Title: Here Comes the Moon
Pairing: Zayn/Harry
Rating: R
Summary: It's quite simple, really. Harry comes home from the bakery -- flour trapped between the threads of his beanie, a few quid in his pocket in tips -- before his boyfriend can leave his art studio so that he can cook up a storm for him. [
on AO3]
Disclaimer: For sure not a thing that's
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srsly how
you write ~beautifully
He's tried the drink-until-you-vomit-your-insides-on-the-sidewalk route. He's tried the ecstasy pills that had him aching for days after because he'd swung his limbs in ways they didn't quite fancy swinging. He's tried the all-nighters smoking pot in his best mate's cellar while watching films from before they were born, eating stale crisps and guzzling a disturbing amount of fizzy drinks that had gone flat. He's tried the boys who would shag him against beer-stained sheets and make him scream with a release that rocked his entire body but would lock hands with their girlfriends the next day, avoiding his gaze even though they were in three of his same lectures. He's tried the boys who would let him fuck them into the wall but would never say they loved him, just that he made them want to drop to their knees and possibly that he'd left them feeling emptier than before ( ... )
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hehhh hi, i'm natasha :)
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Zayn always gets an unbeatable rush after finishing a piece, always fucks Harry so fervently, so passionately, so appreciatively as he murmurs words into his neck that sound unmistakably like muse, muse, muse.
P E R F E CT
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