#but then you get (almost) domestic harry and rosie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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DENTIST THE BAD BOI (PART2)

Word Count: 17k.

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Y/N's much tolerable when less grumpy then more kissable, more loveable and cuddleable and Harry wants to be more than just fuck buddies that he ends up giving Y/N a tooth ache.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff, smut and domestic love.

MASTERLIST | REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN | PART 1

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

Harry’s lips quirks up into a loopish smile at that and he hoists his knee up and above, sinking his palms into her soft mattress besides her temple and blocks the mellow sunshine that peeks through her lace curtains. Her heart squeezes out of her rib-bones and turns gooey somewhere within her insides as her lungs fill with his minty and warm ardour and if she'd be not this flushed and throbbing between her sticky thighs she'd have cracked a dentist joke.

“Y’want me to lick y'cookie f'ye?” He gives her a bunny grin and his fingertips tickles her shoulder; milky skin twinkling at him from the neckline of her shirt that’s barely sitting there and she pouts raising her hands to smack his chest, but he grabs them and tugs her forward, tutting sternly, “I want an answer.” His foresty pupils darkens around rims and her throat turns scratchy. So, she bobs her head up and down eagerly, feeling the metal around his fingers smouldering into her wrist and the thought of it on her clit makes her mewl.

It dings his adam apple sexily and his eyes turn soft and cheeks rosy, Harry doesn’t know what she likes or not so he’s gonna start tentative and careful and gradually ease her into taking big things after, letting her drip onto sheets for hours if she’d like him edging and teasing her.

She watches him with doe-innocent eyes and Harry almost ruts his hips against the mattress from the way his cock twitches weepily -- sensitive against the fabric of his joggers.

He keeps their intense eye contact while sliding back down between her legs and cares his calloused warm palms under the back of her cushiony fleshy thighs and bends her knees up, his eyes flicker towards her tummy that exposes to him when she stretches out gracefully in reaction to his tingling touch.

Making sure she’s alright, his nimble taps her ankle and when she breathes out a whiny “yes.”,

He gropes the insides of her thighs and spreads them apart and presses them down letting her make puny noises when the cool air teases her folds, she smells so good for him, “Already such a puddle, Muffy. G'na gimme a sugar rush from ye'sweetness.” He darts his pink tongue out to moisturize his petal lip and his grunt pleased and heavy upon seeing her gush more arousal just from listening him talk.

He spreads her swollen pussylips apart with his middle and pointer finger and her chin tips towards the ceiling, mouth apart around a gasp when he glints a smirk towards her all while poking his tongue out and flattening it against her clenching entrance and licks her juices up.

“Does it feel good?” He hums nonchalantly nosing at her little button and paints his lips with her wetness. She stays a bit stiff. Not making any move and staying put in her position. Harry takes her clit between his teeth when she whimpers out and her body turns taut, her hands balling at her sides.

“Y've t’use y’words with me, moppet. It works two ways, always.” His hands reaches blindly for her wrists and he puts them over his poof of hair but it remains fisted and he rubs his big hands up and down where her thighs meets her sweet cunt, “Try t’ relax. Can y'do that fo'me, pet?”

His brows pinches together into a frown. His glistening lips from her turning into a grumpy pout when she doesn’t respond — was he unable to make her feel hot and excited? she should tell him if she didn’t like it.

“Y/N ...” He raises his head slowly from between her thighs and his jaw goes slack, his eyes bursting wide seeing her holding her breath and hiding her face underneath her forearm, “Shit. Shit. Y/N!” He’s quickly crawling towards her and sliding his hand under her back, brings her to his chest with his fingers wrapped around the nook of her elbow.

“Breathe, Sweetheart. ‘s okay.” Is this what she was talking about? Is this why she has specific days for touching herself? Poor bambi. He massages her back with tender circles and sighs in relief when he feels her chest calming down back to normal.

“Y/N ...” He pushes her away from shoulders to look down at her sternly and takes her hair into his grasp and slinks them to side, “What’s happenin’ with ye'muffy?” He gives her a downturn of lips and quirk of brow indicating her that there isn’t any escape for this time.

For fuck’s sake! He’s her bestfriend. He should know atleast that she’s alright!

He gauges for her eyes when she presses her palms into his knees and lifts her bum a tad from the sheets, shy embarrassment turning the tips of her ears pink, manipulating her toffee lip in her mouth and Harry pushes back the hair that are falling in her eyes.

She’s feeling hell load giddy and humiliated to tell him this.

Harry startles back, blinking rapidly when she squeaks out in one breath, “’M scared to hurt you!” He pulls her forward with his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and frowns.

His touch with her tender and un-conceit, when usually he’s a domineering in bed and riles them enough for them to beg and moan pathetically for him.

“What? Scared ---.. hurt?” He tries to piece what she said together but it doesn’t make any sense. So, he guesses that he'd have to pry some more from her, “What're ye' talkin' bout muffy?” He sighs noticing the way she clenches the hem of her shirt and mumbles something but Harry’s giving her a piercing glare and it makes her ramble anxiously.

His hand affixed at her skimmed from under her shirt and his thumb keeps on circling her hip-bone.

“’M afraid that I’ll get all horny ‘n loose all my senses and be all rough with you, ending up hurtin'y and I’ll be too engulfed in pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to stop me ....” She fiddles her fingers vigorously in Harry’s hand and he's cutting her with a tut, “That’s the point silly girl.” He chuckles amused at her and she shakes her head whining up at him with a surly expression. The corners of her eyes pinkish and watery from forcing herself to feel the pleasure Harry’s tongue was devoting her.

“But, Harry ‘m not some insatiable monster!!” His heart thuds at the concerned worrisome look on her angelic features and he’s cupping her cheeks, he curses out internally to whoever told her this and his lip grouches up, “You’re not some insatiable monster. Who the fuck fed you this bullshit?” He scolds her and it makes her fleet her gaze away from him.

“You’re not —-... what the fuck, Y/N. Tell me their name so I could break their jaw.” He gasps in shock and he spits in venom. Knuckling at her chin to prop it high infront of him and doesn’t break the cogent eye contact -– his eyes full of hatred and loath for the person.

That damn person who made his Bambi, so insecure and conscious and self-degrading about herself.

“The guy –,” She stutters. He gives her an encouraging hum and she plays with his rings, she knows that he’ll never make fun of her about it and mighty be understanding.

He has always been.

But sometimes he laughs at the worst moments. Not his fault. She has adopted that habit too from living with him.

Right now though. He looks very serious and furious, it creeps heat up her throat.

“The guy I lost my virginity to. He said – he ... umm said that I hurt him when I flipped him underneath me and was being selfish asking him to you know ...?” She mumbles, uncertain if she’s putting it out right and Harry runs his fingers through his curls gripping at the roots and groans in annoyance, properly vexed.

“Firstly muffy. Virginity isn’t a thing. It’s a term made by egoistic men like that prick of a guy, secondly did he make you cum?” His voice tones down gentle and caring. He lays her down and settles her head on the pillow and she's still fisting his shirt in her hands.

He grimaces when she shakes her head, her eyes owlish and glossy pointing down, “Everything was so dry that I wasn’t able to enjoy it ...” She winces remembering it and Harry cradles her face cooing delicately, “Oh Bambi. It was, ‘cos ye' weren’t aroused enough.” But, she’s now. With Harry ontop of her and being all warm and lovey and handling her as if she’s fine china, she could feel gooey wetness sticked to her thighs.

For first time in her life. She feels relaxed and light headed talking about it.

So, she continues, “ .. and it was bit disgusting, he came all over my tummy ‘cos he didn’t have a condom.” At this he grumps, his nostrils flares and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep him sane, “What a cheap bastard!” She giggles at his outrage and he just gives a fluttery smile to her shaking his curls.

He pets the sheen on her cheek away and gazes her sincerely, “You shouldn’t trust everyone and anyone, pet. ‘S a cruel world out there.” The fact that if he’d have came inside her boils Harry’s blood -- she'd have gotten the worst thing happen to her.

He just feels so protective of her. If he’d be able to keep her safe under his shield to scare away bastards like that guy he gladly will.

“Now, hear me Bambi eyed. We never have unprotected sex with strangers and never let ‘em make y’feel bad fo' wantin’ t’be pleasured .. if two people consent fo' it then both ‘ve to fulfil eachother’s desire. Am I clear?” His tone gruff and firm. She suckles her lower lip inside her mouth and nods quickly.

Something about him commanding and lecturing her making a fire fuse in the pit of her tummy and it makes her salivate down a whimper, which sure didn’t go unnoticed by Harry’s side and his lips are quirking into vivacious grin.

He’s retreating back between her legs keeping a cautious gaze on her as if she’s a prey and one move will wither her away, “’N fo’ being rough. I like it rough. Y'could d'all of that with me without being embarrassed.” His smirk dripping with wickedness and Y/N’s head jerks back at the thought of him seeing forward to do more of this with her.

His palm lays sturdy and pressed to her belly, his puckering lips against the inside of her thigh parts around a silent groan when he feels her belly quiver.

He embeds slobbery kisses to where she’s clenched impatiently for him and he pushes his fingers against her clit and slides them up and down between her puffy folds, love creating soppy filthy noises and gives a kitten lap to her then attaches his lip to her smudgy hole murmuring against her breathily to make her feel the electricity till her core.

“Will love havin' ye'tiny fingers pullin' at me hair with a swimy brain. Buckin'y hips into my mouth begging me to ruin yer cunt with my tongue and ‘ave me dancin' on y'palm, extractin’ out glutinous grunty moans within me chest -- it’ll not be just moans, no! —- a viscous toe curlin' sound that’d rumble savagely in my throat a warning fo’ you to keep these gorgeous thighs open fo' me to eat you out as I wish and my large hands will belt ‘round y'waist digging my nails into your dimples when you'll scratch my back ‘n it’ll leave angry marks behind — a reminder fo’ you how much I fuckin' loved you being horny as the deepest burnin' of hells.” She’s panting and sobbing for a cusp of breath manoeuvring her fingers in the tufts of his silky mess of curls and tugs at it and shoves her cunt, grinding against his chin. The softness of his cheeks glittering her bones and she’s falling wider apart from him, and he grins.

Noses at her throbbing clit and sucks it in her mouth and massages her pussy with her own lubrication and how much he picks it on his tongue she’s ready to give him more and he’s moaning with fierce ruby lips wrapping around her fluttering pussy folds, moving his mouth every where and it elicits a choppy whine from her.

“Fuck. Look at'y ... s'innocent but such a dirty little girl fo' me.” He dips his fingers merely into her and swipes up a cardinal push against her spongey wall and treats it back.

It’s too much for, Y/N. Everything. His wanton words better than those audios, his warm tongue on her and the strength of his arms holding her down, his flushed out cheeks and the teasing and teetering he's doing to give her an orgasm that sprays cosmic stars into her fogginess and she doesn’t even know that cloy moans of, “yes.yes.yes.” are dripping from her and he’s boring his face back into her when he latches away from her sweet pussy with the help of his elbow.

“I want you to say it.” There’s pause in the string of her racing heart and her brows hitches in confusion, though he doesn’t give her enough time and moves her pussylips apart letting his nails graze at them gently.

She’s squealing in surprise and jolting up with exhilarating sensation when he spits at her and watches it trickle down her bum, thick and honeyed with lust-fond eyes.

She’s erupting into startled moans when he grunts spitting again and makes her little cunt the messiest thing, “Say it. Say that yer dirty little —-,” She cuts him with a sharp and whiny yawp and plunges her nails into his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“I’m a dirty little girl, f'you. Just you. Just you. Just you ....” Her voice tones down into coy whispers stuffed to the pillow as her body anchors stintingly from her bed and Harry’s hand slides from her torso down her ass and gropes at it keeping her coupled to his mouth as she coats his chin and his lips and his cheeks with her cum and his own spit and he’s murmuring grittily, “Yeah moppet. Mhmp. Come in me mouth. Fill it all, such a good girl.” He nips and tucks at her making her satiate through her high and places a kiss to her clit for the last time when she thrashes from sensitiveness before moving away.

“Sensitive lil thing ye'r.” He murmurs rubbing her thighs to coax her down and feels goosebumps prick on her skin, glances up and finds her a beautiful colour of pink and peach and her hair nested as a halo on the pillow.

She’s just so beautiful in many ways, it aches his heart.

He’s flopping to her side and poking her cheek earning a tick of ravenous smile and he watches as her irises moves under her closed lids.

“That was ... hmm.” She hums sluggishly knuckling at her eyes and Harry muses out a chuckle, before she could come up with a dentist joke he's cracking it himself sensing her gears working in that tiny head of hers, “Very filling?” That makes her hide her face into his neck and giggle.

“Yeah. Could say that.” She rests her chin on his shoulder and poses her brows questioningly when his stuffy pocket pokes at her thigh, “What’s that?” He didn’t realise he was too swamped in admiring the specks of her hazelness pouring with sunlight and he’s blinking back to re-start himself.

“Oh! This ..?” He’s taking out it slowly and she’s whining and shaking him to hurry up and he’s giggling at how impatient she could get when curious.

She holds it infront of her and it’s a cute green beanie with a little gucci embroidered at where it gets folded and her smile dejects when Harry speaks, “One of my colleagues gifted me this as a birthday present.” Why didn’t she thought about gifting him this for his birthday? Not that she has money for Gucci but they've been celebrating for three years and not once she didn’t get an idea that he wears beanies alot and mighty would like it?

Anyway, it’s far better than the painting of snowy and a mason jar filled with candy wrappers having her appreciations and dentist jokes written to their backside she gifted him, Y/N pouts thinking how she could’ve get him something useful.

Harry doesn’t care about materialistic things. He says that you could buy them anytime and that money is just the murk of your palm, it goes away in one wash -- the little shows of affection always are by your side in hard times.

“Hey Muffy...” He's yawning nudging her side noticing how she zones out and away from him, “D'ya have some chamomile tea?” Her chin slips from her shoulder at the sudden rasp.

“What? Why?” She gazes him. His body slumpy and tired over her and his mouth ajar cutely, she scratches his scalp lightly and swears that he let out the softest purr.

“Was in the operation theatre fo' hours now, just came from there -- emergency case. It was bad.” He emphasizes it getting a lisp a bit and she sits up closer to him.

“What happened to the person? She asks hoping they’re okay and have any hopes for recovery.

He just fiddles away the beanie from her grip and covers her head with it folding and adjusting it over her ears, “Not tellin' ya ...” He murmurs rubbing his nose into her arm and sniffs her saccharine scent. He knows that she doesn’t take the stories from his workplace well and it keeps her awake at nights, then she’s visiting the patient herself and Harry have to drag her out of his hospital every damn time.

She cares too much. Even for strangers. She’s too kind for her own sake and Harry thinks sometimes being selfish should be the latter option.

He squints open his one eye feeling her gaze fixated on him and huffs a lil, his little stubborn bambi, she wouldn’t let it go, “Fine. They were comin' back from a party and were high maybe -- car crashed badly dentin' towards the passenger’s side ‘n totally dislocated her jaw, now y’promise me you aren’t gettin' too worrisome ‘bout her because she’s okay.” Saying this he's cuddling back into her and she smiles a bit petting his back.

“Whatever, you say Dr. Styles.” He didn’t even need a tranquilizing tea anymore. Her warmth and squishiness was more than enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

It’s an otiose Saturday morning. Harry and Y/N just gobbled down oatmeal she made (topped with kiwis, mangoes and strawberries Harry brought from market and threw the bag in her lap) it had too much of coconut and sugar layer than necessary, according to Harry.

While she cleaned the countertops Harry fed and kissed the crowns of each one of their cat, yet again they were left with nothing to do —- that's how Y/N ended up straddling his waist, his jaw fit in her palm and his eyes half-open funnily as she applies a liner at his lid with her pink tongue poked out in concentration.

“Stop movin’,” She snits out in a huff and the skirts of his lips alleviates up into a cheeky evil grin, his hands pawing at her hips and his intentionally dirty gaze flitters down where her nipples are perking from the flimsy shirt and almost presses to his throat, “How'm supposed to when y’tits are ready to lactate me mouth?” Blush creeps up at her cheeks at his overweening and she wanted to give out an “Oh.” Instead grips his baby curls and steadies him, squishing his cheek in doing so as if he’s her toy.

“You better shut up, or ‘m gonna shove my feet up that smug mouth of yours.” She grumps to her own self when her fingers begins to twitch feeling her ear fill with hotness, “And what makes y’think ‘m not into that?” He rockets his brows priggishly with a grin that just screams he’s about to have a upper hand in this banter of their.

“Harry you disgraceful, man!” She whines trying to pull his face upright – he’s doing it on purpose trying to push her buttons and his eyes widens in feign hurt, “’M a very holy man!” His one eye adorned with charcoal coloured liner making him look adorable.

He’s far from any of that. They both know it. He’s a nerd slut if Y/N could put into words correctly.

“Yeah. Holy piece of a shit.” She grumbles pressing her bent knee into his side and quips a happy “Tada!!” grabbing the little from beside him and almost shoves it in his face demanding him to look at himself.

Harry brings his lips together and whistles looking at himself, “My murals should be painted everywhere in the city,” Y/N rolls her eyes. Nibbling down a scoff at his narcissism desperate to jump out and points at herself with a shrug of shoulders -- silently trying to telepath with him.

“What?” He murmurs nonchalantly angling his face to have a better look at him.

“Where’s the praise for artist?”

“Why need't when y'know ‘m an art myself.” His rims shine shamelessly and he nips the flesh of his cheek to stifle down a bashful cackle at her retort.

“You’re being too bold for a person who combusts in his pants just by getting his back scratched.” She arches her brow pruriently at him and he shakes his head, brushing the belly of his nose with his knuckle and when he gazes back at her -- she knows that she’s fucked fucked.

“Says who. The dirty little girl who's sitting on her bestfriend’s cock in her panties and shirt that’s doin’ nothin' but makin'y nipples button out shamelessly.” He tuts carnally, sinking into the plush cushions and man-spreads himself so wide Y/N could feel him pressing between her folds. His smirk rottenly sinful and evil and Y/N's palm automatically jams against his torso with a weepy mewl forehead falling against his clavicles.

She wanted to argue that he’s clad in boxers too but all of her sanity went out of the window when he teasingly grinded their crotches together.

“Y'want t'be treated like a bunny, who loves to hop on dick and fucked till you’re just a soft mush -- don't ya?” His hoarse drawl makes her bob her head eagerly making him chuckle and she’s tightening her thick thighs around his waist, hiding her face into the dive of his nice warm smelling neck and keeps her lips sponged to his skin making him grip on her hips with brutal force.

She’s just so sweet to Harry. A hot pink puddle at his mere touch and all clingy to him, shrinking into him with shyness and all of this just stirs his cock angrily sensitive.

He’s always getting a stiffy thinking about her and her honeyed taste he got to lap on and he's always smelling one of his pillows that has her fragrance loaded on it, while cupping his balls and stroking his cock lazily and hard, with other.

Though his assertive words wavers into a whimperish groan when Y/N takes her face out and gazes him with doe-warm eyes, “I w'na make you feel good.” Harry throbs under her and fattens against his own belly and feels her soaking against his boxers.

“Y'do? ‘s okay —.” His chest heaves with ragged breathes from anticipation and yearn and he knows that taking care of himself would be a torture if she’d tell him a, “no.” But then he isn’t that of a prick and is awfully happy to get what he’s getting, their infinite proximity.

His head teeters back and his pelvis buckles up when she clutched the hem of his sweatshirt and uttered a poutsih, “please..” She’s nourishing a breath and gazing up at him with glossy chocolate eyes blabbering while swivelling herself slowly ontop of him, “You’re looking s' pretty and cato eyes -—.. and you’re stuffed against me s'good. I want –- I want to make y'feel amazing.” Harry’s choking a growlish moan and the urge to just throw her on couch and snug his large cock deep within her.

Her brows pinches together and she has him grabbed from shoulders while she looks between them, listening to his purry hisses and lewd moans, it makes her redden her lip –- she could see his bulbous sherbet coloured tip coated in his own arousal wrestling out of his boxers as the fabric bunches and loosens down with each stroke of her cunt against him.

“Y'want to make me feel, amazin'? Fuck. You’re devastatin' me love -- yeah, mhmph hump me prick moppet.” Her eyelids lust filled and she moans against his chin as he breathes out a euphoric smile and Y/N gains a new confidence pushing herself down on his cock harder and firmer and faster.

The fabric of his boxers tickling his wet slit and he’s smushing his cheek into her soft chest, hugging and murmuring nonsense against her when Y/N sneaks her hand down and fills her hands with his heavy cum loaded balls and Harry doesn’t know how she was able to press him under the pad of her pinky in a span of minute.

Because he’s begging all for her mercy.

He howls a whine when she sucks his earlobe wetly and grazes it to speak in the sweetest yet licentious seductiveness and Harry’s almost naked under her, “Jeez. Hmm. Yes, just like that –- Bambi. My Bambi. Makes me feel — oh fuck!” His knuckles white from where he's groping the cheek of her ass and guiding her where her mound nudges him more good and drafts him straight to heaven.

“Tell me, huh. Who’s the dirty one now?” She smirks squeezing his balls yanking the sweaty ringlets on the base of his neck and they’ve their bodies on eachother, their hands on eachother and Y/N had an audacity to compete.

He’s trashing his spine into a curve and pulling her back down on his dick. She squeals when his cock grazes her pantie line and slips up and down against her cushiony thigh slobbering it with his pre-come.

“Me, me! Fuck .. pet, ‘s me ...” His hand tightens around her ribs and his hand tightens around her ribs and he’s dragging her back and forth -- socked toes curling and teeth gnawing at the pudding of her cheek. His thighs quaking and his strong forearms brings her closer to his chest, as the pressure coils in his stomach and the gentle caress and guttural bite on the slop of his collarbone was enough to burst spurts of cum in his boxers and it quenches onto his tummy and to the inside of her thighs making a sloppy mess.

“Shit.” He mutters through a chuckle. His chin butted atop her head and she giggles moving away.

Her shirt ridden up, her panties bunched up into her ass-cheeks and Harry admires her with a celestial flush on his skin and she circles her fingers together.

She just rode his prick dry and looks like she did the most innocent thing in the world.

“’M g'na go clean myself.” Harry smiles at her squealing pitch and then realization dawns upon him, she’s talking about his jizz on her tickling her skin getting flustered and knackered feeling it. Though, it’s not only his jizz but her panties are drenched into her own salvation making it see through and her wet pussy on display.

He just gulps and nod, like an atta puppy.

Lavish green leaves rustles together, the soil of green-belt moist and watered recently, early morning sky swirls of blues and it’s beautiful it really is the weather isn’t too sunny – the silence in his car is comforting too and the rum of his breath makes her feel nostalgic.

But, she wanted to sleep her arse off on Sunday and do nothing and be proud of being idle whole day. Harry had different plans though –- he was jumping on her bed making her wobble on it in her sleepy state and dragged her to washroom how much she whined and fought with him.

“Oh. C’mon now, muffin .. it’ll be fun, Ni would be there too.” He tries to reason her and she just brings her knees up into her and closes her eyes, muttering in monotone.

“Nothing’s fun about golfing, Harry.” It’s little get together of his colleagues and the doctors from his hospital and Harry thought he'd die from boredom if he wouldn’t bring her with him, he isn’t one bit of interested into old men talking about how their third wife drools over them – he isn’t very fond of lies.

“Not even me? How could y’say no to me?” He gasps dramatically. Scrunched his nose and twitches his lips in fake offend.

She opens her eyes for a moment and stares at him, “Just like that,” Pinches his elbow and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Harry, no.”

“Yeah, Whatever.” He rolls his lips between his fingers and takes a turn and when they reach he's putting sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, unfolding her arms that are wrapped around herself and nudges her to be less grumpy.

“’Ve a reputation yeah .. be less frumpy.” She pokes her tongue out and Harry lurches his hand forward scaring her that he'd grab it.

“Those dilfs already kisses the tips of my shoes.” She hops out of the car and clasps her hands atop of her head stretches out and yawns out loudly.

Harry’s head perks up alarmingly at that from the boot of his car and he swings the golfing kit on his shoulder and rolls his eyes from under his sunnies, pushing her forward with a small hand on her back.

“Yeah, more like grandpas.” The thought just makes him feel icky and utterly gross – imagining those old doctors —- no he completely wants to brain wash himself.

“Bet, their willies would need heavy assistance —-,” He’s grinning abrasively down at her and she winced swatting his chest, “Harry!” She’s wiggling out of his hold and striding towards where Niall is waving them in utter excitement.

Harry pouts and stomps behind her, calling out for her to slow down and scowls when a grin makes a way at her face as Niall hugs her.

Niall showed her his little nips and tricks. While Harry looked at them with needy eyes from far stuck between the bunch of boring doctors and dentists and his lips visibly downturns when Niall trips and Y/N’s falling on her bum, clutching onto her side with a belly aching laugh.

Ni helps her stand back and it was when a women in pink sports short and Nike tee trudged towards them and Harry at the same moment and Y/N just stares with confusion as they hug and she’s smiling up at him brightly.

“Sorry. I lost the time check.” Harry’s parting away with a shrug, “Not tha' somethin’ special occurred.” and Y/N’s doe-curious eyes remains fixed on them and he's introducing the unknown women to her and Niall’s poking her side to revive her back to mighty world.

“Muffy? She’s one of my colleagues, Holly.” Y/N startled a bit then gives out a nervous smile forwarding her hand to shake it with her and Holly’s pony flails comically from the action.

Soon, she’s turning her attention back towards Harry and smiling up at him questioningly, “Did you rest well after leaving the hospital on Friday?” Y/N just fumbles with Harry’s rings on her knuckles -- not sure if she should go back to golfing with Niall or stay to take part in little conversation because Niall is growing very antsy.

“Yeah. I did, actually .... very well if y'ask so,” Harry's shimmering gaze lurks back on Y/N and she internally groans when he smirks remembering the event and she wants to glare him from the side of her eye.

She’s stepping aside quickly when Holly passes by them and towards the table full of breakfast and beverages.

She pours two cups of coffee and adds two teaspoon of sugar, handing one to Harry and Y/N wants to retort that he doesn’t like coffee and hell not that amount of sugar.

“And Y/N what would y'like coffee, tea?” Holly asks her and Y/N just chuckles gingerly when Harry looks ike he's about to gag when he takes the first sip.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Holly looks like she just saw the end of the world and Y/N holds back from rolling her eyes at her, she's giving her an aura that she doesn’t like Y/N even a bit.

“No? Why?”

“Guess I never needed that much caffeine, my job doesn’t require staying up late and all that ...” Holly sips on her coffee and leans against a chair raising a her brow at her and then asks.

Her style being uptight and arrogant just not sitting right with, Y/N.

“What is your profession?” This ferals Y/N into her thinking pot, is that even a profession? She doesn’t really know and she’s in her own headspace when Harry’s soft eyes worms back to his bambi and his eyes glints with ever proud and his smile toothy and bunny as he puts the cup aside speaking with a hint of fond.

“She’s an artist. A very talented one.” Holly arches her brow at him and hums then looks back at her -- as if she didn’t heard him right.

“So, you make art for living?”

“I do it beacuse I like doing it, just like you.” Y/N chips up and Harry just thinks his admiration grows terribly more every day for her -- because of the passion about anything she holds in that big heart of hers, the way her cheeks rubies up and brows sets into concentration.

That shuts Holly and her train of personal irritating questions.

“Hey! We aren’t here fo' some princess tea party -- can we please, go back to golfing!?” Niall finally bursts like a balloon from annoyance and Y/N's giggling and hooking her arm into his elbow, “You’re sucha cry baby.” She coos and tries to walk him back to pitch but then her gait stutters when Holly asks Harry in an expectant tone.

“Did you like my present?” Why does it layers her chest with mucky awful feeling, her stomach itself tottering and she just huffs thinking how that present sits in her drawer and she’s the one that wears it instead of Harry.

“Oh, I liked it, thank you.” Fucking liar. Y/N just shakes her head and chuckles ironically because he forgot about it the moment he gave it to her.

Y/N’s toes itches with an impulse to expose Harry infront of her.

Where’s that feisty Harry ready to bite anyone expect her and his little group of friends? What did this job do to him? Oh my goodness! Why Y/N is hating all of this so much, why why why!?

Y/N's completely being an over dramatic (she knows that) but she couldn’t help but be bitter about this Holly “oh I could woo Harry just by giving him some beanies from an overly expensive brand.” Gahk! Not in a millennia.

“’Kay, pet now you make yer goal.” Niall shouts squinting to get rid of sunlight in his eyes and Y/N was so engulfed in thinking of how the slight interest and undivided attention of Harry towards Holly makes her feel woozy and something that’s indescribable, until now. That’s when someone came behind her bended figure she – almost making her squeal but he’s shushing her sweetly -- the corner of his lips pressing to the side of her hairline and he takes in her fresh lilies scent.

Two soft beautiful boned structure hands comes raking from her shoulders down her wrists, jostling her almost as he wraps his hands around her sweaty ones and brings the golf club back in air.

“Let's fill those holes together,” His smooth rasp prickles the hair on her body in a most stinging way and she's subsiding down a blush, frowning and unfrowning to concentrate back on playing -- but it’s a fucking torture when his bulging member prominent from his tight little shorts lines up against her bum teasingly.

He was very aware of the big problem that stood between them and she’s turning with his arms still on either side of her -- doing a little knocking on his chest to gain his attention.

“You’ve —-... umm ..” She stammers. Cheeks peachy and her smile nervous. Harry hums in dither gazing down at her softly and that flusters her to living heavens.

Then his eyes follows where she’s staring in curiosity and gentleness and as if she’s ready to take him in her mouth right then and there.

He’s got a stiffy and that in public!

“Oh shit. Sorry, I wasn’t awa —-,” He's creating a little distance between them but she’s quick to grab the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer back to her, “No. No. ‘s okay. I could ‐—.. I could help you ....,” She mutters in a tizz with a hitchy breath and Harry’s dimples indents, cushy smile dancing on his lips and his pinky’s swiping the loose tresses behind her ear.

“If you want to...” She doesn’t know what’s making her more anxious the fact he'll brush her off or that he'll accept her help, but this latter option fills her insides with gales of mushiness and it makes her unsettle her footing.

“I’d love that.” He grins and she’s smiling up at him and Harry screams internally like a teenager at how she manages to be so tender and silken like a gorgeous doll in the most filthiest situations.

He keeps her infront of him to hide the potential tent in his shorts that appeared from no-where, he's being sly and clearly knows that where it came from --- from gawking her peach ass till it wasn’t printed in his mind and he didn’t even know when he was drooling at the thought of squishing her asscheeks and rolling his thumb against her puckering hole and imagining her cute lil whines for him to bore down his thumb into her till she feels his lion ring against her flesh, throwing her hips at him more —- shut up!

Though when the group of men stops them with their evil gazes on his little bambi and they’re smirking up at Harry in mischievousness, “Where you sneakin' Y/N too?” They hollered and Harry had to ball his hand on her hips and bite back from rolling his eyes sharply and rudely,

Because who the fuck they’re to ask? He could take her anywhere and why they do act like they fucking know Y/N from summat eternity, that makes him want to snap at these snobs and warn them not to ever take a step near her.

Ofcourse, he’s very well aware that their intentions towards his sweet bestfriend are evil and filthy -- he wants to punch each one of them at that.

“Just to show ‘er the lake behind,” He's giving them a tight lipped smile and leaving them baffled without giving them more to talk and Y/N giggles at his huffy-ness and pets his knuckles feeling his skin beginning to fume and turn hot against her neck.

Moments later, he's sitting on the bench of empty steam room carmine lips parted and plush are mooched to Y/N's upper belly, his long arms tipsy around her thighs and hair floppy caramel and his palm splays on the side of her waist under her shirt coveting his nails lightly into her pudgy skin – as her soft hand stays dipped into his shorts and she strokes him in gradual pace.

He’s jerking back hitting his head against the vertical mirror that covers the whole wall when she presses her thumb into his palpating tip of cock to coax out his white stickiness and uses it to coat and lube his dick and caress it, “’S’okay c’mere, honey. You’re okay.” She coos cupping the nape of his neck and brings him back to let him bury his face into her pulpy body and kisses his hair, sliding her hand under his jaw to soothe him.

Harry moans uncontrollably and tries to muffle them with choked sobs upon hearing her go all soft on him and he thinks, “honey” Is his new favourite word from now on coming from her mouth and he wants to be called honey from her all the time.

She doesn’t know where the confidence of sweet talking to him came from but the menace for Holly and her being overly sugary with him, just poked her in weird place and she wants to claim where he belongs.

To her.

Always her.

“Bet, your big cock was all achy and weepy for my attention.” She pouts slopping all the way down to his chubby shaft and tightens her grip jerking him speedily. Harry bobs his head vigorously and eagerly hugging her ever close and babbles wetly so she scratches his scalp and almost raises her hips into him when his happy and satisfied mewls fuses into her ears.

“Been —-.. been, fuck!” He gasps bolting shut his eyes when she widened her slick palm down and massaged his heavy taut balls – shaking them playfully with a giggle bitten down her throat, “Been thinkin' ‘bout you whole lot – yer such a doll.” He sighs and she sponges a peck to the side of his forehead.

“Yeah?” Her eyes glints with adore and meekness for him and when he nods with euphoric slipped eyes and rosy cheeks snuggling himself into her she mighty cried a lil.

“G’na cum for me? In my hand? Been treating you so good, honey. Love your cock –- always oozy and slick for me and your moans —- can y'moan fo' me? Show them on whose pinky you’re wrapped on.” She’s breathless but the tenderness and fondness in her voice never fades and Harry’s almost tomato grinding his hips on the bench fucking himself into her palm and brags his teeth together hissing through it.

“G'na cum. G’na cum fo'y and —- oh!” Guttural heavy loud moans are eliciting down his tongue and he’s groaning and whimpering and thrashing under Y/N shooting his gloopy spunk inside her palm and she doesn’t stop, coating his whole eternity with his own cum and digs out some more droplets from his tummy to soak into the pride that she’s the reason he’s this fucked up and ravenous and shaking under her.

She’s throwing her legs on either side of his thighs next and he’s gazing at her intensely from under his thick lashes with lovingness all slumped against the mirror and she’s ducking down to stitch her nose up against his nose and giving him an eskimo kiss and Harry’s lips accommodating back for a nice breather are tingling to lean in and place them on hers in a dotting heart swarming kiss but a knock's interrupting them and she’s quipping back a squeal and jumping on her toes.

Guess she'd just clean her fingers by licking them since there’s no water.

Y/N was painting one of her commission works and for her coming exhibition when Truggers came meowing at her and scraping onto floor, “What d'you want bub?” She asks wiping her fingers on the rag and puts the brush into water cup.

She follows Truggers to their bassinet and almost slips straining her ankle from rushing panicked towards Tum who's jerking in his sleeping position.

She hawks in shock, fear and trembling horror. Her ears deafening. She’s shouting at him and shaking him with tears in her eyes, “Tums? Tummies? Baby!! Wake up!” She cries but the cat doesn’t respond.

“No. No. No!!” She shakes her head sobbing loudly bringing her knees up to her chest and holds her head in her hand not knowing what to do, she calls Rori and she doesn’t even know how much time passed and Rori's hugging her and comforting her taking other kittens to room so they don’t see Tums.

“Call Harry! Call him, please, please, please .... Rori ....” She sobs feeble and painful into Rori's neck and she shushes Y/N. She really tries to but she knows that only Harry could manage to calm her down and she rings him many many times but he doesn’t pick up.

“Harry! I’ve been calling you for ages for fuck’s sake where are you?” So, when he's excusing himself telling that he was having lunch and Holly’s voice is booming through Rori's phone Y/N’s heart drops and shatters into gazillion pieces.

She may not be in right mind, but she’s seriously hurt because Harry never in million years ignore her calls.

Guess having lunch was far important than her or her calls.

It just makes her cry more.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Goosebumps layers on his skin when he hears Y/N crying and he walks away without telling Holly he’s heading out.

“Harry ... Tums, he died in his sleep.” Harry halts in his tracks. Staring at the parking sign blankly and his eyes fills with tears and his breath shudders as he tries to speak, “’M coming.”

Rori left and took Tums with her after tucking Y/N in bed and making sure she’s okay.

Her ears perks up when the door clicks softly accompanied by low sniffles and it pools more moisture in her eyes and the tears trick down her chin and onto pillow — because hearing him cry is just so agonising.

“Muffy ...” The mattress dips behind her and he’s scooching close to her planting his cheek against her shoulder.

His warmth melts her but she recoups wiping her eyes dry and wavers in a thorny voice, “Go away.” She distances herself from him and turns stiff.

“Moppet, please ...” He protests and she hampers herself from snapping at him.

“Go away, Harry. Leave!!” She's muffling her cries into pillow and when she faces him – Harry's chin wobbles because his muffy looks terrible and awfully sad and it’s breaking him weakly and perfectly.

“Why don’t y'go back to whatever you were doing with Holly!” She gasps moistly for a breather and Harry stands up, nose red and runny and eyes bloodshot.

“Jus’ say yer’ jealous.” He wants to be fierce with her about what she said but his voice barely comes out without being shaky and his heart is full of sorrow.

“And if I say I’m, then what?” She’s pathetically hiccupping (continuously) so much her neck hurts and she has never sound so uncertain and pleading and expectant to know if he might love her?

That if there’s something more between them than just providing eachother pleasure and being eachother’s missing half when they were lonely.

More, than just two bestfriends being eachother’s back of the hand.

He doesn’t respond and she shouts for him to stop and answer her and throws a cushion towards him, but he just leaves her to it.

Harry’s just worried she isn’t ready to take either of his confessions well.

Snowy sits in her lap. Max and Luna (Rori's girlfriend) are wrestling onto the mattress they took from Harry's bed and laid on the floor, (which he'd grump about when he'll be too pissy to move it back in the late night).

He’s been cranky and acting proper ratty with anyone and everyone he comes to interact with since that day.

He felt like his world turned upside down because now everything’s just against him, his milk gets soggy every morning and all of his socks and hoodies are at his little thief's home and snowy takes revenge from him for hurting Y/N by pissing on his shoes everytime he’s about to leave.

Cherry on creamy top!

He just couldn’t stop thinking about his bambi and might have chewed his fourty years old assistant ears with his rambling of Y/N and his endearment for her and unfortunately he just ficked up bad.

“’M so hungry. If Ni will cheat another round on me, I’ll be munching on his toes!!” Y/N exclaims huffing out and kicking Niall in shin as they were playing Mario cart and he’s been winning for an hour just by his cheating tricks.

They all got together after many days at Harry’s flat while he was at the duty and he promised them that he’d bring pizzas with him and now it’s almost 12 and they’re waiting and waiting in anticipation for him to arrive.

When the door knob jiggles everyone’s jumping up and scrambling closer to the door because they all are that hungry and Harry’s hands are piled with pizza boxes, soon their hungry excited expressions are dulling into annoyance and viscid displeasure when Holly peeks from behind Harry.

Still all of them manage to plant fake smiles and everyone’s greeting her.

“What took you guys s'long?” Y/N speaks lowly through a forced smile the one that doesn’t reaches her eyes and doesn’t make them appear as they are pools of earthly soil, “Oh .. we just stopped to buy some muffins -- Harry told me how much you like them, Bambi.” Oh fuck. There goes the pressure cooker blasting and rattling through each and every wall of this room and the tension thickens around and Luna's coughing and everyone is just treading back to their spots awkwardly and with disappointed sorry sighs for Holly because if before Y/N didn’t hold a grudge against Holly now she’d.

Because, for fuck’s sake!!! Nobody, calls her that except Harry!

It was their own intimate little sweet love name that Harry calls her and her only.

Not even their friends.

Not even Niall.

Just him.

Him.

And.

Him.

Now, she just came from out of the fucking blue and popped their bubble of intimacy and Y/N feels like one of those anime characters where they've a frown hanging on their head larger than their size and there’s fire enveloping them before she bursts out in rage and scream at Holly and Harry too.

She sighs. She’s far better than creating a scene and gladly accepts the box of muffins from Holly whose smile is overly sugar coated and this is what Harry says when he tells her he doesn’t like sugar in much amount – it’s irksome, Y/N’s talking about humans specifically.

“’s not even my favourites.” She mumbles staring at the vanilla strawberry muffins and Holly just shrugs and Harry gets tensed keeping his voice hushed while Rori and Him unboxes the pizzas in the kitchen, “Just thought a change would be good.” Y/N’s throat clogs up just at that. She finds it hard to even gulp down the piercing emotions piling up there.

Y/N just hates changes.

Holly wants to change everything about Harry and his surroundings, even this dinky flat he lives in —- he’s a dentist why’d he live here?

Holly tries not to grimace.

“You know Y/N hates changes, Harry I know that you guys might not be serious but we all are well aware that you too —-- fuck, Harry! Why are you fucking it up!” Rori whisper yells at him as they throw the empty boxes frantically and hurriedly to go back to living room and handle the situation before it gets out of hand.

“Ontop of that. Why did ya bring, Holly with you!? She isn’t ... well she isn’t much par to any of our likings.” Harry just runs his hands through his curls and he knows that it’s afflicting Y/N, his baby muffy who wouldn’t even see him in eye since that incident and he really wishes that all of this ends soon.

“What d'I do!? she’s my staff head and I’ve to play nice to her.” He squeaks out in a bit panic and he’s exhausted and tired and really running out of his Bambi's cuddles but she wouldn’t even let him set foot in her flat.

Even though how much he argued that, “Remember y’said this’s our one big home? Well I could be in me home whenever I want.”

Though when they're out with bright smiles and announcing that food is here, acting as if him and Rori didn’t just had an ASMR argument in kitchen.

Harry’s heart. The each chamber of his heart got cut up into pieces and fell somewhere in his stomach when he hands the plate to Y/N and she takes it without meeting his eyes, starving him off her sweet butterflies wooshing smile and tries to avoid from getting any physical contact between their fingertips and cuddles back into Ni's side as if she’s utterly cold.

She’s jealous and hurt and furious that Harry has mighty revealed their intimate nitty gritty details to Holly.

All of that aside. She’s very sad and lost and feels lonely all over again because she has no-idea that what are they, where they stand out of their bestfriends bubble and if whatever happened between them was fever dream?

“What happened, pet? Not hungry? Y'were ‘bout to munch us alive seconds ago.” Niall chuckles gingerly and nudges her as she just hovered her pizza on her plate and never brought it to her mouth.

Harry wipes his hand on his jeans listening that and Holly’s side eyeing him gauging for his reaction and her face hitches up into displeasure when he stands up and strides towards Y/N in two long steps.

“D'ya want another flavour? Is it cold? We could order somethin' else if you want to ....” His voice caring and antsy and he’s contemplating whether to sit beside her and coax her to eat but she’s chewing onto it and shrugging, speaking with a mouth full and yet again never sparing him a single glance.

“No, ‘m good.”

Holly judges Y/N’s battiness and locks up the urge to roll her eyes at this girl who Harry’s so whipped for -- she could ramp him under her feet (which Y/N would never – Holly’s just a mean ass who likes to think negatively about everyone) and he'd still beg her to do it all over again.

Holly just loves to be a victim in situations where she doesn’t even have a role, but still tries to fit in as a victim.

The truth is. She wants Harry bad. And, it’s all written clear on her face.

Their hang out didn’t take the route they planned for it to be and Y/N was heading out early conscious of Harry’s gaze on her all the time when Rori yelled enthusiastically with a bright proud grin, “Everyone's invited to Y/N's painting exhibition on Sunday, aren’t we Y/N!?”

Harry’s head snaps towards each of his friends like a lost puppy and when all of them are smiling and nodding their heads in agreement his eyes just brawls out and he feels like crying and throwing a tantrum because she didn’t tell him about it! and even if not, he didn’t got a chance to be the first one to tell her how proud he’s of her.

Rori winces when Harry rushes behind Y/N and the door's shutting behind leaving them in awkward silence again.

“You didn’t care t’tell me? ‘s such a big mo' fo'y.” He scowls. Folding his arms infront of his chest and Y/N grumbles stomping her feet onto floor.

“You were too busy —-..”

He knows what’s about to come next. The taunt and fight and something heartbreaking that’d slip from their tongues and hurt them brutally and part them away, “Baby.” He’s sighing rubbing the knot on his forehead and him calling her baby was enough to mush her into a candy floss.

“Yell at me. Punch me. Brake me nose. D'ye thing but pleaseee don’t gimme a silent treatment ...,” His eyes glossy and Y/N kinda feels remorseful and she might not give into him that easily but she isn’t to be blamed because she’s just so putty in his embrace and he could win her heart all over again as many times he wishes.

Though when she’s speaking to him after long period of four days and nine hours and cursing him out he’s still very thankful and gleeful grinning and scooping her up in his arms, “You’re a downright asshole you know that? One of our baby cat died and you were too busy havin' lunch with that, witch.” She isn’t hiding her hatred for Holly anymore and Harry cackles infuriatingly loud and brushes his cheek against her neck.

“’M sorry. Not g'na do tha' evea' again swear on me life.” He mumbles coherently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He’s hooking their pinkies together and kissing them to seal the affirmation.

Harry loves BDSM. Something he explored upon lurking around a sex club when he was right about to turn eighteen, of which oh so Y/N's savvy about from all those nights where she could be able to hear guys and girls howling like they got fucking murdered even sitting in the farthest cubby of her own home.

She'd not argue to him about that because of her shyness and second the music that she used to blast through speakers while painting, so they were equal.

He was quite peculiarly never interested in having romantic relationships with people -- he was just interested in what’s between their legs and sometimes their mouth.

But with Y/N. With Y/N he wants to make love to her. Lit sweet warm scenting candles that’d sheen their skins with ardour and have vases filled with flowers and cook her a dish she likes – then they share a glass of wine (optional) if they want to remember it all.

He wants to have every nice and warm thing with her, things he never got to experience.

He wants to love.

To love her.

He never really exposed himself to words like amity, adoration and intimacy. Thinks that those words are too big for his heart which’s too compact for someone to build a home in.

He hated certain stuff. On purpose. Like scrabble when his father and his friends made fun of him for liking scrabble and he kicked that shit so hard it tensiled into space — or he thinks so because he never saw it laying on his childhood floor ever after that.

Then again, Y/N came into his life and brought his scrabble back (teased him that she stole it from some kid that lives downfloor) they play whenever they could and ends up fighting everytime because, zzz isn’t a word but Harry claims it is for people who snores like they're gonna choke into their pillow next moment.

He hated interacting with people. Don’t even have an idea how he got these bunch of maniacs as his friends and then Y/N, he just thinks she’s made specially for him only carved from the cream of tenderness, beauty of love and sent upon to him like an Angel.

Harry hates sugar. But, yet again he likes no scratch that -- he loves Y/N so it doesn’t even matter.

At the moment when he’s crowded by gushing and whispering and laughing people. Praising and chatting and loving on his Bambi —- he feels like the word hate never existed in his life because all he could feel his heart is floating in copious amount of love for his Bambi as he stands in the corner letting his eyes admire her in affection.

He takes a sip of white wine from his glass and hisses when plays with his earlobe out of instinct and ends up prodding himself from where he pierced his ear two hours ago.

A smile so tiny but full of elation and lilac-ness twirls on his relaxed face upon reminiscing it – his eyes falling at her trousers and he gives himself an imaginary pat on back.

“You’re gonna repay me by ironing my trousers.” She told him standing between his parted legs and he scooted closer to the edge of counter and grabbed her teeny hands compared to his's and puts them over his thick thighs, “Whateva' y'say ma'am. ‘course now ye’re ‘bout to become a sexy artist with her own gallery ‘n all tha’.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes dabbing the cotton ball with alcohol and swapped his soft earlobe with it.

“’S not mine.” She murmurs and Harry woven his fingers with her's and tugged her forward. Lips brushing her temple and he shrugged, speaking, there’s nothing for her to be insecure about, if no one's proud of her, he is, he always gonna be, “Does it matter? Those paintings are yours. That room will be filled with your talent – ye're g'na own one soon, mark me words.” His grip tightened when she rubs her hand at his chest to warn him beforehand and he feigned that he’s scared and horrified to make her anxious about it.

“You’re sick in head you know that?” She mumbles grounding down the shakiness of her wrist as she poked the needle through his earlobe and his voice just did a lil loopy-loop as he spoke, “Yeah ... many patients tell me when I don’t give ‘em enough anaesthetic and rip their teeth out.” She blinked up at him with wide eyes and smacked him when he just slumped down against the mirror if nothing happened, his rims floaty and blown out.

Sometimes he jokes too seriously it startles, Y/N.

“You could say an ouch, atleast. Big man.” She giggled taking the needle out and puts a black cross earning after cleaning his brand new piercing, “Ouchhh!” He moaned out dramatically, fingers gliding down his skin under his eyes to reveal pink flesh and blue veins and his eyeballs.

“You’re an ass! Now go iron my trousers D’ya want me to go bottomless?” She chortled out loudly and her laugh boomed through the small washroom when Harry’s hand spanked her bum playfully, “Perhaps tha’ is what I’d never want in any case – even if I’ve to showcase me bum to everyone.”

“Harry?” She’s gazing up at him with deer eyes and tugging at his blazer to gain his attention, “Everyone’s gone?” He looks behind to get the sight of their friends laughing and chatting.

“Yeah.” Harry’s heart tweaks upon hearing her exhausted and sluggishly soft voice. She giggles into his cheek when he slings his arm around her shoulder and runs his nose up and down her head walking towards their equally tipsy friends.

“Everyone lets bunch up to give, Muffy a cuddle.” Harry drawls out. His warm breath tickling her neck and everyone just roars out gathering around them and giving them a big bear hug and Y/N's eyes turns glossier because she’s feel so loved and cared.

Just because of Harry.

When they see off their friends, Y/N isn’t rushing back to her agency’s manager to ask how much paintings she sold instead she’s snuggling into Harry’s embrace and let’s him escort them out and into the cool wind.

“You really deserve chocolate muffins, don’t ya, pet?” His chin doubles as he tries to take a look at her satisfied and relaxed face as they trod on the side of road like two penguins providing heat to eachother.

They’ve drunk quite a nice amount of bevvies. Enough that mighty would make them forget the events that are happening now and that’s nice because they could be embarrassing and cringey with having to think about it later.

“No.” Harry grabs her hand that was about to push the door of the lil bakery and she’a huffing up at him and swatting his hand away with a loud thwack, “’M an independent woman, H.” He just slides her hand away -- retorting with a smile, “And’m a gentleman.”

She squints up at him with scrunched up pouty lips and he’s mimicking her squinting her square in the eye. The clock ticks by and they break into a hand wrestling and he’s squeaking out childishly when she pinches his wrist but he’s coming back with scissor fingers demanding her to do a “stone, papers, scissors.” Fight with him.

When he’s wiggling his fingers in fire gesture she’s groaning out and throwing her arms in air, “Fire beats everything!!” He yells duckishly and spins around doing a little dance.

“Fine.” She grumps folding her arms around her torso and he’s ducking down to smooch annoying kisses to her cheeks and all over face.

Harry’s forearms remains roped around her waist and his chin rests ontop of her head, her back stays pressed to his taught warm chest whole time. Every two minutes or so she raises the muffin she’s eating to his lips and he’s taking a chunky bite out of it as they trod their way back home.

“Dun, dun dun dunnnn, do do ...” She giggles when he sways them. His chest rumbling with his deep drunk octave and she cups his cheek.

“What you singing, honey?” He just giggles clinging to her and hides his face into her neck – murmurs then takes himself out of her fragrance and shouts into the air.

“The pink panther’s song!!” She woofs out a laugh at that and he shoves his face into his palm, wheezing out cutely, “I'know y'laughin' ‘cos ‘m sayin' stupidddd things.....,”

The bunny vociferous laughs that emits from their bellies, tumbles them to the ground and the moment they look towards eachother they burst into more giggles.

Y/N scrambles towards where he’s clutching his side and rolls to face her and she crawls up his chest.

It feels good to waste time on the footpath when their hold on eachother’s this soft, warm and meaningful and full of love.

Their cheeks coral, their grins achy and their eyes gleamy ---- hands wandering and comforting eachother, cuddly and sottish and cosy laying right outside their the homes building.

He hugs her closer to him. She snuggles herself into him and worms into a touch starved shrimp and the words are on the tip of his tongue, they’ve been shown in his sentiments with zeal and passion in past and now they’re bouncing in his chest.

Though, he gulps them back.

He really couldn’t.

“I love you,” It flows away in the wind but she catches onto it and flies with it and pushes herself up on his chest blinking in perplexed rapture.

He’s breathing it out again. This time maybe slurry from inebriation but clear and audible, “oh my god baby .... I love you s'fuckin’ much.” He cradles her face in his palms and slides his forehead against hers.

“You love me?” She whispers and he giggles at her bewildered expression and bobs his head, “That’s what ‘m sayin' pet.”

She knows that she loves him too. More than anybody. Every inch of her body soaks into the word love for him.

She pauses for a moment, “How — but, I mean –- What did I do?” He just shrugs, “Dunno.” His dimples foaming deep and pretty.

“I just think we would be a good us,” At that her head perks up kitten like and she moulds her palms around his either side of neck as if he’s her warm chocolate cuppa, she smiles slowly, “We'd be a wonderful us.” Her gaze glitters on his wine moisturized pink lips and she gives him an eskimo kiss.

“Gimme a kiss then,” She demands pursuing her lips adorably but he shakes his puff of curls and pushes her face back gently, “No!” Her brows pinches together at that and she pokes his dimple pouting sadly.

“But, why?”

“I don’t wanna forget our first kiss.” He whines and paws at her hips to bring her back closer to him and she giggles muttering a silly under her breath and tries to tempt him.

“Kiss me, in this way ... we could have our firsts twice!” He gives into her mischievous offer and sighs cradling her face in his hold and murmurs against the corners of her lips, “Only ‘cos you’re cute and wouldn’t stop peskin'.” She’s grinning and pulling him with her hands and smashing her petal lips against his's, their eyelids springs close and he’s squishing her chasing to deepen the kiss and when she's parting away he’s rushing to peck her lips right back to kiss her more.

“I could really cry just by kissin' you, moppet.” He licks the spots of chocolate from her chubby bottom lip and bites it and she’s melting her mouth again over him, kissing him delicately and sweetly having a certain desire and yearn to just star into one soul that balms there tummies.

“W’na kiss you forever.”

Harry never believed into forevers.

Then Y/N wrapped him in her oh so Y/N-ish blanket and now he wants everything with her for, forever.

“Oh. Hush baby. You’re gonna gimme a tooth ache.”

Y/N regrets saying that. Because she’s waking up with a headache, blurry vision and churning stomach ontop of every pain the ache in her tooth came to bite her in ass and she’s hissing grabbing her cheek to soothe it down.

“Fuck my —- damn hell ...” She mutters when even the slightest of air in her mouth stings her tooth like a bitch and it dollops tears on the corners of her eyes because she has never gone through a toothache before.

She’s bargaining in Harry’s flat and into his room and he’s properly wafted, face smashed into his elbow as he wheezes through his parted mouth. She’s shaking him gently because the shrivelling drive of pain is growing after every second.

“Harry!” He’s jolting up and snapping his head in every direction instantly his sleepy gaze melts on her (a sight he'd like to have every morning) but she looks rather rotten with a nest on her head and her last night’s clothes crumbled and when she's quipping an, “It hurts Harry ....” With teary eyes, He’s immediately scurrying closer to her and holding her -- confused at first.

“What's hurtin', pet?” He mumbles groggily and she sniffs, “My tooth –- fuck.”

He sighs knuckling at his eyes and kisses her hair throwing the duvet away, “Sit here yeah? ‘m g'na wash me hands real quick and check it, hmm?” He wipes the corner of her eyes and massages her shoulder -- then unfists her hands to make her release some tension and puts them on her knees.

He’s muttering a, “Good girl.” When she nods obediently and watches his back as he trudges inside the washroom.

Coming back with towel in his hands and throws it on the bed while sitting on his knees and adjusts her between them.

“Can y'open a bit mo' f'me, darling?” He asks gently caressing her hip to loosen her up. He already knows what's about to come next and he’s afraid she’s going to be very batty about the procedure, “Aaaaa.” She practically makes the noise trying to part her jaw as far as she could while Harry’s hand remains intact around it inspecting her mouth and she’s anxious that she has a morning breath but the memories of all those time she would practically drool on his cheeks while sleeping makes her feel less awful about it,

He chuckles tapping lightly on her upper moral, “Ow!” She swats his hand away when his action physically makes her whole body go through a pang.

When she looks up at him with ticked brows and huffy pout biting the flesh of her cheek between her two morals to just do something -- anything to get rid of the pain, Harry rubs the frown away with a grimace and brings her for a hug.

“’M s' sorry baby. But, looks like it’ll need a root canal.” If his bambi wouldn’t be in such pain he indeed would have lectured her and thrown away every sweetened thing in her jars out of the window.

“Can y'endure a lil pain and wait till my last appointment? So, I could take care of you afterwards.” He asks her lovingly and his reasoning makes butterflies erupt in Y/N’s belly and she almost almost forgot about her toothache but then it pangs again and she’s hugging him tighter mumbling into him, “Sure.”

He’s making her change her clothes and made her porridge letting it cool down to a temperature where it wouldn’t stick or ache her teeth.

“Y/N ...” He glowers at her sternly when she pushes his hand away holding the painkillers and that intense ferocious glare where his soft jade eyes are turning into something very dark is enough to tell her that if she’s not taking them, there's a big scold coming and after that no leniency for an argument so she takes it without throwing another tantrum.

After making sure she’s fed well and tucked into bed he’s stroking her hair and massaging her head, adjusting her pillow as she likes, kissing the tip of her nose as he murmurs.

“Rori will be pickin’ y’up sharp at 5. Told her to wake you up gently if you’ll be sleepin’.” Her eyes are dreamily glassy and she smiles lightly and she’s already missing his touch on her skin when he stands back up ready to leave.

She really wanted to say it.

Dying to say it, infact.

But all that came from her mouth was, “I’m gonna miss you.” Earning a giggle from him in return.

“G’na miss you terribly too.”

Rori drove Y/N to hospital. She’s still in Harry’s clothes that he made her wear in the morning, a black galaxy sweater and wide loose pants a beanie on her head to protect her from a headache and when the receptionist waves her enthusiastically upon her arrival Y/N’s smiling but never opening her mouth knowing the bitch would be back.

“Dr. Styles went for a staff on-call. He'll be here any moment, you could go inside.” Y/N’s nodding and padding inside his room. The pain has lessened a bit and that gives her teensy energy to wander around his room admiring his lil achievements, the medal he won last year and right beside it the pen holder she gave him it that has a “HORRAY TAKE BABY STEPS BABY STEPS HONEY!!” written obnoxiously on it as if she’s screaming it to his face and she giggles at her own silly gift.

She gasps and ends up knocking her hip into his desk as Harry steps in and laughs loudly at her, tutting with a shake of his head, “Jumpy little thing you’re.” Out of habit his hands are falling at her hips and bringing her closer.

“How’re y'muffy?” He asks and she’s bobbing her head up and down dramatically but silently making him chuckle.

“’Kay get yourself comfy on the seat ‘m gonna call my assistant t’give you anesthetic.” He suppresses a smile when she worms her bum up the slippery seat and goes on pushing different buttons moving it up and down.

“How adventurous.” He snickers switching the examination lamp and she rolls her eyes. His assistant’s eyeing them with happy eyes from under her glasses and Harry’s putting his latex gloves aside as she fills the injection and Y/N's muscles tenses up in anticipation, as she tries to blink the fear away and musters up a weak smile.

Knowing she has a fear of needles. Harry rolls the stool he’s sitting on closer to her and interlaces their fingers together, he coos sweetly, “It’ll be just a pinch baby.” Though, Y/N thinks Harry’s a motherfucking liar because it apparently is not just a pinch but feels like a stick shoved up your ass.

When the assistant leaves them to fetch something, Harry’s stroking the fringes of her hair behind with benevolent and caring eyes and smiles down at her sincerely.

“I want y'to relax, moppet. Yeah? Could y'do tha' f'me?” This time when he’s poking or prodding she isn't slapping him away and he’s grateful because that means her gums are numb properly.

He’s caressing her arm to assure her that she has nothing to be afraid about when she startles hearing the buzz of instrument that’s about to rip her poor gum apart.

Surprisingly she was easy. Because, Harry was so gentle with her and when he’s ushering her to spit in the little sink and she’s laying back with cloudy eyes and a grin Harry just knows the anaesthesia is kicking in.

It means that she’s allowed to blabber every dumb thing to him (she doesn’t need anaesthesia for it by the way), without any filter and timidness she’s about to chatter his brain alive.

Her gaze slowly rakes down his torso as if she’s undressing him with her eyes and she’s grinning -- more blood pooling in her mouth, “You look very handsome in scrubs — you know that?” Her words wobblish but full of naughtiness and Harry arranges them himself barking out a delighted laugh when she tugs at hem of his clothes perking her lips.

“I could really kiss you right now....” Her voice clear with desire but a hint of neediness and fondness for him and he’s gazing her down with gleamy endearment and snorts bringing the water cup to her lips, “Sorry Bambi but don’t like kissing a bloody mouth.” She keeps her doe eyes on him and they turn sad while she gurgles the water in her puffed up cheeks and spits it again into sink, about to protest with him but he’s shushing her and laying her back onto the seat.

“Not even me?” She grumps up at him and he’s retorting shaking his head in rejection, he's just trying to rile her up because he himself thinks that a single peck wouldn’t hurt.

“You’ll get an answer to this after we're done with you,” He muses softly when her eyes flicker with glee.

She was all over him as if she’s a small baby who needs his guidance to walk her way out and Harry was waving his staff goodbye with nervous lamblike smile while he tries to balance her against his chest.

The whole ride back he refrained from cooing and making im-a-fool-who-is-shamlessly-in-love noises. How could he not? When she looks this cute and cuddly in his clothes, head lulling every once a while as she sleeps facing him, her hand on his thigh to keep her reminded of his presence.

Harry’s grabbing it and kissing her knuckles. A jolly smile fluttering on his features and he isn’t waking her up as the reach and takes her into his flat – flumps her down on his bed gently and gets rid of her shoes and sweater.

Even skips dinner. Gets out of his work clothes and takes a glance of his sleepy girl standing from the wardrobe and the light clicks off before his gangly body is sliding under the duvets beside her.

Warm, sweet and cosy.

His all day's exhaustion fuses into nothingness when his feet comes caressing her calves and his chest presses to her shoulders and his elbows shelters around her in a protecting loving manner.

His heart hiccups a happy beat when she turns to his side and snuggles into him murmuring in haze, “Love you.”

He trips into utter shock. Staring down at her with baffled eyes but then the memories from past night comes upon crashing down at him like a crystal wave of ocean and floats him to an island where he belongs, always fated to belong.

He confessed his love for her.

She confessed it back.

They both were stupid and forgot it.

Now when she’s telling him that she loves him Harry feels like he’s rather about to pass out or squeal into pillow.

“I love you too, baby.” He's just wrapping her closer to him and lingering a wet kiss to her forehead.

Y/N’s moral was grinded, she keeps on swiping her tongue over it even how much Harry scolds her about it (it feels like a small plateau that got separated away because of an earthquake, y/n has made her own imagination about her tooth) and Harry let her chose the colour of filling that will be the mould of her crown, it was just an unnecessary thing to make her feel cheerful about it.

“Is Harry busy? Who’s inside?” She’s asking the old receptionist tapping her nails against the marble counter in eagerness to be done with it and that she’s about to take him to this yummy Thai place.

“Oh. He’s with his girlfriend right now.” Placid sereneness dooms over them and Y/N falls frightfully quite.

The poor assistant doesn’t know what she has uttered.

She just told her what the rumours has told her.

Her jittery smile drops into a blue scowl, her legs weakens at the thought and she nearly trips when Holly appears from inside his room.

It bitters her mouth with taste of anger and outrage.

Holly passes her a tight empathetic smile as if she knew everything from start and Y/N’s striding past her in resentment, her mind smoked with betrayal and vehemence.

“Hi. Moppet.” He rolls his stool over smiling up at her and it tightens her chest so much she chokes onto a breath.

How could he? No. No.

How dare he!?

But, there’s no need to cry over split milk now is it? She has to accept it that they could never be something more than just bestfriends.

“Hi.” She mumbles blocking her tears in the back of her eyes somewhere and Harry frowns, asking politely as she sits, “Feelin' alright?” She just nods and it takes Harry off-guard.

Where is his bubbly Muffy?

“Are you hurtin' somewhere?” He asks again pushing her upper lip to get a better look of her tooth. When she denies he lets it slide.

Though, when the assistant injects her and she’s groping Harry’s thigh because in grief everything hurts more than usual and her heart is dripping with sorrow and loneliness and grief she’s on verge of breaking into pieces right on this seat.

Harry’s brows clinches together in worry but she’s inhaling a puff of breath and giving him an etiolated smile to finish this as soon as possible and leave before she humiliates herself infront of him.

Her crown didn’t fit and he had to do a little more grinding. Meanwhile, Holly’s entering the room and Y/N shuts her eyes pretending that she isn’t there.

It hurts. Not in her tooth. Everywhere. Like a force is ripping her apart through a saw and it hurls her into deep agony and her heart almost stops functioning.

Harry was too focused and worried about her eerie behaviour that he ignored the frail hits on his thigh and Holly’s taking his name loudly making him stop.

Y/N’s jolting up and gagging into the sink beside her. Her knuckles turning white from gripping it ruthlessly.

She stares the clots of blood and mucus washing away with blurry eyes.

“Baby?” Harry quickly rubs her back anxiously and scrutinise with raucous beating heart as her hands shivers cupping the water and taking it in her mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Are y'okay? Pet?” His voice drips with panic and dread that the worst happened to her because of him --– if the case's true he's never gonna touch her again.

“Y/N!?” He’s growling loudly when she doesn’t reply him and keeps on crying. His eyes turning back concerned and soft when she hiccups a weep, “It hurts Harry ....” Holly rolls her eyes, leans against the desk and puts the file she brought to Harry beside her.

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. Ofcourse it’s gonna hurt.” She snickers and this makes Y/N cry more – Harry’s holding her hands in his and stroking his thumb at her knuckles.

“Dunno --...– maybe –- ma —,” Harry’s emerald eyes are boring into her murky one's and it pierces her soul away from her inside.

Their heads perk up when Holly asks her rudely, “Are you doubting Harry?”

Y/N shakes her tiny defeated head vigorously, “No! Why —.. why would I?” More tears pooling in her waterline and dropping at the back of Harry’s hand. He rushes to wipe them away and shush her but Holly’s acidic laugh is echoing.

How could she even think that?

Y/N could never doubt him.

Why she has to be so mean to her everytime?

“I mean you —,” Holly opens her mouth to speak but Harry’s cutting her off sharply, “Dr. Jenner enough. I’ll appreciate it if you wait f'me outside.” His head snaps back to Y/N who’s wiggling out of his hold and gasping out -- her pupils blown out and woozy.

“I just need a breather.” Saying this she’s out before Holly leaving Harry baffled and agitated to ponder over how she was pain and he failed to realise sooner.

The zephyr is tranquil. Frolicking with her heart and the grass is dewy under her as she runs towards an empty bench outside where there’s barely any light and she wishes Harry never comes to look for her.

She’s such a mess.

Her chest suffocates with a sob. She’s trying to lull her breath back to normal just like he tells her to.

When she flutters her eyelids into vision a hand with a cross on it’s thumb is pressed onto the bench beside her and there’s an afflicted pause in the atmosphere before she slowly faces him and places her hand atop his hand.

Her breath shudders through a smile, the tension in between them thickening as Harry feels her so close but so distant from him.

Emotionally and mentally and even their souls feels trapped within their own bodies.

It upsets him, to see his Bambi like that,

“’M so sorry, Harry. My intention wasn’t to embarrass you.” She isn’t serious? Sometimes he wants to bang his head at nearby wall at her silliness.

“You didn’t.” He assures her gently.

“But I did. Infront of the person you love.” It pains to say it. In the end she could suffer from anything for his happiness even if it’s handing him to the wrong person if he loves them.

Harry’s eyes turn moist at that. An unbelievable sour laugh eliciting from his lungs as he shoves his palms into his sockets, rubs them harshly and grasps her wrists pulling her closer to him with one furious tug.

“Yeah because that’s you, dumbass!!” Y/N’s body turns into a stone at his stern confession and she’s staring him with a throb in her heart and sad kitten eyes.

His brows pricks together ferociously and his lips twitches up as he speaks chopped on tears, “Every Daphne I pick up from the side-grass while comin’ back home t’you, these stupid stars in sky ‘n these ...” His shoes scrapes against the grass as he tries to show her, “....these stupid stupid shoelaces I tie around me ankles,” He’s raising his wrist to show her the milk bottle tattoo he got for he’s in love with her and their cats, once they were drunk, “... this fuckin' tattoo I got —- ‘s always been you.” He let’s the tears shine on his cheeks and soak them rosy.

“Always you, Bambi.” His accent gluteus and hoarse, “You’re always gonna be my sweet Bambi. Who I adore and love so much.”

“How?” She whispers in bewilderment and when Harry’s warming his forehead against her's tickling her lips as he murmurs, “Because you thought we'd be a wonderful us.”

A sob is wrecking out of her and she’s wrapping her arms around the nape of his neck pulling him down into a bone crushing hug, as the night they first confessed and had their first kiss makes a home in her mind.

She’s glad they didn’t forget their first.

“I love you.” Harry mumbles through a squished up cheek and saturates their chests closer with his hand planted firmly over her spine.

“I love you too. So much of it.” They’re crying elated tears knowing they’ve eachother to wipe them away and he’s sponging a tender kiss to her mouth and the corner of her lip avoiding where it’s swollen and her cheek is bloated.

The metallic taste of her blood lingers on his own lips.

“I could even kiss your bloody mouth, see?” He giggles feathering back his lips to her lips and gives her a chastise peck.

“Let’s put your crown, my highness.” Harry scoops up giggles from within her and tries to cherish this moment for as long as possible.

He’s never gonna forget his first, done twice.

Not a days go by where they don’t make love to eachother. A string of knot that connects their souls as Harry keeps his cock warm inside her while sleeping and it fattens inside her when they’re about to wake up and Harry’s rolling his hips into her lazily and gradually getting out breathy hums and whispers of whines from her —- her ankles locks behind his back and he’s always hitting and caressing the spots inside her which she was never able to reach herself with her short fingers.

Their bath times are intimate. Not full of adrenaline and thrill that one would end up having a foot cast from tripping from their playfulness, like they used to everytime. It’s delicate touches. Soft back rubs. Foamy head massages and cuddly bubbles. Smooching wet kisses. Heated makeout sessions and then drying eachother off, brushing teeth together and going to bed wearing eachother’s mismatched clothes.

Their mornings are spent lounging in bed and sharing a little love, sweet irresistible kisses, mouth sweet with eachother's tongues and hands comforting eachother, having a satisfying brekkie together in bed and sometimes the other is too tired to go (it’s usually Harry) and they always remind them they’re gonna come back home to eachother.

Harry made, Y/N explore herself. Introduced her to the tingles of what it feels to be rough and have a good shag that sends her into her sub-space where she doesn’t stop thrashing and spasming under him and He’s always there to bring her back to him and to take care of her.

They sometime do it in his office room too. Whenever she’s visiting him and he looks to alluring that Y/N could swallow him whole and his thighs man-spread deliciously as he sits on the stool in his damn scrubs, “You c’mere.” He pats his thigh dirtily in a command for her to straddle him and ride his cock and she’s always obeying like a good bunny moaning out feeling him in her tummy.

They’ve had countless of sex in Harry’s living room which they turned into a working studio for Y/N and whenever she's painting sometimes naked to tease him, how could Harry resist when she looks ethereal with her peachy bosom and her adorable tummy rolls and her innocent eyes and her cushiony thighs —- so he just pushes her thighs that he’s oh so in love with to her chest and pins her to floor and fucks her till she isn’t satiated enough.

Shower sex and bit of striptease when Harry’s knackered out. The hot water that prattles on their toes and their sweaty skins that slaps against eachother’s makes it much filthier and nastier.

They’ve bunch of romantic sex too. Oh boy! Just loads of romance where he’s too soft and mushy and dotting with her.

Sometimes, two people have deep connection that makes seem romance trivial and it isn’t about lust everytime. It’s about their souls. About the deepest part of who they’re as a person. Who they could be for eachother when the time strikes.

Just like right now. As, the stars twinkle outside and the dark snowy wind hits the windows; checked by the occasional gust that rattles the rooftop and the wood would creak to tell it’s presence. Fragrance of scented candles that of peonies, sparkling champagne and crème almonds surrounds them.

Harry brought Y/N on a holiday at a mountain and had a warm cosy wooden cottage booked for themselves.

They’ve spent it enjoying themselves and forgetting about their life in city. Today, the layer of foamy crystal snow is more than usual and they decided to cuddle up into their own little comfy cubby.

He takes his time feeling her skin and she nuzzles her nose up in his throat and giggles when he purrs.

The fire churning infront of them is similar to the one quenching in his belly as he sneaks his hand under her slip dress and fondles her nipples in between his calloused fingers.

“I wanna make love t'you, Muffy.” He mumbles grazing his blunt teeth down her sweaty pulse and laps at it splaying his palm close to her bum when she arches up into him, “I’m all yours.” She guppies around a gasp and he’s chuckling sweetly cradling her face in his hold and brews his lips against her's in a passionate endearingly hot kiss that moists her breath and her each ravine pore fills with love for him.

Their chests burns with carnal desire as he lays them on the flumpy nest of bed they made from blankets and pillows, his mouth keeps on tasting her with ardent fever and he situates himself between her and grinds their pelvises sensing her nipples stitching under his fingers and she’s gnawing her teeth into his petalish lip when he fills his palms with her tits.

“So cute.” He quips when she gasps whining for him to smudge his cocoa-vaseline covered lips back on her's and her lips brushes against his clavicles, emitting a perfervid whimper as Harry strokes his palm to feel her arousal and juices, “Hmm. I could just give you a flyin' kiss and you’ll still end up squirting.” He's easing his middle finger inside her and gazes her with profound sweetness when she pushes her palm up against his large moth and punctuates soft kisses to his vein at the side of his neck that prominents from their intimacy.

“Fuck. You get t've me cock daily but still so snug, pet. G’na stretch y'nice ‘n good.” He grunts, trailing soppy kisses down the valley of her breasts. Slicking his mouth around her nipple and she whines hungrily unceasing her fingers in his curls and pulls at them bringing him down for more kisses, “You love my kisses baby? Hmm? My baby loves me kisses ...” He coos suckling onto her lower lip and latches back full to her mouth and perennials it into pastels of wetness.

Sips down her moans when he slithers three more fingers into her and fits them deep, cupping his palm against her pussy. Something weirdly soft about his bare ring-less fingers and he runs his hips into her, “Feels good?” He growls looking down where his fingers drives into her.

When she bobs her head hungrily. She squirms – goosebumps pebbling on her skin and the mellow glow of candles melting on her when he pecks her and pecks her again, kissing her tongue as he mumbles, “Bet. It’ll feel more good with my cock inside y’pussy. Tell me moppet, who's little cunt is this?” He asks wiggling his middle finger to nudge the walnut shaped spot inside her – tucked within her walls and his other hand’s pressing her thigh to floor as he saps his teeth into her neck and leaves love bites.

Marking her as his’s.

“Yours. Please, it’s all yours.” She sobs out ardently. Crumbling and lurking at the edge to hold this pleasing feeling for some moment in her belly.

“Right.” He affirms. Licking the maroon marks he littered on her puddy skin and he's grabbing her shivery hand that was about to cup around his cock and stroke it, “You’re mine.” He strings their fingers together and brings it to his lips to kiss the soft pads of her fingers.

“All mine to love on, to cherish, to be proud of –-- You’re my little Bambi.” His infatuated dotting words are making her strike herself into him, quivering and blabbering, eyes shut in bliss and love and he’s helping her ride the sensation out.

The moment he’s taking his fingers out he’s interlacing those sticky cum covered fingers with her other hand and stretching her arms and pinning their winded hands atop her head into floor.

They’re moaning into waxy humidity when Harry sheathes into her and her walls soaps around his girth as he sinks himself into her, his heavy balls pressed buried deep to her bum and he’s smushing his face into her breasts and almost snuggles into her knowing how much she loves to just be wrapped into him as he pounds his cock inside her.

He’s sweltering his hips. Feeling her gooey warmth and rolls himself harder and she’s crossing her arms around his shoulder – kissing his neck and caressing the curls that’ve grown out a tad under his earlobes.

“I love you,” He's nosing at her jaw to tip her mouth towards him and kisses it —- his hold on her delicate but she’s coveting crescents into his knuckles and a bow of string connects their mouths as she pecks him till she’s running out of breath, “I love you. I love you so so much.” Even though they’re taking their time but Y/N doesn’t think she could last a minute longer the way he’s thrusting languidly but deeply into her.

“Show me then, c’mon baby cum on m’cock. Soak it. G'na keep it inside you ‘n sleep like tha', mphmp makin' me so so good —- g'na cum?” He rasps out and she’s whimpering blubbering out without much mind as he stuffs her full and enough.

Her voice meek and high-pitch, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She’s dripping all over him and coating him with her cum. He doesn’t not stop and pumps it back inside her roughly.

“Fuck. Baby.” His howl wounded and broken as he feels his balls tighten and he leaks inside her, “S'okay honey cum inside me Harry .. love how you make me feel – how big your cock is.” She grates her teeth into the eternity of his throat and punctures her lips to suck around the fading hickey she gave him two nights prior.

His hips stutters, and he keeps himself up with his weak elbows spurting ribbons and ribbons of thick seed inside her.

She moans out when he wouldn’t stop cumming and she thrashes upward with a final twist of his push, his words sultry and drunk on libido, “Fuck. I came so much – you’ll ‘ave to squeeze tha’ all out fo’ me,” He’s smoothing their arms down to let them be on eachother and Y/N sees the gears working in his mind when he grins.

“In case you’ll want a refill.”

She rolls her eyes cheek smashed into his bicep and pinches his nipple, “Way to ruin the moment –- you libido driven slut." A noise peeps out of her when he whumps on her and looks up at her with an amused expression.

“Y'know tha' slut shaming is inappropriate?” She just shrugs smiling around a yawn.

“Is that an invitation to whore shame y'then?” He listens to her heartbeat. Tracing pattern of yellow flicker on her skin and kisses the curve of her breast.

“Will that end up me havin' yer fingers in my bum?” She creampies around him at his genuine yet naughty question and he snorts out loudly stirring his cock on purpose that’s still snug inside her, “Hmm then ‘m defo a whore.”

“Harry!” She pouts and he squishes that pout as if she’s some duckling -- an old habit he'd never get rid of.

“Mrs. Styles!” Holly’s head perks up at the call and she’s looking down at the five month old baby that has her bum situated on her momma’s hip and she squeals joyfully bunching her momma's shirt in her tiny chubby hands.

Holly just simpers quietly not greeting the duo and keeps on walking as Y/N enters Harry’s office room.

His face brightens up. Dimples popping awfully cute just how Y/N loves and his smile widens into a toothy one as he leaves everything and scurries towards his girls, “Oh my two Bambis!” He's greeting them with loud sloppy loving kisses all over their faces that makes them squint their eyes and giggle ticklish from the faint stubble that’s growing on his chin.

Their baby. Harry never thought he was able to love someone this purely and extremely. From a grumpy kid himself and someone who used to loose his shit at the formula chugging machines he used to call them —-- he never even imagined to own one.

But, after two years into marriage and moving into a house with the love of his life everything had a possibility for him and their one room that’d look so empty just made his stomach squeaky and yearn for a little one that he could protect and hold delicately close to his chest and lather them in his kisses and smell their baby scent and have cuddles with them,

Harry really wanted her to be a December baby -- if not particular then winters.

Because she just looks like the joy of Christmas and the sapience of homely evening.

Her frost bitten poppy nose. Her plushy warm cheeks that of running his fingers over an old sweater that holds infinite memories for him, the shimmer in her eyes that of snowflakes and those lips she got from her mother that of marshmallows melting on hot chocolate.

Harry really fucked his dream of her being a winter baby by fucking Y/N at the wrong time of the year.

She ended up coming out on the most heated month, june.

Wasn’t his fault too. Because they were trying for so long and he'd be all excited for the pregnancy tests but then they'd come out negative everytime weighing a ball of sadness in his chest and when they conceived her –-- he didn’t even remember the damn date.

The pregnancy for them wasn’t that hard. Minus the eventual tantrums that were thrown his way as daggers but he was skilled to dodge them and lure his wifey back to him with chocolate chip cookies.

The process of her birth was life taking for Y/N and Harry had short comings in his breath from the way his wife would all be jerking in pain.

She had to endure the labour pain for three days.

It’d always tear him into sobs as he'd fall into Rori's arms while everyone stayed inside with her for a moment.

It wasn’t easy to look at the love of his life, his bestfriend, his Bambi, his everything go through so much pain and he almost ended up regretting having a baby but when she’d be all snuggled up into his side after a long tiring and screaming day with her bump swollen beautifully with his bubba inside, it used to relax him a bit,

When she came out all sticky and covered in blood he realized at that moment that; she truly is his’s.

Those earthy gem eyes that didn’t cry first five minutes but rather kept on staring at him intrigued as to why the man that used to chatter her ears away in thick sleepy accent when she was in the cosy spot of her mummy’s belly is now just crying and crying.

They made her with so much love and care.

She was just so soft to touch. Just like their favourite flowers.

She was his Daphne.

He’s grabbing her from armpits and immediately putting a hand under her diaper clad bum when she huffed making grabby hands at him, “Hi Daphne bub! Missed daddy much?” He coos bouncing her a little and rumbles his lips against her cheek to create farty noises.

She squeals fisting his hair and yanks at it. That makes Y/N laugh out loudly, “Careful there, H. She’s getting quite handsy.” He just smiles convincing his baby to have some mercy on his curls.

When Y/N tells him about his routine and her nap timing Harry’s just sighing kissing her lips and patting her ass to move, “I can take care of me baby -- doin' it fo' five months, forgot?” He took a paternity leave to spend more time with Daphne and his Bambi.

To be sure that they were growing and healing well.

Y/N has to take the cats for their monthly checkup that’s why she has to leave Daphne with Harry and even though she’s not fond of her in hospitals Harry assured her that he’s heading home soon.

When Y/N leaves, Harry blows raspberries at her face and she pouts just like her mummy and he’s squishing that pout like his own little duckling.

“Da',” She grumbles and Harry kisses her cheek fondly and lovingly, “Yes Da, bubblin. Guess like we’ve got a date with Pooh and Roo at home.” He guffaws out loudly when Daphne's eyes visibly twinkles at the name of her plushies she likes to chew on and get them all soggy by the end of the day.

“You’re such a minx, baby!” Harry thinks he couldn’t be happier.

He’s complete.

His family is complete.

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ketamineharry · 4 years ago

Text

Outnumbered - Harry Lewis

Requested: No - I’m just trying to improve my fluff skills, so apologies if this is not the best!

Lockdown had been hard on your relationship with Harry, with his family in Guernsey he had opted to go and spend lockdown with them. Which left you in London, isolating on your own; as you didn’t want to leave where you felt most comfortable, especially with the increased anxiety of the pandemic. That left you with two options, end the relationship and hope that you were both ready to rekindle when the restrictions were lifted, or to try and attempt a long-distance relationship — with your only port of contact being FaceTime calls and texts. You had opted for the latter.

It had been fine for the first week or two. You had developed the mindset that he was just visiting family. The FaceTime calls were fun, you played untold quizzes and watched movies together; despite Harry having the attention span of a goldfish, it was rather enjoyable. You would also go on your permitted one walk a day together, you reminded him of the rustle and bustle of London, as you flipped the camera and showed him the insane traffic and the Thames when you crossed the Millenium bridge. He was also able to show you the scenic sights of Guernsey, the cliffs and beaches.

By the time that it had rolled around to a month, your faith in returning to normal any time soon was vastly diminishing. Your body ached for his touch. Even if it was something as small as holding your hand, or having a cuddle on the sofa. You really missed him. The FaceTime calls were nice, but they were few and far between now, as you didn’t really have anything to talk about. You lived alone, while he was living the typical family life. There’s only so many times that he could tell you about petty arguments he had with Josh, or, how he had pranked Rosie.

You knew that it was selfish, but you just needed a break. If he couldn’t be here with you and show you some sort of affection, things weren’t going to work. No matter how much you wanted them to.

As you dialled his phone number, you took a deep breath. You had no idea how he would react. Things were hard for everyone, yet here you were taking the easy way out.

“Y/N, hey!” Harry said, you could hear his smile from the other side of the phone. Which only made things that much harder.

“Hey.” You murmured weakly. The nervous knots in your stomach only intensified the longer you remained in silence.

“I need to get something off my chest, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” You continued, as you twirled a strand of hair nervously between your thumb and forefinger.

“Go ahead.” He promoted, his voice uneasy. Even with him being hundreds of miles away from you, he could still detect that something wasn’t right.

“This isn’t working… I can’t keep pretending that it is. Before this happened we spent almost every day together, but I haven’t been able to so much as touch you for over a month.” You explained, as you let out an exasperated sigh.

“No!” He protested, as his voice broke. “This can’t have all been for nothing. We promised each other that we’d have each other’s backs. That we’d be fine. You can’t just give up now.”

“What choice do we have? It could be months before we can see each other again.” You admitted, the sense of his defeat could be felt through the phone. As much as Harry didn’t want to admit it verbally, he knew that you were right. Who knew when the next time you could see each other would be?

“I love you.” He whispered weakly, before he hung up the phone.

—

It had been a few days since you had called things off with Harry. You had busied yourself with housework and trying to learn new skills. Including downloading duolingo, where you had been learning Spanish.

You were in the middle of a Spanish lesson, when a knock at the door jilted your attention from your phone to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially considering you were supposed to be self-isolating. Cautiously, you went and answered the door.

Harry stood on the other side, his eyes red and blotchy. Without a second thought, you went in for the hug. A familiar warmth overtaking your body, as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. He rested his chin on your head, as he wrapped his arms around you.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, almost in disbelief.

“I made you a promise at the beginning of our relationship. That no matter how far apart we are, that I will always come back to you. I figured it was time to fulfil that promise.” He explained, as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You took him by the hand and led him into the flat. The house, instantly feeling more like home now that he was back. You cuddled up on the sofa, resting your head on his chest as you selected a movie to watch. You settled on Interstellar, and ordered a pizza.

You were back in domestic bliss, a lot happier. You were finally in your favourite place — with him.

“This is so much better than doing this on FaceTime.” He commented. A broad smile plastered on his face.

“Why’s that?” You questioned, as you looked up at him.

“Because I can do this.” He said, as he cupped your face and pulled you closer to him. He planted a soft kiss on your lips, his breath tasted like pizza.

“Yeah, you’re right this is so much better.” You agreed, as you pulled him in for another kiss.

#harry lewis #sidemen #w2s #sidemen x reader #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis imagine #w2s imagine #w2s x reader #wroetoshaw #sidemen imagine

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ashes-and-ashes · 5 years ago

Note

"I wish you could just admit you made a mistake" "I didnt make a mistake, I like it with salt" *while stirring coffee*. Any pairing you want and it doesnt have to be romantic.

I had a blast writing this!! Some domestic!drarry for the soul :)

Coffee

Harry wakes to the smell of coffee and the sound of clattering in the kitchen. The light streaming in from the windows makes him blink blearily, the blankets warm where they wrapped around his legs. He reaches groggily over to the other side, where Draco usually slept and touched only air.

For a heartbeat, just a heartbeat that old panic comes back, of waking up and finding the other person gone. Harry’s spent too many mornings like that; Draco having slipped away some time before dawn, the bed cold and so, so empty. He clenches his hands, fists slipping on the sheets. It always took awhile for him to calm down, to be reminded that he was here, in their apartment in Diagon Alley, all old windows and exposed brick.

Draco had picked the place out, half-forgotten on a small side street, the windows boarded and the door locked. Harry had thought he was crazy at first, crazy for wanting an old wreck like this was.

But they had cleaned it up nicely: exposed beams and huge windows with emerald shutters, hard wooden flooring covered in soft rugs. Pansy had done most of the decorating - Harry wanted too much red and Draco wanted too much green. The flat was now a comfortable amalgamation of them both - broomsticks on the floor, Harry’s coffee mugs and Draco’s crystal wine glasses, a Muggle television and an old pensieve that Draco had bought from god knew where.

It felt like home. Harry’s never really felt like that before, having a place to truely call home.

He gets out of bed slowly, wincing at the bright lights. There’s a mess of clothing dumped on one of the chairs; he grabs something at random (Draco’s - only he would bother to buy a sweater this nice) and pulls it on, padding into the kitchen.

Draco’s perched on the counter, a newspaper in hand. Harry watches him, all tousled blonde hair and long legs and the faintest edge of a rosy blush on his cheeks. The sun hits him from behind making him look like he was glowing, the entire room lit up by the beauty of his smile.

Harry remembers a time long ago, back to the War and the fighting. Draco had been colder, harder, painted in shades of grey instead of gold. Still beautiful - he always had been beautiful - but nothing close to what he was now.

He could have watched Draco for hours, flipping through the Prophet idly, the smell of warm coffee in the air. Draco notices him before long though; he rolls his eyes, tossing the newspaper over Harry’s head and onto the sofa behind him. “Creep,” he says, though there’s no venom behind the words. “How long have you been watching me?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t bother to hide the smile on his face, like he might’ve so long ago. He’s long learnt that Draco was Draco - he never needed to hide anything around him. “Few minutes. You know we have a couch right?”

“Oh really?” Draco says in mock surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Maybe you’re just stupid,” Harry says and Draco lets out a long laugh.

“Bitch,” he mutters and flicks his wand. The mail comes soaring into Harry’s hands, the door swinging slightly behind it. “Here’s all your precious fan mail by the way.”

Harry scowls, examining the parchment in his hand. “How do they keep finding us?”

“Probably a tracking spell or something. How come I never get any fan mail?”

“You have the fucked-up Death Eater guy.”

Draco pours. “Yes, but he’s a fucked-up Death Eater guy. You get all the admirers. No one has ever sent me a condom before.”

Harry shudders. “Oh please no,” he says, dropping the stack of mail onto the coffee table with a groan. “That was one time! One time!”

“It was an extra large!” Draco calls out as Harry shoves his way into the kitchen, slamming an empty mug onto the counter. Ron had gotten it for him as an 18th birthday present - one of those tacky souvenir ones that seemed to have sprouted up everywhere after the war. The Bae Who Lived was stamped on one side, along with a lipstick mark that did not resemble Harry’s lips at all.

Draco had now stretched himself out on the counter, legs dangling idly over the edge. His arm was out and bare next to him, the Dark Mark covered up by beautiful flowers, rendered in soft purples and blues and greens. It was a Muggle tattoo for the most part, with the exception of one single hydrangea - in ever shifting colours of pale pinks and soft teals. Draco had designed it himself - they still had the parchment sketched on the wall in the bedroom.

“Move,” Harry grumbles, unceremoniously shoving Draco off the counter. “Why are you even up so early? It’s not like we have practice or anything.”

Draco gives him a disbelieving stare. “It’s almost 8.”

“Too fucking early.”

“Go to bed earlier then.”

“I did!” Harry shakes his head. “You’re the one keeping me up all night.”

“Well,” Draco says, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I’m sure I could wake you up by - “

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Harry scowls into his empty mug, running a hand through his hair. “The only thing I want to be woken up by today is the Lord and coffee. I need coffee.”

“Pot,” Draco says, gesturing vaguely towards the coffee machine. “My boyfriend. The handsomest idiot in the world.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Harry grumbles as he pours himself a huge cup. Draco had an unusual talent for making incredible coffee, despite not knowing how to use a french press about 6 months ago. “I defeated Voldemort, right? That’s got to count for something.”

Draco laughs. “Please. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” Harry scowls. He finds the milk in the fridge, adding copious amounts to his coffee. “Where’s the spoons?”

“This is your fucking loft too,” Draco mutters. He hands Harry the spoon from his own coffee mug, smirking as he did. “Honestly. Remember that headline a few weeks ago? ‘Harry Potter; the Hidden Mysteries of the Boy Who Lived?’”

“Vividly,” Harry mutters, now rummaging around the cupboards for the sugar. “Made me sound like some sort of bloody celebrity or something. Anything Skeeter writes is trash.”

Draco hums. He kicks his feet out in front of him idly. “True. It’s a load of bullshit anyways. Hidden mysteries my ass.”

Harry flips him off. He finds the sugar in a jar next to the stove and adds a few heaping spoonfuls to his coffee, the rich scent already helping with his headache. “I’m mysterious!” he protests. “And handsome. And attractive. And devastatingly intelligent.”

“Apparently not,” Draco says, “Seeing as you just put salt in your coffee.”

Harry freezes. He turns back towards the stove. For the first time he notices the small black letters on the side of the jar. Sea Salt.

He inwardly groans, turning back to face Draco, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. “No. I meant to do that.”

“I wish you would just admit you made a mistake,” Draco sighs, watching as Harry serenely stirs his coffee. “Gryffindors.”

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Harry mutters, clinking his spoon against his mug. “I like it with salt.”

“Oh really?” Draco says. Harry sees the glint in his eye and gulps. “Then you wouldn’t have a problem with drinking it?”

Harry swallows, hard. Shit, he thinks. Draco’s eyes are full of challenge, that streak of competitiveness that made him fall in love in the first place.

Harry slowly raises the mug to his lips. “Fuck you,” he says and chugs the whole thing. Halfway through he regrets it - it’s burning hot and excruciatingly salty, like drinking warm ocean water. He never could turn down a dare though, draining the cup to the dregs.

“See?” he says, slamming the cup down in front of Draco. “Delicious.”

Draco gets to his feet, smiling wickedly. He crosses over to the stove, picking up the jar of salt. “Delicious?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, trying to hind the grimace and the lingering taste still in his mouth. “I could drink this all day.”

He regrets the words as soon as it leaves his mouth. Draco grins, his face turning evil. “Well then,” he says. “It’s a good thing I love my boyfriend so much then.”

Fuck.

“Draco - “ Harry starts, but Draco just winks.

“Love you,” he says, and then dumps the entire pot of salt into the coffee.

#drarry #domestic drarry #drarry fluff #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanfic #domestic!au #domestic draco malfoy #domestic harry potter #draco malfoy x harry potter

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dolce-peach · 4 years ago

Note

Loki x reader, reader is on the younger side (but not really) and has a large extended family who one day begged her to babysit three little nephews at the tower and Loki has to help too. Just parental Loki Fluff pls

domestic bliss

pairing: loki x reader

warnings: fluff, soft loki

a/n: i absolutely cannot 🥺 also my non-creative mind decided to name the lil ones peter, harry, and gwen 😅😂 and i will say this as many times as i can: loki deserves the whole world 🥺🥺🥺❤️ hope you guys like it!

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire @just-another-loki-fanblog

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

“Who is the best baby in the whole wide world?”

Your baby nephew Peter squealed in your arms as you held him up, hoisting him higher until he left your hands for a moment. He giggled as you caught him again, his cheeks rosy.

“But Auntie Y/N! What about me?” your other nephew Harry whined, hugging your leg.

“I’m Auntie Y/N’s favorite!” exclaimed your niece, Gwen. “Everyone knows that!”

You laughed as you bent down, embracing them. “I love you all, okay?”

You kissed their cheeks before carrying Peter into the kitchen, where you got his bottle ready.

Your days weren’t usually like this at the Avengers Tower, but when your older sisters had to run on last minute business trips, as the youngest, you couldn’t say no. Little Peter, Harry, and Gwen had grown to be absolutely irresistible in recent years, so you never minded looking after them anyways.

Peter began whining a bit, sensing his bottle was close to being ready. He already began reaching for the bottle.

“No, sweetie,” you cooed. “It’s not ready yet.”

Gwen tugged at your sweats. “Auntie Y/N, can I have a snack?”

You answered by getting a bowl of sliced peaches out on the table. Both Harry and Gwen climbed into their seats, reaching for the fruit.

Peter cried a bit more, and you did your best to distract him by making funny faces. His cries echoed throughout the entire floor.

“Who in the world is making so much noise?” Loki raged as he stormed into the room.

You sent him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, my sisters needed someone to watch the kids.”

Loki’s threatening aura faded away, replaced with realization. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Forgive me.”

“Uncle Loki!” Gwen cheered.

The god frowned. “That’s King Loki to you.”

Harry pouted. “I thought Uncle Thor was the king.”

“That’s --” Loki sighed. “Never mind.”

You almost completely forgot about Peter in your arms. You grabbed the warm bottle and fit the nipple on top before giving it to him. He grasped on tightly, sucking eagerly.

Out of the corner of your eye, Loki tried peeking over your shoulder to watch as Harry and Gwen were having a conversation about spaceships.

“Isn’t he adorable?” you whispered.

Loki cowered back, coughing. “I suppose he’s quite...above average.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you not like kids?”

“They’re loud,” he said, eyeing Harry and Gwen. “They’re much too excited, and they have incredible tantrums.”

“Hm, sounds a lot like you,” you teased.

He walked around the counter. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds,” you laughed.

Loki rolled his eyes as he stood in front of you. You somehow never ceased to amaze him with how far you could go.

Before he could realize what was going on, you placed Peter in his hands.

His eyes widened with panic. “Wait, what are you doing?”

You grinned, adjusting his awkward, lanky arms so he held the baby safely. “Letting the four of you bond while I take a break,” you said. “I can only be a mom for so long.”

“Parenting is not necessarily a specialty I possess, especially given my family history,” he said. “Take him back!”

“I’ll be down training with Nat for about an hour,” you said as you playfully nudged his shoulder. “Call me if you need anything, but he should be ready for a nap after finishing his bottle. All you have to do is watch him sleep.”

“Where are you going, Auntie Y/N?” Harry inquired sadly.

You ruffled his hair. “Just downstairs to train,” you explained. “Don’t you want to spend time with Uncle Loki?”

Harry looked as though he was going to cry. “Yeah, but I want you, Auntie Y/N!”

Gwen took his hand. “It’s okay, Harry. I’ll take care of you,” she said. “And Uncle Loki might make something explode again!”

Harry’s eyes lit up, making you smile.

You gave the two one more hug before walking towards the door, sending a wink towards Loki.

He glared at you. “I have to admit I’m thinking about stabbing you right now.”

“Go ahead,” you said. “But you’d miss me.”

Loki frowned deeply, opening his mouth to complain once more before you shut the door behind you.

You panted, catching your breath as you took gulps of water. Your body was pretty worn from babysitting the past few days, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

“How are the little rascals?” Natasha asked, sitting down next to you.

You handed her a water bottle and a towel. “So energetic,” you said. “They’re good kids.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she laughed. “Who’s watching them now?”

“Loki.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? He was okay with it?”

“Not really, but when is he ever?”

She nodded. “Hope he doesn’t make the toaster oven explode again.”

You laughed.

After a few more minutes of rest, you decided you were done for the day. You said bye to Natasha before heading upstairs to the common area. You were expecting total chaos and mayhem, but when the doors slid open, it was quiet.

“Loki?” you called.

You carefully walked in, your eyes scanning the room until you spotted them on the couch.

Loki sat sleeping, holding Harry and Gwen on either side while Peter was sound asleep in his lap. Loki’s lips were slightly agape, making you stifle a laugh.

You carefully snapped a picture before touching his shoulder. “Loki.”

He opened his eyes groggily as you helped him up, careful not to wake the kids. “Y/N?”

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you laughed. “Have fun while I was gone?”

“Actually,” he began. “Yes.”

“Good,” you said. “I think you’d make a great dad. I think they really like you.”

His eyes glistened. “You think so?”

“Definitely.”

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hajimewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Million Reasons ⛅ (Matsukawa Issei/Reader) on [Ao3] ➸Rated E, fem!Reader, 7k+words ➷Part 2 of the Haikyuu Song Fic Collection ➷Angst, depression, fluff, this one is pwp ➷Left in Matsukawa’s wake, you find yourself struggling to come to terms with your break up. Everything reminds you of him. From the sheets that smell like him, to something as simple as coffee.

After everything, you know you should let him go, but you can’t help but search for reasons to stay.

[Masterlist] [part 1]

A/N:

Here’s part two for my song fic collection, as promised! Highly recommend reading part one, linked above.

This one is Million Reasons, Lady Gaga. Despite it endlessly being played on the radio in the car and at work, I can always jam to it. I think it’s a nice follow up to Harry Styles’ Falling!

It had been a long week, and you found yourself mindlessly going through your days.

You rely entirely on muscle memory to carry you through daily tasks and basic human needs, but barely have an appetite to finish meals or the energy to leave the house.

You haven’t seen Matsukawa or heard from him since your ‘break up’, you’d only gotten confirmation from Hanamaki that he ended up staying at his place.

After the first day, you noticed Matsukawa had picked up some of his things when you came back from work.

The closet you shared was emptier, stray coat hangers and missing sweaters and tees. You’re ashamed to admit that you slept in one of his tee shirts that night.

Wrapped up in his scent between his shirt and the sheets, you were able to wake up the next morning in your sleepy haze, believing that it never happened. That Matsukawa hadn’t said any of it.

If only you said more, told him all the things that he needed to hear. But any words of encouragement went out of his head, and no amount of I love you’s would get through to him.

And as the week progressed with radio silence, the intrusive thoughts in your head began to convince you that he might have meant everything he said.

You told yourself otherwise, that he just needs a break to sort everything out himself. He just wasn’t in the right state of mind when he snapped at you, he hadn’t been for months. Matsukawa struggled to love himself as much as he did you, and though you tried to support him, he wouldn’t accept it.

You lay back in the empty sheets, lonely sigh bouncing off the walls into white noise.

You already miss being wrapped up in the sheets with him, whispering in each other’s ears and laughing about nothing. You’ve missed it for awhile now, but now that he’s not here the longing sits heavier on your chest.

You’d noticed the signs, Matsukawa had started to lack affection and his depressive episodes became more frequent. You thought you were acknowledging them, but every time he brushed you aside, you stepped down so easily.

Every time he interrupted your concerns with a subject change, you accepted it. You’d confront him later, you always told yourself.

Curling into your side, arms aching to wrap around him, you fret yourself over things you should’ve and could’ve done.

After tossing and turning, you’re finally able to drift to sleep, caught in the dream of a memory.

“Welcome home!”

You cheer, when Matsukawa arrives home from work.

You’d been used to serving food at the restaurant, but not cooking it. You’re grateful Matsukawa at least knew his way around a kitchen, you mostly aided him to the best of your abilities. But tonight, you wanted to make sure a meal was sitting at the table when he arrived.

Despite your underwhelming talents in the kitchen, you’d researched recipes to prepare his favorite hamburg steak.

Admittedly, you played the recipe video back about six times after every direction to make sure you were doing it right.

But you’re pretty confident how it turned out, and you repeated the process with several other dishes he liked, all in time for his arrival home.

You’d even spent the day cleaning and organizing. Even though it wasn’t your designated cleaning day, you wanted him to come home to a brighter apartment.

You’d decorated the walls with photographs that the printing place finished earlier. High school photos from Hanamaki line the wall, mostly of their volleyball team, as well as photos of you and Matsukawa together.

You got caught up sorting through the old pictures of Matsukawa, excitedly giggling at his younger face, his hair style then, how lanky he was, same thick eyebrows.

You almost thought you hadn’t given yourself enough time to prepare the food.

When the front door swings open, you set off a party popper, just for the sake of being extra. Simultaneously, you scare the living shit out of Matsukawa.

“Woah! What is all this?”

Overcoming the initial surprise, his eyes flick around the room. His arms outstretched, you accept the hug eagerly as he peers at you with curiosity.

“It’s not our anniversary. Or my birthday. Or your birthday. What’s going on babe? Are you pregnant—“

He mentally ticks off important dates, before his eyes blow wide at his own assumption.

“No, no. Nothing like that, silly. You’ve been working so hard at your new job, I figured I’d reward you for it!”

You slide your hands up to link behind his neck, attempting to tug him closer as you straighten your posture.

He laughs, leaning down to meet your awaiting kiss. Your lips feel warm against his, and you can feel him unable to resist smiling into the kiss.

Matsukawa’s hands move to caress your hair, he separates momentarily to read your expression.

You open your eyes and peek through your lashes to see his warm gaze.

Ever since he had to work at the funeral home for his father, his mood had plummeted.

It was completely understandable, his goals and aspirations were put on the back burner.

And when he was told he needed to take over the business entirely, the dreams he worked tirelessly for were completely out of his reach.

Needless to say, he’d been despondent. For awhile, nothing you could say could pull him out of it.

But day by day, he grew accustomed to it, even told you things he started to like about the seemingly grim business.

Even though he managed to find a silver lining, it never brought him back to his usual self.

So seeing the light in his eyes and his rosy cheeks made you beam with pure, unadulterated, joy.

“I’m so proud of you, Issei.”

You mumble, words dancing across his lips, and he thanks you with a contented expression, running his thumb softly across your cheekbone.

He reconnects your lips into another gentle kiss, and you easily find yourself lost in it.

Despite complaining about how cold he is all the time, he radiates warmth, and it encompasses you wholly.

He trails his hand down your cheek, slotting his thumb and fingers to either side of your jaw.

When you feel the soft pressure of his fingers, you open your mouth at the gesture, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide his tongue against yours.

Threading your fingers through his curls, you hear the softest moan of satisfaction from him. As your hot tongues slick together, you drag your nails from his hair, down his neck, broad shoulders, to his chest.

You pop open the buttons of his collar with relative ease, but as your excitement grows the difficulty of the task increases.

Matsukawa’s arm wraps around your middle, pressing you close to his body. He rests his free hand to the back of your neck, and to accommodate your tight proximity you tilt your head back.

Bodies now flushed together, you feel the heat exchanging and rising between the two of you, and he hasn’t stopped attacking your mouth for a moment.

Matsukawa bites your bottom lip softly, teasingly, and his mouth covers the gasp that threatens to escape your lips.

He presses a knee between your legs, and you stagger back.

“Ah,”

You separate momentarily,

“Fuck,”

He grunts out as your bottom hits the edge of the dining table. His palm quickly flattens against the surface of it while using his other arm to maintain your balance.

“Sorry, I got a little excited there.”

He mutters close to your face, but the clatter of the plates at the table echoes in your ears. The noise winds up bringing you out of your haze, back to your senses.

“Ahhhh! The food is getting cold!”

You press your hands to his chest, and he lets you push him off with minor hesitation.

“Mmm, and we were getting to the good part.”

He sighs, running his hand through his dark hair.

“We can get to the good part later! We need to eat before all the food dies!”

You settle at one end of the table, and he smiles taking his seat across you.

“This part is just as good too...”

He comments, making you flush as he helps himself, his eyes practically glitter at the meal you worked so hard to prepare.

“I can’t fuck you as good if I’m running on empty, anyways.”

You sputter at his brazen comment, and by the look on his face you can tell he feels zero shame.

“Issei!”

Your cheeks brighten, and he holds a piece of steak up to your lips as a peace offering.

“Kidding.”

You know he’s absolutely not kidding, but you accept it nonetheless, laughing with a blush after getting over the initial shock value.

You banter and laugh through the meal, blushing at all the praise he gives you for your cooking. It leaves you satisfied that your efforts payed off and he enjoyed everything.

When you clean up the table, you try to convince him to let you do the dishes yourself.

“I’ll take care of it! Don’t worry,”

You collect the plates on your arms with practiced ease, despite not working at the restaurant anymore you can still balance everything perfectly.

“You cooked, I should clean.”

Matsukawa insists, of course, and he’s much stronger than you so you don’t resist (much) when he takes the plates from your hands.

In the end, due to your excessive pouting and puppy eyes, you compromise by cleaning the dishes like you two normally do. Side by side at the sink together, elbows brushing occasionally.

The domesticity of doing a regular household chore together with Matsukawa makes your heart feel full.

When you leave the kitchen, you catch him staring fondly at the photos of the both of you, newly framed and hung.

“I like how this one came out.”

You point out your favorite one. You were a brand new couple then, eager to impress each other and afraid to mess things up.

Matsukawa wraps his arms around you, pressing his front to your back. He rests his chin at the top of your head, and you hold his hands softly and lean back into the touch.

You take the next opportunity to roast the fuck out of Hanamaki’s haircut in high school, pointing at the old Seijou volleyball team photos.

“Maybe that’s why he put up a fight when I asked for them.”

You snicker, he didn’t look... bad. But it was certainly a contrast to his K-Pop reminiscent hair style now.

“How’d you manage to convince him?”

“I told him I’d just ask Oikawa for pictures instead, and Hanamaki immediately said he could find some for me.”

Matsukawa snorts at your response, knowing exactly what your play was,

“You’re pretty evil. I’m positive Oikawa has a stockpile of team photos where he’s the only one that looks good.”

“Really? Should I text him now for some?”

“Please don’t.”

“Mmmm, I’ll let it slide. But only for tonight.”

You tease, and you feel the laughter rumble from his chest.

When you make your way to the bedroom, the both of you make good on your promise before dinner.

Matsukawa is quick to press you into the mattress, lips back against yours.

Before you get too excited, you make sure to finish unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt this time.

You don’t trust yourself enough to be able to do the job right later, especially now that his hot breath is trailing past your jawline down to your neck.

The feeling combined with his tongue now laving at the junction between your neck and shoulder sends a shockwave down your spine.

You arch into him, just barely muffling the noises behind your lips shut tight.

“I wanna hear it all, baby,”

Matsukawa whispers against your neck, sliding his hand up to grab your chin. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, and you open your mouth obediently.

He’s careful not to leave any marks behind, despite how badly he wants to. But recalling how you scolded him fairly recently for the discolored bruises in obvious places, during the summertime no less (where it’s impossible to wear scarves or turtlenecks, apparently), made him think twice.

The feel of his hot breath ghosting across your neck makes you sigh with pleasure. You make a noise of upset when he pulls away, lips turning down into a pout.

Your disappointment doesn’t last for long, when you see him shrugging his dress shirt the rest of the way off.

Your eyes catch his broad shoulders, traveling down to his abdomen, and you thank god for high school volleyball for giving him a routine as you trail your hands across his chest to his abs.

“You’re so hot it hurts.”

You whine out, pouting as he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s gonna hurt for sure.”

You know he’s just teasing, and you roll your eyes.

Matsukawa wouldn’t hurt you if he could help it, you’d have to beg for it before he did anything remotely close to harming you.

“You’re full of it.”

“Hey, I’ve got a big dick and the attitude to back it up.”

He shrugs, slipping his fingers under the bottom of your shirt.

You laugh at the route your conversation turned.

At least he didn’t say something like ‘You’re about to be full’.

You aid him tugging your shirt overhead,

“You really do though.”

And you can feel said ‘big dick’ pressing against you when he leans back down to kiss you.

The first time you saw it, released from the confines of his unbuckled pants, you thought instantly that it wasn’t going to fit. His briefs and pants dropped to the floor along with your jaw.

And you’d never thought something so ridiculous before, but that was how big Matsukawa’s dick was.

But he took things slow, let you grow accustomed to him, and only fucked you hard into the mattress when you cried for it.

Matsukawa is proud of it to this day, and you’ve never told another soul, but he wound up putting you out of commission the next day.

You had to call in a favor for Iwasaki to cover your shift because there was no way you’d be getting in thousands of steps at work after the night you had.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, you moan against Matsukawa’s mouth when he grinds against your lower half.

The two of you have gained a lot of experience in the bedroom over the course of your relationship, attuned to everything the other likes and dislikes, and what feels best for the other.

And Matsukawa is able to find the right spot and angle to grind his hips into you, and he does so with practiced ease.

As much as you love the feeling of his hard on pressing through his slacks and your shorts, the friction and pressure driving you wild,

“You’re wearing to much.”

You break the kiss with a whine.

“You’re wearing just as much as me.”

He laughs, but doesn’t wait another moment longer to pull your shorts down.

You raise your knees to make the task easier, and he tosses the garment aside carelessly. It falls to the floor to join your previously discarded shirt,

“Hey, I worked hard to clean today you know,”

You tease, as he makes quick work of his belt and his own pants.

“I’m sorry, babe. Do you want me to fold it as I go?”

He laughs lightly, pulling his slacks down.

You wonder in the mean time how he’s able to get undressed in bed without looking awkward.

He actually starts to fold them, and you snatch the fabric from his hands with a laugh, tossing it to join the rest of the clothes.

“I was kidding, just hurry up and kiss me!”

You pull him back to meet you in another searing kiss, and he laughs against your lips, pressing you back into the sheets.

Your banter is quickly forgotten, in favor of hot mouths and tongues getting reacquainted.

He snaps your bra and you meet his satisfied smirk with a glare, but the bite is lacking due to your lust addled state. He unclasps the hooks easier than you can yourself, but before you can feel jealous of his skill he’s slipping the lingerie off.

He’s sure to give your breasts the same attention your mouth received, licking and biting gently.

Matsukawa’s fingers trail down your side, the touch so light it’s almost nonexistent, until his hand is slipping past your panties to the wet heat behind them.

“Issei,”

You gasp, body tensing on reflex at the touch, and he tucks his face back into your neck with calming words of reassurance.

You sigh contently when his fingers slip inside, giving a few slow thrusts.

Your hips arch into his hand, and he bites your neck, causing you to moan out his name once more.

“You’re so wet baby. Were you waiting all night for this?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod with a hum, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Hm? You’re usually so good with your words,”

He clicks his tongue, pumping his fingers at a slow and teasing pace,

“Slow, or faster? Use your words baby.”

There’s that hot breath against your neck that sends shivers throughout you, and the pet name that warms your body in an instant.

“F-Faster, please!”

He smiles against your skin, kissing up to your jaw.

“You even said please, good girl.”

He praises, increasing his pace. The sounds become embarrassingly loud, and you can hear what he’s doing to you as well as feel it to your core.

You gasp out when he presses his thumb to your clit, hands dropping to find purchase on his back. The bundle of nerves so suddenly abused sends your back arching off the mattress.

“I-Issei, please, I think I’m ready—“

And with that, he slips his hands out and tugs the flimsy garment down your legs.

Your body misses the feeling of his long and slender fingers deep inside you, but you know very well that his cock can reach the places his fingers can’t.

And though you love the way the dark under armour briefs look hugging his thighs, barely concealing his hard on, you’re way more excited to see them coming off.

You let out a gasp when he hikes your leg up his shoulder, and you’re physically brought back into the moment when he lines up his erection against your slick folds.

He rocks his hips gently against them, cock sliding just outside your heat. His voice sounds thick with anticipation and lust,

“Ready?”

You love how even now he’s still looking to you for permission, and you nod eagerly,

“God yes, just do it, Issei.”

And with that he slowly pushes his cock inside you with a low moan. Your jaw slackens, and your eyes screw shut with a moan of your own.

You swear, every time it feels like he’s splitting you open. But his fingers and care from earlier certainly helps, and you feel your walls accommodating the width of his girth as he slowly pushes in.

It’s tight, it always is with him, but you love the feeling of being so full of him.

He pauses when he’s nearly fully in, and you peek up to catch his hesitant expression.

“Keep going, babe,”

You instruct with a pant, your raised leg and hips shaking despite your wishes.

He smooths his hand over your thigh up to your knee, waiting for it to subside while he gently pets caresses your skin.

When your body arches for more contact, he decides to push all the way in.

You’re panting, and it’s barely started. Sweat drops down Matsukawa’s brow in concentration, and you internally praise him for his willpower to not absolutely plow you when you know he really wants to.

“How are you feeling?”

His other hand traces at your hip, thumb brushing gentle circles.

“I’m good, how are you?”

Your lidded eyes catch his and he laughs at the mundane response.

“Ready for me to absolutely rail you?”

If you could muster any excess energy, you might even roll your eyes at him,

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, the sweetness of the action contrasting heavily with the indecent things he’s about to do to you.

He quickly busies himself with the task of ‘shutting up’ and ‘fucking you’, though with the rough moans slipping out of his mouth he’s not sure he could even tease you properly.

He feels a surge of pride at the delighted noises coming from your pretty lips, and he eats them up with a kiss.

You keen when the leg you have hooked on his shoulder presses to your chest to accommodate the kiss, his pace not faltering as he thrusts his hips to yours.

“I-Issei!”

And you can tell by the way he speeds up he loves the way you call his name so impassioned, and despite his increased tempo he remains attentive.

It’s when you feel his fingers back to abuse your clit in tight circles that you immediately start meeting his thrusts sloppily, not quite aligning with his rhythm.

Your mind (and body) is so full of Matsukawa, you don’t think you can concentration on matching his pace properly, but your sloppy thrusts at least give you a shred of the satisfaction your body is desperately craving.

Various iterations of his name spill out of your mouth, alongside other blissful noises.

In your hazy vision you take in the the man before you. The sheen of sweat covering his neck, his chest, abs, catching the dim lighting.

Every part of your body is practically bouncing as he pushes you harder into the mattress, his thrusts unforgiving and unrelenting.

Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you cry at a few consecutive thrusts where his cock hit deep, but you glance back so you can catch his expression.

His brows are knit tight in concentration, eyes fixed shut, lips parted occasionally for every curse and moan that escapes him.

And when it all becomes too much for you, his cock pushed as far as it can go, if not farther, his fingers keeping up their mission to stimulate your overly sensitive clit, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, your nails raking across his back, every sound filling your ears whether it’s from his lips or your bodies, you throw your head back with a cry.

“Come with me baby—“

Matsukawa voice is rough and hot, he thrusts deeper than you thought possible. Your name falls from his lips, soft flesh red from biting.

He presses his palm beside your head, creating an indent to the mattress. In the process, he catches your hair as he grips the sheets, balancing himself on a shaking arm.

You arch into him, hot skin pressing to hot skin.

White hot flashes over you when you feel his body shaking, painting practically your guts with his release as he pants and moans above you.

And it throws you headfirst into your own euphoric release.

And against better judgement, you cry out,

“Mattsun!”

Matsukawa’s dark eyes, hazy with lust and the satisfaction of release, immediately blow wide with momentary confusion.

“What the fuck—”

He scrambles off of you in a disoriented haste, and the bed dips when he presses his knees beside you on the mattress.

“What the fuck was that?”

He growls out, but it sounds more like a cry, or maybe a whine.

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, stifling it behind your palm as you will your aching body to sit upright,

“I-I’m sorry!”

You’re still laughing, and his glare eases when he sees your rosy cheeks, watching your shoulders shake with mirth.

“Thanks, my dick is completely soft now.”

“You wanted to go again? You have work early tomorrow.”

“I might’ve stayed up for another round. But now we’ll never know, because of that stunt you just pulled.”

He pinches your nose, and you have the audacity to giggle as he grabs a stray towel to clean you up.

Pitching it with a perfect arc into a bin across the room, he lays back beside you grumbling something about your aforementioned audacity.

Even though he was mildly distressed by the prank you pulled in the throes of passion, he still made sure to clean you himself.

You turn on your side with a wide, blushing smile, wrapping your arm around his middle.

“I can’t believe you’d use that nickname. And while I’m cumming, too.”

He complains again, grudgingly slinging his arm around you.

“Oikawa always calls you that, and you never let me use it when we first met. I thought it would be funny to try it then.”

“Right. As much as I’d love to talk about Oikawa in the afterglow of our mind blowing sex—“

“You would?”

You snort, and he rolls his eyes,

“No. Honestly, I wish I could convey to you how much I don’t want to do that.”

The sour look he sends you makes another laugh bubble up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Issei. You just... have seemed so down lately. I wanted to do something special for you, and make you laugh.”

“You thought something special would be using one of that guy’s crappy nicknames during hot sex?”

You slap his chest lightly when he raises a skeptical brow, deciding to ignore for now how he verbally sidestepped your concerns with a jest.

“No, I meant the dinner, and the pictures. That was just so you could look back and laugh!”

You pout, feeling the rumbling from his chest as a laugh escapes his lips.

“Ahh, now I can look back on the night my beautiful girlfriend made a special dinner, and decorated our apartment with lovely photos. And when I had sex with her she called out the terrible nickname one of my best friends gave me.”

“Issei!”

You drag out each syllable of his name with a cry, of course when he says it like that it sounds more like a bad idea.

“I know, I’m just teasing. I’m very, very grateful for tonight. You really surprised me, in a good way.”

He gives you a soft expression that makes your chest warm up.

“...but I’m letting you know now, I’m not telling anyone how it ended. Not even Hanamaki,”

He pinches your thigh and you yelp, grabbing for his wrist as he continues,

“And you better not tell anyone either.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t! Just don’t start tickling me!”

He flattens his palm against your thigh, leaning over to kiss your pink cheek.

“Good girl.”

The pet name sends butterflies stirring in your stomach, and you pull him closer to cuddle.

Matsukawa pulls the covers to settle comfortably over the both of you, tangling your legs together and wrapping a strong arm over you. He settles snug against you, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, Issei. So much.”

“I love you too,”

He whispers your name affectionately, kissing your nose this time, as you both let sleep overtake you.

“I don’t think this relationship is working out.”

“I cheated on you.”

“You’re in denial.”

“Stop looking for excuses!”

“—I don’t love you anymore!”

Matsukawa’s last words to you rattle your sleep addled brain, and you blink awake, the haze of your pleasant memories forgotten.

Tears sting at your eyes, and you wipe furiously at them as they start to pool.

Regretting the nap, and your next actions, you pull your phone from the covers to call him.

You don’t end up building the courage to press the call button in the end, and hastily settle for a text reading ‘I miss you’.

And god, you miss him so much.

But the immediate silence that follows puts that pit right back in your stomach.

You spend the rest of the day, periodically checking your phone for any updates.

Your hand constantly itches to grab for it in your pocket, and you resist the urge to check less often than you’d hope.

Each time you’re met with an empty notification screen, your lock screen ready to shove a photo of you and Matsukawa in your face.

But the wound is too fresh to replace it, and you ache to see his face even if it’s through a screen or a photograph on the wall.

You slip your phone back into your pocket for the millionth time, returning to your tablet to get some work done.

Every time your stylus meets the screen, you can’t come up with the ideas or muster the creativity to produce anything.

You miss when Matsukawa would have you snug in his lap, and you could lay your head on his shoulder while sketching away.

Those moments were second nature to you, you’d grown so accustomed to his company and comfort. You never thought once that something as simple as cuddling on the couch with Matsukawa during downtime wouldn’t be an possibility anymore.

You never contemplated losing the encouraging words whispered against your ear. About what colors he liked, what a good job you were doing, or even the silly doodles he laughed at when you were getting sidetracked.

Your head gets stuck in the same cycle you’ve gone through every day since Matsukawa left.

What could you have said? What could you have done?

You miss his voice, his warmth, his touch, his face, you miss him.

You look off and stare out the window, resting your chin against your palm.

Is this really it?

It feels like your breathing cuts off then, and you feel numb as your chest tightens.

Despite it all, you feel completely aware, as the thought sits heavy on your mind. Do you really have to let him go?

It’s nearing a month now, and since that moment in your apartment it didn’t take long for your thoughts to go into disarray again.

You desperately want to believe in Matsukawa, give him the space he clearly needs, but the radio silence ends up driving you crazy.

You’re left with your heartbreak, your intrusive thoughts, the devil on your shoulder constantly telling you he meant everything he said.

You’re clinging to anything that’ll convince you Matsukawa loves you, that he wouldn’t leave you like this, but the distance between you two has diminished anything to hold on to.

All you have to keep you sane are memories of I love you’s.

But he hadn’t said it in a long time, and he hasn’t been here to give you any semblance of closure, or a reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit.

He’s giving you a million reasons to let him go, but you keep hanging on.

Normally, you’d be curled up in your sheets letting your emotions run wild, the memory of that night playing back in your head as if it were a big screening of a drama.

Your friends convinced you to get outside, anything to make the worst seem a little better. You told them you would heed their advice.

Instead of lying in sorrow at your apartment, you’re at yours and Matsukawa’s favorite cafe.

Getting out of the apartment was a good idea, your friends were right about that. It never truly felt like yours alone.

It was yours and Matsukawa’s, everything belonged to the both of you. It was decided together, down to the furniture and the kitchenwares.

Getting fresh air was healthy for you, your friends weren’t wrong, but coming to this cafe was the worst idea possible.

You’d been a frequent customer prior to the incident, but you’ve since ghosted the place. You thought it would be fine, just one latte to bring your spirits up.

But you only managed to satisfy the sick, subconscious urge to feel sorry for yourself in the place you and Matsukawa made memories in together.

Your favorite drink overdosed with sugars tastes bittersweet on your tongue.

And it doesn’t help that the smells and images of the cafe are attached to memories that are starting to feel even more bittersweet.

“...Mm... It tastes great...!”

You struggle to keep your lips from turning down, and even more to swallow down the bitter black coffee. Nonetheless, you flash a smile Matsukawa’s way.

After Matsukawa had given you his number, your conversations flowed with ease. It was surprisingly natural texting him, and even more so conversing with him over the phone or in person.

After a few dates, you found yourself at a local cafe with him.

It seemed to be climbing in popularity, and you’d known Matsukawa was passionate about his coffee.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it.”

He laughs, eyeing the look on your face.

Your extreme distaste must have been more obvious than you thought, or maybe he’s just more perceptive than he lets on.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s actually pretty disgusting. How do you drink it like this?!”

You gently slide his coffee cup over, and try not to think too hard and combust when his fingers brush over yours to take it back.

You also try to convince yourself that the burning heat on your fingers is from the heat seeping from the to-go cup, and not from Matsukawa’s brief touch.

Taking a swig of your own coffee, you attempt to wash away his coffee’s aftertaste.

“How do you drink it like that?”

He points his finger at your drink.

“...Fair. I just like coffee with milk and sugar! It’s common.”

“You like your milk and sugar with coffee.”

He teases, expression straight and neutral. You smile thinking that you’re beginning to understand Matsukawa’s sense of humor.

You poke your tongue out at his deadpan correction, and his eyes flash with amusement.

“It’s better with flavor, and sugar makes almost anything taste good! You’re just drinking bean juice, but plain and without all the extra stuff.”

“If anything, you’re just drinking bean juice with sugar in it, and that doesn’t sound much better.”

He points out, and you hum at his wit.

“....I think we’ve reached a stalemate, Matsukawa.”

You pout. He laughs, and it sounds so charming to your ears.

You hold your hand out to him, and he cuts himself short to peer at it in confusion.

“Truce. I won’t make fun of your plain bean juice as long as you don’t make fun of my sugary bean juice.”

“I accept. But only if we stop saying bean juice.”

“Deal.”

You accept his hand into a firm shake with a bright smile, and a pink hue creeps up your cheeks when you notice how much bigger his palm is compared to yours.

You blink when you attempt to pull your hand back and he doesn’t let go.

“Come on, we’ve got a movie to catch. Don’t wanna miss making fun of the trailers.”

He stands from his seat, pulling you up to your feet.

Your brain short circuits then. Does he want to hold your hand?

How are the two of you going to hold right hands while walking?

Would it be too awkward to just let go and try to hold his other hand? But he’s holding his coffee in it!

You don’t have to think much longer on it, Matsukawa’s already swapping his coffee with his other hand, placing his newly freed one into your palm.

It’s warm from the heat of the coffee, and your heart swells when you come to the realization that he was in fact trying to hold your hand.

“Ready?”

You glance up to see his expression, and your heart practically skips a beat at the shy look on his face.

He’s looking for any distraction, sipping at his coffee as he waits for your reaction.

When he risks a glance at you, he catches the eager smile that spreads across your cheeks.

You lace your fingers with his, holding his hand tightly,

“Mm. Let’s go!”

After that memory, you start to feel sick.

You can’t even stomach the coffee anymore, and you toss it in the trash in a rush, ignoring the questioning looks sent your way by the customers and employees. You pull your coat tighter to your body, before hurrying out of the cafe.

Pacing down the street, you decide to head back to the apartment.

Anywhere else is just another memory.

The park, the theatre, restaurants, bars, you can’t even see Hanamaki, and you don’t want to bother your other friends.

It’s better to wallow in your misery at home than in the public eye, anyways. You can’t stand the looks of confusion or pity being sent your way.

You kick off your shoes at the door, freezing when you notice the pair that wasn’t there before.

Is your mind playing tricks on you?

No, Matsukawa took these before he left, you’re almost positive.

Your knees shake as you take the first step forward, scanning the living room, but there’s no sight of him there.

When you open the bedroom door, you find him sitting at the edge of the bed.

The bed you shared together, that you’d slept in alone for a month now.

When he perks up at the sound of the door swinging open, he’s at a loss for words when he catches your shocked stare.

Your name leaves his lips, and it’s almost a whisper, so easy to miss, but it’s what you’ve been wanting to hear for weeks now.

“...here to collect the rest of your things?”

Your voice is shaky at best, lacking nerve.

“No, no. I... really wanted to talk to you—”

“Now you wanna talk?!”

For the briefest of moments, you felt happy to hear he wasn’t back to grab his things and leave you again, but it’s quickly replaced by your pent up emotions.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him speak.

“I get you needed space. I didn’t try to call you, I didn’t go to Hanamaki’s. I was happy to give you time, but what the fuck Issei? You ghosted me! I kept convincing myself that it was my fault, that I should’ve been better, or I should’ve done more for you. And you left me completely alone and heartbroken!”

You’re panting after the outburst, but there’s still so much more you want to say,

“You told me you wanted to break up, you lied to my face, and then you keep me in the dark! Did I not deserve at least a small explanation? Fuck, Issei, you’re giving me a million reasons to walk away!”

You don’t want to, of course, but the words spill out with everything that had remained unspoken in his absence.

Your lips purse shut, and your heart aches when you see his jaw clenched tight and his watery expression.

“Issei... I just need one good one to stay.”

You finish with a sigh, gazing up at him hopefully. You desperately want to reach out and hold his hands, but you clench your fists at your sides and keep yourself back.

The silence is deafening, the tension and dread in the air thick as you swallow tightly.

“...I love you. I don’t think I could live without you.”

Matsukawa finally says, staring at you resolutely. He immediately panics at the statement though,

“Fuck, I shouldn’t talk like that. I meant to say, I want to... keep living my life with you, or something like that.”

He runs a hand through his hair nervously before clicking his tongue,

“Shit, that sounded dumb. Ahhh... I’ve actually been seeing someone...”

His eyes widen at his own words, and he quickly waves his hands as if to wipe the words out of existence,

“N-Not like that though! You were right, actually, I lied about... cheating on you. I talked to Hanamaki, I’ve actually been getting therapy now. I haven’t had many sessions yet but...”

He trails off, fidgeting and wringing his hands together as your brain catches up with all the information he’s dumped on you.

Your eyes water as you lunge forward to pull him into a tight hug,

“That’s all I needed to hear!”

You cry into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, petting your head softly, he missed holding you like this,

“That I got a therapist?”

“Not that silly,”

You whine, pulling away to peer up at him through teary-eyed lashes,

“That you love me. I haven’t heard it in awhile. I’m sorry I forgot... I just really wanted to hear it.”

He stares at you with a regretful expression, brushing your tears away. It only makes you cry harder, strange happiness filling you that he’s finally here in person to wipe your tears away.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I had a hard time believing someone like you could love someone like me. I know you were always there to support me and love me with everything you have, but I kept thinking you deserved better,”

He tucks his chin on top of your head and pulls you back in, close to his chest,

“And that was selfish of me to decide for you. I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

You can hear how shaky his voice is, and press your face to his sweater. Your tears drip down and catch the soft fabric, and you think about how hard it must’ve been for him to come to terms with himself.

“But you really do deserve better,”

You pull away to scold him for that but he’s quick to interrupt,

“And I’ll be better for you if you’ll let me. I’ll work hard on handling these thoughts and anxieties.”

“Issei...”

You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, and it’s your turn to wipe the tears brimming at his eyes,

“Only if you accept that I can do better for you, and let me support you every step of the way.”

“Deal.”

You slide your hands around the back of his neck and lean in close.

At your gesture, he instinctively brings his hands to your sides, and tilts his face towards yours.

Your lips catch his in a kiss, filled with all the bitter and sweet emotions. Your longing and heartache fades away with your growing promise to each other.

“I love you, I love you.”

He says between each kiss, and you can’t help but smile into it each time.

“I love you too.”

A/N:

sorry for the absolute ANGST of the first part and a majority of this part, but I thrive in chaos. I made it better right? :’)

[Masterlist]

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x y/n #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei/reader #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic

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swissmissficrecs · 4 years ago

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I have read your fic Ghost Stories I don't know how many times now. It's one of my favourites. And I was wondering if you knew anymore fics that take place at Sherlock's parents house? Any rating. I just rewatched the series and I think his parents are adorable.

Reply: First of all, thank you so much. That is lovely to hear. Next, to your request. I am guessing you mean the version of Mr. and Mrs. Holmes that first appeared in series 3 of the BBC show? Prior to that, there was a wide variety of representations of the Holmes parents in fics. Anyway I have gone through my bookmarks for post-series 3 fics and tried to find ones that include visits to the Holmes parents. I hope some of these are what you had in mind!

Post-series 3 visiting the Holmes parents

A Case for Domestic Propinquity by SilentAuror (32K, E, Johnlock) As Sherlock and John renovate Baker Street with Rosie underfoot, Sherlock can't help but wondering how he could possibly convince John to just stay indefinitely...

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss (10K, E, Johnlock) It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. Or: Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to. (Although they don’t actually visit the Holmes parents, there is a scene at the Holmes house, plus this can sort of be read as a precursor to Ghost Stories so I thought it appropriate to include.)

Christmas with You by MissDavis (23K, T, Johnlock) Watch Sherlock, John and Rosie over the years as they celebrate the season as only they can. (This is a series of loosely connected ficlets, the one where they visit the Holmes parents is chapter 5.)

Damage by lifeonmars (46K, M, Johnlock) No damage could ever be truly repaired. John would not be the same.Or, what happened after the tarmac.

Gammer Gurton's Garland by Laura JV (12K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock and John try to rebuild their lives in Eurus's wake. She has one more bomb to drop.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (22K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Inappropriate by SilentAuror (20K, E, Johnlock) Five times that Sherlock and John get caught having sex in public and one time that they don't.

Law Like Love by PlaidAdder (52K, T, Johnlock, Warstan, Harry/Janine) Six months after Sherlock didn't go off on that mission to eastern Europe after all, all is well at 221B Baker Street. Little Rachel is just beginning to sleep through the night. John and Sherlock are sleeping with each other. Charles Augustus Magnussen is alive and unwell and just about bankrupt. And Mary is nowhere in sight.Obviously the events of "His Last Vow" were not what they seemed. What really happened? How did we get here from there?Well, we're going to find out. Backwards.

One Good Scare by blueink3 (17K, M, Johnlock) Mummy invites Sherlock, John, and Rosie to the country for her birthday, which just so happens to coincide with the annual Harvest Festival, an event Sherlock loathes. With John seemingly making the wrong move at every turn and with ghosts hiding in each of their closets, what will it take for their (Halloween) masks to finally come off?

Side Effects by MissDavis (86K, E, Johnlock) Life is a lot better for Sherlock and John than it was a year ago. Yes, John still can't walk and Sherlock is still on antidepressants, but they're married now, and almost everything else is back to their version of normal. They have a dog. Sherlock's solving cases again. But when Moriarty learns of their marriage, he escapes from prison and takes it upon himself to make their lives miserable. Is Sherlock really up to the challenge of catching a criminal whose only goal is to make sure that he and John don't live happily ever after? (Part of a series)

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (463K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade) John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don't get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

#request #rec list #series 3 #unwashedace

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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Hey Steph! I absolutely love your page! Do you have any PTSD related fluff? like Johns having nightmares so Sherlock goes to comfort him and they both know but don’t mention it?

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: I was wondering if you knew of a johnlock fanfic which has john having PTSD or other war-related problems, and sherlock either helps him get through it or john comes to sherlock in the middle of the night like a child asking if he can sleep with (not that kind) sherlock so the nightmares will stop. If you do, great. If not, that’s fine too :)

Hi Nonnies!!

I don’t know if you’re the same Nonny or not, but since they’re both the same-ish, I’m putting them on the same ask, LOL!

So I HAVE done a list in the past for PTSD, and because I have a few new fics, I’m gonna make a part 2 list! Hopefully you’ll find something you’re looking for on one of the two lists I have!

NIGHTMARES, PTSD, PANIC ATTACKS, & MENTAL or EMOTIONAL TURMOIL (Pt. 2)

See also: Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil

Better Late Than Never by sussexbound (NR (T), 3,021 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4 / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock POV, Love Confessions, Drunk Sherlock / Sober John, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil) – He suddenly wants John Watson out of his bedroom, out of his flat, out of his life, because he has been lying to himself these last few months, he realises. He doesn’t want John here, not with the way things are. He doesn’t want 221b Baker Street to be nothing more than rest stop John returns to on his journeys between women. He doesn’t want to play co-parent if Rosie is going to be snatched away from him and placed in the arms of whatever nameless woman du jour John lands on next. He doesn’t want to keep being so careful, so generous, so, so…

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w., 5 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by “accident”, it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John’s preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other’s arms, but as ever with these two, it’s not your typical relationship. It’s fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 29,186 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship, Drama, BAMF!John, Emotional Turmoil, Introspection, Harry is in this Fic, Angry John, Happy Ending, Queerplatonic Relationship) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. A revision of the story Mending Icarus.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate’s nose buried in your hair. Whilst you’re in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he’s consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #ptsd #panic attacks #my fic recs #emotional turmoil #e-rated fics #Anonymous #long post

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varsityleatherbluejacket · 7 years ago

Text

Beyond Magic

Pairing: Clay x Tony

Word count: 1167

Warnings: nothing I can really think of?

Request: Number 7 for Clony please and thank you!!

Prompt: “What do you mean you never read Harry Potter?”

A/N: This isn’t my favorite thing I’ve written, but I’m posting it anyways. I don’t see much domestic Clony, so I tried to explore it (though I kind of failed). Enjoy this short little thing! Feel feel to request more things if you’d like! After finals are over, I’ll have more time to write

Read under the cut

When Clay went to pick up his daughters from aftercare, he was not expecting an interrogation on his knowledge of Harry Potter. Sofia, who was now in third grade, apparently had been introduced to the series with help from her teacher and peers. “What do you mean you never read Harry Potter, Dad? My teacher says that it was popular when you were a kid. And we started reading it on the carpet during reading time and it’s so good!”

Rosie, who was in first grade, flung her pigtails wildly from side to side as he strapped her into her carseat. “Hey, careful there,” he warned when she almost hit her head against his chest.

“What’s Harry Pottaaaa?” she drawled, sucking on her thumb. It was a habit of hers.

“It’s a book about magic! And Harry, he’s this boy, he gets to go to a magical school where they teach him stuff! But it’s sad ‘cause his parents are dead. And he lives with his aunt and uncle who are really mean.” Sofia crossed her arms. “Daddy, I can’t believe you never read it.”

Clay shrugged as he started up the car. “I guess I never got around to it. Are you reading the first book in school?”

Sofia nodded her head excitedly. “Uh huh. I’m a Gryffindor. I just know it.”

Clay chuckled to himself. “I bet you are. Gryffindors are the brave ones, right?”

Sofia nodded. “Yeah, Harry is a Gryffindor, so I want to be a Gryffindor.”

Clay hummed in agreement. “I see. Rosie, how was your day at school?”

Rosie dived into a long retelling of her exact schedule. His daughters never left anything out, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tony was busy making dinner in the kitchen when his family arrived, Rosie and Sofia tearing through the house noisily. They immediately ran to their dad and hugged his legs. Tony laughed, leaning down to give both of his rambunctious kids hugs. “How was school?” he asked, grinning.

“It was good. We’re reading Harry Potter!” Sofia exclaimed, bouncing in excitement. Clay watched from across the room, admiring his beautiful family. He and Tony had adopted the two girls just a year and a half ago, but he felt as though he’d loved them since the beginning of time. He never felt so complete, so whole as he did when he was around them. He was so proud of Tony and the life they had built together. Tony now was in charge of his dad’s business, fixing cars and using his hands all the time, just the way he liked. Clay was a humanities professor at a local college. Teaching students was so rewarding in a way he thought he’d never experience. After Hannah’s death, both he and Tony were messed up for a while. They actually ended up taking a break from each other when Clay was in college. They both needed different things, and Clay just needed to separate himself from everything surrounding Hannah’s death for a while. But after he graduated, he ended up taking a job near his hometown, and one day his car broke down. Tony’s garage happened to be the closest one to where he was, and well, the rest is history.

They got married around five years ago, though they’d been together for over ten now. Clay never felt so lucky. Even though they’d been through a lot, Clay felt so blessed to have the life he was living now. He loved his family so much, and he knew they loved him. Moments like this were picture book perfect. He walked over and wrapped his family in a group hug.

“Papi! Daddy never read Harry Potter! And he loves reading!” Sofia accused. Tony smiled, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes.

“Well maybe you can read it to him,” he suggested, picking up Rosie, who was tugging on his pant leg. It was her way of asking to be picked up. “How was your day, Rosie?”

“It was gooooood,” she drawled. “We learned about dinosaurs! Now I wanna pet dinosaur. Can we get a pet dinosaur?” She grabbed onto her father’s shirt.

Sofia rolled her eyes. “Dinosaurs aren’t alive anymore, stupidhead.”

“I’m not stupid!” Rosie thrashed, almost kicking Tony in the stomach.

“Hey, hey. Sofia, apologize to your sister,” Tony admonished, setting Rosie down.

Sofia looked down, rocking on her heels. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Why don’t you both get started on your homework while I help your dad finish up dinner?” Clay suggested. Sofia and Rosie didn’t move for a moment, looking like they were dreading their homework. Clay added, “Maybe if you finish early, we can read Harry Potter as a family tonight. You’ll show me what I’m missing.” Sofia perked right up, grabbing her sister’s hand and leading her to their backpacks excitedly.

Clay smiled and watched as they got their notebooks out. He turned to Tony and kissed him softly. Tony smiled, wrapping his arms around his husband in a casual embrace. “How was work?” Clay asked, pushing back a piece of Tony’s hair that fell out of place.

“It was good, how was your day?” Tony leaned softly in the touch.

“It was alright, one of my students is really struggling, so I tried linking them with one of the resources on campus but-”

“Daddy, I need help,” Rosie whined, her eyebrows furrowed.

Clay nodded. “I’ll fill you in later,” he mumbled, smiling softly at his husband.

Tony nodded, turning back to the cutting board and began chopping onions. “Who’s in the mood for tacos tonight?” he called from behind the stove.

“Me!” Rosie, Sofia, and Clay all chimed in together. Tony smirked to himself. He glanced at the photograph of all of them together for Christmas, the one that hung on the refrigerator. They were all wearing Santa hats and grinning wide. Sofia was on his lap, and Rosie was on Clay’s. Clay’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and they all looked happy because they were happy. He never thought he could be this content, that he could have this kind of life. It was simple, but it meant the world to him. He felt so lucky. When they sat around for dinner, Sofia began telling a funny story about one of the kids in her class. They all laughed, and Tony noticed that Clay’s wedding ring gleamed in the light. He reached across the table and held his husband’s lotion-soft hand. This life was simple, yes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. There was something magical about sitting around a dinner table with the people you loved most in this world. Something magnificent about reading Harry Potter aloud to your kids and your ridiculous husband who insisted on doing different voices when reading dialogue for different characters. It was silly. It was simple. But god, it was everything. The love they shared was more powerful than any magic, any language, any tangible thing. It was infinite.

#clony #clay x tony #13rw #13 reasons why #thirteen reasons why #fic #request #my writing

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roseonhissleeve · 7 years ago

Text

Have A Little Faith: Chapter Thirteen

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”

- Laurell K. Hamilton

content warning: domestic abuse.

“Harry, this is so high up!”

“That’s kind of the point, you goose!”

I exhaled a giggle as I looked out of the elevator window at the twinkling lights below us.

It wouldn’t be a trip to Paris without the Eiffel Tower.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Rosie, are you afraid of heights?” He asked with a wicked grin, and I shook my head in total denial although I couldn’t bring myself to look out the window again for fear of being queasy. It wasn’t the heights I was afraid of, but if this elevator suddenly stopped working it’d probably be certain death for me.

“Shut it, Styles. I know where you sleep,” I fought back, and he responded with a laugh.

The elevator came to a stop and I stood in the corner as people filed out of the tightly packed elevator, following the crowd out towards the platform.

It was windy and cold, and I was glad that Harry had brought a jacket for me because I would have been freezing otherwise. I tucked my cold fingertips into my pockets as I stepped out and walked straight towards the railing—there was what resembled a steel cage around the platform, and I assumed that it was so no one would fall off. I placed my hands on the railing, ignoring the stinging cold in my fingers as I looked out to the twinkling lights below.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, and I felt Harry’s arm slip around my waist as he situated himself beside me. I felt his lips brush against the top of my head prior to him speaking.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a grin, which made me laugh a little bit and I gently elbowed him in the side before turning slightly to look up at his features.

“That was super cheesy. You’re a cheeseball,” I teased, even though I secretly loved it. His smile widened and his dimple appeared as he slid both arms around my waist, and I reached to set my hands against the plane of his chest.

“Thank you, Harry…tonight was amazing,” I exhaled, the pads of my thumbs brushing across the tips of his swallows that peeked out of his black t-shirt. Tonight had been the happiest and most serene that I’d felt in a long, long time, and a huge part of it was because of him. He’d obviously paid attention to what I liked and what would make me happy, because it was the best date I’d probably ever been on.

“For you, the world,” he muttered softly, and it made me exhale a slight laugh from pure giddiness. I stood on my toes to press a kiss to his freshly-shaved chin, and we turned to walk back towards the elevator, but we were stopped by another voice.

“Excuse me!” An unfamiliar voice said, and I turned around to see a large man walk our way. He had an accent that I couldn’t quite categorize. When he got close enough to us he held his phone out in my direction, and waved it a little with a wide grin before speaking again. “Picture?”

It took me a second to clue into the fact that he wanted me to take a picture, probably with Harry. It was the first time that it had happened in our travels, and I had to admit that we were probably lucky it hadn’t happened sooner.

“Sure,” I said, glancing up at Harry to make sure it was okay. He flashed a smile, and I began to reach for the phone but was surprised when the man started shaking his head and pulled his phone back.

“No, erm…” he shook his head again and fiddled with his phone as he searched his mind for words. It was obvious that English wasn’t his first language, so I waited patiently. I felt Harry’s hand on the small of my back, and I glanced up at him reassuringly to let him know that I was okay with the interaction. I then turned my attention to the man again who was struggling for words. He held out his phone to me again.

“Picture…” he said, waving the phone between the two of us. “Picture…beautiful.”

I furrowed my brows as I tried to decipher what he was saying, and his face fell a bit, but I soon felt Harry’s voice against my ear.

“He wants a picture with the beautiful girl,” he spoke quietly, and my eyes widened at the realization.

“You…You want a picture with me?” I asked, pointing towards myself as I spoke to the stranger. His lips widened into a polite smile and he nodded his head, pausing for a moment before speaking again.

“Please,” he said simply, and I shifted awkwardly. I couldn’t imagine why he’d want to take a picture with me, but it was flattering, and it brought a smile to my features.

“Okay,” I nodded, reaching to grab the phone and I turned to hand it to Harry, who was sporting his own simper. I turned and smiled at the stranger before walking towards him, and he politely slung his arm around my shoulder. We turned towards the camera and I smiled.

“One…two…three,” Harry announced, and the photo went off with a flash. The man immediately let me out of his embrace and reached to take the phone from Harry. The stranger shook Harry’s hand with a grin, and then turned around to face me.

“Thank you,” he said in heavy accent, and he reached his hand out to me. I took his hand and was surprised to feel him lift it to his lips—he pressed a polite peck against the back

of my hand and grinned before turning and joining whatever group of friends that he was with, and I turned to look at Harry with wide eyes, features portraying disbelief.

“Well, look at that,” he said with a crooked grin, and I smiled in return as I walked past him and towards the elevator.

“You’ve just been outdone, Styles.”

***

“What did you wanna be when you were little?”

I heard Harry’s voice from down on the floor, causing me to turn onto my side and look at him. He was lying beside the bed on a mattress that the concierge had brought up—he offered to sleep on the ground when we arrived, and to be honest, I wasn’t quite ready for him to be right next to me all night. I felt bad, but he seemed fine with it; he was laying on his back, one of his arms bent at the elbow and tucked underneath his head as he looked up at me. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers, where I was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, effectively covering almost every inch of my body.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was little,” I explained, propping my head up on my elbow with a smile.

After the Eiffel Tower we went back to our hotel, and even though the date was kind of over it didn’t seem like it. We hadn’t stopped talking since we’d arrived—it felt like when I was little and would have sleepovers with my best friends.

“It didn’t really work out because I was sickly queasy of the sight of blood, and I wasn’t really smart enough to made it into medical school in the end anyways,” I explained, draping my hand over the mattress to be closer to him. He reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers against mine, and it made me sigh with content.

“I’m sure you could’ve done it if it’s what you’d set your mind to,” he offered, his fingertips playing with mine as he spoke.

“I kind of gave up on myself after high school,” I explained, and as soon as I said it he looked up at me. It was the first hint of any detail of my life that I’d given away before this trip other than details about my immediate family, and I could tell he was a bit surprised that I’d brought it up voluntarily. So was I.

“What do you mean?”

“I…” I paused, trying to think of a way to give him something but simultaneously not give too much away. “I didn’t aspire to do anything. I think I’d lost faith in myself…I didn’t even apply to go to college, even though when I was in high school I wanted to go to art school.”

“Wha�� about now?” He asked, eyes peaked with curiosity and understanding all at once.

“Now…I don’t really know what’s in the cards for me,” I spoke quietly, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m taking it day by day…and seeing where I end up.”

Something about my words made him smile. I smiled in return, and gave his hand a soft squeeze before pulling away to turn off the lamp on the bedside table and lay down in bed, the softness of the pillow guiding me towards sleep.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I whispered, lids falling shut.

“G’night, darling.”

***

I was running.

Running faster, harder, running through the woods of my old hometown where I’d grown up and gone to high school.

“Sissy!” April called out to me—her voice could be heard overtop of the trees and through the blustering wind of the night.

I could barely see my two feet in front of me, and it felt like I was suffocating—there were trees everywhere, and I had to keep my hands out in front of me to make sure that I wasn’t running into anything. The air was freezing cold and nipped at my skin, making my teeth chatter. I could barely feel my toes.

“April, where are you?!” I screamed, tears running down my features as I struggled to find my way through the darkness.

Suddenly there was a flash of brightness, and everything stood still.

It took me a moment to realize that I couldn’t hear a single thing. I’d lost all auditory sense, and it shook me to the bone.

I held my hands up to cover my ears, as if it would do anything. The brightness lingered, and I could see every facet of every leaf on the trees, as if it had been a nuclear sunrise. I looked around in an attempt to gain any sense of my surroundings at all, but I had absolutely no clue where I was or where I was going.

I opened my mouth and tried to scream, but nothing came out.

My hands clutched my neck as I attempted to make any noise, gagging and heaving straight from my belly but even if I was making any sound at all, I still couldn’t hear anything.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a door. It was only about thirty feet away, and it was something, so I ran towards it and was curling my fingers around it within a minute. It felt like I was in some alternate universe, and I swung the door open and slammed it shut behind me without even thinking, wanting to get away from the eeriness of the forest.

Inside was even worse.

The walls and the structure of the house were all too familiar.

I was back at Elijah’s house.

If I could scream I would have, and even though I couldn’t, I still tried. I turned around immediately and tried opening the door, but the handle wouldn’t budge, as if it had been locked from the outside. I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, still unable to hear a thing.

His hands were cold when I felt them.

They slid underneath my t-shirt and pressed against my torso firmly, and I could feel myself bruising under the touch. I cried out inaudibly, and I began kicking and throwing my arms backwards in an attempt to knock him off balance, but if anything it only motivated him more.

His hands gripped my arms tightly and slammed me against the front door—my nose struck the wall firmly along with my forehead, sending a sharp pang of agony through my skull. I could feel the blood dripping down from my nose and the only thing I could see was the blurriness of the white door right in front of my vision—his lips were warm and smelled of alcohol, and they were right against my ear. His breath was hot and heavy and it made me shudder. I could feel him speaking against my earlobe, but I couldn’t hear a thing he said.

His hand was snaking down the fabric of my shorts and suddenly I felt a harsh tug, the seam ripping as he pulled them down until they were on the ground. It caused me to choke out another inaudible sob as I kicked my legs out behind me, trying to GET HIM OFF, but he only slammed me against the front door once again, this time smacking the side of my head right against the hard surface.

I felt myself slipping away. I could feel the corners of me being erased as if I had been scribbled in pencil, I could feel my will being drowned. I was sobbing, I was screaming, I was crying and I was begging.

Except I wasn’t making any sound.

“ROSIE!”

My eyes snapped open and I woke up to the lamp illuminating the hotel room, feeling hot and sweaty underneath all of the layers I was wearing, and suddenly the comforter than was on top of me felt like it was a thousand pounds.

I didn’t even notice the terrified look on Harry’s face, I didn’t hear him repeat my name.

I threw the comforter off of me, my body’s flight or fight response kicking in, and I immediately began tugging my sweater off of my physique and over my head, desperate for air. I felt trapped, and I sat up and pressed myself up and onto my knees as I began tugging at my sweatpants and trying to get them off.

I heard a noise that I’d never heard before fill the room—it sounded like someone sobbing, screaming, someone who was in pure agony.

It took me a few seconds to realize that the sound was coming from my lips.

“Rosie…Rosie, come back to me,” I heard someone say in the background, but I was too focused on getting myself out of the clothes I was in, except I was too shaky and my sweatpants had gotten tangled in my legs.

His hands were warm when I felt them.

They were on my waist at first, and when I began to squirm they moved up to my arms, and all I could think was that I needed to get them off of me. I was panicky and I felt a deadly mix of fear and adrenaline cloud my head and rush through every vein in my body. My vision was blurry.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I screamed, and I propelled my hand forward and felt a harsh sting against the palm of my hand as it collided with skin.

The room fell silent.

It was when I saw the pain in his eyes that I finally came back to reality.

My hands were trembling and I could feel the sweat at the back of my neck—I could barely breathe, and every inch of me felt cold, but all I could see or think about was the bright red handprint that I’d left across Harry’s face.

“H-H-Harry, Harry, I’m so s-sorry, oh my god, Harry…” my words were spoken through sobs and I clasped my hands overtop of my mouth, shoulders heaving as I continued to cry.

He was looking at me in a way that he never had before. There was pain in his eyes, agony, even. And it was my fault.

This is what I’d been trying to avoid.

He looked at me for a long time. Usually that would take my breath away, but I felt nothing but shame and fear. There was confusion in his face, and at least two minutes of pure silence passed between us.

I watched him as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase that was beside his makeshift bed, and as he slipped them on. I was still shaking—my muscles physically ached from trembling so much, but the anxiety and fear was taking over my body.

He was walking towards the door when I finally spoke.

“Where are you going?” I asked, choking out a sob.

“I’m leaving,” he uttered, dazed and confused, and I got up off of the bed and walked towards him. I kept my distance, afraid to touch him again.

“Harry, I’m sorry, please you don’t have t—”

“Rosie please, I just need a minute,” He snapped, and my eyes widened as I instinctively took a couple of steps back. The volume at which he spoke caused my eyes to prickle again. “For god sakes, Rosie, I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried to get you to open up and let me in, I’ve tried to get you to trust me and I don’t know why you won’t.”

“Harry please, I can explain, god I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt—”

“Rosie, I’m leaving. I need some time. I need you to give me that.”

He said it so finally and decisively that I didn’t have it in me to argue or plead for him to stay.

I watched as he turned around and walked out of the room, so easily, without another word.

I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, staring at the door for an eternity.

I could still feel the stinging in the palm of my hand.

if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving me a dollar or two! x https://ko-fi.com/C0C0VKJI

if you would like to consider supporting my work long-term, please check out my patreon! x https://www.patreon.com/roseonhissleeve

#have a little faith #half #chapter thirteen #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles reading #harry styles story #harry styles x ofc #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles drabble #tw: domestic abuse #tw: rape

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opedguy · 4 years ago

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GOP Opposes Biden’s Infrastructure Plan

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), April 5, 2021.--President Joe Biden, 78, has the GOP exactly where he wants them, it total submission to Democrat policies now pushing for a $2.3 trillion infrastructure plan only weeks after Democrat passed the $1.9 trillion Covid relief bill. Spending money like a drunken sailor is precisely what the public wants, handing Biden 73% approval ratings for his handling to the Covid-19 crisis. Whether Republicans admit it or not, they’re a minority party, with the majority of voters going Democratic. Biden’s overall approval rating is a whopping 53,8%, almost 20% above Trump’s average in the days leading up to the election. Biden has a strong wind at his back to pass his $2.3 trillion infrastructure plan, even if it doesn’t come with one Republican vote. Former Sen. Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) vowed to fight Biden’s plan but the plain truth is he can’t stop Democrats from going to a simple majority.

Biden’s big election win over former President Donald Trump [306-232] in the Electoral College and over 5 million more popular votes giving him the mandate to pass whatever he wants. As long as the economy continues what now looks like a V-shaped post Covid-19 recovery, Biden will continue to maintain high approval ratings but, more importantly, keep the GOP from winning back a House of Senate majority. As it stands right now, there’s zero evidence that Republicans will have momentum to resume control of the House and Senate in 2022. If the economy continues to recover, Democrats, if anything, will continue to pad their majorities in both Houses. “They know we need it,” Biden said with respect to his $2.3 trillion infrastructure plan, that he claims could create 19 million middle class jobs. With Trump out of the picture, the GOP finds itself politically deflated.

Biden said while he’ll considers GOP objections, he said that infrastructure spending is being done all over the world. “Everybody around the world is investing in billions and billions of dollars in infrastructure, and we’re going to do it here,” Biden said. Republicans have no real way to resist Biden’s $2.3 trillion plan, unless the stock market sells off and the economy starts heading south. All indications point to expanding equity markets and a V-shaped economic recovery. Only geopolitical events could derail the current economic juggernaut that looks to continue improving. If Russian President Vladimir Putin invades eastern Ukraine, then markets could sell off. Other than that, the economy looks to regain the momentum it had before the pandemic, something that looks like it heading in the rear view mirror. It’s ironic that Trump predicted a V-shaped recovery in 2021, the biggest year for growth ever.

As more American’s get vaccinated, it seems directly correlated with economic recovery. Funny that during the 2020 campaign Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris told voters not to trust Trump’s rosy predictions on vaccines. Biden and Harris not only told voters not to trust Trump’s vaccines, they told them they wouldn’t be ready until well into 2021. Once Biden and Harris won the Nov. 3 election, Pfizer/BioNTech and Moderna announced that the FDA has approved their vaccines, exactly on the same schedule Trump promised. But more importantly, Trump correctly predicted that the vaccines would serve like “rocket fuel” to the struggling economy, making 2021 one of the biggest economic growth years in U.S. history. So far, Trump’s forecasts have proved true, with Biden and Harris reaping the benefits. As long as the economy continues to hum along, GOP won’t derail Biden’s $2.3 infrastructure bill.

When it comes to domestic policy, there’s only good news on the horizon for Biden’s domestic programs. When it comes to foreign policy, it’s the only thing now that can derail U.S. economic progress. Since taking office, Biden has sent U.S.-Russian relations spiraling into Cold War lows. No one believed during the post WW II Cold War period, that the U.S. and former Soviet Union would get into a shooting war. With Biden calling Putin a “soulless killer” March 16, the prospects for a shooting war, most likely in eastern Ukraine, have dramatically increased. Biden and his 58-year-old Secretary of State Tony Blinken have pushed relations with Russia and China to the brink. Blinken accused China of “genocide” against the Muslim Uyghurs in Western China’s Xinjaing province, something not supported by facts. While China mistreats the Uyghurs, there’s no genocide taking place.

Republicans led by McConnell and Sen. Roy Blunt (R-Mo.) don’t have a prayer to stop Biden from pushing for the lion’s share of $2.3 trillion infrastructure plan. McConnell and Blunt simply don’t have the political capital or votes needed to stop Biden from advancing his plan. Biden vowed to “push as hard as I can” to pass his plan that has popular support. Unlike Trump, when you have the media behind you and approval ratings at 53.8%, there’s little real resistance ahead. Republicans simply don’t have the votes or popular opposition to Biden’s infrastructure plan. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) has already set in motion the steps needed to pass Biden’s plan with a simple majority. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) estimates a House vote by July 4. Republicans are kidding themselves that the can stop Biden from passing his plan.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging the Bullet and Operation Charisma. Reply Reply All Forward

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sherlockxreader · 7 years ago

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30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 22

Day 22: In battle, side by side

Summary: You and Sherlock take care of a teething Rosie together Author: Maddy (@laterthantherabbit) Words: 1750 Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x reader, Rosie x aunty!reader Warning: None

Author’s Notes: After writing with Rosie yesterday I really got into the aunty!reader and sort of parenting trope I did for it. I hope you guys like it!

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The wailing had been going on for almost an hour now. Mrs. Hudson was out of the city with Mrs. Turner doing who knows what and Sherlock had a case at the moment and was probably out chasing some madman through the streets of London. John had gone to begrudgingly visit Harry after she rang, asking him to help her move. He wasn’t to be expected back for at least another two days and you volunteered to stay and look after the little Watson, your beautiful niece Rosie. Your beautiful, screaming, red-faced, teething and inconsolable niece. “Rosie dear, look! It’s bee! You want bee?” Rosie threw her arms up above her head and let out an ear-piercing cry. Your calm demeanour from before the crying had slowly been degrading into a near breakdown, your hair frazzled from constant pulling and your cheeks aching from forced smiles to calm Rosie, which were apparently useless.

You picked yourself and then Rosie up from the ground, bouncing her on your hip to try to sooth her. “I know hun, I know, you miss Daddy. I miss Daddy. If he were here I wouldn’t be exhausted now would I? Would I? No I wouldn’t. Please stop crying now, Rosie dear. Please stop. You’re not hungry. You’re clean and comfy and warm and in pain I know but I’ve given you the medicine Daddy swears works but I don’t think it is, is it honey?” Rosie’s cries continued on for some time, until she tired herself out enough to quiet them into soft whimpers, accompanied by fat tears which rolled down her cheeks.

You kept muttering nonsensical phrases, which seemed to be the only thing that distracted her, and looked towards the clock. 8:47pm. “Look at that, it’s way past your bedtime again munchkin. Thank God you’re finally tired. Let’s put you to bed hm? Put you in your nice and cosy bed? Yes I think we should.” You walked up the stairs to John’s room where Rosie’s bassinet was and put Rosie into the plush bedding, wrapping the fuzzy blanket over her small body, now asleep in a fitful rest. You sighed as you crept out of the room, making sure to make as little noise as possible.

When you got back into the living room you flopped onto the couch, determined to sleep before Rosie’s next feeding and inevitable wailing. You had just about dozed off when the door slammed open with force and a tornado whirled into the living room. You jumped up and looked around, frantic and irritable from being awoken so abruptly. You saw that the tornado was in fact Sherlock, high on adrenaline from the chase he had so obviously just had. He whipped off his scarf and coat with what you thought was an obscene amount of noise and he stomped around the living room, prattling on about the case before you could scold him for not thinking before creating a ruckus in the middle of the night.

“You wouldn’t believe it Y/N! The case was thrilling and-” His sentence was cut off by the banshee you called niece. “Oh right. Rosie. Y/N, are you okay?” You swore you could feel your eye twitching as you glared venomously at Sherlock. He at least had the sense to look ashamed at you as you stood and retrieved Rosie, not even ten minutes into your nap. You came back down the stairs to see Sherlock on his chair, probably organising the case into his Mind Palace, ignoring the screams Rosie was casting his way. You cleared your throat to make him open his eyes before handing him the once again screaming toddler. Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off with a glare and a finger pointed at his chest, which poked repeatedly whilst you lectured him. “I am having a shower. You are going to try to get her to sleep again as I have just been doing so for the past hour and a bit before you ruined it all with your flouncing. You are also going to make tea when the kettles done because I am tired and it looks like neither of us are sleeping much tonight. Are we clear?” You dangerous tone and poking caused him to shy away from you, further into his chair cradling Rosie in his arms.

“Yes Y/N.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You turned on your heel and left for the bathroom, shutting the door before leaning on it and scrubbing your face with your hands, as if to wipe away the exhaustion that had built up over the hour of Rosie’s crying. You shook your head and turned on the shower, drowning out Rosie’s insistent screaming considerable and finally giving you some time for yourself.

You weren’t so cold all the time, just when you were tired, and the shower had helped to wake you up some. When you came out a few minutes later, clad in your cosy pyjamas and a pair of slippers, you came to regret snapping at Sherlock like you had done. You couldn’t hear the screams of Rosie but you could hear her whimpering and Sherlock’s muttering, just as you had done not half an hour earlier. You walked into the room and saw Sherlock swaying Rosie side to side, lulling her into another fitful sleep. You went up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, swaying with him as his mumbling stopped. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

“I should be the one who’s sorry. I forgot Rosie hadn’t been going to bed cooperatively once she began teething.”

“Yeah still, sorry.” You kissed his shoulder blade and nuzzled your head into his back.

“I made tea.” You laughed as you let Sherlock go and looked around the room, finding a pot of tea, milk, sugar and even biscuits on a tray between John and Sherlock’s chair. You patted Sherlock’s back and sat in John’s chair to pour two cups.

“Thanks Sher. Go put Rosie to bed. Hopefully she will sleep for a couple of hours before she wakes again.” You put milk and sugar into both of the cups as Sherlock walked past you to the stairs, placing a kiss on your head before he left the room. You smiled as you heard him continue talking to Rosie in hushed tones. You were sipping your tea when Sherlock came back down, his high from the case now gone from having to deal with Rosie for a few minutes. He sat in his chair and began to sip at his cooling tea and you sighed, the quiet of the flat calming you but. “You want to tell me about the case?”

“I thought you were going to sleep until Rosie woke again.”

“Well I was until you barged in here and woke me and now I’m curious. It seemed like a good one.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up and he began to talk rapidly about the murderer he had chased and about the scene itself, which was unique due to the unusual blood splatters. You listened to him talk for an hour, a content smile on your face and your eyes droopy. You hand just stood to check on Rosie before heading to bed when the cacophony began again. Rosie’s shrill cry burst from the room upstairs and your smile dropped into a pout. You groaned and put you head in your hands, taking deep breaths to keep tired tears at bay. “Arrggh…” You rubbed your eyes and began to make your way upstairs when Sherlock put a hand on your shoulder.

“You should go and try to sleep. You’ve had Rosie all day.”

“No it’s okay. You helped her last time. I’ll get her.” You shrugged him off and went upstairs where the noises grew in volume. You went into the room and saw Rosie crying in her crib. “Aww honey it's okay. I'm here. I know, I know it hurts. Come on.” You picked her up and took her downstairs, preparing yourself for the task of gathering her pain medicine with one hand when Sherlock came and stood in front of you, the little dropper in his hand and the liquid already measured to the millimetre. “Oh Sherlock, thanks so much. Do you think-”

“I'll get her to take it Y/N. Just hold her steady.” You nodded and cooed at Rosie to try and get her to calm down enough to take her medicine, knowing that she would be frustrated with both you and Sherlock after taking it.

Sure enough, when the bitter mixture was tasted and swallowed, Rosie's face morphed into disgust and then fury and she let out a pain filled yell. “Oh honey I know, it's okay. How about a bottle, hm? Yes, we'll get your bottle sorted. That sounds nice doesn’t it?” You smiled at Rosie as her yells turned into whimpers at the mention of the bottle. You went to step into the kitchen however Sherlock was back with a warm bottle for Rosie, having had it already prepared for when you came down with her. She took it with tears and became quiet immediately when she began to drink. You chuckled and looked from Rosie to Sherlock, who was looking at Rosie with adoration. “Thanks so much Sherlock. You’re really good with her you know?”

“Not as good as you.” You scoffed and shook your head, turning back to Rosie who was almost finished with her bottle.

“It took me an hour to get her to sleep and it takes you ten minutes. I think you’re better.” He smiled and looked to you, coming closer to hug you from the side and look down at Rosie alongside you, who was just about finished now, and with the medicine kicking in along with her fatigued body, was becoming sleepy. You took the bottle from her hands and swayed from side to side, rocking her to sleep.

“We’re better together though, aren’t we.” You smiled softly and looked back to Sherlock, meeting his eyes which were crinkled at the sides as he smiled fondly at the domesticity you two were in.

“We are.” You smile grew as Sherlock stooped down to kiss you softly, swaying along with you as you continued to rock with Rosie. You went and placed Rosie back into bed before heading to yours with Sherlock in tow. You two burrowed under the covers and huddled together contently, falling into sleep soon after, ready to face the next feeding and tantrum together, side by side.

#30 day challenge #sherlockxreader #sherlock holmes #rosie watson #sherlock fanfiction #maddy #mady writes #laterthantherabbit

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tomhollandish · 8 years ago

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Tessellate

Tom Holland x Reader x Harrison Osterfield

Summary: You, Tom and Harrison are in quite the predicament when you unexpectedly meet your best friends other best friend. Sometimes, interests can overlap. Part one of three.

Word Count: 4,821

Warnings: cursing

A/N: well guys, remember like six months ago when i asked if anyone wanted a Tom and Harrison love triangle? this is it.

Harrison’s apartment number stands right in front of you, a glistening silver number on an otherwise smooth white door. You wonder how exactly he’s able to stay in a cushy place like this for only a couple of weeks while he does something-or-other in Manhattan.

You thought about asking him, but his door opens, the rush of air making you shiver. Harrison stares at you with wide eyes for a moment, taking in your soaking wet figure. It’s uncomfortable, being under his gaze like that, even though you’ve been friends for years.

“Are you just going to stare at me, or can I come in?” you blurted, walking by him without waiting for an answer. He seems to regain his senses about thirty seconds later, closing the door and sliding over to you.

“You want to use the dryer?” his posh voice asks, juxtaposing with his flamingo socks that he’s skating around the gorgeous hard wood floors in. You nod, trying to keep the chattering of your teeth to a minimum. “Do you want to use the hair dryer too?”

“Do I look that bad?” you mock pout, heading in the direction of where you think the bathroom is. Harrison disappears for a second, before tossing you a sweatshirt and shorts that may or may not be boxers. You don’t hesitate, though. You’ve shared clothes with the brit many times before, the trade going both ways.

This time, however, something is different. You notice it while you’re drying off your face and reapplying the smudged makeup. You hear the dryer start, but then there’s the soft shuffling of Harrison’s feet, padding against the floor. It gets loud as he reaches the bathroom door, and you wait for it to get softer again, but it doesn’t. It just stops, a small shadow peeping from the crack in the door.

You frown, pondering what kind of shit he’s trying to pull on you. You wonder if he has a prank planned, but there no giggling or movement coming from outside. He seems to just be…standing there.

You block it out, turning the hair dryer on while trying to reason with yourself. Your visit to his apartment had to be based on some reason, and not just the dull ache that resided in your stomach. You’d come here to hang out, to catch up, like normal, long distance friends.

Or so you tricked yourself into thinking.

It had been a long time since you last admitted to yourself how much you truly liked seeing Harrison; his pristine blue eyes reflecting color and light like glass, his glowing blonde tresses. Not to mention a smile that made you bristle every time it crept onto his face. It was annoying, really, how long you’d been trying to rid yourself of this crush.

It didn’t help that his clothes smelled like him, or that you had to roll up the sleeves to grip the hair dryer properly. Everything reeked of domesticity, a life you just didn’t have with the blonde. You sighed, knowing full and well that these feelings would have to gradually float out of your mind rather than you forcing them out.

But they were still a pain in the ass to deal with.

You expected Harrison to be outside when you were done, but he wasn’t. There was the soft sound of his voice from somewhere in the apartment, but other than that you were alone. You padded around a bit, searching for the places that might be convenient; kitchen pantry, kitchen cabinets, and the fridge. Snacks were always convenient.

Despite not knowing this place even existed until some hours ago, you made quick work of making yourself at home: making yourself some tea and toast, rummaging through their fridge to see if they had anything sweeter, (There was a lot more whey protein powder and milk than you needed. There were also way too many bottles of Gatorade. You cursed your friend for being so fit) but you decided against touching anything with a label in all caps.

Settling down, you flipped on the T.V, noting briefly that the last thing they had been watching was BBC America. You rolled your eyes at how typical that was, switching to something more entertaining by your standards. (Batman Begins was on. Harrison was going to have a fit when he caught you watching it without him)

You had gotten so comfortable, laughing and embedding yourself further into Harrison’s couch, that you hardly noticed the lock starting to click open. Between scrolling through your phone and the sounds coming from the T.V, the added mix of voices was just underneath your attention span. It wasn’t until you heard someone yell “Is Haz watching that again?”

It made you yelp, a high-pitched noise that scared the other occupants of the room. You didn’t want to turn around and face them—whoever they were—looking the way you were, but there was nothing else that could have been done. You’d already given away that you weren’t Harrison, and you figured the next logical step would be to introduce yourself.

So you stood up shakily and moved to face the people that found you out. And how you deeply wished you had not. If you hadn’t, then maybe things wouldn’t have ended up the way they did.

The guys standing behind the couch were tall, but not much more than you. They ranged in appearances, ones that you recognized instantly because you had seen them plastered all over tumblr and Instagram. You couldn’t even open your mouth to say a single redeeming word like “wow, its you!” or “I’m a fan of your work” or even just “hello.” It took Harrison’s presence to spur you into some sort of decent human being, watching with wide eyes as the encounter unfolded.

“Uh,” he stuttered, oh-so eloquently. You rolled your eyes, snapping your attention back to the three males, who’s eyes had never left you. You took a step back, a little uncomfortable with their gazes.

“Um, can I help you with something?” you asked, hoping to snap them out of their staring. The middle one—you knew his name, it was Tony—reacted first, blinking owlishly before turning back to Harrison.

“Uh, Harrison!” he spoke, his American accent loud and nervous. “We ran into Tom earlier and we just, ended up in this neighborhood-“

“This is an apartment complex.”

“And we were gunna get lunch, but if you’re busy, that’s cool too.” You noticed Tony’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Harrison, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Busy?” you echoed, crossing your arms with distaste for the word. “Just what exactly do I look like?”

“You look like a girl who’s in Harrison’s clothes. There’s a lot of names for that kind of behavior.” Jacob Batalon was quick to answer, his expression never failing to show you what he thought. You could only guess the titles he was bestowing upon you, but you were sure he was wrong.

“I’m just his friend,” you clarified, but everyone else seemed to be skeptical of that. The brunette with brown eyes that seemed to sparkled raised a brow, his voice similarly accented to Harrisons, but you knew that even before he spoke.

“I’m Haz’s friend, and I don’t lounge around wearing his clothes.�� Tom Holland started, mimicking your crossed arms. He didn’t seem all that mad, his face flushed a little pink, looking more at Harrison than at you. “And I think I’d have met you by now if you as good of a friend to Haz as you say you are.”

“First of all, you’re a bloody liar because that’s my jumper that you never gave back,” Harrison listed, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt Tom was currently wearing. “And another thing, you know who she is. It’s Y/N.”

He said your name like he was protecting you, stepping closer to where his arm brushed your shoulder. It was just a small movement but you picked up on it easily, sensing the tension in his body. He seemed to be darting his eyes around as though he was looking for an escape, a way out of this situation that was going downhill fast.

Tom seemed to rake in your form, your name a catalyst for his memories. He seemed to know of you, which was same for you. Tom Holland was a name spoken between you and Harrison many times, but it never materialized into a meeting. You knew the name to go along with the face, but you’d never shook his hand, you’d never met his gaze, and you’d certainly never been under his stare the way you were now.

There was something about the look he gave you that made you question just what exactly was going through his head at this odd meeting. But suddenly he broke the gaze and looked back to his friend, those brown eyes different in a way you couldn’t articulate.

And then he spoke again, voice not as accusatory. “Are you down for dinner?” he asks, and you realize that while he’s looking at Harrison, the question is for both of you. You shrug, turning towards the blonde and gauging his face.

It’s screwed up somehow, his eyes far away like he’s looking into somewhere else. You speak, trying to snap him out of his daze. “I’m down. Harry?”

He blinks at the nickname, something you only call him at sleepovers and movie marathons and at black mornings where you’re both too sleepy to think straight. You catch a rosy tint, quick to come and go, almost like a trick of the light. And then, almost dismissively comes his answer. “Your clothes are still in the dryer.”

It’s a yes, but in a roundabout way of saying so, and you tip your head to the side. “I’ll figure something out,” you say, walking back towards his room, and leaving the four males to work out whatever it is they have unsaid on their lips.

As you close the door to his room, you immediately hear the sounds of a debate. It’s hushed, Harrison’s voice urging them to keep it low, but you still manage to hear them, speaking your name like a hex, or a jinx.

You sigh deeply, knowing that you haven’t really done anything wrong. There’s a disconnect somewhere that you want to investigate, but for the time being you don’t want it to be awkward.

So maybe changing into more of Harrison’s clothes wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was the only one you had.

Going through his wardrobe, you caught sight of the most unisex sweater he owned, pulling it over your head, watching helplessly as the fabric seemed to multiply and drown you. You couldn’t be bothered though, running into the laundry room and fishing your jeans out, hoping they were dry enough to wear comfortably. Your wish had come true, and you silently thanked any deity listening, before snatching up your shoes.

Upon your reentry into the living room, the boys fell quiet, watching as you slipped on your jacket. You could feel them staring but you shrugged it off, trying to be nonchalant. “Are we going or not?” you ask loudly, first one to the door and laughing as they scramble behind you. It’s going to be an interesting afternoon.

Tony recommends Chinese, which from your experience is hit or miss. New York isn’t some second home to you—if anything, it’s more of some distant relative’s hometown, a place you’ve been to twice before with your family. Tony seemed to know what’s good, and you trust him, despite meeting him around ten minutes ago.

The walk isn’t silent. It’s actually full of questions, which takes you aback because you’re not used to it. Most of the time when people meet you, they act as though they know everything about you, their knowledge stemming from social media or, the youtube videos released via your company. “They know the brand” you always think.

But these guys are different. They seem not to know a thing, asking common, easy questions like “Where do you work?” (“I work for a magazine my friends and I created.”) “What do you do there?” (“CFO and creative director”) “that’s so cool!” (“Thanks”)

They’re quick to follow your Instagram, which spurs even more questions, but the one that passes Tom’s lips that makes you freeze.

“When did you meet Harrison?” It’s passive aggressive, most likely the question that’s been on his mind since you’ve met. From the corner of your eye you see Harrison bristle. It’s not very personal; in fact, you believe that Tom has the right to know.

But the look on his best friend’s face deems otherwise, and you can’t help but wonder why. You turn your attention to Tom, who’s back is to the sun, his outline angelic and soft. You’re lost in that thought for a moment before you remember a feeling from somewhere deep in your gut.

“I met him on a photoshoot,” you began, changing your tone to accommodate the story you were about to tell. “A friend of mine in London gave me a call, saying she had a business opportunity for the magazine. She hooked me up with a photographer, who had like, thirty minutes to talk to me about the venture. I asked if I could see more of her work, and she just let me accompany her on a shoot where, lo and behold, Harrison was playing model,” You recount the events with a smile, but it’s wistful, reminiscing the days long before Harrison ever broke your heart.

The boys are laughing, but Harrison’s stare is on the ground, like he’s remembering too. You can’t imagine what Harrison must have thought of you back then; an unassuming girl with drowning eyes as she tried to navigate London. He often told you that the reason he approached you was because of that lost look in you had. He felt like he needed to help you.

“I was Harrison’s charity case,” you thought bitterly, but you swallowed the words as you were ushered inside a tiny store. For a moment you’re not sure if this is your destination, but it becomes pretty clear when your nose is filled with the scent of hot peppers and sticky rice. It’s small inside, with the promise of more seating upstairs. Everyone is drinking out of those tall granulated plastic cups that say coca-cola on the side, and there’s two T.V’s on different channels.

“Whoa,” you whisper, taking in the decorations and the people. You’ve been to many different Chinese restaurants all over the U.S, and the best ones always looked like this.

“How did you find this place?” you turn to Tony with bright eyes and he stutters under your cute gaze. He’s nudged as the hostess guides them up the stairs, into a room built to occupy more than three people to a table. As she takes your drink orders you realize how separated you five are from the rest of the atmosphere, considering that it’s almost quiet. (Almost. Nothing is every quiet in the city.)

After your initial fervor has died down, you take note of the seating arrangement. Sitting like the king at the head of the table is Tom, with Harrison on his right and you on his left. You and the blonde are facing one another, but both of your eyes have landed on brunette. It’s quiet and awkward as you push hair out of your face, shrugging your shoulders and trying to start conversation.

It’s Jacob that begins. “I’m sorry I thought you were a call girl.”

It’s such a short sentence that really shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does. You throw your head back with a cackle, clutching at your chest while the others blink, trying to make sense of the sound you just made. “I’m sorry, I just think that’s really funny,” you calm down, looking at all the guys, but you catch sight of them grinning.

Tom’s smile is soft with disbelief, as though he can’t imagine a sound like that coming out of your mouth. His back is to the window, open slightly to let out smoke and steam, but also to keep the room less stuffy. The light shining through is hazy and red, making him glow like the archangel Gabriel. It strikes you in that moment just how beautiful everything is, and you jump, digging around in your bag.

“Hey, I know we just met and this is probably a weird question, but,” you triumphantly pull out the sleek rectangle, tapping it to your lips before you make any moves. “How would you guys like to be in my New York vlog?”

It’s a quick unanimous yes, which surprises you, but at the same time doesn’t. Everyone has bright smiles, new excitement glistening in their eyes.

Except Harrison. He still looks shocked, as though he never saw the idea of a vlog coming. He doesn’t say a word about it though, keeping his lips pressed tight as though he’s on the verge of blurting something out. You ignore him for the time being—he’ll cool down eventually. It was odd for Harrison’s mood to change so quickly, but you were too ecstatic to care.

You turned the camera sideways, angling the shot so that you and Tony are balanced. It rolls for a couple seconds, you fixing your hair and Tony wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh. Your vlog voice has improved, speaking with clarity, but still with a comfortable inflection.

“I’m here with Harrison, what a surprise,” you say, flipping the camera to him. His baby blues look like the ocean, the most clear thing in the frame. “Decided for a scenery change, did we Harry?”

Immediately that moody demeanor is gone, a smirk tipping up in the corner of his lips. “Gotta give the people what they want.” He sips his drink, eyeing the camera through his lashes. You roll your eyes. That boy is such a camera slut.

“Speaking of giving them what they want,” you jump off of his idea, swerving the camera over to Tom. “Can we talk about this beautiful lighting? Oh, Tom Holland, didn’t see you there.” Your mind is racing with editing tricks and title cards for the boys, capturing Tom’s brilliant smile on film. “Now’s your chance Tom, people are watching.”

“Go see Spider-Man homecoming!” he yells in his accent a cheer erupting from the entire room. The rest of your lunch goes on like that; marveling at the food that comes in, (“please, everyone check out this place, it’s Tony Revolori approved”) admiring the sunset that has now washed the whole room in red, (“Which is better boys, New York sunsets, or London sunsets?” “We’ll lose our citizenship if we answer that”) and figuring out your next steps.

Putting the phone away, the five of you empty onto the street, the wind picking up and blowing your hair in your face. You look to Harrison first, his face blurred with an expression you couldn’t quite figure out. He seems to feel your gaze, because he glances down at you. You’re not very discreet about it, only moving the hair from your face to look at him properly.

“What now, Harry?” the name felt dull on your lips, like any other nickname. Harrison was still looking at you, trying to find the answer written across your features. Before he could open his mouth, Jacob offered a suggestion.

“There’s a party somewhere in Soho. Bound to be pretty lit,” he sung the last word, luring them in like a siren. Harrison pursed his lips, and you could see the struggle he was faced with. You shrugged, knowing full and well the scene was not for you.

“You guys go ahead. I’m not a party person, I’m not gunna spoil your fun.” You held up your hands placatively, stepping back from them a little. You knew how certain people got during so called lit parties, and it wasn’t your style.

No one seemed to have qualms about leaving you to your own devices either. You hugged your arms a little, thinking about both the commute to Harrison’s apartment, where your clothes were, and back to the apartment you were renting. Your face screwed up in concern, but before you could really voice your opinion, they were walking away from you.

You huffed, wondering what you expected. They probably didn’t realize you had hung back, or so you thought. Tom was probably a few steps ahead of you before he turned, seeing your small figure underneath the hard glow of an awning lamp.

“Are you really not coming?” he asked, an interesting curiosity lacing his voice. He’s able to stop the rest of the men in their tracks, all of them looking at you with different expressions. You focus on Tom, his face the most amiable of the group.

You answer him with a shrug, tapping your feet to the ground. “I’ll just head back to your apartment and get my stuff. It’s not a big deal,” you said, looking down at your shoes. There was no reason at all to get them involved, but Tom kept looking at you, his brows scrunched in a cute expression.

“If you’re going back to apartment you’ll need keys,” Harrison points out, his hands fishing around in his pockets for them. However, Tom stops this effectively by stepping towards you, standing face to face with a small smile.

You knew he was handsome; its undeniable, what with his boyish looks and charm, but up close it’s different. The brown in his eyes reflect almost golden underneath the yellow street lamp, and you can almost catch a red hue in his hair. The tresses are pushed back by his hand, those eyes looking at you even closer, entrancing you in a way that makes you forget he’s speaking.

“I’ll walk her home,” he says to Harrison and the others, but he never takes his eyes off you. “If that’s okay?”

The pointed look on his face makes it hard to say no, but it’s not like you were going to reject the offer anyways. A small okay makes his face relax, another smile spreading across his face. You wonder for a brief moment if there was something he wanted, if there was a reason he stepped up to the plate. Perhaps he was just kind, but in your experiences no boys were ever so gracious.

But there was a fluttering suspicion that Tom Holland was different.

Tom was excellent with directions, yet another broken stereotype for the boy you’d just met earlier that day. The two of you didn’t talk an awful lot, but the silence wasn’t thick or uncomfortable. It was easier not to speak, stealing glances at one another as though you were both just attractive strangers admiring one another.

Once you were back on the street, nearly shoulder to shoulder to keep from bumping into pedestrians, Tom spoke up. “I have to be honest with you, I’m a little upset Haz never introduced us.”

You understood the feeling. There was something off about how this day had played out, and it bothered you, despite the night ending up as wonderful as this. “It makes you feel less important, doesn’t it? Like Harrison kept something from you.” You wanted to add more, but you weren’t sure how much of this you could reveal to Tom.

When you turned to look at him, you caught his brows raised in realization. “Yes! That’s what it is! Gosh, I haven’t been able to word it all day!” You laughed at his excited expression, holding the door to his residence open. The two of you stood waiting for the elevators, still on the subject.

“Does it make you feel like…I don’t know, like he did it on purpose? Like he was keeping us from each other?” Tom’s face was blank, a look you didn’t quite like. He seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the numbers climbing from floor to floor.

You sighed, mostly because you didn’t want to think about that possibility. “There’s no real reason for it. I suppose he never found it necessary.” The more you talk, the smaller you feel. You want to tell Tom that it most likely was you he was managing; standing by Tom more because he aligned with his interest.

(Keeping you in the dark out of fear and shame that you’d drag him down. But that was just an insecurity, born from a broken heart)

You bit your lip, staring off into the middle distance, the elevator door becoming blurry. Were you truly a charity case? A friend by pure approximation? A stepping stone? You’d wondered this since the beginning, always questioning what you truly were to Harrison.

And yet today he never left your side; as though you were his, and his alone.

The abrupt stop at their floor shook you out of thought, the white walls of the complex giving you déjà vu. Tom walked in front of you, ceremoniously opening the door, which made you laugh.

“I’ll be in and out I swear. I’m sorry I made you walk all this way, I would have been fine.” Your apologies are rapid, a blur of words as your rummage around for what’s yours and what isn’t. Harrison’s sweater remains on, you figure he won’t mind if you return it later.

“If I didn’t walk you home I wouldn’t get a chance to ask you.”

It’s like when you’re driving, as suddenly a car shoots out from nowhere into the lane beside yours. Cold panic goes straight through your heart, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your entire body seems to prickle, frozen with the worst fear of your life. You try to smoothen yourself out, but it’s so hard with that warm gaze and cute smile and his goddamn everything.

You just met him and he’s already fucked you up. What a nightmare this man is. (For you, at least. And your heart.)

“Ask me what?” you hope it’s not as harsh as you think. You hope it’s a soft whisper, but knowing you it’s a hiss, your teeth grit harshly, trying not to faint from shock.

“If you wanted to go out on a date. I-I just figured that we should get to know each other and all, so I thought that we could go out as friends, but are we really friends? A date seems easier. One date doesn’t mean you’re dating it’s just-“

“I know what a date means, Tom,” you giggle, watching as he scratched the back of his neck. The rambling was an interesting shared trait between him and his character, one you didn’t expect. You stepped closer to him, touching his shoulder lightly. “The answer is yes, I’ll go with you.”

He smiled so brightly that it rivaled the sun. His face was lit up with shock and joy, radiating from his gorgeous features. Did everyone look this amazing when they smiled? Surely not.

“That’s great! Um, would you mind meeting me here? We could get breakfast and walk there together, yeah?” You can only nod in your excitement, making his grin even wider, a feat which you thought impossible until you saw it. He’s pulling out his phone, and you’re sure he’s going to ask for your number, but you’re quicker than he is.

You hand him yours as a replacement, flipping through the list of emoji’s until you find the most pleasing set, the ones you think match you well. It’s a bad habit you picked up a long time ago, but you found it more tolerable than putting in some dumb nickname. (Besides, it was only like, three of them. You could be much worse)

You look up, ready to switch your phones back, but Tom’s smile has faded substantially. You scrunch your brows as his hands brush yours, and it feels like it’s done purposely. He smiles at what you’ve typed before grinning at you again, but it’s different this time.

You don’t want to question it. You’re in too good of a mood to have your night ruined by something you can’t control. You flash Tom the most genuine smile you can, making a pink hue grow across his face.

“Good night, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft like you’re still a foot apart. With a childish smile you drop your eyes to the floor, bashfulness suddenly swarming you.

“Good night, Tom.” You close the door with a soft click, trying to control your giddy emotions until you reach the elevator. You glance down at your phone, looking eagerly for the new contact before you spot something that makes your stomach do flips.

8 new texts- Harry🙄💅🏾😈

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