#gin pls stop bothering the couple

[handsome-kakigori]

[Through the Door]

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[caterpellas]

munich nights • harry styles

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (oral m recieving) 

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut

pt 1/? (two is here)         word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing in like a year so some feedback would be amazing, pls be kind and show some love to my crumby attempt lol

chapter playlist :D

harry.

he was sort of your anchor. unspoken, of course, that he had taken such a high profile role in your life. he didn’t need to know, to know. you were certain it worked in reverse, that you grounded him just like he did for you.

you’re not sure of the timestamp on the beginning of your friendship, sometime 3 years ago after mindlessly chatting in a shoreditch bar, at the sort of venue you were both cackling over after a couple of overpriced gin and tonics.

“i’m not sure why i came here, it really isn’t my scene,” you said after calming your laughter down.

“me neither. i’m not all that into £18 cocktails made with organic fruit juice,” he jested back, although you felt a hint of sadness in the next, “it makes me miss home.”

after that you clicked instantly.

you both bonded over being musicians; your styles contrasted entirely though. his band, who you met a few occasions later, were the antithesis to yours. mitch and sarah looked and sounded like they were fresh from a 70’s pop rock band, whilst your bassist and drummer, both twins, had buzzed heads and black dr martens on 24/7. the differences between you and him didn’t matter in the slightest. which is why, after 18 months of building the strongest friendship you’d had in your life, he asked you and your band to come on tour with him.

touring with your best friend and now biggest fan was the single greatest experience of your life. you would admit to the apprehension you first felt about opening for harry as your music wasn’t exactly in keeping with his genre- you were a little grungier then his soft style. i suppose the opposites between you is what enhanced everything about your relationship, musically and personally. in articles harry was always praised for his effeminate fashion choices, and since gaining some recognition as his opener, the articles were now mentioning how you dressed too, hyping up your more boyish, ‘can’t be bothered’ clothing taste you’d developed over your years in the band. your shoes were always chunky and platform, your top or bottoms usually oversized and always with the same thick chain around your neck. to some, your style seemed intimidating but it couldn’t be further from the truth. harry knew that best of all.

3 months into the tour now, you had made it to munich for the 1st night of your european portion of the tour. you and harry were sat next to one another on the plane, sharing an earpod each, playing music from your playlist titled “h”. you hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight, after reading a particularly disturbing article about harry’s recent paparazzi shots. “harry styles’ player ways making a comeback?” it read, and pictured him with a couple models you’d met in new york together after going out for the night. you couldn’t place why but the article made you feel sick. you put it down to seeing such a close friend’s name slandered in the press, and you hoped he hadn’t read it yet. harry was often disheartened after reading the gossip people like to spread about him, occasionally involving you as well.

“you seem very deep in thought.” harry’s morning voice could be heard over the sound of steely dan in your ears. turning to him, one of his eye’s peering at you, you reply, “not really- just thinking about the set list.”

“you need to switch off your work brain sometimes,” he grins up at you, “have a little more fun! munich will be great, lots of beer to try.”

“of course that’s what you look forward to most. you know munich is filled with some beautiful architecture and history right?”

“that’s great and all, but you know what else they have?” harry questions you and you shake your head.

“oktoberfest.”

-

you arrived at your airbnb not long after- harry’s band and yours all preferred staying in a large house or apartment then some posh hotel that didn’t feel quite as welcoming. harry’s manager picked the place out, opting for a villa that sleeps 10 people, filled to the brim with oak panelling and a big fire place in the centre of the room. there was a hot tub outside that would probably never be used in your short stay there. the kitchen had a large island in the middle and a big aga keeping the place warm in the late september weather. his manager really outdid herself this time.

“this is place is so beautiful,” you still weren’t over all of the beautiful places this tour had taken you, the short time you’d been travelling had been a sensory overload.

“you’ll really like munich, y/n,” harry said yawning, grabbing both your shoulders from behind. his touch took your mind back to the article.

“harry,” you started, reluctantly turning to face him, “i know it’s none of my business who you, you know- fuck, but i was just wondering what happened with those models after i left?” harry’s calm expression never faltered as he answered, “me and camila kissed in the taxi but then i went back to the hotel. why?” you didn’t have the strength to answer honestly, and tell him it was because the thought of him having a threesome with two supermodels made you physically wretch, but you felt an obligation to give him a somewhat truthful answer.

“i saw an article about it, the paps caught a glimpse of it,” you white-lied. if you were going to be honest with yourself, the reason him with people like camila and gina bothered you so much is because of the way you compared yourself to them. you were overall confident, you were proud of your style and “gives no fucks” attitude you’d built up over the years, but these were literal models. women who were paid, like paid a lot, because they were beautiful. harry’s dating history has had a lot of women you could never measure up to be as good as and that was a real confidence breaker.

“well anyway, are you ready for tonight’s show? we were thinking it would be cool if you guys came on with us and...”

-

harry, as per usual, performed with all of his heart and soul and yet again amazed you. he had been doing this for three months, playing at least three shows a week and his energy levels were still unmatchable. you were back in your dressing room, taking off your stage clothes and putting on an almost identical outfit, wiping the sweat off your brow and upper lip. the monitor in your room played harry’s set, and you had to find any way you could to distract yourself from his performance before you ended up fantasising about the way his sweaty curls cling to his neck and how you wished he was sweating like that just for you, for an entirely different reason.

“thank you so much munich!” you hear harry’s accent through the small tv, and look up to see him panting and grinning, before running off stage. you had no idea why, but tonight there was a small amount of nervousness about you. since reading the article, you’ve had to address the gnawing idea that you could possibly have feelings for harry that were more than just your deep set friendship. would you act differently about the man you loved more than anyone in this world? you didn’t want things to change- they were perfect with him. he’d jest with you when you became too much of a perfectionist about your latest song, telling you to stop thinking so hard or you’ll have an aneurysm. if people commented on his style or yours, he’d laugh it off and tell everyone he’s “the woman in the relationship” sarcastically, and you’d be in awe at how he essentially said a huge “fuck you” to gender norms. he made you comfortable being you and you coveted his ability to be so happy being him. the thought of this bond being broken frightened you to your core. the knock at your door was a good signal for your thoughts to end.

“you coming y/n?” the group of you were all headed to a german beer bar, since harry was so eager to try the world famous pilsner. finding a large lounge space with sofas inside the bar, you all sat and ordered a round, celebrating a good night’s work.

“to the first night in europe,” you toasted, “cheers!” all your glasses clinked together and the nervous feeling started to fade finally. sat next to harry, you discussed the tour so far, he told a story about being in one direction and it reminded you of a hilarious story from when you were 15, when you used to listen to emo music and swore how much you hated one direction, and they all laughed at the irony. if you had told your 15 year old self this was where you’d be at 21, you’d have snorted and laughed till you cried. but life works out in strange ways and you wouldn’t change it for a second. a few drinks in and any of those nervous feelings about what harry was to you had evaporated like alcohol till you eventually had to remind yourself that whilst your hand was on harry’s knee, it meant nothing. and the way he leans forward to you as he laughed at your not-so-funny joke. but those reminders were getting weaker the more his touch started to linger after he went to go and grab his pint the same time you did.

“we really must stop meeting like this,” he jokes as your hand rubs against his for the 50th time that might and you laugh at him because your afraid if you don’t play it off as a joke you’ll lean over and kiss him. you find yourself in need of a distraction from his low buttoned shirt and endless black ink drawn across his chest that you can see in high definition when your this close to him.

“i’m going to get another round,” you exclaim dramatically, telling yourself more than the rest of the group. making your way over to the bar, you can feel harry’s vision bearing into your back as you lean against the counter to get service.

“another round of pilsners on the table’s tab please,” you ask as soberly as you can. you’re not off your face yet, but the alcohol is definitely present, surrounding the corners of your vision.

“i’d rather by you a drink.” a slightly german accent crowds your ears and you look over to see a man, not all that different to some of the guys in harry’s band, smirking at you.

nervous, you reply, “no you don’t need to do that we have a tab here.”

“i insist.” afraid to be impolite you quietly thank him, and turn back to the bar. you can’t even think of chatting to guy at a bar whilst the man you love is sat so close by. even though it’s not returned, the pain of giving him up to flirt with a stranger is too much to bare.

“so what brings you to a local’s bar like this one?”

“me and my friends are working here for the night.”

“just here for the night? such a shame,” his smile, although attempting to seem unthreatening, is making you uncomfortable. the bartender seems to be taking forever with your order.

“i’m staying in a hotel a few minutes away, come and join me and their bar for a real drink?” your heart was pounding. you rarely got hit on so you were a little out of practice on how to deal with persistent assholes like these ones.

“i can show you how the germans like to do it.” that was it- he’d gone too far and you were so embarrassed by this point you were too humiliated to even reply to him. your neck was getting hotter and you could feel your cheeks reddening.

“you okay?” harry’s voice took you out of your panic-stricken state, “you were taking a while.”

turning to harry and preparing to tell him how this man won’t get the message, the german creep pipes up, “she’s fine mate. we were just discussing a date.”

“listen mate, i suggest you back off. alright?” harry grabbed your hand, tightly, and guided you out of the bar.

“harry where are we going?” you could barely comprehend what had happened in the last five minutes to even realise he was hailing a taxi.

“back to the house. i’ll text the others.”

“harry i’m fine honestly it’s no-“

“who said i was fine? i wanted to leave and i thought maybe you did too.” he was angry, which wasn’t something you saw in harry often. he was a happy guy, and optimistic about most things in life.

“is this because of that guy?”

“of course it is y/n.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise he’d be an assho-“

“why’re you apologising?”

this shut you up. you didn’t know why. this wasn’t the first time a guy had been slightly predatory towards you and you doubted it would be the last. after the first couple times your in situations like this you tend to see yourself as the problem and not the guys doing it.

“i don’t know, harry.” you climbed into the cab together and harry gave them the address, seeming somewhat cooled off from earlier. your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the fact that harry had essentially rescued you from what could have been a scary situation.

“harry?”

“yeah, y/n?”

“why did you kiss camila?” alcohol had made you more outspoken and you asked the question that had been driving your nervous energy all night.

“why are you asking?”

a little more honestly then last time, you answered, “i’m just curious.” harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the question. his whole demeanour had shifted entirely from earlier. he was close and warm with you, the friend you’d become addicted to being with. now he was closed off and moody- a rare sight for anyone who knew him well. you could have picked a better time to ask the question, of course, but you had to know. you had other questions too, like why he was so angry right now, and why did he care that i was chatting with a guy at the bar, even if he was a creep.

“because she wanted to kiss me and i wanted to kiss her. the same reason most humans kiss,” there was a slight element of humour back in his voice now.

“and that was it?”

“yep.”

“hmm.” you tried to ponder this, but your attention span was limited when you were this inebriated. your thought process had quickly moved from harry’s sex life to harry in general and his outfit of the evening- a personal favourite. he’d worn white cream trousers with a vest top and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, along with the necklace you’d given him last christmas. you could see his two swallows peaking from the straps of his wife beater and your mind wandered to the thought of having your mouth against them. against all his tattoos, individually placing a kiss on each and everyone that you had grown to fall in love with.

you remembered the memory of harry coming with you to get your largest tattoo,  a greek statue on your upper arm.

“harry you know this isn’t the first one i’ve gotten?” you laugh at how hard he was clutching your hand in the chair next to your seat.

“i know but i’m so excited for you. i want you to know i’ll be sat here the whole time to hold your hand,” he squeezes your hand to emphasise his point.

“harry i’m getting another tattoo not going into life-altering surgery.”

but inside, you were squealing at his words.

“y/n?”

harry’s less chipper current voice took you out of your memory and back to the cab in munich.

“you’ve been staring at my chest for a couple minutes,” his brows were furrowed as he studied your face.

“i want to lick it.” if someone had asked you why you answered with that, you genuinely couldn’t give them a good answer. alcohol didn’t do much to you, except allow you to have fun, and lose any sense of a filter. now was a perfect example of the effects. harry’s eyes widened at your candour- and so did yours. his calm expression only faltered for a few seconds though, before it returned to his neutral, warm face.

“what else?”

“i-uh- what?”

“what else were you thinking about?” your heart was beating so loudly you were sure harry could feel it across in his seat. why was harry asking this? you didn’t want him to know about your thoughts- they were far too embarrassing and far too private.

“i was thinking about all your tattoos,” you confessed.

“i was thinking about yours too.” you thought about all of your tattoos and remembered the dog rose you had on the back of your thigh, as well as the koi carp on your hip bone.

“which ones?”

“the flowers and the fish.” you gulped, knowing he was thinking of your most risqué tattoos.

harry, unusually, was completely serious as he said, “i thought about licking yours too.” you didn’t know where you stood with harry now. you were sat in a taxi, having the conversation with him that you thought would never happen. he wants you the same way you want him. he may not want you the same way a nagging voice told you. he could just be looking for an easy fuck, and you thought to yourself that even if that was all he wanted, you’d still give yourself to him.

“harry-“

“maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, yeah?” you felt like you could cry- how could he not want to talk, and you were on tour together? this was the most gut wrenching feeling to have him tell you not to talk anymore. harry studied your face as you lip began to quiver, “jesus y/n i meant about the current conversation. of course i want to keep talking to you, i love you- you know, like a friend.”

“like a friend?” you couldn’t ever begin to describe how your heart felt like it fell to the pit of your stomach whilst the acid slowly burnt it away. friends is it. harry isn’t yours to have and he never will be, he just had to remind you in words of this.

“well we’re both a little drunk and clearly turned on- maybe just this once it could be more than friends? just for tonight, i mean?” harry’s clear green eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, and he seemed, i’m not sure, hopeful? as if on cue, the taxi took you back to your villa which was warmly lit from inside and you felt a nervous excitement crawl up your arms and legs at what could possibly come next. harry gave the driver the cash and you dashed quickly to the door of the house, the cool september air cutting through you both dressed inappropriately for the time of year. it dawned on you that your outfit- a big vintage men’s shirt with your oldest and favourite pair of dr martens with sheer tights- wasn’t the wisest choice. harry fumbled with unlocking the door and opened it to find the fire lit and the lights dimmed. it was more romantic than either of you would ever mention out loud but it felt like the house was routing for you. you weren’t sure where harry wanted this to go next, the air beginning to stiffen and feel awkward.

turning to face him, you started, “harry i-“ his lips met yours in an instance and any of the awkwardness left in the room had been dissolved by harry’s soft kiss. he tasted good, despite the beer you’d both been drinking and had you not been intoxicated by the pilsner and harry’s gentle touch, you’d probably care about things like breath. harry grabbed you by the shoulders, much like he did earlier that same day, and guided you into the room further, finding the large sofa and pushing you onto it. falling back, you glanced up at his towering figure. harry was already tall, but his powerful presence added a less literal height to him, and his shadow looked over you. you couldn’t help but stare at him as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, exposing some of your favourite tattoos of his. you got to your knees so that you were closer to his body and you finally relaxed in his presence, touching all the places you’d dreamed about. your hands raked up his torso to his chest and his head leant down to kiss you again. his lips were perfect and seemed made to be against yours so tightly, and made for the crook of your neck as well as they kissed and sucked there too. the fire in the corner of your eyes illuminated the small amount of gold in harry’s hair and he looked as angelic as he always did in your dreams.

“am i better than him?” harry murmured against your neck. the question caught you off guard. he’d only known one other person you’d had a sexual relationship with since you two became friends and that was a sound tech from one of his old touring groups that you had a small fling with. him and harry never got along and harry even accused him of purposely messing his sound up during a performance once. harry has walked in on you giving him head in your dressing room once and it was incredibly awkward but you both moved past it.

“who are you talking about?”

“you know, that arsehole sound tech from the american tour. do i kiss you better than him?” you could hear the layers to his voice- he was asking with a confidence that you felt straight in your core, but there was another layer to it- insecurity.

“god yes,” you gushed, he had to at least know how he physically made you feel even if you can’t admit your feelings, “you kiss far better then he ever could.”

an idea came into your head at this, “in fact, i bet you’ll feel better in my mouth then he did.” harry jaw slacks slightly and you give him a shy smile. talking like this wasn’t something you ever tried when you were having sex, but harry made you want to be honest. it was the closest you could get to confessing your love to him, and you’d take what you could get from harry right now. stunned into silence, you continue to undress harry, removing his vest to expose his lean stomach and small trail of hair from his belly button, that you kissed all the way down. he let out a sharp breath as soon as you got to the top of his pubic bone, and you finally noticed just how hard harry already was. with a little fascination, you dared to take it to the next level and cupped his length through his trousers, causing harry to groan at the contact. he felt big in your small hand, you couldn’t wait to reveal him, impatiently struggling with his zipper.

“woah, y/n, slow down,” harry puts a finger under your chin and you look up under your lash at him, knelt below him. his smile is a classic harry smile and for a brief second this feels like more than a casual fuck.

“you’re still wearing too much clothing.” harry bends slightly to get to the bottom of your shirt and speedily pulls it over your head, revealing your black cotton bralet and tights. harry’s mouth watered at the sight of you in nothing but your underwear and boots, your long hair falling in messy waves around your minimally tattooed arms. your sure your black eyeliner is smudged and your gloss practically jin existent but harry’s eyes make you feel like he wants nothing more then to fuck you.

“that’s much better,” he smiles again at you, and you take that as a good cue to continue on his member. eagerly, your hands go straight back to his flies, rapidly undoing them and letting his loose fit trousers fall from his hips, exposing his form fitted boxers and you get a much better idea of just how big harry’s cock really was. without realising you mumble, “i want you in my mouth so bad,” under your breath.

“fuck say that again.”

looking under your lashes again, you repeat, “i want your cock in my mouth so bad.” harry groans as his eyes roll back, his words almost being enough without your touch. but your hand still went back to his dick, pulling it out from the restraint of his boxers. it was thick and bigger then you had been with before. without missing a beat, your hand pumped him a few times, and his hips reacted instantly. as if beckoning for your lips to surround his cock, his hips thrust towards you again, and you obliged, licking and then parting your wetted lips for the head of his dick. the pre-cum touched your tongue and it urged you to take more of him further, swiping your tongue on the underside as you push more in. harry moans, gripping your scruffy hair in his large hand, and had to restrain from pushing your mouth around his whole length. as your mouth got acquainted with him, you started to move up and down the length, as harry’s moans got higher and louder.

“y/n your mouth is fucking magic.” the praise went straight to your clit and your underwear was dampening at the knowledge of the dirty things your mouth was doing.

“can you- fuck- can you grab my balls?” you responded immediately and cupped them lightly whilst continuing to bob your head on his cock.

“didn’t know you could you use your mouth for such dirty things, y/n. do i fill you better then he did?”his jealousy fuelled you to go even quicker, this time switching up to concentrating on his swollen head, your tongue lapping against it feverishly, whilst your hand pumped the rest of him. the combination of your hand and mouth was enough to drive harry insane.

“you do so good y/n, i’m gonna cum soon okay?” you release him from your mouth, and keep stroking him, eager for him to orgasm. you couldn’t describe the desperation you had to see the way he looked as he climaxed. if you were to die after this, you knew you would die happy, if only to have seen harry in that state of euphoria that only you could bring him to.

“fuck y/n i’m gonna cum,” harry pants, his thighs tensing and his eyes glazing over. you aim him over your chest and feel his load fall all over your breasts, soaking your bralet as he lets out a breathy moan. his breathes are loud and aside from the fire crackling are the only noise filling the space of the living room. you let his now soft cock go and fall back onto the sofa, too tired to think about all of what just happened, the only thought on your mind is of harry’s moans on repeat. your chest is sticky but you’re too exhausted to care. harry has slowly crept over to sit next to you on the sofa, and you’re unspokenly thankful he hasn’t distanced himself afterwards.

“i need to clean you up.” harry disappears as quickly as he arrived and comes back with a warm flannel. wiping your chest, you watch his face as his brows furrow delicately on his forehead and his mouth is slightly crooked in concentration. you loved every single portion of his face, and suddenly it meant something different. you had seen his face at it’s most real and vulnerable and you had that memory forever.

unfortunately moments like the one you and harry had finally shared don’t last forever, and once harry’s done wiping your  breasts off, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, grabs his clothes and leaves you on the sofa.

[sweeethinny]

16 for the sentence starter pls :) only if u feel like it tho

I LOVE making family moments, maybe because I just love being with my family, and my best friends are my sibilings

and I clearly love boats

two people asked for #16 (this list) so I made the fluff for this one, I hope you like it <3 thank u for sending

#16:  “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

"Do you think the moon is jealous of how beautiful you are?" Harry whispered in his wife's ear, kissing the tender spot behind her ear and then kissing on the mouth when Ginny turned away and captured his lips.

‘’You are the most romantic guy I know’’ She smiled beautifully as they parted, her hands still holding his face, as if to prolong the moment of euphoria

''I do my best'' He admitted turning her around, making them face each other ''Are you happy?’’ Her brown eyes shone in the light of the full moon, her freckles looking duplicated after several days in the sun, the wind beating with which her short hair was slightly tousled, but Harry never stopped finding her perfect.

‘‘Absolutely’’ Ginny wrapped her hands around his neck. Resting hands on Harry's neck, nails scraping his sensitive skin and making goosebumps ''I'm glad you and James are impulsive and have decided to buy a boat'' She looked around, the water reflecting gracefully clear the sky, some birds flying in search of a good dinner, the noise of the children laughing at something Teddy had done on the other side of the boat, while they tried, and failed, to catch a fish.

‘’You were not so happy when we told you’’ He recalled, laughing at the memory of Ginny and Albus saying that James and Harry were crazy about making the purchase;

‘’But mom, it’s beautiful!” The son said, showing the photo from the magazine and pointing ''And dad wanted to give your name to her'' Harry laughed at his attempt to make his mother go soft, looking at her piously ''Dad?’' James looked at him, kind of pleading while nodding at Albus and Ginny, still unconvinced

"Everyone will love it," Harry assured her, smiling at his daughter who looked super excited, snatching the magazine sheet from her mother's hands and looking hopeful. ‘’It will be good for travel, and it’s magically tuned to fit all Weasley’s, which is even better’’ James nodded, happy with that argument

''James was right, it's beautiful'' She sighed, laying her head on her husband's chest and feeling at home, even though they were at sea many miles away from the city. Harry would always be her home.

‘’No more than you’’ Ginny laughed, beating the man in the chest and looking at him with a frown

''Stop saying ready words, you know you're going to have me naked before you close the bedroom door'' This time it was Harry who laughed, looking over his shoulder towards the children to check if everyone was distracted before speaking something. As much as they were already 23,17,15 and 13 years old and, as Merlin protected them, Teddy and James had already made it clear that they knew what sex was (Albus never said anything, but Harry had given him the talk, so, his mind was calm. And Lily was Ginny's job.), they never liked it when their parents talked about it. Especially if it was about them having sex.

‘’But it’s never too much to reinforce. Having sex on a boat is totally different. Do you think we managed to sneak around like teenagers and have sex up here?'' Ginny shrugged, biting her red-painted lip as she watched the four children (they would always be, for them) argue over whether or not it was trickery to use magic to to fish

‘’We can lock them down until everything is ready’’ Harry smiled, happier than ever ‘’They will definitely sleep through the night anyway. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Albus swim so much in life’’ He nodded at the memory of his son betting who would go further with Lily, who narrowly won

"Is that a yes, then?" He pulled her closer, feeling the soft shorts she wore and then the bare skin of her thick thighs, as well as the skin of her belly, as Ginny still wore the beautiful bikini white that made her breasts look too dazzling - which resulted in them having a quickie in the bathroom.

‘’It’s always a yes when it comes to having sex with you’’ Before Harry could do anything, they were interrupted

‘’Ewwww !!! Don't say that word when we're all here!” Albus grunted loudly and irritated, with what appeared to be a fish in his hands ‘’This is disrespectful’’ Now all three others were paying attention to them, with a frown on their faces

‘’What do you want, Al?’’ Ginny still seemed to want to laugh, but kept her face serious, and Harry tried his best not to show his disappointment at having to walk away from his wife

‘’I would call you to dinner, but now, my appetite has passed’’ James got up quickly from where he was, running over to his brother and taking the fish from his hands, very determined

‘’If your hunger is over, good, because ours isn’t’’ Teddy nodded from afar, pulling another fish with the fishing rod that looked bewitched, placing it in a bucket full of water. ‘’Now, can the couple stop talking obscenities for a moment at least? Aren't three kids enough already?’’ Harry shrugged, putting his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulling her close again

''I thought you already understood that it's not always to procreate'' James and Albus gaped, while Lily feigned a retching next to Teddy who was laughing out loud, causing the new fish in his hand to escape and return to the sea

‘’This is disgusting, I think I’m going to throw myself out to sea right now’’ The older one left, followed by the other brother, who looked like he was about to ask Teddy to obliviate him. Harry joined Ginny in laughter, happy that he might have a chance to cause this discontent in his children. It was always the best time.

‘’Are you happy?’’ She asked him, looking at the children and then at him, lacing her fingers in hims and kissing the wedding ring that would never leave his finger

''I have never been happier than when I am at home'' Even if his children bothered him, or if he needed to deal with his children's amorous disappointments (which were not few), and eventually they fought because there were so many nerves on, Harry would never trade his life with anyone else. He would still do everything the same.

‘‘We’re not home’’ Harry shrugged, kissing Gin’s forehead and smiling at her

''Wherever you are, it's my home.'' The woman blushed furiously, but rolled her eyes and laughed, because she was still his Ginny and would never miss the chance to laugh at his silly face in love, even if with almost 20 years of marriage and many declarations of love along the way.

‘‘Shut up’‘

[supernatural---imagines]

She’s Not You- Part 1 (Dean Imagine)

Hello! I love ur stories! I was wondering if you could write one where dean had a girlfriend and was very sweet to her like really touchy feely (forehead kisses, hugs from behind, hand holding, cute nicknames like baby, sweetheart,etc.) then they broke up and now dean is with the reader except dean never does any of the cute things to the reader and the reader notices, gets upset and confronts Dean about it. Make it fluffy pls with a bit of angst. Thank you!!

I like this request, i’ve put it into two parts.. the first part is the reader having a massive crush on dean and watching him flaunt his girlfriend and the second part will be set in the future from this one. Hope that’s ok because it would’ve been a really long story to put into one. I also got this one done super quick since its my only recent request.

Three beer bottles clinked together as you toasted to yourselves, congratulating each other on the very tough but successful hunt. You, Sam and Dean had stumbled upon the same case, 2 rogue warewolves targeting a town in Arizona. You had met Sam and Dean before on hunts, and your dads knew each other back in the day, you guys had got history. So meeting them on the hunt was a pleasant surprise, and god knows that you were going to win this one with America’s best hunters covering your back. 

“Thanks for working with me these past few days guys, it’s been fun.” You thanked the boys.

“Aside from my broken finger, yeah it has been” Sam smiled. 

“Look it’s no secret we don’t work with many hunters, but anytime you are in trouble y/n, you call me or Sam and we will come.” Dean said. 

You smiled and thanked them once more, stopping the waitress and ordering three shots. A smile beaming across Dean’s face when he sees them coming. 

“Lets get this party started” He chuckled, raising his shot glass up to yours and Sam’s and toasting once more. 

About 30 minutes later, the bar door opening caught Dean’s attention when he saw who walked through it. He rushed up off his seat to greet this woman. She was short, tan skin, bouncy brown hair, and a cute smiled painted on her face. Dean scooped her up in a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and squeezing a giggle out of her before he put her back down, and kissing her passionately.

You would be lying to yourself if you said this didn’t bother you. From the first time you met Dean when you were teenagers, a crush was born. He was an amazing looking man, so family orientated, hilarious, caring. Everything you’d like in a man. He even kissed you once when your Dad left you at John’s hideout at the time so they could hunt together. You think about him now and again, and when you hunt together it’s hard to keep your feelings at bay. 

He laced his fingers with the woman and led her over over to your table, ordering her a gin and tonic as she introduced herself to you. You spent a lot of the night speaking to Sam as Dean and his girlfriend Casey were so wrapped up in each other. When Sam went to get drinks, and Dean went to the bathroom, you were forced to converse with Casey. It was difficult to try to pretend to be happy for her when you were so into Dean, but you stated to chat through gritted teeth.

“How long have you known Dean then?” You asked about the only thing you two had in common. She didn’t seem that keen on speaking to you either, you weren’t sure why, you thought you hid your crush on her boyfriend quite well. 

“We’ve known each other for a while, he passed through about 8 months ago, came back around 2 months later, left and came back a month later, and then about 4 months ago we decided to get into a relationship. How about you?”

“Oh.. since we were kids.” You answered. Her expression changed to a confused one, maybe Dean had told her another story.

The boys returned, Sam bringing drinks and Dean bringing a bit too much PDA. He kissed his girlfriends neck from behind, provoking a gagging sound from Sam which made him stop. You laughed with Sam, putting your hand on his shoulder and bowing your head down as he continued to make fun of the couple which had you cracking up. Dean’s face dropped when he saw you touching Sam, and his mood changed. 

The party went back to your hotel room, which was just across the way from Sam and Dean’s motel. You had just scored a brand new credit card so we’re treating yourself to a bit of luxury. Casey had gotten a taxi home as she didn’t want to drink anymore with work in the morning, so it was just the three of you. 

“How’d you swing a nice joint like this? We’ve not been able to get a credit card for months now they’re so much more strict on who they give them out to these days.” Sam said.

“Yeah we’re in a smelly room across the way which has more cockroaches in it than guests.” Dean said with a disgusted look, remembering how awful his room was. 

“I’ll help you get one tomorrow but not right now i’m too drunk” you confessed. 

“Yeah, me too. I’m heading back to the room now. Dean, you coming?” Sam asked.

“No i’m trying to stay out of Casa de Cockroach as long as possible. I’ll hang out here for a bit longer if that’s ok with y/n” You smiled and nodded at Dean giving him permission to stay in your suite a bit longer.

You said your goodbyes to Sam and you and Dean walked him down to the lobby. You pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek before he set off down the road to his motel. You and Dean headed back up to the room, drunkenly deciding it would be fun to race up the stairs. You stormed up, the noise representing a heard of elephants, most definitely disturbing residents. You slipped and skidded on your stomach down about four steps. You lay in the middle of the set of stairs where you had stopped, Dean turned around and almost fell over laughing. You tried to stand up, but fell down once more which left you both crying with laughter. Dean got you and flung you over his shoulder, carrying you the rest of the way and when reaching your room he dumped you on to the bed. At this point you couldn’t breathe from laughing, and neither could he. He threw himself on to the bed and lay beside you while the both of you eventually settled down. 

You both sat up, Dean grabbing more whiskey from the night stand and handing you a glass. 

“So.. are you into my little brother then?” He asked, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“What?!” You yelled, a little too loud.

“I seen you holding on to his shoulder in the bar, kissing him when he just left” Dean took a swig of his drink to hid any emotion that may be showing on his face.

“No way. Hes a great man but.. not my type. At all.” You laughed at the thought of you and Sam together. The room got quiet and Dean stared at you, words playing on his lips but he couldn’t quite manage to get them out. 

“What?” You prompted him.

“I got to admit, seeing you touch Sam it made me a little jealous.” He confessed. What? How could he be jealous? He had a  beautiful girlfriend who he was all over all night. He had the nerve to be jealous when seeing him with her was killing you inside. 

“Why? You have Casey” 

“I’ve been crushing on you since we were kids y/n. I know i’ve got her, but she’s not you.” 

You couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. Your heart started pounding against your chest, a thousand thoughts running through your head. Dean searched your face for answers, looking for a response that you wouldn’t give him verbally. You necked back your whiskey to give you the courage for what you were about to do. You set the glass on your bed, and crawled on your hands and knees to Dean. You grabbed his shirt to bring you up to his level, and kissed him. He instantly reciprocated, grabbing your neck and deepening the kiss. He threw you down on the the bed and began kissing your neck, his hands tracing over your  breasts through your shirt. You rolled over on top of him, that’s when the whiskey glass fell off the bed and smashed, startling Dean. He scrambled off the bed and fixed his flannel that had fallen off his shoulders. 

“I can’t” He grabbed his jacket, apologised and left the room. Your head fell into your hands out of embarrassment and shame. You should never have tried to get with a man in a relationship. You should never have thrown yourself at Dean, and lose the friendship of the Winchesters forever. 

You cleaned up the mess of the smashed glass and slumped down in the arm chair, drinking the whiskey from the bottle for around 10 minutes before a knock on the door interrupted you. You took out your hand gun and opened the door slowly, relaxing when you saw who it was. 

“Dean” You breathed with a smile, the hunter then pushed the door wide open, and lifted you off your feet, pressing your back against the wall while smashing his lips into yours, melting into quite possibly the best kiss of your life.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day One - When in Vegas

Prompt: future!au

It’s cutting it close, but here is my first contribution to @spideychellemonth! I’m gonna try my darndest to keep up, but I’m so excited for this guys!! 

This is potentially going to be multi-chapter, mostly because it was getting too long and I was having just TOO MANY IDEAS lmao Let me know what y’all think! This is also based off of an idea an anon sent me a week or so ago about a marriage pact!AU that i just LOVED the idea for 

Basically, the 1.7k Waking Up Married in Vegas!AU nobody asked for pls enjoy! <3

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Fuck.

It’s the first semi-coherent thought that pops into MJ’s head as she’s dragged into a sluggish state that can barely be described as consciousness. Her eyes, feeling as if they might fall right out of her skull, squeeze shut in an effort to stop the sun’s merciless assault. The groan that leaves her mouth as she turns away from the window is almost inhuman, her tongue heavy and dry, throat feeling as if she’d just swallowed barbed wire. If she moves too much, she’s sure whatever concoction of last night’s activities currently residing in her stomach are going to end up on the floor. 

Three gin and tonics, two vanilla screwdrivers, and a few too many—who was counting, really?—shots of tequila seemed like an okay idea last night, at least past-MJ thought. 

That was a problem for future-MJ.

Future-MJ hates past-MJ.

It was true, it was all true, she reflects as her stomach gurgles violently, lurching into the back of her throat. 

It’s a simple explanation, really.

Over time, the enzymes required to metabolize all that booze have started to weaken, no longer breaking down toxins with the same vigor, leaving the elusive acetaldehyde to roam free. 

In other words, she’s thirty.

Gone were the glory days where she could drink the night away and wake up with just a mild headache. The days where she could have as many different cocktails as her heart desired and not wake up feeling like death itself. The days where she could drink just one glass of pinot noir and not feel like an angry bull is stomping on his hippocampus.

But it had been Ned’s 30th, one of her best friends since high school, a real cause for celebration. They were in Vegas, for crying out loud. Sin City. What was she supposed to do?

Not drink?

(Well, yeah. That would have been ideal.)

But where was the fun in that?

Her hand brushes across her bare stomach, and she realizes with a small start that she’s naked. 

She’s not sure if she’s ever been more confused.

Come to think of it, she’s not sure she even knows what happened last night. There’s flashes, very brief flashes of club music, Grey Goose, way too much glitter, and a lot of highly questionable, dumbass financial decisions involving slot machines and poker games.

She’s pretty sure she’s still alive, about 62%, but she’s also fairly certain that her brain has been replaced with cotton and sewing needles. An ache that starts right around her knees shoots up her spine, radiating throughout her body as she pulls the blanket tighter around her and buries her puffy face into the pillow.

When she realizes that any chance of sleep is gone for good, and that she can’t just will this splitting headache away with her own mind, she cracks an eye open. She immediately regrets that decision as soon as the harsh sunlight hits, shaking her head, throwing her arm out in some kind of half-assed effort to fight it off. 

Her heart nearly stops when her hand hits something soft and warm next to her. She yanks her hand back, eyes shooting open to see someone—a man—face down in the mattress, head of chocolate brown waves turned away from her. A rather uncalled for heat swarms her body as her gaze drifts to his exposed back and lingers on the taut muscles there, drifting lower, the thin stop-sheet just barely covering the curve of his—

What the hell happened last night?

But dread starts to mix with the nausea gripping at her stomach as she realizes something about the naked mystery man in her bed.

She knows that curly mop of brown hair.

Immediately, she shoots up from the bed, gripping the sheet against her chest. 

A big mistake.

The nausea finally wins the battle, and she runs to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up as she empties the toxic contents of her stomach into the toilet. 

It’s a wonder Peter doesn’t wake up from her violent retching. 

She forces out a harsh exhale as she flushes down the remnants of her night out, hand reaching out to grip the bathroom counter as she rises on shaky legs. She grabs the complimentary bathrobe—how fancy—and shrugs it on before turning to the sink to splash ice cold water onto her face. 

And that’s when she sees it. 

The gaudy, cheap, obviously fake rock sitting smugly on her left ring finger, staring right back at her slack-jawed expression. 

What the fuck?!

It all comes back to her. 

They’d been so, so incredibly dumb. 

Both of them.

Peter looks stupid good.

He always has, of course, she wasn’t blind. 

But his late-twenties seemed to have been incredibly kind to him. He still had that boyish charm she’d always secretly liked, but now… now there was just something about him, standing under these neon casino lights, wearing a plain black suit with a white tee underneath, that brought back years and years of repressed high school feelings. 

Mutual feelings that neither of them ever acted on. Only joked about.

They would never have worked as a couple, they’d always say.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

So they both moved on. It was high school. They still had the rest of their lives ahead of them. 

Plus, the risk of ruining their solid friendship was just too great. 

So why, after nearly twelve years, is she having to actively fight back the stupid fluttering of butterflies when he so much as glanced in her general direction? 

It makes no sense. 

It isn’t like they haven’t seen each other since high school. Yeah, it’s been a few months since they last caught up, both of them being too busy with work and the like, but...

They were still friends—best friends, even.

She blames it on the second gin and tonic.

Yes, it’s the warm buzz of the alcohol running through her body that’s making her feel like she’s pretty damn close to walking on air. 

And she chases that feeling, returning again and again to the bar—sometimes with Peter, himself—giving up on actually counting her drinks after the first shot of tequila. 

Tequila was clearly not her friend in this case.

It could also have been the fact that she’s freshly single and she’s had to witness Ned and, now fiancèe Betty, making googly eyes at each other one too many times, and it’s entirely possible that she’s just feeling that creeping loneliness she’d tried so hard to stamp down.

She doesn’t know how they get here, maybe it’s somewhere between her second shot and her first screwdriver, but they’re alone in a booth in the corner. For the first time in a while, her liquid courage doesn’t help stave off the pressure of trying to come up with something cool to say, and she feels, once again, like she’s back in high school. 

It’s an incredibly frustrating feeling.

Peter ducks as he sees Ned looking for him, MJ snickering as she watches the whole ordeal. Ned’s drunkenly leading this poor, unassuming casino patron around, glancing around frantically as he wanders from room to room.

Odds are it’s just another person to try and hook Peter up with. 

Ned means well, he truly does, but frankly, Peter’s a little tired of the constant matchmaking. Yes, he’s been the perpetually single friend for a number of years now, but he seemed to be pretty content on his own.

And plus, he and MJ are having a pretty good time by themselves.

He doesn’t need anyone else.

“But, Pete,” MJ starts, words slurring ever-so-slightly, tone laced with sarcasm. “Everyone knows that being single in your thirties is one of the most shameful things in existence. It’s barbaric. You need to settle down, before it’s too late.”

He throws his head back, letting out an exaggerated laugh. “You’re right. My good years are gone.” 

She tsks, shaking her head. “Past your prime.”

“I’ve truly peaked.” He tips his glass to her, before taking a drink.

A smirk tugs at her lips. “What will you do now?”

“Well...” He laughs lightly, casually stirring the glass in his hand. He looks up at her, eyes glazed over, tilting his head as he fixes her with a fond, teasing smile. “We still have that pact.”

Ah, yes. 

The pact. 

The pact that they’d made—as a joke—when they were sixteen. 

It was simple.

If they were both single at thirty, they’d get married. 

That was the deal.

They even shook on it. 

But, official as that simple handshake was at the time for two hormonal teenagers, it wasn’t something that was ever in any universe supposed to be taken seriously.

Maybe it was just a ring, though. Maybe they didn’t get actually, legitimately, legally get married. They couldn’t have been that dumb. 

Or maybe this was some sick hangover hallucination her brain made up as punishment for drinking too much. 

The rest of the night is a blur, brief glimpses of drunken giggles, his hand in hers flashing through her mind. She vaguely remembers going somewhere outside the casino with him, stumbling through the streets as they pull each other along, bright lights dancing above them. 

Balloons everywhere. 

A corny chapel. 

A Tony Stark impersonator. 

Her expression is oddly calm, a contrast to the utter horror she feels in her gut as she stares at the sparkling ring on her finger. 

This isn’t that bad, she thinks. This can all be over in a matter of hours. 

An annulment was easy, right?

Right?

It’s not like they had sex or anything—

Wait, no, fuck, they did. 

Did they…?

Again, the later part of the night is fuzzy.

Another wave of nausea crashes into her before she has a chance to be confused, and in an instant, she’s hunched over the toilet again. 

And it’s while she’s puking her guts out, while she’s praying that the naked guy in her bed stays asleep where he’s supposed to be, does a boxer-clad-Peter step into the bathroom. He looks almost as wrecked as she is, his hair in wild disarray, bags under his eyes giving Gollum a run for his money. 

He hesitates, knocking gently on the doorframe. “MJ—?” At first, he looks as though he’s about to ask her why she’s in his hotel room, but his expression crumples into one of worry when he sees how sick she is. “Are you okay?”

She scoffs and gives him a weak glance over her shoulder, ready to throw a biting, sarcastic remark back at him, when she sees the way the color drains from his face.

He’s frozen in place, eyes wide, and she hesitantly follows his gaze, right onto that big, fake diamond on her finger. 

Fuck.