#and harry ends up staying in bed for another hour | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gurugirl · 1 year ago

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Liar | bfd!harry

Summary: Harry's wife suspects something is going on but she doesn't know what. Harry can't stay away from you and you don't want him to.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, lying, cheating, age gap, angst

bfd!harry masterlist

Harry’s phone kept lighting up from its spot on your bedroom floor. It slid out of his pocket in his haste to take his pants off and get you into your bed. You hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on before you were spread out and naked under him.

You also hadn’t even made your bed that day. Normally you at least pulled the blankets up and placed the pillows at the headboard but it felt like such a daunting task before your date with Evan that you just didn’t bother.

But you didn’t want to think about Evan when you were with Harry after he’d just admitted he loved you.

Harry fingered you slowly as he kept his mouth over yours, “Just wanna keep kissing you. Never want to stop,” he whispered his words into your mouth as he thrusted his thick fingers into you.

And he didn’t stop kissing you. Not when you came on his fingers. Not when he wiped your arousal onto your leg as he positioned himself between your soft thighs. Not when he pushed his dick inside of you. Not when he brought you and himself to orgasm slowly.

His lips were soft but urgent. You came so hard when he glued his hips to yours and rocked into you, never letting his cock slip out too far.

And when he pulled you onto his chest after he landed on his back, he rubbed your spine and kissed your shoulder and your neck, “Never gonna be so careless with you again. Promise you.”

You always loved basking in the afterglow with Harry but this time was different. He had told you he loved you. You both felt it with each movement and each breath. Harry’s hands held your thighs as he pushed in and in and in and it was all love and emotion. He was showing you what he could with his body and you were happy to receive it.

You both fell asleep with smiles on your faces and you woke up hot and sticky on top of him. He was holding you tight. You attempted to move yourself off of him but he only tightened his grip. You heard him grunt, “Stay.”

And that turned into you slipping down onto his hard cock once again, whispering I love yous to one another as your chest stayed pressed to his. The soft rocking of your hips over his with his hands on your ass guiding you over him slowly. The springs in your mattress squeaked gently as his phone illuminated. But it didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop him.

You both kept at it. Until you’d come to your end again. You gasped his name and he groaned, spilling himself into you as deep as he could, lifting his hips and slicking in until it was impossible to reach further into you.

Even on the comedown, his phone lit up.

You both knew it was Mrs. Styles wondering where her husband was. It was nearly 2 am by then. He’d left his house hours ago and hadn’t returned.

“You should text her back so she’s not worried, Harry. At least,” you spoke quietly as you ran your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp. He was still inside of you.

He sighed and grumbled something before lifting you off of him, “I know. I’m just not sure what I’m gonna tell her. I meant to go back home hours ago. It’s late. This is not something I’ve ever done before.”

Obviously. You wanted to say but refrained as you watched Harry get off the bed and bend down to pick up his cell phone. Multiple missed calls and texts.

He sat down on the bed and smoothed his hand up your thigh, “I should probably go. I’ll figure something out to tell her. I’m sorry, pup.”

You sat up and leaned yourself into him, kissing his chest and feeling his come dribble down your thigh as you moved, “It’s okay. I understand.”

. . .

Harry was in trouble. He knew it when he woke up in your apartment and realized how late it was. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but having you in his arms, post orgasm was like a drug that put him under. And throwing caution to the wind he stupidly fucked you again, wasting nearly 25 minutes more, instead of leaving.

He also knew he was in trouble when he pulled into his driveway and saw the lights on coming from his study.

He didn’t have anything in his study that would give him away. Some receipts maybe, but nothing major. And he’d hidden the receipts for anything he bought you very well. He hoped.

The moment the door was closed and the deadbolt latched his wife came quickly out of his study to confront him.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried! Do you not have your phone on you?!”

Harry rubbed his face and realized he could still smell you on his hand. He’d cleaned up but, in his rush, he clearly hadn’t gotten all the traces of you off.

“I just had a bad week, at work, and I needed some air and went to the park near the lake and… I fell asleep in the car. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

And the look on Mrs. Styles’ face told him she didn’t believe him. He was definitely in trouble.

Why would she believe him? It was a terrible lie. Harry really didn’t know what he could tell her. He felt of all the excuses he could come up with (during the 20-minute drive home), the one he decided to go with, while quite outlandish and not particularly believable, was the most believable of them all.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning before you leave for your workout. I’ve put some pillows and blankets on the couch in your study. You can sleep in there tonight.” She turned before pausing and looking over her shoulder at her husband, “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

Harry felt awful. He hated making his wife worry or having her upset with him. But he deserved her anger.

He’d just been so out of his mind wondering what you were doing on your date he couldn’t see or think straight. He left the house in a rush. He told his wife he was running out and would be back soon. And he intended on returning after a couple of hours at the most. But he’d left around 8 pm and had been gone for over six hours.

And even as guilty and bad as he felt, he slept rather soundly on his couch in his study. Perhaps it was that you’d forgiven him. Or the two orgasms. Both probably.

When he woke up to his phone alarm he smelled coffee already. He knew he was going to need to give her a better explanation. But what could he say? What things could he tell her that would quell her questions? Mrs. Styles was smart. She was no pushover. He couldn’t just act as if whatever happened was no big deal. Not responding to her in all those hours? That was a big red flag.

“How’d you sleep?” His wife was sat at their small dine-in kitchen table sipping her coffee. She was already dressed and ready for the day.

“Pretty good. Was tired. How about you?” He poured himself a mug of coffee and joined her at the table.

“Like shit.” She looked down at her mug and sighed, “You lied to me last night,” She looked back into his eyes. “And that makes me wonder how many other times you’ve lied and I’ve just not noticed it.”

His stomach felt sour. She knew he lied. Of course, his excuse was shit.

Nodding his head he stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say. Of course, if she knew what he’d really been up to their conversation would be going in a very different direction.

“Say something. Tell me what you were doing, Harry. I deserve to know the truth.”

Inhaling a deep sigh he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been… I don’t know. Maybe I’m going through a mid-life crisis or something. I’m anxious and depressed and it feels like there’s no way out of how I feel–“

His sentence was cut off by her palm coming down sharply on the table and causing his mug to rattle, splashing the hot liquid over the lip of the cup, “Cut the shit! So what? We’re all anxious and depressed Harry!” She stood up and put her hands on her hips as she walked toward the sink and her shoulders dropped before gripping the counter’s edge, “Why didn’t you at least reach out to me? Were you with someone?”

Harry felt he was being choked of air. Was he with someone? Why yes, he was. Someone that he loves in a way he shouldn’t. Someone that he was having sex with while his wife’s calls and texts were being ignored. He felt like he was losing it.

“No. I just needed to be by myself. And I’m sorry I did it that way. I didn’t…” he inhaled to catch his breath, “think. I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking about you or how you must have felt. I’m sorry. That was selfish.” At least the last part of his excuse wasn’t a lie.

Mrs. Styles turned back to look at her husband as she crossed her arms over her pretty silk shirt, “I know you didn’t think. And I know that I never crossed your mind last night, whatever it is you were doing, you certainly didn’t consider me at all.”

He looked at his wife and blinked his eyes as she stayed cool and steady. She hadn’t been crying. Or at least it didn’t appear that way.

“And I know you’re lying. I can’t explain how I know… I just… I’ve been with you for such a long time that I just know, Harry. And,” she pushed herself from the counter and walked across the kitchen to the hutch where she picked up her keys, “I found a sex toy in a box in your study last night. Care to tell me what that’s for?”

He forgot about that. The toy he bought for you. Forgot that he’d brought it back with him. He’d put it out of his mind, “It was for us. I… we haven’t used a toy in a long time and thought it would be fun–“

Her laugh cut him, “Of course, you’d say that. And how would I know if you were being honest at this point? Just return it. I’ve no intention of letting you use that on me. Not after all this.”

“Hey… I know that you don’t belie–“

“You’re right. I don’t believe you. Not right now. I’m leaving to go stay with my sister for a while. I think if you really feel like you need space, I’ll happily give it to you because I don’t want to be around you when you’re acting like this.” She paused and looked over her husband with his messy bedhead and shook her head, hating how handsome he was, “Just…” she flailed her arms, “get this out of your system. Whatever it is. And if I find out you’re cheating on me,” she laughed darkly, not a hint of humor, “God, I can’t even think about that right now.”

Harry nodded and stood from his chair but did not move from his spot at the table. He wanted to hug her and hold her and tell her everything. The whole truth. Ask for her to be lenient on him. Beg for her to go easy. Explain that he didn’t mean to fall in love with someone else. Tell her he’d give her anything she wanted. But to just give him grace.

But he did none of that. Like the coward he was starting to realize he was, he stood there and watched as his wife plucked up her suitcase and her purse and walked out the front door.

. . .

Your shift was grueling. It was Sunday brunch. The restaurant was packed. Reservations were always made well in advance. No one could just walk in and get a seat. But the nice thing about that was that you knew pretty much what to expect when you arrived and looked at the schedule and saw your tables and how many you’d be serving. Some even had pre-ordered certain things to make it even easier. Though the breakfast and brunch hours were the hardest.

When your new table came in at 1:00 pm you stopped in your tracks as you realized who was at the table. And instead of putting on a fake smile and calming yourself down you turned and walked back into the kitchen. You needed to take a moment to really collect yourself.

Mrs. Styles was there at your table, with three other women. She was dressed in a lovely lavender silk shirt with black twill pants. After what had happened just the night before, well, technically that very morning, you were sure Mrs. Styles wouldn’t be in a great mood. Her husband had avoided her for hours and hadn’t told her where he was. And as her husband was coming inside of you, giving you your third orgasm of the night, she was blowing up his phone that was lying on your bedroom floor.

When you’d gathered yourself as much as was possible you stepped out into the dining room and feigned surprise, “Hi! Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Mrs. Styles,” you greeted warmly. There was no way she’d ever assume you had anything to do with Harry’s being gone for hours the night before. You tried to keep that at the forefront of your mind as you smiled at the small group at the table.

“Y/n! I forgot you worked here! Wow, what a surprise!” Mrs. Styles turned to look at the other women at the table, “Ladies this is Fae’s best friend. Such a sweet and smart girl. Looks like we got the best waitress here. I guess my day’s already looking better,” she laughed, and the other women smiled and laughed with her.

Her comment was like a surgical slice into your heart. You swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yeah. I’m so lucky to be serving you today. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

After their orders were placed, a round of bottomless mimosas for each, you’d calmed from your initial surprise of seeing her. Everything seemed rather normal. Perhaps she wasn’t worried about Harry being home so late. You wondered what lie he told her. What kind of excuse he had.

But after Mrs. Styles ordered her fourth mimosa you realized things weren’t normal at all. The champagne had her spilling some details within your earshot. She was just loud enough that you could hear bits and pieces of what she was telling the other women she was with.

“And he didn’t even try and correct me when I mentioned cheating. Just stood there with his mouth wide open,” one of the women had her hand on Mrs. Styles’ shoulder, rubbing gently.

Through the breakfast you heard comments from the other women, words of advice, bits of encouragement, “Maybe he is just going through a mid-life crisis like he said. Marvin went through a phase last year. Would spend hours in the garage away from the family…”

You stood at the table and smiled as the woman finished her anecdotal story until eyes were on you, “Anything else ladies? More mimosas? Pan de chocolate?”

They’d been there for close to three hours by the time they finally decided to get the check. Mrs. Styles was a tiny bit tipsy as they left the restaurant and you learned that she was staying with her sister, one of the women who was with her at the table.

Now you were dying to know what had happened between her and Harry. She was clearly not doing well knowing that Harry had been gone all night. Understandably.

When your shift was over you got into your car and checked your messages. Normally you had a text from Mr. Styles. At least a good morning text but there was nothing.

Hi. How did everything go last night? Just got off work.

You drove to your apartment with your head in the clouds, made-up images of Harry and his wife fighting about him being gone all night. Harry being devasted when she left him to stay with her sister. Harry begging her to come back.

By the time you pulled your emergency break up in your car and shut your engine off your mood was lower than it had been all day. You hoped Harry was okay but you hated the circumstances of everything. And the night before was great. You were absolutely thrilled to have him with you but again, the burden of the guilt was tearing at your seams. At his.

After a shower you saw a missed text notification and your heart lifted. Throwing your hair up into a towel and picking your phone up with a big smile you opened the text and realized it was from the wrong man.

Would you be up for a picnic in the park? There’s a festival downtown and I was thinking it would be fun to check out.

Sighing you opened the text you’d sent to Harry to see that he’d read it but hadn’t responded. Your heart sunk back into the place it had been right before you’d gotten out of the shower.

I’m exhausted. Was a long day at work. Can I have a raincheck?

You knew you needed to tell Evan that you were seeing someone else. That it wasn’t going to work, but part of you didn’t know if maybe you should leave that door open a bit. Because what if Harry realized after all that he couldn’t be with you anymore? What if Mrs. Styles leaving had him coming to his senses? Despite him telling you he loved you, which you knew he meant, it still might not be enough for him to continue seeing you.

You tried to busy yourself. For an entire hour after realizing that Harry had seen your text but had not responded, you picked up a few things, tossed out the old and dying flowers, combined fresh flowers with ones that had not died from older bouquets… everything reminded you of him.

The sudden knocking on your door had you startled. It was nearly 6:30 pm and you couldn’t be sure it was him, but your heart leaped with hope as you quickly padded across your floor to the front door.

The moment you saw his face through the peephole you opened your door in haste and it felt like one of those cheesy Lifetime movie scenes where the man has come to claim his woman in some desperate bid to win her affections back.

He had his leather overnight bag in hand and he pushed you into your apartment, one arm pulling you into his chest, with his foot closing the door behind him. His mouth was on yours before you even heard the thud of his bag drop onto the floor and then both of his arms were wrapped around your middle.

Your world was spinning and your heart crashed under your rib cage as you moved your mouth with his. Soft and urgent. Not unlike the kiss from the night before when he had you coming so hard you saw stars.

You felt ridiculous as you started to tremble in his arms. Definitely felt as if you were enacting a cheesy romance scene from a B movie.

“My sweet girl. God…” Harry finally parted from the kiss, his big hands splayed across your low back as you both stood in front of your door, “I think I only feel okay when I’m with you. I tried… I don’t know. Everything is so fucked up.”

You cupped his face and bent yourself away so you could look at his eyes, “I know. It really is.”

You got two glasses of water and both stood in your kitchen as Harry told you what had happened with his wife. The night before and then that morning.

“And I thought… maybe this was a wake-up call for me. But,” he shook his head and looked at you softly, “I can’t be away from you. I can’t do it. You’re not just some pretty girl that I enjoy being around. I’m genuinely in love with you. I know I said it last night but having her leave this morning and thinking about it all day and trying to take time to be alone I realize I don’t want this, with you, to ever be over.”

You knew how he felt. Even though you weren’t married you were part of this mess and your own heart went back and forth with rational and irrational thoughts. In the end, it always came back to you loving this man, as stupid as it was.

“She was at the restaurant for lunch today. With her sister and two friends.” You finally decided to tell him. You pulled his hand into yours and looked up at him, both of you were leaning on your counter.

Harry’s expression was surprised as you continued, “Overheard her say a few things. I didn’t know what had happened but she was upset a little. That much was clear. And knowing what I know… well I figured out what was going on. Obviously…” you watched Harry take in the information.

He nodded, “She found the toy I bought you too,” he shook his head, “That was stupid of me. Told her a lie about it and she told me to get rid of it.”

You moved your hand up his forearm and as strange as the moment was with the things being discussed, everything felt so much better with him there.

Harry turned his body to face you and the quick movement of his hands grasping your waist and lifting you up to sit on your counter had you gasping. He placed his hips between your thighs with his hands at your waist and his mouth covering yours.

You held onto his shoulders tightly as he pushed your t-shirt up, letting his fingers slide underneath and upward. You hadn’t put a bra on because you hadn’t planned on leaving your apartment. You smiled into his mouth when you felt his lips turn upward when his palms smoothed up your back with nothing in their way.

He drew his hands toward the underside of your breast, his thumbs pressing into the flesh and upward to your nipples. His tongue pressed against yours as he softly, delicately brushed over your pebbled buds.

You moaned and lowered your hands to the waistband of his pants and plucked at his button. His pants always tightened significantly when he had an erection, the material unable to quite contain him comfortably.

The wet kiss grew frantic when he felt your hands at his waist, opening his pants up and he pulled back from the kiss to look into your eyes.

“Can I? Want to make you feel good…” your words were breathy. You wanted to see him smile. Wanted to wipe away the kind of day he’d had just like you knew he’d do for you when you were done.

You’d gotten used to his girth in your mouth, the way he reached down into your tonsils and your throat and made you gag. You’d learned to tolerate the feeling and how to pump his base with one hand as you sucked the rest of him.

And clearly, Harry wanted exactly that because he was dragging you from the counter, and the moment your feet hit the floor you dropped to your knees and shoved him back against the formica, pulling his pants down to his ankles.

You moaned when you peeled his underwear down and grasped him in your palm. Wide and heavy. You loved that he was uncut. Used the skin over his shaft to pump him before you spit onto his tip and looked up at him with as much love as you could with what you were about to do, licking all over his frenulum and down the side of his cock.

Harry put both of his palms onto the countertop behind him as he watched you in silence. Watched you drag your tongue along his foreskin and down to his base. Watched you glide your hand over his dick and wrap your hand around him as you laved over his tip. Watched you open your mouth with your tongue out and slide his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, pup. You’re so good to me aren’t you?” He sucked in a sharp breath as you sucked his crown and continued pumping him. He learned early on that you were eager when it came to giving head.

And you were eager because of the way he gave you head. Had he not been so good and so excited to eat you out you wouldn’t have put in as much effort as you did. But you matched his energy and gave back to him dirty blow jobs that rivaled the kind of depraved things he did to your pussy with his mouth.

And when you got yourself into a good rhythm with drool pooling at the edges of your mouth and dripping down your chin you grabbed one of his hands and brought it to the back of your head, encouraging him to push on you, adding pressure to his hand as you looked up at him.

“Fuck, baby. Like this?” He pushed you down over him, making you take him deeper and you immediately gagged. He was already near your tonsils by that point and the little bit of push he gave you had his swollen, achy head pressing past them and into your throat.

You moaned and blinked your eyes as you grasped onto his thigh. You still used your other hand, sometimes stroking at the base, sometimes gently rolling his balls in your palm.

The gurgles and coughs coming from you shouldn’t have been as sexy as they were but Harry knew that a little gagging didn’t make you shy away from taking him deeper. He bit his lip as he watched you.

He kept his hand at the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down his shaft, sometimes giving you a break while you took in a breath through your nose and stroked his hard cock in your fist.

But then, after you’d gotten air in your lungs and you recovered after choking on him for a few solid seconds you went down on him further. Peeking your eyes up at him you forced yourself to go down over him as far as you could reach before you shut your eyes and felt a steady stream of your saliva drip down to your knees. You wretched and gurgled and listened to your lover moan praises to you.

“Oh my god… fuck me, baby. Holy fuck! You’re so fucking good to me. I need you, honey…” his words and his cock were making you dizzy. You wanted his come. Wanted to give him relief (whether he deserved it or not).

You felt him throb in your mouth, his dick poking deep as you swallowed over his tip and tasted the saltiness of his precome. He coughed out a groan and pushed you off by your shoulders with a gasp. He was red in the face, his lips were swollen and especially pink, chest rising and falling, cock twitching before your face as you leaned in to put him back inside your mouth.

“Oh, hold on pup! Wait…” he rushed out his words. You held on to his muscled thighs and looked up at him from your spot on the floor at your knees. You would have protested but you were too busy inhaling oxygen into your lungs and catching your breath.

Harry put his hands under your armpits to lift you upward before he bent down to remove his shoes and pants and underwear. He held you upright as he looked back at you with slobber all over your chin and neck, “Let’s get into your bed. Wanna finish inside of you, okay?”

And you knew “inside of you” meant in your cunt.

You were already slick and pulsing, your clit throbbing for him by the time he pulled your shorts off and spit down over your pussy. He waited for a minute before doing anything as he watched you squirm under him, “Please… what are you doing?” You asked him, impatiently.

Harry grinned at you and lifted your shirt up above your tits before dipping down to suck on each one. Thoroughly wetting them and pulling at your nipples.

When he sat back onto his haunches he sighed as he dragged his hands down your torso, thumbing over your soft skin and taking you all in, “Needed a minute, baby. Want to fuck you like you deserve.”

And fuck you like you deserve he did. Well, maybe you didn’t deserve it, but he certainly knew how to fuck you.

The slow plunge into your pussy had you writhing and keening under him. He focused on your face as he thrusted himself into you with long, languid strokes. Deep and full of love. He put his entire body into each thrust, his knees mushed into the bed, the front of his thighs pressed into the back of yours, his forearms flat onto the mattress on either side of your shoulders, hovering over you as he watched your face twist up in pleasure.

“I need you, Y/n. Fucking love you, baby,” he grunted as his hips ground deep into you, rocking against yours before gliding back to mid-shaft and plunging into you deeply, fitting his balls against your bum, causing your moans to get louder and whinier.

“I need you, Harry,” you moaned in response. The eye contact and the fullness of him consumed you whole. You’d allow him to overpower you in any way. All of your senses were controlled by him at that moment. The connection between your bodies felt unreal. You were both inhaling sharply at the intensity of the situation.

Your cheap bed creaked gently in time with each roll of his hips and the slick pat of your bodies joining each time he buried himself into you was met with his moans and your gasps.

You scratched your nails down his back when your vision began to blur and your blood rushed to your core. His pelvis dragged against your clit, over and over again as he stuffed himself inside of you, pressing you into the bed, your walls squeezing and taking him in like you were made for him. Like he was made to fit in you.

“Want my come, pup?” Harry’s words were tight as he clenched his teeth. He loved the way your nails felt on his back and he knew he’d have to deal with the consequences of that later on, but for now, it felt like heaven and you were his and he only belonged to you.

“Give me your come. Want it to soak all of my insides…” you moaned in response

“Yeah? Want me to fill up your cunt, baby? Get you all full of my cock and my come?” He grunted.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whimpered and began to spasm. His words had you wishing you weren’t on birth control. Wishing you could get knocked up and have him for your own. Fuck everything else.

“Fuck, pup,” Harry choked his words when he felt you spasming around him, “Coming on my cock, baby? Yeah? Sounds like it feels really good,” he was delirious. He hardly knew what he was saying as your high-pitched whine turned into guttural moans. Your pussy fluttered and clenched around his cock until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore as he tried working you through, but your cunt was begging to be filled and fed. Begging to have his come.

He rutted into you sharply and groaned as he put his lips over yours and let your walls milk him dry, squeezing his shaft and drawing his come deep into your insides. Into your guts.

The earth began to right itself when you felt him shaking and knew he was finally coming. Finally getting the relief you’d wanted to gift him. His hot breath against your neck and his moans as he drained into you had you smiling and wrapping your legs around him tight, pulling him in deeper as you felt the tail end of your orgasm floating away into space. It felt so good to have him with you. To have him inside of you. To hear him tell you he wanted you, needed you, loved you.

Harry was always amazing at aftercare. He always took care of you, softly whispered to you, and held you. The sweet pillow talk and hushed voices as you held one another and kissed felt like what love really should. The sex was outstanding. It always was, but it was the moments after that sealed everything into place for you. Glued your resolve tight and reminded you of who you were with. Reminded you that Harry was yours and you were his and nothing else mattered. No matter what happened outside of the lazy comedown and the tender touches you received after a mind-blowing orgasm, everything always came back to this.

“I really get you all tonight and tomorrow?” You brushed his hair through your fingers as you both lay on your sides facing one another, your thigh draped over his hip, after the intensive cleanup process. Harry had one arm underneath you and his other hand was at your hip.

He grinned, “Yeah. But I look at it more like I get to have you all night and tomorrow. I’m getting a far better deal than you are.”

You laughed and gently tugged at his hair, “Oh please. I’m so lucky you’d even stay.”

Harry blinked his eyes and the grin fell from his face, “Don’t think like that, baby. You’re so much better than I am. In every way. Way out of my league. I don’t deserve your love. You’re precious to me. I’m the lucky one here. Don’t ever forget how this really is, Y/n.”

You settled your head back into your pillow as you kept your eyes on his, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that… like…” he looked toward your bedroom door and then shifted his gaze back to you, “I feel like I should be begging you and kissing the ground you walk on. Like any bit of attention you shower me with is a blessing and I’m surviving only on your love and affection that you somehow allow me to have.”

You smiled and brought your hands down to his face, the overgrown hairs tickling your palms, “You’re crazy. That’s not how this is at all.”

Harry took your hand and pulled your wrist to his mouth, giving you soft kisses to the skin, and shook his head into the pillow, “That is how this is. Whether you see it or not. I’m lucky you even give me the time of day. I’m like a peasant in comparison to your high royal position,” he smiled as you laughed, “I’m serious. I’m not good enough to even be in your presence and yet you let me in over and over again.”

“Stop. I don’t feel like that…”

Harry’s words were mushed into your wrist, “I know you don’t and that’s crazy to me. But that’s how it is, pup. You hold all the power here. Anyone on the outside will say the same. I’m a lowlife and you’re golden rays shining down on me.”

You sighed and shook your head as he pulled you in closer so your tits were pressed into his warm, sturdy chest, “I’m so lucky. I love you much.”

“I’m lucky too. Lucky you’re here with me now. Wish it was always like this.”

Harry kissed your forehead and smoothed his hand over your hair, “Me too, Y/n.”

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daisyblog · 3 months ago

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Angel Baby

Too Young Masterlist Summary: Louis and YN welcome their second baby, and Arthur becomes a big brother.

warning: childbirth, labour, birth, hospital

9th of September 2024

If Louis was glad he made any decision in life, he was thankful that he decided to come straight home from the festival in Munich. He had managed to sleep for a little bit on the flight home but he couldn’t wait to get into bed next to YN and wake up with Arthur in the morning.

Spotting Harry’s car on the driveway wasn’t unusual because he would often stay with YN and Arthur when Louis was away. Opening the front door, Louis was trying to open the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb anyone.

The dim light that was on in the living room caught Louis eye. But what surprised him was YN and Harry wide awake. YN was sat on the birthing ball and Harry on the edge of the sofa.

“Hey! Is everything alright?”. Louis walked further into the room, walking closer to YN as he placed a peck to her forehead, aware Harry was in the room.

“I’m having contractions but worry pants over here”. YN signaled towards Harry with her thumb. “Thinks I’m about to give birth within the next five minutes the way he’s been frantically phoning everyone”.

“M’sorry for being worried about my sister”. Harry joked as he looked to Louis for some back up.

“To be fair love, Harry was only looking after you”. Louis kneeled down in front of YN as she still sat on the large grey ball. “How painful are they?”.

YN knew he was referring to the contractions, as he gently rubbed his hand over her thigh. “They’re manageable at the moment”.

“Well we’ll keep timing them and let the hospital know when you need to go in”. Louis smiled up at YN who shared the same look. “We’re having a baby!”.

---

Within two hours, the contraction had become quite intense. YN felt her tummy tighten as the pain spread from her bump around to her back.

“Birth scares me”. Harry voiced as he watched his sister cling to Louis. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her head burned into his shoulder as she breathed through the pain.

“Keep breathing through it babe…you’re doing amazing”. Louis rubbed her back and kissed the side of her head.

As the contraction ended YN sat back up straight as she took a rest in between. Knowing another one could hit her at any point. “I’m sure I said that you could give birth this time”.

Louis chuckled as he remembered the conversation during Arthur’s birth. “You did…but I didn’t think there would be a next time then…and also I don’t have the right body parts”.

“I forgot how painful this was”. YN held onto Louis’ hand as she prepared for the next one.

---

“I can’t do this…I can’t do this”. YN repeated as she sat on the edge of the sofa, Harry now being the victim of the famous hand squeeze.

“You can…you did it once and you’re going to make Arthur so proud when he finds out you’ve given him everything he’s ever wanted”. Harry encouraged, knowing mentioning Arthur would help.

“I can feel another one”. YN tensed up as she anticipated the pain. Her eyes closed tight as she dreamed about when she would have gas and air at the hospital.

Louis appeared with a bottle of water just in time as he cringed at how tight YN was squeezing her brothers hand.

---

Harry stayed at the house to look after Arthur, whilst YN and Louis were at the hospital. Anne was on her way but this was the downside of living so far away from her Mum.

Like she had done many years ago, YN kept the gas and air nozzle securely in her hand sucking on it probably more than she needed to.

“Do you have any children already? Or is this your first?”. The midwife asked as she sat in the room wi the couple.

“We have a little boy, Arthur…he’s nine”. Louis couldn’t hide his smile as he spoke about their son, and showed her a quick photo of him.

The midwife’s eyes widened. “Waw! He’s the image of you…perhaps this one will look like Mummy”.

---

YN was laying on the bed, the nozzle still attached to her hand. Louis was moving the hair out of her face as she now had a layer of sweat covering her forehead.

“YN I’m so sorry my darling…but we’re going to have to break your waters because your contraction are starting to slow down”. The midwife’s voice was full of sympathy, knowing how painful it could be.

With the tool in her hand ready, YN held onto Louis tightly. “You’re so strong and I’m so proud of you”.

The pain was something YN hadn’t felt before. “AHHH!”. She cried out in pain as she felt the water burst from her.

“You were amazing darling…keep sucking that gas and air for me”. The midwife gave an encouraging smile.

---

The contraction become more frequent and YN could not keep still as she moved from different positions. If she was not bouncing on the ball, she was sat in the chair next to the bed. If she was not in the birthing pool, she was clinging onto Louis, hoping it would ease the pressure.

As Louis massaged the bottom of YN’s back, getting a sense of deja vu, he felt her tense up more than she had been.

“Babe? You alright?”. He swallowed thickly, as YN froze.

“I think…I think I can feel the baby”. At the words, the midwife shot up from her seat and quickly glanced under YN’s gown.

“Lie down on the bed for me…baby’s head is crowning”. The midwife moved around the room quickly gathering everything she needed.

YN laid down like she was told, her legs up in the correct position, trying to relax as she was about to meet her baby.

---

“Baby’s head is out…and I think in about three to four pushes, you’re going to be cuddling your little baby”. The midwife spoke from her position at the end of the hospital bed.

Louis quickly glanced down and could see his baby’s head. Seeing his babies be born was something he found breathtaking and he was in absolute awe of YN for doing it.

YN found strength within and began to push. She repeated the action over and over. Louis was by her side as he waited for the sound to fill the room.

And the sound of a newborn cry finally filled the room, as tears ran down Louis and YN’s cheeks when the little one was placed on YN’s chest.

“I’m so proud of you…and I love you so much”. Louis left several kisses on YN’s head before the final one on her lips.

“I couldn’t have done it without you…I love you”. YN’s voice was tired but the adrenaline was pumping through her.

“Mummy and Daddy love you little one”. YN gently kissed the newborns head.

---

YN couldn’t decide who was more excited as Arthur, Harry and her Mum walked through the hospital room door.

Arthur ran straight to his Mum, who was laid underneath a blanket. “I’ve missed you my boy”. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I’ve missed you too Mum…I’ve been nagging Uncle Harry to come and see you”. Arthur held onto his mother for longer.

Harry and Anne hugged YN and congratulated her and Louis on the birth of their baby. The room was full of happiness and smiles as they looked at the little baby in Louis’ arms.

“Hey lad…do you want to have your first big brother cuddle?”. Louis felt his heart melt as Arthur eagerly nodded and ran over to his father’s side.

Arthur sat in the chair, waiting for Louis to place the newborn into his arms. The minute Louis placed the baby into Arthur’s hands, the four adults all shared a loving look, and wiped the tears away from their cheeks.

“Hi baby…I’m Arthur, your big brother”. Louis and YN shared a look as they knew this was the right time to share the news.

“And this is Elsie…your little sister”.

---

ynstyles and louist91

liked by lottietomlinson, annetwist and 1,672,665 others

ynstyles Our babies🤍Welcome to the world Elsie Johannah Tomlinson🩷 View all 10,733 comments

lottietomlinson Our sweet Arthur and Elsie🥹🤍

annetwist My heart could burst❤️I’m one lucky Nanny🩵🩷🩷 ⌞ynstyles The absolute best🥰❤️

the.daisytomlinson I love being an auntie to all these babies❤️

thephoebetomlinson my beautiful nephew and niece🩵🩷Auntie Phee loves you lots xx

gemmastyles We are so lucky❤️Aunties little cuties xx

louisfan5 OMG THE BABY IS HERE!!!

louisfan3 Louis a girl dad🩷🩷🩷

harryfan9 Harry is an uncle to another girl🥹💕

Taglist :@jillsvalentinex @itsmytimetoodream @peterholland04 @youcan-nolonger-run @chronicallybubbly @macy-tpwk @wh0s-nadii @lillisummers

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson fic #louistomlinson #louis tomlinson writing #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson fanfic #louis tomlinson fanfiction #louis tomlinson x y/n #louis tomlinson x oc #louis tomlinson x you #louis tomlinson series #louis tomlinson x styles!reader #louis tomlinson x yn!styles #louis tomlinson x harry's sister #louis x you #louis x reader #louis x yn #louis x y/n #harry styles x reader

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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

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2022

Y/n stepped into the studio in search of her boyfriend, who had been eluding her for a couple hours now. He woke up before she did, then went off on a morning run, then to rehearsals, and now that everyone was back, she still couldn't find him. Another person might've assumed he was avoiding her, or everyone, but she knew Harry better than most people. He was as clingy as they got, often crawling on top of her when she was at her desk to get her attention and his constant insistence on being the little spoon whenever the two of them watched TV at home. But Y/n knew he liked his space from time to time.

With a little more searching through the unfamiliar Palm Springs house, she found Harry laying in the middle of the studio, one arm draped across his eyes. From her vantage point, Y/n could see her boyfriend's chest rise and fall slowly, as if he'd fallen asleep on the carpeted floor.

"Come lay with me."

Y/n was a little startled to hear his voice, she could've sworn his eyes were closed at the very least, but he must've seen her come in. Still, she didn't question him, didn't say much at all until she was next to him, cheek nestled against his black hoodie. Y/n closed her eyes too, her hand sneaking beneath Harry's layers of clothes to feel his warm skin beneath his palm. Harry hummed, leaning into her touch a little as her breath kept time with his.

"H?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice low and croaky.

"Why are we on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed for us to sleep in upstairs?"

"I'm not sleeping," he mumbled.

Y/n picked her head up off his chest, and she smiled a little at the slight pout that turned the corners of his mouth downward. "Then what are we doing?"

"Meditating."

But it was clear Harry was content to lay on the floor in complete silence, so Y/n obliged, once again resting her head against his chest and focusing on his breathing. Minutes passed until she wasn't sure how long they'd been laying prone like that, but she didn't say anything. Even when she started to feel the hard floor beneath the rug and grew uncomfortable, she stayed put. There was something on Harry's mind, Y/n could tell. He was just finding the words.

He said it with finality, as if that was an obvious reason to be laying on the floor of the house's studio. But Harry was like that sometimes, believing him and Y/n were so in synch that she could read his thoughts. Most of the time she could follow his train of thought without him having to say anything, though even she had to admit this was unusual behavior for her boyfriend.

"You're supposed to be meditating," Harry mumbled.

Harry might've been meditating, but Y/n had never been all that good at it personally. She could hardly get through basic yoga poses without getting distracted or falling into a fit of giggles. Now her eyes were getting heavy, the smell of Harry's cologne and the soft material of his sweatshirt putting her to sleep.

Blinking slowly, Y/n inched her way up until she was face to face with her boyfriend. His eyes were closed, and if he hadn't just spoken, she would've guessed he was asleep. Tapping his nose gently, she said, "You're taking too long to talk to me."

"Oh. Well, excuse me," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked smile.

"You know what I mean," Y/n said. She kissed his jaw, her thumb grazing the other side of his face. "We're laying on the floor in the middle of a studio. That's pretty strange, even for an eccentric celebrity such as yourself."

"You're just full of jokes after your nap."

"I wasn't napping!" Y/n insisted, pinching his stomach. Harry giggled and pinched her back until they were both rolling around the studio and play-wrestling until both breathing heavily with laughter. The tussle ended with Harry on top of Y/n his knit sunflower hat tickling her forehead.

"Talk to me. What's bothering you?" she asked him gently. She took his hat off and ran her hand through his hair, twirling a strand around her finger.

"It's all just...happening so fast," Harry finally admitted. He rolled back onto the floor, his head turning so he could still face Y/n. "I feel like just yesterday we were quarantining back home, and now we're here, and I...Am I crazy if I kind of miss it?"

Y/n's gaze softened. "You were chomping at the bit to go on tour when lockdown started," she said, smiling at the memory of those first few weeks. "And now the world is opening up and you get to perform again. This is a good thing, bub."

She and Harry hadn't been dating for very long when lockdown started, but they stayed in a bubble with Sarah and Mitch, which helped to make it feel like she and Harry weren't diving into moving in together so quickly. Y/n worried she would grow to despise him or discover a habit of his she didn't like and vice versa after spending so much quality one-on-one time together, but she didn't, and neither did he. Eventually the two of them quarantined without their friends, and Harry was right, it was honestly the best time. Y/n had never felt so close to someone before. All the movie nights and making dinners and late night wine and card games and cuddling for hours while sharing secrets and staying up and helping him with his music were so precious to her, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. But this was important too.

"I know what you mean," Y/n said. "I've missed my all-access pass to Harry Styles whenever I want."

Harry grinned. "You still have that, dork."

"And you still have me," she said earnestly. "But you're also going on tour again, H, and that's amazing. This album is so good, and you've worked so hard. If you need to take a step back from it all and have to decompress with little old me, you can. You know you can. But this is good too, okay? This is great. I mean, look at where we are? Coachella? Come on."

"I'm so nervous," Harry admitted.

"That's okay," Y/n told him. "I know you're gonna be great. And after that? We'll come back here and unwind. We can still do what we did during lockdown, bubbie. We'll just take it on tour. If I'm invited, that is."

Harry gave her a funny look. "Of course you're coming."

"Okay. Then that's that. Nothing to worry about."

Y/n grinned at him, but Harry just kind of stared at her. Normally she was pretty good at reading her boyfriend, but this was a look she'd never seen before. She was about to ask him what he was thinking now when he blurted,

"I'm gonna marry you someday," he said quietly, turning on his shoulder so he could face Y/n better.

Her eyes widened. They'd never talked about the future like that before. Y/n had been hoping and praying that Harry was the one for a while now and that he felt the same, but it had never been put in such plain terms before. Or out loud.

"Promise?" was all she could think to say.

Harry nodded. "Promise."

Y/n's grin was wider than anything she thought was capable. "Now can you please take me upstairs so we can lay on something other than a rug over hardwood floors?"

Rolling his eyes playfully, Harry stood up and helped Y/n to her feet, promptly picking her up until his legs were around his waist. "My fiance is so demanding," he said, leaning in for a kiss, but she stopped him by placing a finger on his mouth.

"Absolutely not. I am not your fiance until you ask me properly on one knee with a ring in your hand. And you can't call me anything else but your girlfriend until you do."

Harry looked amused but didn't argue, just raised his brows and glanced down at where Y/n's finger was still pressed against his lips. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping the ends of his curls excitedly as he walked them out of the studio.

#harry styles #boyfriendrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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writingsfrombeyondthegrave · 2 months ago

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Torn from the future- Chapter 1

Tom Riddle X Fem!Reader

Summary- After tampering with a Time Turner, you find yourself back in 1942. You decide that your best chance of improving the future is by befriending a certain man named Tom Riddle. You've heard of him before, but never in a positive light. Will you be his key to power or salvation?

Warnings for this chapter- Mentions of death and war, Stealing

Time travel has always been controversial in the Wizarding World. The Ministry in particular has taken to keeping any form of Time Travel under wraps as to prevent Wizards from dabbling in the illegal form of magical transportation.

Now with the Second Wizarding War quickly approaching, this dangerous threat was overruled by your desperation to change the past and prevent this whole mess from happening. The sorrows of your friends, the loss, the unnecessary violence and rift between wizards and muggles, even further than it already was.

Hermione had recently been popping in and out of lessons unnoticed and denied knowing what you or your friends had accused her of. You knew she had a Time Turner. If you had that, you could find a way to fix things yourself.

The smart thing to do would be to inform your friends so that they could help you but losing them was something that you couldn't bear. Your only hope was to take the time turner and figure it out alone.

Luckily there was no need to fret about your plan since you shared a dorm room with her. You waited until nightfall when the famous Golden Trio left Gryffindor tower, claiming to be sick yourself to stay behind and search for the it

The thing about your dear friend was that she was a perfectionist, not only in her schoolwork, but especially in her living quarters. If even a single paper was out of place, she would scream at you for days. But at times like this, where the whole group was stressed enough as it was, you could easily get by that little issue... hopefully.

Going through her belongings proved more difficult than initially intended, considering you never actually witnessed her putting the Time Turner anywhere away in your dorm, at least not while the both of you were present. She was actually quite protective of the thing, which you could understand given the gravity behind it all.

Digging through the trunk at the bottom of her bed, you searched through a dozen sweaters before finding a hidden compartment tucked away in the bottom corner. Surprisingly it seemed that Hermione had opted to leave the thing behind, too afraid of losing it on their unpredictable outing.

Hurriedly tucking the pocket watch into your bag, along with your journal, you got up from the floor of your dorm and made your way out of Gryffindor Tower.

Hours ticked by with you sitting on the ground of the restricted section. Books were scattered open around you in a circle while you chewed absentmindedly on your thumb nail, a nervous habit that you were too focused to pay attention to at the moment.

Thoughts and plans, one after another swirled in your mind continuously. A headache began forming from it, as you continued to reach dead ends. No plans that you came up with seemed to work well enough. Not to mention the fact that you never actually learned how to use the Time Turner before stealing it. You blamed that fact on your stress and desperation. Normally, you would plan out your actions meticulously but not this time.

Finally, it hit you. Harry's parents, Sirius and Remus, Even Regulus. You could save them all and prevent the heartache. It was simple in your mind, you would go back to the 1970's to save as many people as you possibly could. Maybe you could warn them somehow, or at least prepare them ahead of time for what was to come. It was the only way.

It's not as if you were afraid of participating in the war alongside your friends, it was just that you couldn't possibly stand by and watch your friends die beside you in the bloodshed and horror of war.

Pulling out the pocket watch from your bag, you decided to take the Time Turner apart piece by piece and rewire it to take you further back in time. Normal Time Turners would only send you back a maximum of five hours, which wouldn't have worked for anything you had planned.

Consequences by damned, you thought as you opened the Time Turner and began poking around at the mechanisms inside. The diagrams in the book made absolutely no sense. They only contained detailed drawings of the watch, but previously there had been no history of ever tampering with one.

Ticking began to get louder and louder. The books on the shelves rattled violently as if sensing the worst. You raised your eyes from the Time Turner in your hand and your eyes widened slightly, looking around to see what was happening.

Your finger slipped and accidentally grazed a metal coil that was exposed. Blood dripped down and the watch sizzled from the intrusion. A bright flash of light startled you and threw you back into the bookshelf, causing a copy of Dark Witches and Wizards Through History to crash down on your head.

Time shifted, books disappearing from their place on the shelves, dust cleared, and the watch rattled as you tried to clasp it tightly. Instantly the world faded and the last thing your blurry vision saw was the room spinning fast as you collapsed to the floor.

The creaking of footsteps in the library outside the Restricted Section was what woke you up. Your head pounded and you lifted your hand to place it on the top of your head. Sitting up to regain your balance, you rested your back against the bookshelf, albeit much more carefully than before.

There were no books on the ground anymore, it was only you alone. That should've been your first indication that something wasn't right, but your head hurt far too much for you to worry about your current surroundings.

After shoving the pieces of the Time Turner back into your bag, you finally stood up and made your way out of the library, cautiously avoiding the librarian or wandering Prefects. The only thing on your mind was getting back to your dorm and figuring your next course of action.

The hallways were deathly quiet, not a single person in sight. It must've been far later in the night than you had remembered.

You had almost made it to the Gryffindor Tower when you heard a deep voice speak from behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, his voice calm and authoritative. You must've gotten stopped by a teacher. Being prepared for a lecture, you raised your hands as you slowly turned around to face him.

"I was-" Your eyes widened as you saw him, words failing you. This boy was around your age, with dark eyes that bore into your soul.

He raised his eyebrow, the tiniest hint of acknowledgment before his expression became emotionless once more. "I know everyone in this school and I have never seen you before. Follow me"

It wasn't a request as he walked ahead, down the hallway. Never once did he look back, clearly expecting you to follow behind blindly. You weren't sure if it was the headache, but you obeyed for the time being.

A/N- Please like/repost/comment and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is always encouraged and appreciated. If I left out an important trigger warning, please let me know and ill add it.

This Series is inspired by Time Warp, written by @astonishment, but I won't be tagging them in every part since that would probably be annoying. I definitely recommend reading their series! Thank you again for letting me use the idea as the basis for me series.

Misc Credits:

Dark Mark Divider- @firefly-graphics

Diamond Divider- @troublesomesnitch

Header- Me

#x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #👻-ghost writing

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stylesloveclub · 2 years ago

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Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)

In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)

+++

Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill.

He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.

Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late.

He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated.

He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great.

This is just fucking great.

+++

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”

Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”

“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.

“Err– t-the gas–”

“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”

“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”

“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him.

He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much.

He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago.

Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers.

And now he was behind on his work.

He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door.

“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork.

He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!”

Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness.

“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning.

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?”

He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.”

“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”

His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.”

“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her.

“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.”

Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!”

Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again.

“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss.

She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks.

“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away.

She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.”

+++

The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the electric stove tops had been returned and that an order for the gas ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.

He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out.

When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.

“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.”

Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.

“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…”

The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.

“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.”

“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”

“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.

“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.”

“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.

“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily.

Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.

“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car.

Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down.

Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.

“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do.

“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.

His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.

Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”

She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.”

His eyes snap up. “What?”

“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.”

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”

“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.”

“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.”

Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.

He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.

“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?”

She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow.

“M’getting in that shower with you.”

+++

In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.

Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes.

They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts.

“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.

“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.”

It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure.

Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.

Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.

She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on.

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable.

He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.

He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?”

He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage.

Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them.

His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.

“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now.

The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”

“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.

She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough.

“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face.

He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down.

Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.

Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob.

“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.”

“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?”

“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.

“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?”

She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.

She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go.

Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over.

Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about.

Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.”

He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”

She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going.

Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.

Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end.

He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again?

+++

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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

Text

sage

rosemary part three: harry knew the past would catch up one day. he just hoped it wouldn't be today

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

Harry forgot his books at home.

He and (Y/N) were set to go to the library today, and he forgot his books under his bed. And, he didn't even realize until he was already parked and waiting for her outside the bakery. Because of course that would happen; of course it took seeing her smiling face coming out of the building and heading towards his car to remember each edition he still had stashed under his bed. He knew he was forgetting something when he left, but he hadn't wanted to be late or wait any longer to see her.

(Y/N) waved at him through the window as she approached, her Flour Pot t-shirt big on her form with the ends of her favorite peach bow fluttering behind her. She rounded the front of his car until she reached the passenger side, Harry already having unlocked the handle to allow her to slip inside.

"Hi, Harry," she chirped, brightening the melancholic space.

"Hi," he greeted her, his disposition decidedly less sunny than hers.

His tone had her brows pinching together in the middle, a frown turning her lips. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, he sighed. "I forgot m'books at m'apartment. I didn't even realize until I saw you, 'm so sorry."

"Oh, okay. That's okay," she told him earnestly, brows still cinched, "Why are you upset?"

His own brow furrowed at her question. Why wasn't she upset?

"I feel bad. I ruined our plans."

Canting her head, (Y/N)'s features relaxed even as she kept that frown on her lips. "You didn't ruin anything," she told him, her words a croon in the cab of his car, "We can just go back to your place and grab them, I don't mind. I don't have anywhere else to be, so."

She was being too nice to him. He made these plans and now he was the reason that they would have to wait another half an hour at least before they could actually execute them. He could only shake his head, his protest to her words feeling sticky in his throat.

In a tentative move, (Y/N) reached out, brushing her fingers against his forearm. The skin was bare of tattoos but littered with scars. If not for the warmth of her touch, goosebumps would have erupted on his skin. "I promise everything is okay. Don't be so hard on yourself." He could hear the soft smile on her face in the lilt of her voice. "Do you want to grab your books from your apartment?"

"You're sure?" he croaked, looking at her through the fan of his lashes.

"Of course!" she beamed, "We can head over there super quick then get to the library."

It took an effort to ease the self-made pressure he was feeling off of his shoulders. Years ago he never would have reacted like that; a confidence used to follow him that allowed him to stay guarded and strong, even if only as a facade. (Y/N) was poking holes in that defense more than he even realized.

"Okay," he settled on, "Thank you, (Y/N)."

Once Harry pulled away from the curb and (Y/N) started happily chatting about her day at the bakery, a new thought struck him. He'd never had to bring anyone to his crash pad before. No one had ever seen the kinds of places he made into his temporary homes. Of course the first would be (Y/N).

There wasn't anything inherently bad with it, he knew that. It was within his budget (and allowed a certain lack of paperwork and under the table cash payments), and he had things there that were easy to be packed up or let go of. It was a place that worked for him, even if it wasn't perfect for anyone else. He'd never had the opportunity before to be ashamed or embarrassed of his temporary homes before, but he figured that was the feeling that was brewing in his stomach.

Maybe he could convince her to sit in his car while he popped inside.

It was moments like this, with his mind rushing, that he was more than grateful for the fact that she was of the talkative type. It was a welcome distraction. She didn't make him feel like he needed to do anything more than listen to her. It was an easy job she gave him.

Outside the windows, the town shifted by. The gingerbread neighbourhoods were replaced with buildings that looked like they could have fit in in their prime but were now left to the wayside. The old town square was vacant, crumbling sidewalks and signs about trespassing and no solicitation. It was hard to reconcile the fact that this place was even a part of the same town that had a bakery called The Flour Pot and a quaint library.

That churning in his stomach returned then. Someone like (Y/N) with her gingerbread house and ribboned hair shouldn't be out here. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as the turn to his complex came up.

With a signaled turn, Harry's apartment building came into view. Only two stories with rusted stairs and wobbling hand railing along the outside hallway. The paint was a dirty eggshell, dingy and crumbling in places. Harry's was the one with the broken number plate and burnt out lightbulb above his door.

Parking as close as he could to the stairway, Harry unbuckled his seatbelt with his eyes on his hands. "Y'can stay in here, yeah? I'll be back in a second, but I'll leave m'phone for you to play music or whatever y'want."

It wasn't until he had his hand on the latch that she spoke up: "I can't come with you?"

Turning to look at her, he raised his hand to the back of his neck, nails scratching at the skin in a nervous habit. "I shouldn't take very long, so I figured..."

"Oh, okay," (Y/N) sounded, flicking her gaze out to the apartment building in front of her, "I can stay out here."

Following her gaze, he tried to see what she might. This place wasn't very different from the other buildings he'd lived in before. Honestly, it was on the nicer side, especially with the lack of nosy neighbors. But, to (Y/N), he might see the side of the city she had been warned about. The kind of place a woman like her would need to be extra careful in, for no other reason than the fact she was a woman. A pretty one, too. And he would be leaving her alone.

Those instincts he tried to bury flared to life. "Nevermind," he gruffly said, "Y'can come with me."

She looked to him with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, c'mon," he said just as he pulled the latch on his door.

He waited at the bonnet of his car for her to follow him. No one was out, anyway, but he wasn't going to chance anything now that those worst case scenarios were beginning to reenter his mind. (He hadn't completely abandoned that Dracula theory, it would appear, as his neighbours suddenly had piercing fangs embedded in their gums, awaiting a moment he would look away so they could snatch her up).

They were quiet as they scaled the rusted steps, some of the planks groaning under their feet. Harry only spoke when he warned her to watch her step, his hand instinctively reaching to settle on the small of her back until he stopped himself short. He kept her a step in front of him, his shoulders squared and features hardened as if he could scare off a threat before it even arrived.

Harry stopped her in front of his door, a small touch to her arm getting her to halt her steps by the unnumbered door. He took in a deep breath as he pulled out the key, feeling her eyes on him as he fiddled with the sticky lock.

"'S not anything special," he preambled, feeling restless, "But, I promise I'll grab everything fast, and we can go."

(Y/N) didn't have a chance to respond before Harry had peeled the door open, stepping aside to allow her in first. With her back to him, he couldn't help but the wince that tightened his muscles as she stepped over the stained carpet and creaking floorboards underneath. He rushed in behind her, wanting to get this experience over as fast as he could.

It took a hard shove against the wood for the door to replace itself against the jamb, the lock sliding in with a twist of the deadbolt. Flicking on the lights, the rest of his studio apartment was revealed as (Y/N) lingered close behind him.

"Sorry," he murmured as he maneuvered around her, "They're jus' under m'bed."

"You don't have to apologize, Harry. You're not doing anything wrong." She spoke to him as he dropped to his knees to dig underneath his bed, this week's editions sitting father back than he remembered putting them.

He didn't bother to answer as he pulled one of the books out. Now he only needed the other two.

Behind him, he could hear the floorboards under the carpet creaking as she walked through the space. While there wasn't much for her to see in the first place, the sound made him quicken his search.

Just as his fingers brushed the third and final book he was scrambling for, (Y/N) piped up: "Is this your mom and sister?"

His fingers tensed over the cover of the book, the plastic crackling. He almost forgot about that photo; it was hard for him to look at half the time, anyway. Looking over his shoulder, he found her standing in front of the tiny shelf he had been able to pick up for free at a garage sale when he first moved in. On top was nothing more than his favorite book and a photo of his mother and sister he was able to swipe in the rush to leave all those years ago. It was at his sister's university graduation, the two women with matching smiles and their arms thrown around each other. Harry hadn't been able to make it that day, but he was still so proud of Gemma. She'd come a long way.

He swallowed around his dry throat. "Yeah."

She looked at him with an adoring smile. "They're beautiful," she told him, sincerity painting her tone, "You look just like your mom."

Gathering all of his books, he stood to his full height. His chest felt heavy when he glanced at the photo. "Yeah. Everyone always said me and my sister could have been her siblings."

"All gorgeous, that's for sure," she beamed, looking back at the photo while Harry's eyes stuck to her profile.

It wasn't as if he thought her to be the kind of person to spit on him for where he lived, to run away vomiting once she was welcomed into the pocket of his world, but he can't say he expected this kind of gentle reaction. She didn't stand stiffly in the corner, careful not to touch a single thing or keep her eyes to herself. She moved comfortably, taking in the few parts of him that were on display.

This wasn't like her gingerbread house with a picket fence and a welcome mat, but that difference had no effect on her. It was as if she didn't even know that she was too good for him.

"Thank you," he murmured, allowing a daring glance to he photo of his family.

He wondered what they looked like now. Back then, Gemma was fond of coloring her hair in all different kinds of shades. His mother preferred to keep her hair long, even if every few months she debated cutting her tresses short. He wondered if she'd ever gone through with it in the years since he saw them. He hoped they still smiled like that.

"Got your books?" (Y/N) asked, pulling Harry from that corner of his brain he rarely dared to touch.

"Um, yeah," he said, blinking the film from his eyes, "Sorry. We can go."

(Y/N) followed after him as he stepped back towards his door. "What did you think of this week's batch?"

His heart lightened at the change of subject. There was that grace she gave him—the kind he wasn't even sure she knew she was giving to him. She had no reason to be so good to him.

As he escorted her back down to his car, he gave her mumbled explanations of his latest reads. (Y/N) looked at him with those wide eyes, listening to him just as intently as someone as kind as her would do without thinking.

In that same dark corner of his mind, Harry wondered if she would still act the same if she knew what he'd done.

—————

"Harryyy."

Looking up at the sound of his name, Harry found the owner of that lilting voice coming to him with an artfully plated croissant. This one was tall with its layers arching up high, and a glossy, golden brown shell gleaming in the sunlight. Tiny purple flowers and micro greens were placed around the negative space surrounding the pastry. (Y/N) walked carefully with the plate cradled on her forearms, a bright smile on her face.

She wanted something, that much he knew from the way she sang his name.

The bakery was rather quiet now that the Sunday brunch rush had ended, only a short line two deep was heading to the register with the case properly stocked for the time being. The vacancy allowed Harry to huddle up in the back table that was now beginning to be branded as his with the way he stuck to the spot every chance he could when visiting (Y/N).

"Yes?" he answered her call, bookmarking his page and setting his book off to the side.

She stopped by his table, her croissant plate close to her chest as she looked at him with a pleading grin. "Could you possibly do me a favor?"

Her hair was a mess, pulled back as best she could manage with a crooked bow, flour and sugar almost coating her top with the fragrance of jammed fruits sticking to her. She had a busy morning, he knew that.

"Maybe," he said as if he had any other choice but to help her.

Letting out a sigh, he carefully set the plate on his table, pushing it towards him slowly to ensure not a single petal fell out of place. She pulled out her phone then, her eyes pleading when she flicked them up to match his, "Would you mind possibly modeling for a picture I was wanting to post on the bakery Instagram?"

That had Harry recoiling some, falling silent at her request. Social media was a huge no-go for the life he was leading. Posting anything or having any kind of presence online would be the fastest way to find himself caught. Even before leaving, he refrained from creating any profiles for himself. There was too much pressure in his life already , he didn't want to worry about an electronic one too. Now, though, the lack of records was a survival tactic.

(Y/N) picked up on his hesitancy right away, waving her hands out in surrender as she tried to explain. "It would just be your hands, not your face or anything! I just want it to be like an artsy, Pinterest kind of shot," she rambled out, her brows raised in earnest, "I thought you'd be good for the picture since your hands are..." She trailed off then, her gaze dropping to where his hands were folded on the table in front of them, his fading cross tattoo on display along with the scars on his knuckles and the rough skin on his fingers. Blinking, she took her gaze from his hands and back to his face, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. "They'd just look really nice in the picture, I think."

That kind of praise settled in his chest as something warm. He hadn't thought about his hands being something "nice" ever really, especially not now with the hairline scars and the rough texture on his palms. A handful of years ago, he used to paint his nails even, but he'd stopped doing that a long time ago. It drew too much attention, took too much time he didn't have, and was something that made him feel a lot nicer than he knew he deserved. But, if she thought his hands were nice, was he really going to argue with her over the finer details?

"Not m'face or anything?" he asked, flicking his gaze up from his hands to see her still looking at him with her pleading eyes.

"No, no, not your face! Just your hands. I'm also putting together a few different slides, so I could put yours in the middle or something, if you wanted. I'm trying to make a post about 'customer plates' and all, so I just need some help."

While he didn't really understand what she was talking about given the fact he hadn't used the app since he was a teenager, all Harry knew was that she needed him. It was something small, somewhat insignificant in her life, but she chose him to ask. He hadn't been—or felt—needed in years, especially not for something so innocent.

"Please, Harry?" she tried one more time, her smile brightening with a pleading flutter of her lashes.

His relenting didn't take a second thought before he was nodding his head. "Jus' tell me how to pose."

Bounding in her spot, the flutter of her hair bow being seen from behind her, (Y/N)'s grin widened. "Thank you so much! This is the last picture I need before I can post it and never think about it again," she cheered, tapping away at her phone once more. With the right app up, she angled the camera towards the plate, "Act natural, like keep your hands relaxed but still try to hold the plate, you know?

(Y/N) went on to give him directions on how to pose his fingers, snapping photos as she went. Every minor adjustment had another shot being taken, different angles used and small directions for Harry to follow to ensure she got the right look. Feeling her eyes on him made Harry hyper aware of the way he posed and moved, her eyes trailing the length of his fingers and the stretch of his palm as he adjusted himself to whatever whim she had.

It wasn't until she was reviewing a handful of her previous photos that he flexed out his hands, trying to make himself less stiff and more natural like she was looking for. (Y/N)'s tapping and swiping stopped then, the static of her gaze felt again on his skin. It took a glimpse in her direction to see her phone being ignored in favor of the live specimen in front of her. Flexing his fingers out, he saw the way she watched intently, eyes rounding.

A short twitch had the corner of his lips curling just for a moment at her reaction. Interesting.

Like that, she seemed to break out of whatever train of thought had entered her mind. She was back to flicking through her phone, a heavy hand pushing stray baby hairs out of her face. "Okay, I think I got one," she told him, looking up from her phone with a flutter of her lashes, "Do you want to see?"

Pulling his hands back into his lap, Harry shook his head. "Whatever y'want, 's fine with me."

Harry saw as she swallowed around her words, her smile a bit different this time when it bloomed across her features. "Thank you, again," she told him, voice decidedly more chipper than her demeanor, "You can have that, by the way. Payment for modeling for me."

His eyes stayed stuck on her even when she peeked down at the croissant. He liked seeing her a little flustered; it was different than the bubbly, excitable girl she usually showed him. It was a trip thinking about the fact he could draw that kind of reaction from her.

"Thank you," he told her.

She left with that shy smile on her face, Harry's eyes stuck on the bow in her hair as she went back to her kitchen.

—————

A white nail polished hand was wrapped around Harry's, the pad of a delicate thumb running along the scars on his knuckles. Under the bundle of hands was the grassy knoll he was sat on, wildflowers dotting the green with a pair of legs folded away just out of the corner of his vision. A pastel toned ribbon fluttered into his line of sight. A soft focus filter seemed to be placed on the moment, everything airbrushed as if painted with a cloud and soft like velvet.

Just barely, he could hear a voice. She was speaking to him, Harry knew that, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. The words were too muddled, floating away with the clouds before they could reach his ears. He strained his ears as if that would help him catch what she was saying. Tugging on her hand in his, Harry tried to get closer to her.

He just wanted to know what she was saying.

The second he did just that, more of her body coming into view with her voice muddling through whatever film he was hearing through, everything stopped.

Swimming to the surface of his consciousness, Harry found the grassy knoll under him was now replaced with the thin sheets of his bed. His hand was wrapped in the fabric of his comforter, his fingers tight around the folds as if it were the hand he had been dreaming of.

Harry didn't bother to open his eyes, allowing himself to stay steeped in that inbetween land where he felt the remnants of his dream. He knew that if he unwrapped his hand from the bedding, his fingers would ache from how tightly he was clutching the fabric. It had been (Y/N)'s hand he was dreaming of, he knew that.

And, god, he missed her.

She was all he could think about. How badly he had wanted to be closer to her in his dream, how badly he wished it was her hand he was holding and not his threadbare comforter, how badly he wanted to open his eyes and still see her there in front of him with that ribbon in her hair.

That wasn't ever part of the plan—this infatuation he was beginning to feel for her.

Dreams of her weren't supposed to be the only pleasant dreams he was having of late. Those sleeps with her on his mind shouldn't leave him rested and calm when he woke. It'd been almost a year since he started craving sleep for anything other than to rest his exhausted body. Now, he had those secret hopes that when he let his brain run wild for the night, that he would meet her in that in-between.

This wasn't ever something that was supposed to happen. (Y/N) wasn't supposed to happen.

Even though he knew that, Harry didn't break himself from his sheets. He kept bobbing in between sleep and the rest of the world, right where (Y/N) was with him.

He'd stop thinking about her when he woke up properly, he decided. He'd deal with that problem later.

—————

"You know, you don't have to keep walking me home."

Despite the first hints of the rising sun, the stars were still glimmering in the sky like scattered bits of glitter. The moon had been a waning crescent through the night, but with the help of the oncoming sunshine, was slowly becoming full. These mornings had to be Harry's favorite times. Especially when he spent them with (Y/N).

Between all the jaunts to the library, hours spent lounging at the bakery, and time spent sending texts back and forth over the last month, Harry spent most of his time with her now. He looked forward to these prep shifts she suddenly seemed to be getting scheduled for more often than not. These quiet walks with only the crackling sidewalk and the sound of their footsteps and the sleeping town allowed him to settle into his skin and the space he took up beside her.

She was the only person he wanted to be close to like this anyway.

With that in mind, Harry only shrugged at (Y/N)'s words. "I don't mind."

He didn't have to look at her to know that response made her smile. It was that smile, soft lipped and quiet as if only for him, that starred in his dream more than once over the last handful of weeks. It was that smile that tested his self-control—or lack thereof, as he was learning.

It was a completely self-indulgent move to think about her before he slept. In a twisted turn of events, she was one of the only thoughts that had him calming after a bloody nightmare. He slept better when he had a dream of her, or even a calm, dreamless sleep could be achieved with the thought of her leading him. She was the first and only he'd found that was able to lull him into something that felt... normal.

Harry knew down in his core that it wasn't fair for someone like him to attach to someone like (Y/N), but this was where found he didn't quite have as much self control as he thought. It was easy for him to forget what her reaction would be if she found out what kind of person was walking her home after her overnight shifts or browsing the shelves with her at the library.

Especially in these moments, he could feel normal enough that he even forgot who he was. The way this place—this spot at (Y/N)'s side—had him imagining what it would be like to stay in this town was something he'd never experienced before. He'd never not been thinking about his next move.

With her gingerbread neighbourhood in sight, Harry felt that come down approaching. He would cling to this feeling—the clean, clear, and ordinary feeling—all the way back to his car and through the drive back to his apartment. It was when he was truly alone with the few things he was able to travel with surrounding him, that he would give himself a reality check. Until then, he'd keep indulging.

Stopping in front of the picket fence before her home, Harry turned to (Y/N) the same way he did every time he walked her home after prep. The exhaustion that had settled in his bones after a full shift at the store lessened when he saw her looking at him with eyes that rivaled the stars in the sky.

"Text me if y'need anything, alright?" he told her, the same thing he always said before they shared goodbyes for the night.

(Y/N) lingered as she always did. She hadn't gotten confident enough when asking for hugs, just yet. Harry liked that she still got a bit shy.

Instead of the same question he expected to hear, he saw a pinch of concern appear between her brows. "Do you want to come inside?" she asked, swallowing as she gestured to her house, "You look really tired tonight, Harry."

Lifting his shoulders, Harry shrugged. There was that slowed down, frozen feeling again. Another invitation into her world.

"'S alright. 'M okay, (Y/N)," he told her, "I don't want to keep y'up."

She wasn't convinced as she pressed just a little more, the toe of her scuffed shoes scraping over the concrete sidewalk. "Are you sure? I usually make myself breakfast before I sleep, so you could come in for a little if you want?"

His hands grew clammy where they were stuffed in his pockets. "Y'don't have to do that. I-I don't want to take from you or anything."

It was a defense mechanism the way he began inching back, as if he could pull his presence away from her. As normal as he felt with her, in this moment, he felt as if he were fooling her. She shouldn't be inviting him into her home; he shouldn't be invited into her safe space.

(Y/N) stopped him with a gentle hand landing on his forearm, her fingers brushing the inked photos on his skin and the raised scars underneath. "You said you like to cook though, right?"

Harry's throat bobbed as he thickly swallowed. He nodded.

A shy smile perched itself on her features, curling upwards like the ways of the sun on the horizon. "If you want, you could help me cook, maybe? That way it's not like you're 'taking' anything from me, you're just helping me. We'd be even."

How was he supposed to argue with her? Hadn't he learned yet that she was the one that would get him to bend to her will, bash down his own walls, and give her everything he had in his power to give?

Harry could only nod then, hiding the twitch in his lips with a brush of his knuckle against the tip of his nose.

The hand she had laid on his arm squeezed, her smile growing giddy. "C'mon," she said, her hand trailing down his forearm until it was clasped in his.

His lungs stunted at the feel of her soft palm pressed against his own. She didn't twist their fingers together, filling the gaps between his, leaving their hands to cup together like a pair of mittens for the cold. At least this way she couldn't feel how he was beginning to shake.

He followed her like a planet in orbit of a bright star, allowing him to breach the guarding fence line designed to keep people like him out. She only let go of his hand to unlock her front door, but a moment later they were bundled together once more. Her thumb skimmed the side of his own when she pulled him inside.

Guiding him over the threshold of her home, (Y/N) invited Harry inside despite all the red flags; despite the scars laced over his skin and the near permanent frown on his lips.

Stepping into her tiny foyer—it wasn't much more than a small hallway separated from the rest of her home by an extra wall—(Y/N) slipped her hand out of his to double back and close her front door and twist the lock. She used the space to house a long, skinny end table against the wall, the perfect space to hang her bag from and stow her keys atop until next time. A mirror with blushed gold edging was hung from the wall above it, a sparkly pink kiss mark stamped on the bottom corner of the glass.

"You can leave your shoes here," she offered, already shucking off her own sneakers. Her socks were revealed to be a baby blue with embroidered sheep. Of course.

When his own Vans were placed underneath the end table beside (Y/N)'s own pink-laced white ones, she beckoned him to follow after her to the kitchen. He made a point to keep his eyes off of her hands, ensuring he wouldn't do something stupid like try to grab it again. Gaze flitting about the space, he took in the details of her home.

The first thing that caught his attention were the pale curtains that were draped over the front window. The dead giveaway of what kind of person called this unit their home. Her furniture was mismatched, the couch a suede sage green and chair upholstered in a crosshatched fabric dyed pink. The center rug of her living room was a large white daisy, stray strings torn out here and there. Her coffee table had stacks of laundry she still needed to deposit into the correct rooms, a pair of fuzzy socks sat by themselves on the couch. All along her walls in the living room and the halls they passed through had canvas art prints, minimalist shelves stacked with books, candles, and odd items he knew had to have a story behind. Pinned to the drywall, between photos and shelves, were dried flowers. The petals were dull and curled back, frozen in time with the stems tied together with the help of ribbons.

Tiny bits of her personality were stamped on each item. Romance books stood out to him on the shelves. A polaroid camera that had seen better days, though the damage was now covered in stickers. Coiled ribbons that were frayed at the ends. A diffuser that still smelled of a rose garden. In her kitchen, a wipe-off calendar was pinned up, all events color coded and scrawled carefully on the appropriate date. Here and there, butterflies and flowers were drawn in marker on the white board.

(Y/N)'s home was kind. Easy and gentle; finding a version of perfect that was attainable and loving.

Stepping around the peninsula counter of her kitchen, (Y/N) looked at him with raised brows and soft features. "I was kind of in the mood for an omelette and hash browns and all of that. What do you think?"

Harry swallowed, standing on socked feet in the middle of her tiled floor. He was overwhelmed in an odd way.

He was in a home—her home. The last time he'd been in a place that was loved and lived in, had to be back when he was living with his family. And, (Y/N) wanted him here; she was asking what he wanted for breakfast, even. His hands were clammy at the thought even with his frozen veins.

He nodded. "Sounds good."

"Perfect!" she chirped, sounding very excitable for someone who had just worked an overnight shift and wasn't used to the turnaround.

Lingering in his spot, Harry watched as she padded around her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her fridge and tools from cabinets. It wasn't until she was reaching towards the carton of eggs that she slowed in her movements. Looking over her shoulder, she laid her hands on the edge of the counter.

"You know, I think I remember this having been a deal where you're supposed to be helping me," (Y/N) teased, her voice lilting as she canted her head.

While he knew she wasn't being serious, Harry still sprung into action as soon as she finished speaking. "Right, right, sorry," he told her, mumbling with his head down.

"I was just teasing. It's okay," she bubbled, bumping his shoulder with a bright smile on her face. With Harry now sharing the tiled space with her, she lent with her back pressed to the lip of the counter, "I usually like to put basil and tomato and cheese into my omelette, but I can see if I have other stuff if you wanted something else?"

"No, no" Harry shook his head, "That's perfect. Thank you."

"Okay," she sounded, her voice soft like the rays of sunlight beginning to drip through the window. "I can get the eggs ready and start on the hash browns if you want to cut the tomatoes and basil?"

As soon as he agreed, (Y/N) had him stationed in front of her cutting board—a wooden slab sanded down to recreate the shape of a monstera leaf. A pair of tomatoes were placed on the edge of the board, still taut and a vivid red. He thought he remembered her plucking them just the other night from the small produce section at the store. A few leaves of basil were bundled beside it, velveteen and vibrant. Off to the side with its guard concealing the blade was a pastel peach knife. The hardware was a gleaming rose gold—because, of course, it was.

Just like everything else in her kitchen, there were bits of her personality littered about alongside the things she most likely saw on the internet and wanted to give a try. Glass and ceramic canisters were dotting the back of the counter, lined against the wall with small labels, though some of the glass ones were clearly filled with the incorrect item. Pictures were pinned to her fridge, some with friends, others with what he could only assume was her family, and coupons to places in town littered between. Everything had color, a personality—evidence that someone who cared and truly called this place home.

Seeing it all made Harry feel that much more embarrassed knowing that she had seen his own home, even if she hadn't acted any kind of way when inspecting his place.

Working around each other, Harry was well-aware of (Y/N)'s presence as she moved around the kitchen. She had pans occupying the stove, drizzled with oil or a pad of butter. As he chopped the tomato and ribboned out the leaves of basil, the space became fragrant. The sound of the knife slicing the vegetable and thunking against the board meshed with the brittle snaps of the egg shells being cracked.

There was no pressure to fill the silence. He knew (Y/N) wouldn't make him talk either; she knew him enough now.

Harry felt settled.

Once the ingredients were prepped, he took over watching the eggs and creating the folds. WIth his new spot, he was able to catch every time (Y/N) plucked shreds of cheese from the bag as if they weren't going into her omelette anyway. He'd remember to put extra in for her.

Every time she needed around him, or reached to check on one of the heat dials, a small chirp of an excuse me and a bubbly smile had his heart thumping in his chest. An odd reaction to something so small, he thought.

A warmth filled the space with the sound of the bubbling oils popping and the burners growing hot under the pans. The sun had finally broken the horizon and was beaming real light into her kitchen, the tiny curtains above her sink pulled back to allow the rays in. The buttery light poured over everything in her kitchen, including (Y/N).

Everything was so easy, so picturesque, so dreamy. Harry had forgotten what it was like to be in a home, to cook for himself, to not be just getting through it.

He'd had dreams of (Y/N) before, moments like this accessible once he fell asleep, but they had nothing on the real thing.

"All done?" (Y/N) asked as he flipped over the second egg bundle, this one teeming with cheese and ribbons of basil swirled within the eggs.

"I think so," he said, lifting the pan from the heat as she grabbed a plate from her cabinet. Handing it out to him, Harry slid the omelette onto the ceramic—the same embossed pattern of flower petals on the edge that matched his own plate.

(Y/N) did her part of sliding the crispy hash brown patties onto their plates beside the completed omelettes. Nothing was perfect—there were tears in the folds of his omelette, the edges of the potatoes were just a little too browned from when she suddenly became distracted with the dishes, and tiny imperfections in the way they dressed their entrees were apparent, but Harry doesn't think he's ever seen a breakfast so flawless.

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he tried to correct the spillage that occurred on her omelette, using the edge of the spatula to hopefully fork the cubes of tomato that had escaped the fold. He swore her gaze left a physical touch over the bridge of her nose, the bow of his lips, the point of his chin.

"Harry?"

"Hm?" he hummed, pausing his fingers to match her warm gaze.

From where she stood, she was backlit from the sunshine spilling in through the gauzy curtains behind her. The sepia tones bathed her in gold with the creases in her top, lines of fatigue on her face, and the column of her throat turning into filigree. The flyaways of her hair were highlighted, messy baby hairs and all. The strands seemingly created the kind of crown he'd seen in ancient art to depict an angel. A goddess.

His breath caught in his throat. This was going to be the vision he conjured when he needed to evade his nightmares.

The goddess suddenly looked shy, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she hesitantly reached out towards him. For the second time, her skin grazed his with her fingertips touching at his forearm. They made soft dents in the layer of hair that covered his skin.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat at the touch.

Her eyes were on her hand, watching as she curled her fingers around his arm. Flicking her gaze up to match his, he saw that same golden touched goddess. She took in a deep breath, lips pillowed, lashes glittering, and baby hairs a golden cradle around her face. If not for the fact he could feel the scrape of her nails against his skin, he would have convinced himself this was a dream.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the middle of her small kitchen.

She blinked, letting out that deep breath before speaking.

"Can I kiss you?"

Though there was that smart part of his brain that knew he should think better of this entire moment, there wasn't even a second of hesitation before Harry dragged his socked feet over the tile and closed that distance between them.

He shuttered his eyes just a moment after her, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks while her own hand still clung to his forearm. He didn't think his hands could ever be so gentle with the way his hands molded to the curve of her cheeks and the soft give of his lips against hers. She lent into his hold, pressing her lips against his just that much harder. On the tip of his thumb, he could feel the brush of her bottom lashes on his skin.

Their lips slotted together as (Y/N) tilted her head, tucking her top lip between his two with a delicate kiss directly on his bottom one. She tasted of sugar and butter, whatever she had concocted at the bakery following her. Her hand on his arm tightened the longer they kissed in her kitchen, Harry's head completely empty.

While he knew he was going to feel guilty later for letting her kiss him when she didn't even know who he truly was and what kind of trouble could follow getting close to someone like him, but that was a problem for a version of him that existed hours later. This Harry was allowed to remember everything, commit every detail to memory, and indulge in the feeling of what something soft and gentle and kind felt like.

The soft sound of their lips parting and coming together against bounced off the tiles. Every kiss was lingering and soft, nothing urgent other than the need to show each other what had been brewing in the months since they'd met. Harry's eyes scrunched closed when he felt the dent of her fingertips into his arm—a grounding feeling as he threatened to float up to the clouds or wherever dreams were made.

It was (Y/N) that drew away first, a large breath being taken in as he pressed her free hand to the center of his chest. Underneath her palm, he was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart. Her smile bloomed across her face, swollen lips unfurling like petals. He felt breathless just looking at her.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

(Y/N)'s smile widened, eyes becoming half-moons with the stretch of her cheeks. "Nothing. I just like saying your name."

Harry couldn't help but to dip down and press his lips against hers once more.

—————

Walking into the bakery, days after the kisses that still seemed to be imprinted on his lips, Harry thought it was funny remembering just how scared he was to walk into this building only a short few months ago.

His life had changed in plenty of ways since then, but they all had a common denominator: (Y/N).

Everything was different now. He had begun uncovering a life here he thought would never be for him. Even if there were still many ghosts haunting him, some strong enough to have made him run in the past, he felt a stronger pull to the positive these days. He could ever thank her enough for that.

Despite that, his hands still felt restless in his pockets. While there was still a level of anxiety that rattled his body, these tremors were the result of those dastardly butterflies that had made a home in Harry's stomach. It was all in reaction to the fact he knew he would be seeing (Y/N).

Outside of a handful of texts, this was the first time he'd be seeing and talking to her since that morning in her kitchen. He couldn't wait to refresh his memory of her—review the form of the goddess he had left.

The bell chimed above his head, signaling to the staff they had a new client in their sparsely populated building. Behind the counter was Sabrina and a perfectly familiar bow, the pair chatting away until the bow turned on her toes with a bright smile.

On instinct, (Y/N) greeted him with the customer service version of herself. She barely got out a single syllable before her smile turned blindingly genuine and she squeaked herself silent.

Looping around the counter, she rushed towards him with that smile on her face and bright eyes that matched the Sunday morning sunshine. "Harry!"

The pat of her shoes over the floor matched the tumbling of his heartbeat. As soon as she was close enough, she folded him into a hug with her arms around his middle. Her cheek pressed against the plane of his chest, heartbeat just under her ear.

"Hi," he murmured to her, burying his nose into her hair. The scent of rosemary from whatever tart she had been working on in the back filtered through his senses.

"I didn't know you were coming in today," she said, keeping her hug on him tight.

Harry grazed his hand over her back, palm pressing against her spine in a slow circuit. "Don't I always?"

That seemed to be the perfect answer as (Y/N) squeezed him that much harder, her hug a sturdy thing. He didn't even have to think before he was reciprocating, the tip of his nose brushing her scalp with every strand of hair tickling his skin.

Keeping her arms around him, (Y/N) pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I have new stuff for you to try!"

"Yeah? What is it?" Harry pressed, his voice quiet just for her as opposed to the bright chatter she was giving him.

(Y/N) dropped her arms from around him only to clasp her hand in his, guiding him to the table that may as well be reserved for just him. "It's a surprise," she said, giddy as ever. Once she had him settled in the tall chair, she had her hands bundled together in front of her. "I'll be right back!"

With that, she bounced back to the kitchen. Harry had his eyes on her and the tendrils of her bow, even when he felt the eyes of Sabrina looking at him with something smug and knowing on her face. He didn't care.

With his eyes following (Y/N) back to the kitchen, Harry didn't bother to hide the smile that crossed his features. Big and bright, he knew this was for her only, even if she couldn't see it.

—————

Harry's bones were exhausted as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. The steps creaked under his weight, mimicking the scrap he swore he felt in his joints. Even with the fact he'd been cut early for the night, the lack of sleep the day before still clung to his muscles.

All he wanted to do was go home and drop dead in his sheets for as long as he could manage before he woke with a cold sweat.

Despite it all, he stopped in his tracks when he saw his door.

Harry didn't really get mail. It was one of those things that came with being a ghost.

So it was more than a little concerning seeing a manilla folder taped to his door, just where the gold apartment number should be.

His name was printed in big blocky letters across the paper. The strokes of the ink were harsh and glaring, a notice wrapped in the command for him to unfold the paper and check the contents.

With his heart rate spiking in his chest, Harry glanced around him, hoping to see a nosy neighbour peeking on. It wasn't like he was especially friendly with his neighbours (they weren't (Y/N), so he had no interest), but perhaps he had been a little too noisy with his nightmares and someone had had enough, pasting a passive aggressive note to his door telling him to keep it down.

It was a false hope, one Harry didn't believe even for a second, but the reality of the situation was still catching up with him. That was how he was able to snatch the paper from the door without shaky hands, slipping inside without a second glance around him.

He couldn't lock his door fast enough after slamming it shut, the jamb reverberating with a use of strength he hadn't intended to use. He stared for a few lingering seconds, watching as if the lock would flip itself open, all of the threats he'd been running from pouring in after him.

His apartment was silent just as it should be. It made him even more uneasy.

He wasn't supposed to be home now, but still no one was waiting for him. They'd found his apartment but didn't sit and wait for him—ambush him the way he knew they liked to operate. This was the long game they were playing. There were more games they wanted him to participate in before something drastic would happen.

Harry treated the manilla folder as if it were an explosive. Gentle hands gripped the edges with fingertips sliding under the lip to unhook the flap. He worked slowly.

Just inside was the edge of a white piece of paper—no it was thicker than paper, he found when he slipped his hand inside and tugged out a stack of the pages. The pieces were a blank, stark white, thick and heavy.

Flipping them over, that was where all the color was hiding.

Glossy photographs greeted him on the other side.

Glossy photographs of him.

Him at work. Him at his apartment. Him in his car. Every place within this town he had bothered to extend himself was in the background of these photos, while he was the muse in front of the lens. They'd seen him everywhere, for at least the last month.

His paging halted when a new muse made an appearance in the photos.

(Y/N).

Photos of them at the bakery together, the library, the grocery store. A shot had even captured them leaving his apartment the one time he'd brought her over. Thank god he'd taken her inside with him instead.

But that wasn't enough. There were a trio of photos of her all alone. They'd seen her in her home, seen her in her bedroom, seen her living her life without a thought in the world that someone may be documenting every moment from the shadows.

A story began to form the more pages he worked through. A starry sky was the backdrop behind the pair of them, (Y/N) looking up at him as he brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

He'd been walking her home.

In the background of the next image was her gingerbread house. Her picket fence was behind Harry's form, her yellow birdhouse a pseudo-sun in the darkness. The camera followed their steps as she escorted him inside, their hands clasped just barely in view of the lens. With the door shut behind them, the angle shifted, their photographer having found a better vantage point to spot them in the kitchen.

Through new eyes, Harry saw the events he lived through unfold in front of him. He saw he and (Y/N) pattering through the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. He saw the way he was so nervous to be sharing the space with her until he eventually unfurled, his features visibly softening the longer he spent time with her. (Y/N) was there, with those flyaway hairs and gilded lines in her face, giving him space and an encouraging smile. He remembered exactly what it felt like to be standing over those tiles with her starry eyes placed on him.

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to see the next image. He knew how the story went, and he didn't want his recollection to be tainted by seeing it through the eyes of another. He didn't want the single joyous moment he'd had in years to be ruined.

But, this was the life he signed up for when he left that night. A life of goodbyes and nothing that could be truly his. He knew that.

With a steeled resolve, he flipped the page.

On the glossy paper was a photo of Harry and (Y/N)'s first kiss. He saw the crinkles by her eyes as she tried not to smile against his mouth. He saw the gentle way he cradled her cheeks. The smush of their lips together were slitted as if puzzle pieces had found their connecting slate. It was everything he remembered it to be. Buttery sunshine, gentle touches, and a moment no one could take from him.

Only this story was now shrouded in a darkness that came with the edging of leaves vignetting around the photo, the angle fudged to allow the photographer to capture this moment without their knowledge. In these photos, it wasn't a joyous moment to be documented and emulated in movies and novels. This was an exploitation of a weakness. A signal to let Harry know that they knew.

They'd found him.

Dropping the stack to the ground, Harry looked at his feet and saw every nightmare, every worst case scenario, every precaution he took now going down the drain. All of this running, fighting, and erasing just to be found anyway.

It was the photos of (Y/N) by herself that scared him the most. While there was that streak of fear for his own safety striking through his heart, he felt more for her than he could manage for himself. How could he have allowed himself to put his hands on her at all, let his eyes graze her skin, her face enter his dreams when he knew very well that this could happen?

He'd just ruined her life and she had no idea.

Peeking out just between a pair of photos of (Y/N) getting ready to go to bed was a page from a notebook. The blue lines were smeared, water stains on the very edge. Snagging the page, Harry kept his hands from shaking as best he could so he could read the red ink printed across.

It was (Y/N)'s home address. The address of the bakery. Her full name. And her phone number.

Every bit of pertinent information anyone would need to hurt her. It was the kind of information Harry had been given when he was sent out on jobs.

For a split second, Harry swore the earth shattered, but only in his chest. This message was worse than any photo they could have taken of him, any chase they could have given him, anything they could have done to only him. He knew what they were planning with that information if Harry didn't do something before then.

Just like that, everything stopped.

The shattering in Harry's chest ceased. His breathing became centered. His hands didn't shake. Every messy emotion, every wandering thought that didn't pertain to the goal was wiped away and tucked into a box to be shoved into a corner.

The switch had been flipped.

While there was a suddenly dormant part of him that worried over how easy it was to turn this version of himself on again, even after so many years, that couldn't be of a single concern of the moment.

With everything packed away, Harry could focus now. His mind was clear. A plan was forming, a list being written, that would dictate how the next twelve hours were going to go. When the time came, he'd reevaluate and add to his plan. Now was the time for first steps.

He wasn't safe here anymore. He couldn't stay in this apartment and wait for them to come back and either force him into doing things he swore he never would again, or kill him.

(Y/N) wasn't safe here anymore, either. She couldn't stay in her own home. They had enough information on her to make her a sitting duck without her ever being aware until the unthinkable happened.

He needed to leave, and (Y/N) was going with him.

WIth the photos and the page of her information left on the ground, Harry's instincts kicked in. This was just the exact reason he didn't have much of anything to lug around with him. His life needed to be packed up in as little time as possible.

Pulling a too-familiar duffle bag out from under his bed, Harry began the process. First, clothing was to be stuffed into the bag. He'd leave his work clothes for whoever would eventually break into his apartment and find him gone. The one book he'd never leave without was next. Hopefully, Ms. Klarke wouldn't hate him for never returning the books he borrowed this week. Tucked inside the cushion of his clothing was the photo of his mother and sister. Their faces were only blurs with the way he didn't allow a second to focus on them. A stash of cash he had stuffed under his mattress was next. Almost everything he made went to keeping this emergency fund stocked and untouchable. Shoved under his bed, farthest back against the wall, were a duo of guns he quickly plucked up and stuck into his duffle. Extra ammunition was next.

As a passing thought, Harry grabbed the photos strewn across the floor. There couldn't be a trace of him left behind. He was now nothing but a ghost that had haunted this apartment and left in the middle of the night. He was no one.

Everything he owned was stuffed in his duffle bag along with a manila folder of photos that felt as if they could set the whole thing on fire. Dressed in a dark hoodie he'd thrown over his torso and black pants he'd worn to work, Harry stepped out into the open hallway. He didn't bother to look around, trying to find any prying eyes.

His neighbours were of no concern to him now, and if anyone of importance had been watching him, he wouldn't have gotten this far in the first place. Shutting the door behind him, Harry placed his key atop the door frame. His landlord could find that easy enough, he figured.

Harry didn't look back as he left his apartment behind, his duffle bag heavy over his shoulder. He wanted to be sad. If not for the fact he couldn't feel much of anything at the moment, he knew there would have been a sting over the life he was leaving behind. This was the first place he thought he could have been normal; this was the first place he saw himself as more than a simple survivor. He was beginning to be someone here.

But as he jogged down the rusting staircase, Harry remembered he wasn't anyone. And, that was the only way to survive.

—————

Before Harry could even be sure of what he was doing, he was in front of (Y/N)'s house. He couldn't slow down to think this through—or really think at all. Even if he was fairly certain he wasn't being watched, there was no reason to slow down when he had somewhat of a head start.

Slipping out of his car, he worked as quietly as he could. While he didn't care about his neighbours, (Y/N)'s were people who couldn't know about their next moves. He didn't want anyone else to get wrapped up in this.

His duffle bag had been left in the backseat of his car, one of the guns he had now stowed away in the glovebox. The photos still taunted him even if he wasn't looking at them.

Harry tried his best to keep the strength out of his urgency as he knocked on (Y/N)'s front door. It was no surprise when there was no response, not even a stirring inside. It was three a.m.. But he didn't really have time for her to wake up.

He knocked again, a little more force given to the rapping. He barely gave a moment of reprieve before he had reached for his phone in his hoodie pocket and dialed her number. He didn't stop knocking as his phone rang for hers.

It's on the second phone call to her and the fourth minute of knocking on her door that had her opening up. Swinging the door open, she was unveiled to be just as tired as he figured. Her pajamas consisted of a large t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. Her socked feet shuffled as she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand.

She looked barely awake, as if she were trying to figure out if she were still dreaming when she squinted at him. "Harry?"

Her voice was hoarse. He wanted to feel guilty for waking her up from such a deep sleep, but he couldn't feel much of anything.

"We need to go," he told her, voice quiet and intense as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He was going to have to do something with that, he figured. They could be tracking him with it for all he knew.

A harsh blink of her eyes did little to wipe the sleep from her gaze. (Y/N) ran a heavy hand through her hair, tugging away stray strands that obscured her view. "Huh?"

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he brushed past her into her home. He stepped over the threshold with the kind of scary confidence he hadn't felt in years. It was a wonder how he was able to hide behind something as fragile for so long.

(Y/N) didn't fight him, only shutting the door and twisting the lock after him. "What do you mean?"

He didn't turn to look at her even when he started giving commands: "We need to leave, (Y/N). Pack some clothes while we have a little bit of time."

Some sense seemed to be making its way into her sleep-addled brain. Her eyes cleared up as he looked at him. She blinked with a flutter of her lashes, a pinch appearing between her brows. "Harry, I don't think I understand what's going on... W-Why do we need to leave?"

Her line of questioning went right over his head, the plan the only thing properly processing in his brain. He ignored her as he maneuvered around her to scale the staircase to the second floor. Her bedroom was down this hall, he knew.

"Jus' pack some clothes, and whatever you think y'need. We need to leave in the next ten minutes."

(Y/N)'s steps were decidedly softer and more cautious as she followed him upstairs. "Harry?" she tried to call for him, tone gentle, "Do you need to sit down for a second? I can get you some water and something to eat, I just need you to tell me what's going on."

The lights were flicked off in her room like the rest of her house. That would make this job that much harder, but Harry didn't feel as if he had even a second to spare to switch on the lights. He needed a bag, that's where he needed to start.

"Harry? Are you listening to me?"

Did she have a duffle bag, or would he have to settle for a tote? It didn't matter much in the grand scheme, but she had too many creature comforts that he knew she wouldn't have the heart to leave behind. A duffle would allow more room. Maybe, in her closet...

Just as he grabbed the knob to invite himself into her closet, he felt her grab his arm. Her grip wasn't anything he couldn't break out of, but the fact she touched him at all had him stopping in his place.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on. You're scaring me, Harry."

His focus shifted at her words. A point of clarity had been made in her touch and the plea in her voice. Turning to face her, Harry loosened his hold on the doorknob though he couldn't find it in himself to completely let go.

Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him. The film of sleep had been wiped away, leaving nothing but the raw fear he'd instilled there. There was a tremor in her touch he hadn't noticed before. And, he knew it was all his fault.

A crack appeared in the steel demeanor he'd wrapped himself in.

He couldn't crack right now, Harry knew that. He needed to be careful.

Cracks had been appearing for months now. He was only fooling himself every time he said he was still being careful while orbiting around her. Now, look at where he was.

They couldn't afford for Harry to crack anymore. One more splinter in the ice beneath his feet and he'd be taking her down with him.

Dropping his hands to settle on her arms, Harry ducked down, crowding around her as he matched her watery gaze tenfold. Even in the dark, he knew he was close enough for her to catch every measured breath he took, every fleck of intensity in his eyes.

"I need you to trust me, (Y/N)," he told her, his voice low just for her to hear. "Do you trust me?"

The way she didn't hesitate to give him a small nod, even in the dark of the night with millions of questions running through her head, would've broken his softened heart if he hadn't caged it away for the time being.

He pulsed his hands around her arms. He didn't break his gaze from hers as he spoke, "I need you to grab enough clothes to last you a week or so, and anything y'can't live without. Okay? We need to leave as soon as possible. We need to get somewhere safe."

(Y/N) broke their eye contact, her own gaze searching his face for something he wasn't sure she'd find. Her chest rose with a lingering breath, her brows downturning just the smallest bit the longer she looked at him. It wasn't until she matched her gaze to his once more that she spoke.

"Okay."

It was barely more than a peep, but it was all he needed to hear.

Harry stepped out of her way as she moved on stunted limbs. She rifled through her closet for a moment only to reappear with the duffel he'd been hoping she had. She shoveled clothes in; soft sweaters, comfortable pants, t-shirts, all the things he'd seen her wear before, but they didn't look quite as sweet under these circumstances. (Y/N) was silent as she moved to the bathroom, the clanging of bottles and drawers sliding open and closed was all heard as she packed whatever she needed.

He wanted to feel anything as he watched her. He wanted anything to take root in his chest as he watched her pack up as much of her life as she could fit in that bag, but he didn't feel anything. There wasn't any guilt, fear, or pressure. He felt numb.

After she had her phone and her charger in her bag, he started her down the stairs. She didn't protest, didn't tell him she needed to grab anything else before they left. (Y/N) only followed.

"Put some shoes on," he told her gruffly, stopping her before she marched on out with only socks covering her toes.

"Right," she mumbled, immediately looking towards her end table with shoes shoved underneath. She picked her white Vans.

Wordlessly, Harry tucked her hand in his. He led her quickly out the door and down the steps of her porch. The click of her putting the lock in place did little to quell the urgency that was filling his chest now that they were out in the open for anyone to see.

It was an odd moment of deja vu, he felt as he guided her down the steps. Her hand was warm in his, the same way it was when she had led him inside for breakfast and a first kiss. That felt like a lifetime away instead of a weekend.

He took her bag and shoved it into the back seat along with his before he offered her the front passenger seat. (Y/N) didn't say anything as she buckled herself in, avoiding his eyes even when he slipped in beside her behind the steering wheel.

Turning the key, the dashboard lit up. He had enough gas in the tank to take them far enough away before they'd have to stop. His chest loosened at the sight of the meter. At least they had that.

Harry lingered in his spot at the curb in front of her house. His hands were heavy on the steering wheel, the car geared into drive, but he left his foot on the brake. The sun was still a couple of hours from breaking the horizon, leaving the only light from the waning moon and the dashboard tinting his car in a ghastly green. It was just enough light to see the tears glimmering in (Y/N)'s eyes and the exhaustion already trying to pull her down.

She had no answers, no idea of what kind of mess he'd brought her into, but she followed him anyway. The ice under Harry's feet cracked at the thought.

All it took was the reminder of the pad of paper with every bit of information a person needed to hurt (Y/N), all printed in slashes of red ink, to have that crack beginning to seal. She didn’t need someone who was cracking and just as scared as she was. She needed someone who would make her safe.

"Ready?" Harry grumbled, looking away before she could catch his eyes.

(Y/N) only nodded.

—————

sage represents wisdom; knowing when to run from the past or fight

now stuff is starting to happen!!! I would love to hear what you all think is going on and everything!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any ideas or requests or anything!

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onceuponastory · 9 months ago

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twelve minutes - bucky barnes x reader

But for now we stay so far 'Til our lonely limbs collide I can't keep you in these arms So I'll keep you in my mind - you and i by PVRIS

Plot: Almost a year after their breakup, Y/N sees Bucky Barnes again. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (past) Warnings: Mentions of a breakup and heartbreak, angst without a happy ending. Bucky being a shitty boyfriend. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So You and I by PVRIS, one of my favourite songs ever, turned 8 on Friday, and I had to write another fic for it to celebrate (please ignore I'm a few days late) so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

One night, Y/N stands outside the Avengers tower in the cold New York air. A chilly wind blows, and she shivers. She can still hear the party inside, the muffled music and laughter. Maybe she should just go inside? Isn't that better than being out here, alone and in the cold?

But just as she’s about to turn back, she shakes her head. She didn’t even want to come tonight. Although the Avengers are still her friends, a party attended by her ex, Bucky Barnes, was not the ideal way to spend her night. But Natasha whined and begged for her to come, promising her she’d have a good time and it wouldn’t be that awkward. Unfortunately, it was just as awkward as Y/N expected. In fact, it was worse.

Sure, people still spoke to her, but she could tell they all had one question on their lips, one she was not willing to answer: "So, when are you and Bucky getting back together?"

And so, Y/N left. She types on her phone, ordering an Uber to take her home. Sighing, she wraps her jacket around herself as another chilly wind blows. Soon, she’ll be home and can eat her sorrows in ice cream.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar voice asks. One that Y/N was hoping not to hear tonight.

“Hey Bucky.” He looks different from the last time she saw him, almost a year ago, now. Just over ten months, in fact. Not that she’s counting or anything. He’s bulkier, no doubt an effect of Steve’s constant early morning runs. Each time he left their bed, he promised to come back, kissing her cheek softly. Even now, her skin tingles just thinking about it. Bucky smiles, brushing some of his longer hair out of his face.

He looks good.

He looks great, actually. She can’t deny it - he still looks as attractive ever. Deep down, something registers in her gut. It’s a strong, passionate longing feeling, the same one she used to have whenever she thought of Bucky. One that she thought disappeared a long time ago. But seeing him now is reigniting that feeling. Desperately, she tries to bury it.

“Good to see you again.” He murmurs, a sign that he’s feeling just as awkward as she is. After all, how often do you run into your ex at a party you didn’t even want to go to? “Nat never said you were coming.” He looks around, a brow raised. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? She said he’s a lawyer.” Of course she fucking did. She’s going to kill her next time she sees her. “Can’t imagine he’d pass up a moment to spend time with you.”

“We um. We broke up. Well, he dumped me for his secretary, actually. So… yeah.” She’s immediately embarrassed, not meaning to spill her heartbreak to anyone, let alone Bucky fucking Barnes, her ex of all people. Honestly, part of her reasoning for coming tonight and hopefully dragging Harry along with her was to make Bucky jealous, show him that their breakup wasn’t affecting her that badly.

And look how well that turned out.

But her wounds are still raw. Perhaps, after suppressing her feelings for so long, she simply needed to release and express her frustration and pain to someone. And Bucky just happens to be the one she’s letting it out to, the welcome respite she’s needed for so long. That's how things used to be between them. Whenever something was wrong, Y/N and Bucky relied on each other for comfort. They would spend hours in each other’s arms, talking about their problems until they felt better. Y/N still aches for that comforting grasp, even now.

But now, things are different. Including her and Bucky.

Especially her and Bucky.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay.” She lies, but knows that if she dwells on it too long, she’ll start sobbing in front of him. Her chest tightens in an all too familiar way. This is what people like Bucky Barnes do. They come into your life and leave a mark. Once they’re gone, you work so hard to heal yourself and make a new life, and then they come back in and destroy everything all over again. And she won’t put herself through that again.

“Looking back on it now, we just weren’t a good fit. Or at least, he didn’t like me as much as I liked him.” The heat on her cheeks deepens, as if she’s embarrassed to admit falling in love with and getting her heart broken by someone like her ex. To admit that she subjected herself to so much pain and heartbreak yet again. But thankfully, Bucky doesn’t mention it.

“Honestly, it’s his loss. You deserve better.”

“Thanks.” And again, silence envelops them. She wonders if he’ll start talking about their breakup, or continue ignoring the enormous elephant in the room. And honestly…. she doesn’t know which she’d rather have. To lay everything out in the open, or just ignore it all again, pretending everything is fine. When her eyes drift back to him, he’s not looking at her anymore, and despite how angry she was at Bucky for what happened, and how much she likes to kid herself that she doesn’t care about Bucky anymore, it still stings.

Deep down, she wants him to want her, like she wants him. To still want her, even now.

“Can we talk?” He asks suddenly. She already hates the idea of being forced to spend time with another ex so soon after losing another relationship, but there’s not much else she can do. And honestly…. She misses Bucky a lot.

“Sure. You have….” she peers down at her phone screen, the light illuminating the space. “Twelve minutes.” Bucky raises a brow.

“Twelve? That’s very… specific.” He chuckles awkwardly. Y/N doesn’t laugh.

“It’s how long until my Uber arrives.”

“Oh.” There’s disappointment lacing his tone, which Y/N picks up on. She stares at him, waiting for his response. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened between us.”

“Okay. Me too.” She nods. Bucky raises a brow.

“...That’s it? Y-You’re not going to say anything?”

“What can I say? You said that you’re sorry for how it ended, and so am I.” She shrugs. “There’s no point in beating ourselves up, Bucky. We just never worked out. You were always too busy, and after a while I just stopped waiting for you. The fights got too much, and we just stopped loving one another.” Honestly, she never stopped loving him. But it’s better to lie and tell him that the feeling is mutual than waste all her tears on someone who actually stopped loving her. She stopped being important to him and was no longer the key priority in his life. Missions were his priority, followed by dinners, drinks, and world trips with teammates - things she stopped being invited to. As an Avenger, he can't refuse to save the world, but she thought she mattered to him. Realising she didn't hurt her deeply.

So one day, she decided enough was enough, and… it was over. And she’s missed him terribly since then.

“You really think I stopped loving you?” Bucky frowns. There’s a strange mix of guilt and accusation in his tone. Y/N nods. “Well, I didn’t. I never stopped.”

Y/N gasps, and his revelation makes her heart pound. What if this is a good sign? A chance for them to make things right? “I thought you did. I thought you stopped caring.” For a moment, she wonders how he’ll react, if he’ll take her into his arms again, and whisper sweet nothings. Maybe they’ll finally make things right.

Instead, he turns defensive. “I didn’t. And it’s not all my fault, you know. I did try to make it home to you, but you didn’t understand how busy I was sometimes.” He snaps, sending a fresh strike of pain through her already damaged heart and destroying all hope she ever had of them rekindling their relationship..

“You had a funny way of showing it.” She retorts, rolling her eyes. Anger flows through her veins, overtaking her last shred of guilt. Why is it her who has to fix things first? To be the villain, the one who has to admit that they’re in the wrong? Angry and bitter tears sting at her eyes. “But yeah, whatever. It’s my fault our relationship fell apart.”

Immediately, Bucky regrets his words. “Look, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” He hates that this is what they’ve come to now, unable to speak to one another without anger, bitterness and hurt feelings. But maybe this is a chance to make things right? A whole twelve…well, probably ten minutes, now. “And I’m sorry if it seemed I wasn’t trying hard enough. I loved you a lot.” He sighs. “I still do.”

“I never stopped either.” She admits, and Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Really?” He gasps. “W-Well, do you wanna get a drink somewhere? Or some dinner?”

“Wait.” She raises a hand, cutting him off. She sighs. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow? I’ll wait. We can go whenever you want.” He urges. But Y/N just can’t ignore the feeling deep inside her, of guilt and apprehension. What if she lets him back in and it happens all over again? If she gives him all of her heart and gets it back broken, yet again? She’s already been through two heartbreaks in this lifetime, and she can’t go through that pain again.

Especially not one caused by Bucky.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She whispers, biting her bottom lip. Bucky frowns, confused.

“What do you mean? W-Why not?”

“Because I can’t do this again.” She whimpers, her voice cracking. “Our break up destroyed me, and I’ve just been through another one. Another break up between us would actually finish me off.” She shakes her head. “Maybe one day we can talk…but not now.”

Bucky opens his mouth, ready to speak. But he nods. “I understand.” He sighs. He keeps his gaze on her, his blue eyes imploring and hopeful. Suddenly, the sound of an engine approaches. Y/N sighs. “Guess my twelve minutes are up.” Bucky chuckles nervously.

“Goodnight Bucky.” She says, getting into the car and closing the door. He watches her go, looking crestfallen. She looks out of the window, locking eyes with him.

“You okay?” The driver asks. “Need a minute?” Y/N’s heart aches, and her chest aches.

“No.” she murmurs. “You can keep driving.” And then they pull away, and Bucky fades into the distance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 5 months ago

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Happy 28th! Here is my June 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Oxford AU Series by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (130k)

Come As You Are (77k) “I think it could be like this all the time,” Harry says. “I know it doesn’t make sense but I think you should consider it. I could make you happy if you let me.” louis is a professor of literature at oxford and harry is his newest and most eager protege. both are caught in a story about forbidden love, loss and second chances, in which one is on the brink of heartbreak and the other comes along when he's needed most. Overwhelmingly You (47k) more reflections post-oxford. Notes on Oxford (5k) glimpses at life before, during and beyond oxford, in no particular order

Satellite by suspendrs / @suspendrs (100k)

“It’s been three years since I’ve had a proper hot meal,” Louis says finally. “I have no idea where my family is, or if any of them are even still alive. The only reason I’ve been able to keep myself alive for as long as I have is because I keep to myself, stay guarded, stay hidden. It’s the only way I know how to live,” he says.

Harry wants to cry, but he tries to put on a brave face when Louis finally meets his eyes. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to be so guarded around me,” Harry says quietly, earnestly.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Louis says, putting his fork down. “But yes I do. Especially around you.”

Or, Louis needs a house. Harry offers him a home.

Just Pretend by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything (90k)

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

Into The Midnight Sun by summerwine @smrwine (63k)

Every day without Louis was a never ending blue Monday. Every day went without his sweetness and warmth and the radiant colours of his flame. The tenor of his voice became unfamiliar and muddled between going so long without the sound of it and getting lost with every other voice clouding Harry’s memory.But he was here now, warming Harry’s bones with lips like summer. Every moment in his arms felt like a Sunday stroll through London. Beautiful and stormy and feeling every bit like home. or, It's 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn't easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

Everything of Mine Is Yours by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (33k)

"Did you two have a good time?”

Harry in his bathroom, brushing his teeth with frizzy hair and tired eyes. Harry on the couch cuddled up with Posy, cradling her in the crook of his elbow, humming a soft song. Harry laughing with his friends in a pub on a Friday night, a flower field in his eyes. Harry in his bed tucked under the covers, naked against fresh sheets like a shock of moonlight cutting through a storm.

“Yeah,” he says. “We did.”

or: With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better) by haztobegood / @haztobegood (3k)

Five times it's raining and one time it stops.

Spoon Time by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow (2k)

There was nothing going on between them outside of the normal bro-pal-laddy-dude things every other set of best friends did. All sets of best friends did things like this. You know, hanging out every day, staying up late, and chatting until the wee hours which usually ended up as a sleepover and bed-sharing. There is nothing going on between them.

That is what Harry was going to keep telling himself and everyone around them, anyway because it is the truth, after all.

#28th appreciation #june fic rec #monthly fic rec #larry fic rec #fic rec #hlcreators #read

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smehur · 4 months ago

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More Harry/Draco fics I loved

I'm reading so much fic, I don't have time to read the actual books! And my Read Later list still keeps growing! Thank you, Drarry Tumblr, for feeding me so well. Here's a little something in return.

In the order of reading them:

Bitter Honey, Green Night by Faith Wood

An inn, an Auror, a criminal, a mystery.

I loved this story for the seduction, and the tension, and one of the most exquisite, most intimate sex scenes I've ever encountered. Even weeks after reading, it still lingers in my mind and I can envision it with almost painful clarity. I admit I wished the story went on: although the main conflict got a satisfying resolution, there could've been a bit more closure (read: another sex scene). Not a critique, mind you--if I were in the author's shoes, I'd have probably stopped there too--just the longings of an insatiable fan.

i was having visions of sugared pastry (cooked up in clarified butter) by infectiousdisease, solifuge

Draco Malfoy doesn't remember a time before his eating disorder. Not that he'd call it that.

This one gutted me in all the right ways. Draco with an eating disorder passed on from Narcissa clicked for me with frightening ease. It just rings so true? The unflinching depictions of his mental and physical illness, of his relations with his dysfunctional family and the bullying he inflicted on others made my stomach clench--and I loved it. I also loved how the horrors of the war were communicated as subtext, reflected in Draco's war against himself, rather than explicitly, to great effect. I loved the soft things too: Draco's relationship with Harry developing between the lines, the cathartic trial scene and the well-earned beginnings of recovery, all written in brisk, efficient prose that cuts to the marrow. An absolute gem of a fic.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Easily one of the loveliest stories I've read in this fandom so far. Draco is such an unmitigated darling; I rooted for him deeply, while fearing at the same time that he'd fuck things up irreparably, lol. And Harry, dear, pure, clueless Harry, with his long-time crush that's teased but never fully elaborated. There's also a little owl, heart-warming moments between Draco and his parents, his unrelenting focus on clothes and a scene where he goes jogging in a Muggle park wearing robes (and little else).

All that said, the end left me feeling weirdly cheated. (Spoiler alert!) Harry says it himself: it's not fair that Draco had their first kiss without him. Was Draco's exploration of the timeloop selfish, or just inconsiderate, or entirely justified? What would Harry have done in his shoes? Not gonna lie: I kept mulling over this for days.

Mortal Frame by tackytiger

Draco’s on a mission, and this time it's personal. But it's not easy to track down something that no one wants to talk about, especially when Harry Potter keeps popping up everywhere Draco goes. Though at least he’s on Draco’s side this time, and if he happens to be useful, and kind, and great in bed—well, Draco’s not exactly complaining. The story of three pubs, one Horcrux, four overpriced sandwiches, and two damaged men just trying to make sure that Bellatrix Lestrange stays dead.

Oh, this was such a treat. Mysterious, atmospheric and reticent in just the perfect measure, it had me wide-eyed and heart-aching and mouth-watering. Most of my reading is about Harry and Draco getting together, and I'm always surprised when stories where they're already a couple (of one sort or another) manage to evoke in me such deep longing. If you haven't already, go read this now.

À Bon Chat by oknowkiss

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

Omg, this fic. I don't even know where to start with the praise. It is so well-written, and so well-researched, and it offers such insight, not only into our beloved characters, but into human nature in general. I still can't decide whether I entirely bought the ending or not. But that didn't lessen my enjoyment of the story; it even contributed to it by making me engage with it on a deeper level. I remain astonished and humbled.

Tagging the authors I managed to find on here: @faith2wood, @oknowkiss, @tackytigerfic. Thank you for enriching my life! 💚

#drarry #harry/draco #fic rec #rec list #harry potter #my post

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sheeple · 11 months ago

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Miracles don't exist | 31: Important tasks

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Insecure MC / minor character death/ Nagini does a gobble gobble A/n: Last year y'all! The story is coming to an end :( [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Like a reflex, your eyes shoot open as the first water droplet hits the window. You glance at the glow-in-the-dark arms of the clock on your nightstand. 2:41 it reads.

With your pillow under your arm, you paddle across the hallway, towards the end. You don't knock when you enter the bedroom and you can easily navigate around the furniture in the dark. Siding under the covers, you fluff up your pillow before pressing your face against Theo's back.

He hums, turning towards you and draping an arm over your middle. "What are you doing here?" His voice is low and drowsy.

You burrow yourself further into his embrace. "It's going to storm", is your simple answer. A sleepy laugh rumbles through his chest. It's the same answer you always give when you curl up next to him.

Because the truth is, despite being engaged to each other, you're not allowed to sleep in the same bed. They want little pure-blood Heirs of Slytherin running around, but not out of wedlock.

Nonetheless, the two of you entangle your limbs and sleep almost every night together.

And nobody says anything about it. They don't dare to. Somehow, you've instilled fear in the Dark Lord's followers by just existing. The one good thing about it is that they leave you alone.

"There's another meeting today." You tuck your hands under your face and look at the dark-haired boy next to you. "Wormtail was sent to kidnap someone today. I've heard their screams when walking around the Manor."

A shiver runs down your spine. Theo says nothing, he tugs you on top of him and wraps both his arms protectively around you. "We have to be careful. Of everything we do", he whispers, his voice wavering.

You say nothing, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat. The two of you stay like this for hours until the sun shines through the windows and gives your face a golden glow.

Theo caresses your chin and cheek, tracing over the scar left behind by the Boy Who Lived. You turn your face away so he's no longer touching it. But Theo takes hold of your chin, forcing your face towards him. He tries to meet your eyes, but you keep them downcast.

"Listen... listen to me. Your pretty face and I are going to survive this. Do you understand me? And every scar, wound, or other injury, we're going to wear them with pride. Because we're survivors."

He gives you a look that tells you he's not messing around. A small smile blooms on your face, making Theo smile in return.

The mood at the table is tense. If it was not for the floating Hogwarts teacher, then is it for the fact that Snape is late and the Dark Lord is losing his patience. When the said man finally arrives, he takes place on the left side of the Dark Lord, his blank eyes meeting yours.

"You bring news, I trust."

"It will happen Saturday next at nightfall."

"I've heard differently, my Lord." Everybody's heads are turned to the other side. "Dawlish, the Auror let it slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the 30th of this month", Yaxley goes on, his hands clasped together. "The day before he turns seventeen."

Your eyes flicker to Theodore, who's between Yaxley and Nott Sr. Theo's eyes are focused on the blond man next to him.

"This is a false trail", interjects Snape, "The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter." Snape turns towards the Dark Lord, "those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."

A Death Eater pipes up. "Well, they've got that right haven't they?" A laugh rumbles through the room.

"What say you, Pius?"

The Imperiused man on the other side of the table focuses his glassy eyes to the best of his ability towards the Dark Lord. "One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear."

The Dark Lord lets out a chuckle. "Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, proven most useful, Pius." His attention flickers back to Snape. "Where will he be taken, the boy?"

You zone out. It's what you have noticed is most effective for keeping sane during all those meetings. You get pulled out of your trance for a moment as the kidnapped 'guest' in the cellar lets out a yell. But it's not until you feel the Dark Lord's hand trail over your shoulder that you pay attention again.

He stops next to Lucius, holding his hand out for him. "My Lord?", squeaks the blond man.

Voldemort mocks your uncle. He reaches his hand out, "I require your wand." Once he receives the wand, he snaps the ridiculous snake head off and throws it on the table.

He points the wand at the floating teacher, bringing her to a stop over the table. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined today by Miss Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts. Her speciality was Muggle Studies."

You look in fear as the Death Eaters around you laugh mockingly. you know Professor Burbage, very well in fact. Muggle Studies was one of the ways you defied your family's ways.

"It is Miss Burbage's belief that Muggles... are not so different from us. She would, given her way, have us mate with them."

His speech falls on deaf ears. Your breathing has picked up as you look with big, scared eyes at your Professor. One of your most beloved professors. Her face is morphed in pain as her body is contorted in strange ways. Your bottom lip trembles as she locks eyes with you before moving on to Snape.

You can see her lips move, begging for her life, but the words don't register. With a quick green flash, her dead corpse falls on the table. Professor Burbuga's lifeless eyes stare at you, a tear rolling out of her eye.

"Nagini... dinner."

The snake slithers up the table, through your legs. Everybody pulls their hands away from the table as she makes her way towards the teacher. She opens her jaws and pounces upon the body, ripping her to shreds.

"Young mister Nott."

Your head snaps from the Dark Lord to the now pale-as-a-sheet Theo. He gives you a look before focussing on the man at the head of the table. "Y... yes, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord has a small sadistic smile on his face. "You are expected to join us, next Saturday in the capture of Harry Potter."

Theodore swallows. "Of course, my Lord. It will be an honour."

"Am I also to join?", you ask, finding your voice.

But the Dark Lord shakes his head. "No, my Heir. I have a far more important task for you."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly

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mvltisstuff · 2 years ago

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boyfriends - e.b

summary: after dealing with her boyfriend for years, she finally decides to end things with help from buck.

evan buckley x reader

based on the song boyfriends by harry styles :))

a/n: guys i’m on s5 and what the duck is happening. also pretend ravi has been there for longer bc i literally love him

the table was set with thin candles and ceramic plates under a maroon tablecloth. there were light rain noises coming from outside, calming the room with the dim lights. the aroma of homemade pasta and white wine was filling the room. dressed in her neat jean skirt and black top, y/n sat in one of the chairs at the table.

the door unlocked and swung open with an aggressive stomping coming in with a swaying man. “hey, princess! sorry i’m late i was just busy.” slurring his words together, he walks over as she stands up.

“i thought you were at work.” she states, quietly. she’s confused as he should smell like an office, but instead radiates a busy bar and whisky.

“oh, the guys wanted to go out, sorry about dinner,” he says, slumping on the couch.

“i planned this whole thing, cam. you really couldn’t blow them off for one night?”

“it was just dinner! it’s not like we didn’t have food here.”

“yeah, food for us, that i made for you!” she starts getting annoyed but it’s impossible to argue with a drunk person. “it’s fine, i’ll just take it to work.” clearly annoyed, she pulls the plates out and clears them off into tupperware.

“well don’t be pissed at me because i wanted to hang out with the boys,” he says, his words barely making sense. she doesn’t fight back, knowing he won’t even remember this in the morning.

“go to bed, cameron.” y/n says, before entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

————————————————————————

dressing for work, y/n wakes up to throw on her uniform. she gathers her things to prepare for another long shift at the 118, and she notices his keys gone, along with his work belongings.

she walks out the door after grabbing the leftovers she had spent hours preparing for someone who spent hours not caring. she walks into the station to be greeted by her real family.

“hey, y/n!” eddie says, organizing one of the trucks with buck.

buck gives her a sweet smile, noticing the abnormal lack of excitement on her face. she walks over and talks to them a bit, drained of energy but still ready to force herself through the day.

as much as she didn’t want to leave her apartment, being at the station felt more of a warm welcome. stepping in through the garage doors, the cold air from her apartment and life outside had evaporated.

the team goes upstairs to the kitchen, as bobby is making coffee for everyone. y/n leaves her extra food on the counter to show people.

“what’s all this from, y/n?” bobby asks. “you didn’t have to bring this.”

“oh, it’s just my l-“ she cuts herself off. “i made this to bring to you guys. i made the pasta myself.”

“it’s delicious!” buck says, a mouthful of pasta and covering his mouth. he tries to lighten her mood after seeing directly through her lies.

he had met cameron before, never really being a fan of him. she’d brought him to one of the gatherings, and he spent the whole time ignoring her existence, and then getting mad at her for being upset. he knew she deserved better, and honestly, he thought, she deserves him. he wanted to help her, but didn’t want to cross the line and help where he wasn’t needed.

“really, buck? couldn’t even heat it up?” hen asks, slightly disappointed but expecting nothing else from him.

they all walk away back to their own chores around the station, as bobby stays in the kitchen. “hey, y/n!” buck runs up behind her.

“yeah? you ok?”

“that’s… kinda my question to you.” he stutters a bit. “it’s just- just wanna make sure everything’s okay, you don’t seem as… bright and bubbly as normal.”

buck and y/n had been friends for a long time, knowing how each other felt all the time. they were able to connect with one another so easily, and buck knew that something was wrong with her. he missed her happy mood, that seemed to have faded away more with every shift.

“oh, i’m fine, buck.” she smiles. “it’s just been a lot of work and sleeping, and repeat.”

she lies to him again about cameron, even though he knows the truth. “y/n/n, come on. don’t lie to me.”

“what?” she peeps out.

“talk to me, please.” he begs her to open up because he just wants to make her feel better. “is it cam?”

“n-no, buck. stop, it’s fine.”

that answer alone told him everything he needed to know. he doesn’t know all the details of their relationship, but it’s almost like cam pretends they aren’t even in one.

y/n doesn’t know why she defends him so much, or why she sticks up with it. she’s hoped things will change for a while, but usually nothing looks up. she loves him, she does. at least she thinks so. she provides so much for both of them, and has put in so much energy to their relationship, only for broken promises in return. she has hope that the time she’s put in was worth it, but every day when she goes home to him it becomes weaker. being a first responder, she wants to help everyone she can. she wants to be able to fix their relationship and she wants to feel valued, for once. people tell her all the time how she saved them, and she so badly wants him to realize that everyone needs to be saved. she’s given him the world, and it’s not long before she takes it all back.

“i know it’s not. i’m here for you, and if he’s not good to you i’m gonna be-“

“buck, just drop it! i’m doing the best i can!” her voice raises in defense, and he pulls her into the locker rooms. “im drained from this relationship, right now and i cannot get into this with you right now. this is my only escape, evan.” her light tears form in her eyes before her breathing becomes sharper. the other workers look at them, but with death stares from hen, chimney, and eddie they look away. they’re listening too, they never really liked him either but figured it was none of their business. it hurts to see their friend in this situation.

“i know, it’s gonna be ok.” he pulls her into a hug in hopes to calm her down. “you didn’t make that for us, didn’t you?”

“no, i made it for him. then he came home completely wasted and told me not to make a big deal out of it. i spent my one day off making this big ass dinner for him, and he couldn’t even take a minute to say thank you.”

“look at me, y/n.” buck pulls away and places his hands on your shoulders. “it is not your fault he’s not good enough for you. he is not. good. enough.”

“no,” she whispers.

“yes,” he says. “you deserve better than what he’s giving you.”

she shakes her head and his heart breaks more. there is no way that he has given her so much shit that she doesn’t believe it’s his own fault. the tears come stronger and run down her damp cheeks. “i can’t just leave him, buck. i cant hurt him like that because some part of me still loves him.”

“i know, but it is for the better.”

“i don’t think i have the power to end things. he wouldn’t listen to me and i can’t bring myself to break his heart.” she cries.

“you need to leave him before he breaks yours any more than it already is.” y/n calls back into his chest, and he sits her down on the benches. his own eyes are becoming glossy at the pain of watching his best friend have to deal with this. he’s had his own fair share of bad relationships, but they never meant anything because he is scared of this happening. it hurts his heart to know that she’s been carrying herself through this relationship as he’s just been more weight on her shoulders.

————————————————————————

the door of the apartment swings open again, as usually. surprisingly, the smell of liquor doesn’t hit y/n’s nose. cameron walks in, placing his bags on the floor by the door. “y/n?”

“y/n? where are you?” he calls out again and she makes her way out of the bedroom. “hey, you. did you make dinner?”

“no.” she says, maintaining eye contact.

“o-oh? we don’t have leftovers?”

“no, cameron. i took them to the station.” she says. “you would remember i told you that, but you were too drunk to remember.”

“what are you talking about, y/n? i went out for drinks, i don’t know why you have to be so bitchy about it.” she’s made her decision to leave, but the names still sting inside.

“well, you don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean? youre not actually leaving me.” he let’s out a patronizing chuckle at her words, but she stands her ground.

“i am leaving you, cameron. my stuff is in my car, and we are over.” she doesn’t move from her spot on the ground, scared to move her glued feet like she’d fall over.

he laughs again with a critical grin on his face, again. “and where do you think you’ll go? i pay for this apartment, i pay the bills. you have nothing without me. y/n.”

“i work at the best fire station with the highest ranking paramedics and firefighters out there.” she retorts back. “i’ll be just fine without you, hell, i practically have been for the past two years.”

“you’re embarrassing yourself, baby girl.” y/n’s expression scrunches up from the cringe of the pet name that she’s always hated.

“don’t ever call me that again.”

“you have no where to go, you can’t stay at your stupid job forever.” he takes a step closer, and she takes another one back.

“actually, she’s going to stay with me until she can find an apartment.” buck says, coming around the corner, sensing her fear.

cam rubs his face. “y/n, please. we can do this together. you know i love you.” his immediate switches in mood is what she can’t control anymore, and she can no longer deal with it.

“some version of me out there still loves you back, and i feel insane amounts of nothing but pity for her.” y/n spits out at him.

“you’re a fucking psycho,” he says, and buck runs over to create more distance, standing between the two. y/n turns around, running her hands through her hair, trying to disappear.

“we’re leaving, y/n/n.” buck says, gripping your waist. “let’s go.”

“fuck, whatever. get the hell out.” cameron finally moves to the side and y/n and buck walk out of y/n’s old ‘home’ for the last time.

they stand outside in the parking lot, standing side by side as a speechless y/n stares in the distance. “i won’t stay for too long, i’ve found a few nice apartments to look at.”

“don’t worry about anything, y/n. you can stay there forever if it means you’re not there anymore.”

being faced with this much kindness and loving actions overwhelms her, making even more tears that she didn’t know she had pool in her eyes. “don’t cry, please. it’s ok, i’m here.” he pulls her back in and pats the back of her hair. “why don’t you drive over to my place, i’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

they go their separate ways and start driving to his nice apartment and already, it feels more like home than hers ever did.

buck pulls out his phone in the parking lot, in his car. he dials a few numbers and pulls the phone to his ear.

“hey, maddie. you busy tonight?”

————————————————————————

going up the stairs, y/n only had the energy to bring in a single bag to his apartment tonight. they walk side by side to his door together, his arm around her shoulders. buck fumbles with his keys and looks at her red, worn out eyes.

when he unlocks the door, y/n immediately notices all her family around bucks kitchen. she places her eyes on everyone, bobby and athena, hen, ravi, chimney and maddie, even christopher and eddie are there. “hey, y/l/n, welcome home.” athena is the first to say. and for the first time of the night, a fixed smile shines through her.

“hi guys, you all crowded in here?”

“thanks to this one, we wanted to be here for you, y/n.” hen says, pointing to buck.

“you did this?” she asks, sweetly, as if they all had just wrapped her hurt heart with the bandages of their love.

“i guess you could say that.” buck smiles, not wanting to take credit, but happy that he’s finally put some light in her mind.

“y/n, come over here and show us how you made that pasta.” bobby says, calling her over to start making dinner. “maddies going to start a salad.”

“ooh! i can make margaritas!” buck exclaims, excitedly.

“um, i can get behind that!” chim says.

everyone gathered around the kitchen, y/n notices her family all around, taking in the love they’ve given her. they would never have to take the time out of their day to come hang out in bucks tiny apartment if they didn’t truly care about her.

after a while, only buck and her remain in the kitchen. as everyone else squeezes into his living room, some people literally sitting on top of each other.

“hey, i don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

“you don’t have to thank me for anything. this,” buck says, looking around the room. “is what you’ve deserved. and i will do anything to make sure you know that.”

they keep their eyes together, feeling everything from the day come down on them. both of them have their fears, but they seem to fade away and they forget about everyone else. realizing how much he really cares about her has changed everything for her. she loves buck more than she would ever have been able to love cameron. she reaches up impulsively, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him in. she gives him a deep kiss and buck swears he’s levitating off the ground. his heart is on fire, waiting for this moment since they met. he didn’t expect anything in return, but he will say that this is a pretty nice reward.

buck leans back and shines a toothy grin at her, and she giggles. “you are very welcome.” he says, barely being able to get words out from his happiness.

they look over after hearing tiny giggles in the room. they both look over simultaneously, seeing christopher with an adorable, shining smile at them. he’s covering his mouth, but failing to conceal himself. “hi, christopher.” buck says.

“hi, buck! hi y/n!” he says, still not being able to wipe the smile away.

back in the living room, with maddies legs draped over him, chimney says to hen with a smirk, “and just like that, i am 20 dollars richer.”

“oh come on, chim, we all knew it was bound to happen.” hen laughs and they welcome y/n and buck back over.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley x reader #athena grant #henrietta wilson #maddie buckley #howie han #ravi panikkar

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

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Cat Man | a Don’t Stand So Close extra

Summary: This is a sweet little Halloween extra for the series Don't Stand So Close. Featuring a little trick-or-treating, three costumes, and some Mommy & Daddy alone time.

Warning: 18+ only, smut, fluff, daddy kink (as always), age gap

Word Count: 3.8k

Don't Stand So Close masterlist

When Starla and Paul got pregnant Harry and I were so beyond excited for the pair. We would have a little friend for James to play with, and though James was a bit older, they’d be growing up together. They’d plan their wedding after the baby was born.

The only issue I faced with this amazing news was that it meant I would be a step-grandmother. At the ripe old age of 27. Harry thought it was funny and Starla was unconcerned about it as she was focused on her new life and not my feelings.

Along with that, we navigated the odd naming of the relationship between Starla and James as delicately as we knew how. Technically they were half siblings. We opted to say auntie and nephew… but in the end, the confusion wouldn’t be worth the façade once James got older. Whatever people thought of the setup was none of our concern. Or it shouldn’t have been.

But to think I’d be becoming a grandmother?

“Hottest grandma on the planet.” Harry laughed.

I scoffed and sat down on the couch with James crawling over me and asking for another bite of cake we’d brought back from the baby shower.

It had been a long day. I helped Starla and Angela get everything ready. Starla mostly sat and pointed but it was nice to spend a little time with her. I felt thankful that she took me up on my offer to help.

We still had a bit of awkwardness between us. I was sure we’d never get back to how things were when we were best friends. And slowly things got better but my penance would always be the loss of that precious relationship as it was once upon a time.

“Mama. Cake!” James stood on my lap with his knees jammed into my ribs as he pointed toward the kitchen where the bit of cake we brought back was sitting on the counter.

“Not right now, honey,” I grunted as I lifted him away from my ribs. The little guy was solid and heavy. He had no idea that jumping on me or standing on me was uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong. I love that my baby enjoys being close to me all the time… but ow.

Harry leaned over and took him from my hands, “Let’s sit like a good boy and we’ll put on something to watch.”

The cartoon was bright and loud and obnoxious but somehow all three of us wound up falling asleep on the couch together after one episode.

When I woke up the sky was dark and both Harry and James were asleep sitting upright, heads leaned back into the cushion behind them, mouths dropped open, hands in their lap. Twins. I couldn’t get over just how alike they were. They even looked so much alike that it was scary. Old pictures of Harry, when he was James’ age, proved they were identical.

Gently lifting James into my arms I held him close and kissed the top of his head to put him into bed. I hated having him get into bed in his day clothes but it was not worth the hassle of waking him up to change him into pajamas. Another wonderful little thing about James was that he was a heavy sleeper just like his father. Would conk out and stay that way if you let him.

But the difference was that I needed to wake Harry because carrying him to our bedroom was out of the question.

“Harry…” I squeezed his arm and leaned in to kiss the top of his head, “Let’s go to bed, big guy.”

His eyes opened and he inhaled a deep breath before stretching his arms overhead, “You put James down already?”

I nodded, “Yep. Now time to put you in bed.”

Six hours.

That’s how long we got to sleep before James was bouncing in between Harry and me. I counted the hour and a half we were asleep on the couch watching cartoons the night before but it was rare to have more than six hours of uninterrupted sleep at a time. James just had some kind natural of alarm that only allowed Mom and Dad six hours at a time.

I rolled over and pulled James down, “Shhh… let’s sleep a little longer, baby. Look Daddy’s still sleeping too.”

“Cat man!” James excitedly shrieked.

Cat man. Or really, he meant Batman. It was his Halloween costume. Halloween was in a few more days and he’d been obsessed with it. I let him run around in it at home. And I mean, who could blame him? It was an awesome costume complete with a mask and a cape. I loved watching him run back and forth with the cape flying behind him. Who knew something as simple as a Batman costume could occupy a three-year-old for hours on end?

Harry sighed and rolled toward the commotion; his handsome face turned toward me with a smile. He brought his hand up to my face and spoke in his deep morning voice, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

James had been crying and throwing a fit to wear the costume all morning but we really wanted to have him wait until it was trick-or-treat time.

All morning we heard him screeching, “I’m cat man! Cat man!” and “I want cat man!”

We’d given up on correcting him to say Batman. Harry tried at first but James was sure cat man and Batman were the same thing. So we let it be.

We’d also given up on having him wait until it was time for trick-or-treating to let him put on his cat man costume. He was in distress, poor guy, so we folded. And anyway, why did it matter if he wore it before we left the house?

“Okay, Mr. Bruce Wayne. Are you ready to dawn your superhero costume and go fight bad guys?” Harry asked James animatedly.

Siggy and Jared were coming by to help us with trick or treating and then after they were bringing James to their place to have him stay for two nights. Harry and I were desperate for alone time. A full night’s sleep. Sex without a bouncy boy walking in.

Harry was dressed up as a cowboy. Only because it was easy. Jeans with a brown button-up shirt a green vest, and a cowboy hat. I was dressed as a red devil. Red leggings, a red long-sleeved shirt (that to my dismay did not match the red shade of the leggings as well as I thought it would), and a headband with horns. Also easy.

I remember the days when I used to go all out for Halloween. I figured this was pretty good for two adults who were looking more forward to getting home after the events than the actual event itself.

James filled his plastic pumpkin full of junk and he was as happy as ever. His overnight bag was already packed when we met up with my parents at the park and walked around to the houses nearby to go door-to-door.

James was in his element. Running from house to house with his little cat man cape waving in the wind. The four adults watched him bounce up to the houses and scream at the top of his lungs, “Trick or treat!!” to everyone who answered the door.

“Have you two thought of giving him a little brother or sister?” Jared said as we walked back to our cars.

This wasn’t the first time they’d brought this up. I rolled my eyes and Harry just laughed. There was no reason to answer them. They knew what our answer would be. That it was our decision and if we ever decided to have another they’d be the first to know.

James loved overnights at his grandma and grandpa’s house. I was sure it was because they let him sleep with them in their bed, let him stay up as late as he wanted, and fed him macaroni and cheese and candy bars. So it was no surprise to Harry and me when James held onto Siggy’s hand and followed her toward their car without a single pout.

“Behave for Papa and Gran okay? They’re gonna tell us if you’re not being nice,” Harry knelt to look James in the eye and James nodded dramatically.

I sighed as they drove off with my little boy. I loved having some space and alone time with my husband but it didn’t make me miss James any less every time they took him.

Harry put his hand on my knee, “Ready to get home, Mommy?”

Putting my hand over Harry’s I grinned with a laugh, “Of course, Daddy.”

. . .

We’d gotten a bottle of wine and had leftovers ready to go. I also snuck a stash of James’ candy for us for later.

Entering our home, Harry locked the door and then grabbed my hips, pulling my back into his chest before I could move away, “Where are you going, little devil?”

I snickered a laugh and turned my head to look at him, “Was gonna change out of this lame Halloween costume. Come with me, Daddy?”

Harry needed no prodding. I slid my leggings off and Harry sat at the edge of the bed, his cowboy hat lying next to him on the mattress.

“Aren’t you gonna change?”

Harry smirked and shrugged his shoulder, “Take your top off but leave the horns.”

I gave him a side-eye look and smiled as I peeled my shirt off. He made no move to get out of his own clothes.

“Bra, panties. Off,” he said as he leaned back onto his palms and crossed his legs in front of him as he watched.

I grinned at him and kept my eyes on his as I unplucked my bra and pulled my panties down. The small groan that fell from his throat had me blushing a bit. I’d never get tired of the way he adored my body and me.

Readjusting the devil horn headband, I faced him with a brow raised, “Okay. Did what you said.”

Harry leaned forward and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward him until I was in between his legs which he’d spread. He moved his hands up over my breasts and kept his eyes on mine, “Ever been fucked by a cowboy?” He smirked as he asked.

A scoff fell from my lips as I put my hands in his hair, “Don’t think so. Why? Does this cowboy want fuck his little devil?” I figured I’d play along. Harry enjoyed lots of playing when it came to sex and with James out of the house, we could really play.

Harry growled and leaned in to wrap his pink lips around my nipple. The moan into my flesh sent goosebumps down my torso and I felt his hands lower to my bum. He squeezed firmly and spread my cheeks, keeping his mouth on my tits.

He looked up at me from his spot and pulled his lips off my breast, “I want you to pull my cock out and suck. Wanna see what the little she-devil can do with that mouth.”

“Fuck,” I breathed out as I stepped back and then pressed my knees into the rug to kneel between his legs. He spread his thick thighs apart as I grasped onto the waistband of his jeans and began to unbutton.

To my delight, my horny husband was not wearing underwear and he was already nice and hard for me. Anyone who tells you men in their 40s can’t get it up easily is dead wrong. Harry has proven to me time and time again that he’s more than capable of rising to the occasion. Though he won’t be in his 40s for much longer, you’d really never know. He’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. A fucking body like a divine being. Strong and buff, tall… But it’s his eyes. The attention he gives you. He has a genuine hunger to listen and give you all of his attention. And that’s just so attractive to me that even his amazing physique pales in comparison to the way he looks at me when I’m talking.

“Ooh, Daddy…” I mewled as I pulled at him and stroked his hard prick, pulling him from the confines of his jeans. I gave him a few good pulls before I leaned in and spit over his ruddy tip, smoothing my saliva down his shaft before looking up at him and then taking him in my mouth.

One thing about being with a well-endowed man is that you can train to take them after some time.

I had struggled with how thick and long he was at the beginning but as the years have gone on I have learned just how to get him snug in my throat. Not always with ease, but it can be done and I typically can achieve getting my nose stuffed into the thatch of hair at his base every time I give him head.

Harry moaned above me and I felt him gather my hair behind my head as I bobbed over him. I tried keeping my eyes upward but his little nudge at the back of my head pushed me down further over his cock making it hard to peek up at him.

I swallowed around his tip and gurgled just before he pulled me off by my hair.

He slid back into the bed and put his cowboy hat on, leaning against the headboard he patted his thighs.

“Think it’s time for a ride.”

I laughed as I climbed after him and settled over his lap, “I like this,” I flicked at his cheap dollar-store cowboy hat.

Harry smirked as he pulled at me and placed his thumb through my crease.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for this ride first. Sink down, baby,” Harry laughed a few of the words as he spoke but then suddenly his expression changed from cheekiness to thoughtful and intense.

I breathed a laugh and bent my knees, nudging myself over his thumb to sink down on it. I placed my hands on his shoulders and rocked into his knuckles, “Am I doing it right?”

“Got my thumb inside your hole didn’t you? I’d say it’s right. Now,” Harry pushed his thumb upward harder and used his other hand to rub over my clit, “move those hips and fuck my thumb, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy…” I spoke softly and began clenching and rocking myself over his thumb and into the fingers, he was using on my clit.

I knew he was trying to make me feel a little embarrassed, a little vulnerable. Sometimes he liked making a spectacle and then commenting on how desperate for him I am. But he did it because he knew what it did to me. Knew how much it turned me on.

In fact, it was already becoming obvious how much I liked it given how wet his entire hand was, as well as the gushy little sound of me fucking myself onto his thick thumb.

“Knew the little devil would like something like this. Rub your cunt over Daddy’s cock now, baby. Show me how wet you got for my thumb.”

Harry gripped my hips to steady me, his damp fingers smearing over my skin as he held me and I settled my pussy onto his exposed cock. He was still fully dressed with only his pants open.

He remained stoic and unbothered by me which had me feeling that pathetic desperation so I breathed out a laugh and began to slick myself over him.

Suddenly the smack of his hand on my ass had me yelping as I gripped his shoulders tight.

“What’s funny, then? Hmm?” He asked me with a straight face.

I breathed out a shaky breath and tried to lean in to kiss him but he issued me another spanking to my other side.

He let go of my hip and squeezed my cheeks together. I could smell myself on his fingers, “Asked you a question, my love. S’rude not to answer.” He was working hard now to hide his smirk. The very ghost of dimples began to dip into his cheeks as he asked me to answer him once more.

He released my cheeks and wrapped his big palm around the front of my neck, raising his brows. A gesture for me to answer him, “I was feeling a little embarrassed and I got a little giggly,” I spoke honestly. But he knew this already. Knew that every time I felt embarrassed somehow it got me excited and I’d start to feel giggly.

“Aww, poor thing. What’s got you embarrassed baby? Didn’t realize the devil herself could all feel shy when she gets wet over a thumb.”

Blinking my eyes and nodding I smiled and put my hands up his jaw admiring his handsome face, “Will you fuck me, Daddy? I’m so horny for you. Been waiting for this all week. Please put me out of my misery.”

Harry fluttered his eyes closed for a moment before squeezing around my neck softly, “Well hop on then, honey.” His voice was deep and full of lust. I knew he was desperate too. We had plenty of time to play but if he was as achy as I was, I knew he’d be folding quickly.

I grinned as I lifted up and stuck my pussy right to his tip, “Just wanted to feel you and make you come,” I moaned as I pressed him inside of me. Always a tight fit into my entrance, his cock felt delicious.

“Yeah? Little devil wants my come? Well, go on then. Fuck it outta me.”

We moaned in unison as I lowered until I was sat over him, the fabric of his jeans being wetted slightly.

“Yes, Daddy… ooohh,” rocking my hips over him and then planting my feet flat onto the mattress so I could give him a good show, I leaned back and placed my hands at his thighs and gripped tight over his jeans as I lifted and lowered my pussy down over him, “Gonna fuck the come out of your cock.”

Harry groaned and put his hands on the underside of my thighs to help me lift upward as he watched my pussy slide up and down his thigh shaft.

“Fuck, baby. Oh my god…” he breathed his words as he leaned his head back into the headboard, making his cowboy hat prop forward before he tore it from his head and tossed it away.

He watched my body move up and down. His dick was shiny with my arousal as he began to buck upward slightly, causing me to lose my balance. I leaned forward and put my hands onto his shoulders to keep steady with a laugh.

We both chuckled at the whole scene. Harry’s nuisance of a cowboy hat, me losing my balance, the devil horns on my head…

Soon Harry had his knees bent and he slid down a bit for leverage to fuck into me from below.

We were both moaning and panting as we moved together. My knees were dug into the mattress as I ground myself over him and Harry used his position to lift himself into me deeply, knocking me upward at each thrust.

He put his hands on my tits and groaned, “You gonna come on Daddy’s cock?”

I was already beginning to shake and clench. He knew I was close. I reached my hand down between us and began to rub myself and nodded, “Yes! M’gonna come!”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and I knew the look. Deep concentration. He was in that mode where he was holding off his orgasm for mine. He was good at it, too. Because he always had me coming first no matter what.

“Shit… Anna, come on Daddy’s cock, honey! Fucking feels so good. Squeezing around me like that…” his words were pinched and whiney.

I kept my eyes on his as I rocked over him quickly, chasing my quickly approaching high. Moaning desperately and whimpering, I finally felt that magic spark unfurl in my tummy.

Harry coughed out his words when he could tell I was coming, “That’s it, Anna. Make yourself feel good with Daddy’s cock… Ahhhh…” he clenched his jaw, still holding off as long as he possibly could. But then he stilled his hips and held me down over him.

I felt the throb of cock as he pumped inside of me with a deep groan.

With his tight hold on my hips, I could only rock back and forth to finish myself off, moaning and panting in ecstasy.

I slumped into his chest as he softly moaned and we lay together until we’d both come back to the present.

Harry’s big hand smoothed up and down my back and I felt his wet lips at my temple, “Just what I needed. But you know that’s just the beginning of what you’re in for these next two nights, right?”

I could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. I pushed myself back to look at him, “Oh really? The old man’s gonna be able to go another round, then?”

Harry puffed out a laugh and popped my thigh, “You better behave.”

“Or what?”

Shaking his head in disbelief he pushed me off his lap, causing my back to hit the mattress, and hovered over me, placing a palm over my neck to hold me down, “I’m twice your size. Just imagine the damage I could do to you. And if you’re really bad I won’t let you come at all. So you better listen to Daddy and do what he says.”

I bit my lip and nodded before pulling him down to bring his mouth to mine.

Harry laughed into the kiss before making me get up so we could clean up.

It’s funny how I used to spend Halloween; all dressed up at some haunted house-themed party or a themed club when Starla used to drag me with her. My favorite was always staying in and watching a scary movie or reading a good book. As opposed to these days where I take my three-year-old trick-or-treating and then end the night with sex, leftovers, a horror movie, and a bottle of wine with my husband.

I felt like we’d already gotten the night off to a good start but I knew he wasn’t lying when he said that was just the beginning. If anything Harry’s high libido and mine meant we might not be getting the kind of sleep we’d anticipated. Which sounded exactly like what I needed.

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