You and Harry are friends... until you're not. But navigating out of the friend zone is harder than you thought it'd be, so the two of you decide to fall back on one of your favorite past times to ease the tension and it leads to a new favorite.

Reader insert fanfiction. You have an idea, but you have one question for Harry: does he trust you?

In which he begs you not to marry the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle -- but better now than later, right? Mature content ahead, 18+ readers only, please. Posted to my tumblr account, first seen on Patreon.

But nobody'd warned him about what it would be like for him to be kept in the dark, and he was beginning to like it less and less. Nobody told him whispers and eyebrow raises from your friends alone and your friends together would pinch and nibble and have him holding his breath until you were chasing him for kisses in front of his stove with the knobs pressing into his back when he let you pin him to catch them between giggles.

Companion piece to Tumblr's "Snowbound" one shot series. "Yeah," he said, minimizing the window again. "Didn't want to tell you, cause I didn't want you to panic. Can tell your parents not to worry and that it's all for clicks - s'what I told Mum." "You did?" you asked and he barked a laugh. "Unless there's something you're hiding from me," he said. "Think I'd know f'you were pregnant, though. Not like I don't sleep with you every night." A lump rose in your throat and you again swallowed back rising nausea, palms tangibly sweaty, and you slid your hand from his neck to his shoulder.

"You've worn makeup plenty," you said. "Haven't they ever taken it off you before?" "Not like this," he murmured. Your wrists tickled his nose and he hardly dared to breathe in case it threw off the tender, careful way you were touching him. "There we go," you cooed. "That's much better." "Can I open?" "Not yet. Just a couple seconds more." "Did you get a new perfume?" Harry asked. "Hmm?" "S'just...." Christ, how was he going to get a foot like that out of his mouth? "Y'smell nice or summat." You didn't say anything and again heat bloomed in his face."Probably my moisturizer," you said. Was it him or were you breathless? "Don't move."

Part of the Thirty Minutes and a Lemon Curd series from Tumblr. "Warm enough now?" You nodded, lips turned down at the corners. "Gonna talk to me?" You looked at him, blinking owlishly, and his mouth twitched. "S'a 'no', then?" You rolled your eyes and sighed. "I don't wanna talk about it." Harry bit his tongue and chewed out the frustration in it. "Me neither, really," he said lightly. "But we should. And you know how much I hate talking." How long had it taken him to kiss you in that bakery? To turn up again after you'd spent the night with him because he was going mad and couldn't stop thinking about you when he should have? "Shoe's on the other foot, now, innit?" You flashed him a close-mouthed smile. "You don't read the Daily Mail," he said. "Why'd you start now?"

You pulled your knees up to your chest underneath the blankets. "Are you ok?" One beat, two beats, three beats. You bit your lip, each second he didn't answer drilling a sense of dread into you. "My friends...." He gulped audibly and you crossed your free hand over your chest, squeezing close. "My friends are dicks, y'know?" Harry laughed, but it was hollow. "They really...." Silence fell again and you gnawed your tongue to keep from breaking it. He'd tell you - he always did - you just needed to give him time, and he was fainter still when he did. "There'll probably be a few pictures."

"Oi! Where're you going? We're in the middle of something!" Ignoring his friends' indignant questions, he placed his cue stick back on the rack and slunk around the table towards the bar and you. Up close, it was worse - you were worse - and for five whole seconds, his tongue twisted into a ball for the cat to bat at before he managed to ask, "What's that you've got in there?" Not his most original line, but the first thing he could get out before it was too late to talk and he made a fool of himself by standing there with nothing to say. You looked at your drink and then back at him. "Tequila." The mischievous grin was the same as if you'd just told him you weren't wearing any underwear, and he chortled. "Straight?" You kept your eyes on him, nodding a little and taking a slow sip without flinching. It was all he could do to keep from swaying, and he just about did when you followed up with, "Want some?"