hard enough."
"There is." His reassurance, though honest, was feeble.
"I want to live." She gave him a straight look, one that spoke of resolute determination. "Not just survive."
Henry didn't quite know how to respond to that, he simply chose a silent nod. He felt the urge to kiss her there and then, but she looked so unbelievably sad. He wanted to kiss that sadness away, hold her warmth close, bury his nose in her hair. He wanted to shower her with kisses till he heard her laughing under his lips. Lizzie was made for happiness, he knew that with as much conviction as a father knew his child.
He gave her one of his earbuds. "Fancy some music?"
She plugged it and scooted closer. "What you've got there?" She smiled, lips parting slowly.
The sunset had turned her hair to a shade closer to red. Flame and gold.
Sweet Thames, run softly, she had said, till I end my song.
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
Oh, he would never fall in love again! Lizzie was his first, and his last. From atop the railing, Henry swept the city with one bitter look. And to think he was starting to like it. He had even thought of buying a house there, for God's sake! All the tips Lizzie had given on how to look like a real Londoner — how he should always have his oyster card in hand (not in his wallet, nor in his pocket), or how he should always look like he was running late, even if it was 10 pm and all he had to do was going home. Make yourself look important. — all those tips and... for what?
"Why?" He blurted aloud, though he didn't know if he asked the city, the universe, or himself.
His only answer was silence. There wasn't even the wind blowing that night. The air was stalled; heavy dark clouds gathered in the sky promising rain. Down below, the river ran through silent streams. And for a moment only, he could believe he was deaf.
His phone suddenly buzzed with a text. His cigarette on the lips, Henry instinctively moved his hand to take out his mobile, but thought twice. Why should it matter if anyone was texting him? It was probably one of the lads. Probably Edward asking after him. He slipped a hand through his pocket and turned it off. It was not the best way to thank his friend, Henry knew that much. He cooly contemplated himself for what he was: a bitter man with great ambitions, with the makings of a great leader.
Maybe he didn't deserve love after all. Well, he surely wanted to be loved — maybe that was one of his great ambitions — but did he deserve it? Or better yet, did he need it? He would dissect the feeling, look at it through a medical lens, turn it into numbers and compute it, if only he could. A sudden anger built inside him then. He lifted himself up and stood straight with his two feet on the railing. He surveyed the buildings across the river with one appraising look. He would conquer that city, that country. He would not let himself down. With one look of defiance, he proclaimed: "I will not!"
"Yeah, man! Fuck them!"
Startled, Henry lost his balance. His cigarette fell on the waters below. His right foot slipped, but a hand immediately took hold of him and pulled him backwards, bringing him back to the safety of the ground.
"Careful, bruv! Careful!"
Alarmed, Henry gasped for air, soon undergoing a fit of coughing. One of the strangers patted him on back. "There. Easy, man."
His coughing slowly subdued. Fixing his clothes, Henry eyed the two men standing in front of him warily. Bloody stupidity to let himself be overcome by emotions like that. He could not let that happen again.
"You alright, mate?" The men were sharing a bottle hidden inside a brown paper bag. It was illegal to drink on most streets of London, but that didn't actually stop people from drinking. Of course, one could always engage their local policemen into confiscating their booze in case of insufficient sneakiness.
They passed him the paper bag. "Here, have some. For your coughing."
Henry debated whether he should take the offer or not. Oh, sod it. He took a sip of the drink and gasped, immediately regretting it. "What even is this?!" He pulled out the bottle and searched the label for a definition.
"Shhh. Just drink it, man. You'll feel better."
Henry could almost laugh. "Cheers." He raised the bottle and took another sip. Then another one, and another one. He wiped his mouth before returning it to the strangers.
"I get why you're angry, man." One of them said, gesturing at the financial district across the river. "Briefcase wankers, the lot of them."
Henry supposed he was a briefcase wanker too. Or soon to be one.
"Not worse than the tax-evaders at Buckingham Palace, heh?" The second added, causing them both to laugh. They looked throughly drunk.
Henry felt like he had just walked into a feverish dream. "I'm sorry, you are?" Asking for names was the first step to intimidation, his uncle had taught him once.
"Dev." The first man answered. "And this is Andrew."
"Well, Dev, Andrew. Thanks for the drink." He fake smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
“You're sure you're alright, bruv? We caught you perched on the railing. Not cool, man. Not cool.”
Definitely not cool. Henry felt incredibly stupid. “Mmm, yeah. I’m... fine, thanks.”
“Right. Take care, man.”
“And watch your step!” They laughed again.
Their giggle resonated into the long shadow of the night as Henry walked away. He couldn’t believe he had just received advice from two drunks. Tired, he finally let himself go home. Before entering his flat, though, he sat on the short steps leading to the building and lit another cig, for the smoke alarms in his studio flat prevented him from doing so indoors. It was a nuisance, to say the least, but better to smoke outside than waking the whole block with the noisy alarm. Taking a long drag, Henry looked at his watch: 3:07 am.
He heard footsteps approaching. A pair of ankle boots stopped in front of him.
"Henry?"
He looked up to find Lizzie. Wide-eyed, mouth slightly parted. A question danced on her lips.
hiiiiiii love your blog!!! just wondering if you have any roommate fics? preferably long? thanks!
Hi lovely! Thank you very much! Hope you enjoy:
Red Brick Heart by hazmesentir:
Summary: Harry has only had his room for thirty-two minutes when it stops being his.
Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.
we’re not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart:
Summary: The next second, Harry is firing back, “If I wanted to kill you I could have just poisoned your fajitas.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Clever boy.”
Harry feels his skin start to prickle with irritation. The way Louis talks to him, so condescending… Like he’s smarter than Harry… Fuck that.
“I don’t have time for this,” Harry says. “Some of us have schoolwork to do. And jobs to get to. So if you’ll excuse me.”
Harry doesn’t wait for a reply before he pushes past Louis, hoisting his bag further up his shoulder and rushing towards the door. No, not rushing. That would imply Louis is chasing him out. He walks to the door hastily.
He’s not sure, but he thinks he hears Louis mutter “Fucking wanker” before the door to the flat clicks shut behind him….
Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don’t like each other and definitely won’t fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).
Carried Away Like Butterflies by waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee (dinosaursmate):
Summary: “Actually…” Liam said, scratching his chin absently. “I have a friend who is moving to London soon.”
“Without anywhere to live? Who is it? Do I want them living in my home?!”
“You met him at my birthday party. Harry, from Cheshire. Remember? Really tight jeans, curly hair down to here?”
Realisation dawned on Louis, staring at Liam who was gesturing round about his nipples. Did he remember Harry? Did he remember Harry?
He remembered Harry’s square front teeth biting into his collarbone, and he remembered Harry moaning, loud and obscene with no provocation. He remembered Harry dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and roughly pulling Louis closer. He remembered, vividly, Harry’s lovely plump lips wrapping around his-
“Lou?”
“Uh- what?” Louis said, startled. “Oh, yeah. Um, I think I remember him.”It was probably a huge mistake for Louis to let his former One Night Stand move into his spare room, especially when said One Night Stand doesn’t seem to remember him.
Shut Up and Wink at Me by kikikryslee:
Summary: “Did you get your housing information yet?” Louis asked.Harry pursed his lips. “Yeah. So?”
“So? So it looks like we’re going to be roommates. Don’t you think we should know each other a little bit?”
“We’ve gone to the same schools since Kindergarten. I already know you.”
“Yeah, but we’re not like, friends,” Louis said.
“Ouch.” Harry pretended to be hurt, holding a hand over his heart. “That stings, Louis.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “Look, I would like to know at least something about you before I live with you for an entire school year.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know,” Louis said. “I guess just like, hang out and make sure we’re compatible?”
“You make it sound like we’re going on a blind date.”
“Trust me; we’re fucking not.”
“Again, ouch.”Or, the one where Louis wants to go away to college to get away from everything having to do with his hometown. So when he finds out his roommate will be Harry Styles, perfect school athlete and the exact opposite of what Louis wants in a roommate, he’s not happy about it.
What’s Stopping You? by kikikryslee:
Summary: That shirt was what held his attention again. How many other guys had the same shirt that H and Harry had, and – wait. H… Harry. Harry did yoga. So did H. They both had the same shirt, and had both gotten home ten minutes ago and were cooking dinner.
No way.
Louis looked at the picture again, and stared more closely at H’s lips. They were pink and pouty, with the lower lip a bit plumper than the top, just like Harry. And H had brown, curly hair that reached his shoulders, just like Harry.
Louis looked over at Harry, who was putting his hair back up into a bun as the kitchen was most likely getting warmer.
“Holy shit,” Louis whispered. Have I been flirting with my own roommate all this time?Or, the one where Harry wants to get over his crush on Louis, so he makes a Grindr account to find someone new. Of course, Louis messages him, not realizing H’s real identity. It only takes a few days for them to figure it out.
Loving You’s a Little Different by oakland30:
Summary: “Uh- Jake, I think? Met him at one of Niall’s ‘get together’s. He’s alright. Nice face.” Louis pulls out a paperback book and squints at its small print, “Won’t be calling him, though.“
Harry sighs, but it’s wasted. Why wouldn’t random boys with nice faces approach Louis in an empty library? The circles under his eyes are puffy and his hair is ruffled from a stubborn night’s sleep, but he looks gorgeous. Like he isn’t from this planet.
Harry’s in love with his roommate. Misunderstandings abound.
truth be told, i never was yours by stoleyouaway:
Summary: College AU in which Harry is a virgin and Louis is definitely not in love with him. One night, this all changes.
lost my senses (i’m defenseless) by nouiiam:
Summary: "You are so infuriating, you know that?” Golden Orchid says, frowning. “Why do you do half of the things you do?”
Louis just smirks and shrugs. He seems to do that a lot around him. “S'fun. Gets your attention. Gives me a rush. A thrill.”
the one where louis’s a technology genius who uses his powers for bad instead of good and somehow doesn’t know his enemy is also his roommate.
Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc:
Summary: Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.
With a promise from the press (and his father) that they’ll leave him alone for four years, he sets out to be a student at Cambridge, when he meets his very normal, very working class, very handsome suite-mate, Louis Tomlinson.
Louis makes Harry feel more like a person than he ever has before, which might cause some issues later on- ‘cause Harry has a secret that he’s only told his sister Gemma about.
Little does he know though, that Louis has some secrets of his own.
How Fast You Fall by FullOnLarrie:
Summary: They meet as transfer students at university orientation, and Louis wants Harry the first time he sees him. But Louis isn’t looking for a boyfriend. With school and work, he doesn’t have time for anything more than a casual hookup. When they become roommates, Louis decides it’s best not to pursue Harry and take the chance of messing up their living situation. They quickly become good friends and soon Louis realizes that his attraction is much more than just physical. However, because Harry has a plan to stay single and celibate until he graduates, Louis assumes that he doesn’t stand a chance, and tries everything he can think of to make himself forget about his feelings for Harry.
All my new in progress stuff is on current fics or my exchange fic, but I have a few sentences from the same idea I posted last week, so here ya go:
In the morning, Jaime is surprised to find the bed empty beside him. Glancing at his phone, he frowns. He has a voicemail and two texts from an unfamiliar number.
Unknown: Jaime? This is Selwyn Tarth, Brienne’s father. Sorry for bothering you, but Brienne showed up here very upset last night. I think she broke up with her boyfriend.
Unknown: Please call me after you listen to my voicemail.
He squints at his phone, re-reading the messages as if they will suddenly make more sense. His head pounds, he needs coffee. Then he remembers. Brienne was supposed to take Hyle to Tarth this weekend to introduce him to her father. Fuck.
He doesn’t even bother listening to Selwyn’s voicemail, but calls him. “Hello, Selwyn Tarth.”
“Hi, this is Jaime. What happened?”
“Oh, thank you. I wasn’t sure who else to call. ” Selwyn sounds as lost as Jaime felt a few minutes ago. “I’m not sure what happened exactly. I haven’t been able to get the whole story out of her. I thought maybe she would be more willing to open up to a friend and I know you two are close, but I don’t want to intrude on your weekend, if you can’t--”
He can hear Ro in the kitchen, likely making coffee and breakfast, and internally he sighs, knowing he’ll have to cancel their plans, but Brienne’s never been through a break up before.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll catch the first ferry I can. Text me the address?”
