#harry styles playful angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justlemmeadoreyou · 10 months ago

Text

rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x

nerd!y/n)

summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining

words: 6.1k

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.

Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"

There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends.

"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.

Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."

A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.

"What's the project, Millers?"

The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."

Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings.

"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."

Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.

"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.

"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.

"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."

Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."

Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.

The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.

"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"

Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."

He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."

Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.

"Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."

Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."

"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."

With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.

Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.

Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap."

And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.

"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing.

"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."

Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"

Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."

The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?

Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.

And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.

At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained.

On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.

"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar.

The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.

The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.

At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.

The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.

"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.

Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."

Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.

For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.

At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.

There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.

"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat.

They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."

A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.

Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves.

As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.

In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.

Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"

Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.

Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.

Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.

"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."

Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."

While on Y/N's end...

"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.

"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."

Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...

"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."

That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.

***

Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.

The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.

"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.

The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.

As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.

"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators.

The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.

Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.

"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."

"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."

A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.

***

Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.

"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.

Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."

"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."

Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.

A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.

"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.

The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."

"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.

Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.

"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"

"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.

"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."

Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.

"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.

That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.

"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.

"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.

A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.

"Why?"

Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"

"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"

Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.

"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"

"That's not what I-"

"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo.

He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"

"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.

A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.

After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"

Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.

"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"

She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."

Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.

"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."

She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"

The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.

Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.

"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.

"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.

"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."

Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.

"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?

Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.

"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.

"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"

It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.

"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."

A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.

They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.

"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.

Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more. It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.

Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.

"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."

Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.

Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away... "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"

Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.

"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"

Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.

"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.

The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.

She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

feedback | masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton @youcan-nolonger-run @prettythingsworld @chesthairrry @harryhitties @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @hisparentsgallerryy @storyschanging @selluequestrian @islakp217 @swiftmendeshoran @princessaxoxo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hermoinelove @chronicallybubbly @angeldavis777

2K notes · View notes

unabashegirl · 5 months ago

Text

Fragments — one shot

Harry runs into Y/N in Japan. She is his ex and she is seeking closure.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well. Here is this week's one shot! I hope you enjoy it. LOTS OF ANGST! The second part will get posted tomorrow.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots and much more :)

Please note that everything that is both underlined and italicized is from the past—they are flashbacks!

word count 3.9K

----------------------------------------

As the sun began its descent in the late afternoon sky, Shiba Park in Tokyo was bathed in a gentle, golden light. The cherry blossoms, just beginning to bloom, added a delicate touch of pink to the scene, signaling the early days of spring. The air was crisp but not cold, filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and fresh grass.

Harry Styles, hoping to escape the relentless pace of his life, walked through the park with a coffee in hand. Dressed casually, he blended in with the locals, his trademark curls tucked under a beanie and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The sounds of children playing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of the city created a peaceful backdrop.

As Harry roamed along the winding paths, taking in the serene beauty of the park, his attention was drawn to a familiar figure sitting on the grass. It was Y/N, his ex-girlfriend, enjoying a solitary picnic. A blanket was spread out before her, adorned with an assortment of snacks and a book lying open beside her. She seemed lost in her own world, her face relaxed and serene.

Two years had passed since their breakup, a period marked by unresolved tensions and painful memories. Seeing Y/N unexpectedly stirred a mix of emotions within Harry. He paused, torn between the urge to approach and the instinct to keep his distance. The years apart had softened some of the bitterness, but the wounds were still there, just beneath the surface.

Y/N, sensing someone's gaze, looked up and their eyes met. For a moment, time stood still. The park faded away, and all that existed was the shared history and unspoken words between them. Harry's heart raced, and he wondered if the universe was giving them a chance to get some closure or if it was sick joke.

Harry's breath hitched slightly as he stood there, unsure of what to do next. His mind raced with memories of their past together—the good times, the laughter, the fights, and ultimately, the heartbreak. He took a tentative step forward, then stopped. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed to be caught in a similar turmoil. Her eyes, which had initially shown surprise, softened as she looked at him, but there was also a hint of uncertainty.

The sounds of the park seemed to fade into the background as they continued to hold each other’s gaze. Finally, Harry took another step forward and then another until he was standing a few feet away from her. He hesitated, then managed a small, tentative smile.

“I thought Japan was my territory and off limits for you” he said, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

“Didn’t realize that we still had divided territories. Weren’t you in Italy a few weeks ago?” she replied, a playful tone in her voice, but her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. She shifted slightly on the blanket, making room as if inviting him to sit.

He took the invitation, lowering himself onto the grass beside her. For a few moments, they sat in silence, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and distant laughter from other park visitors. Harry took a sip of his coffee, searching for the right words.

"Point taken," he said with a knowing smile, aware that Italy held a special place in her heart. Perhaps that's why he found himself spending most of his free time there—chasing her and the memories they had once shared. Italy had become one of refuge, a place where he could feel closer to her, even if she was no longer by his side.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," he finally said, glancing at her.

"I didn’t expect to see you either," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips. "How have you been?"

He nodded, looking down at his coffee cup. "I've been... busy. Touring, recording, the usual. What about you?"

“Good. Nothing unusual” she said, her gaze drifting to the cherry blossoms. "Life's been quiet, but good.”

"How long are you staying?"

"A month."

"You finally took those vacations," he smiled warmly, fully aware of how much she had dreamed of this much-needed break. The thought of her taking time for herself brought a sense of relief—he had always wanted her to prioritize her well-being, even if their paths had diverged.

Y/N nodded, a grateful expression softening her features. "Yes, finally," she replied, a hint of exhaustion tinged with excitement in her voice. "I needed this more than I realized."

Harry looked at her, noticing the subtle signs of weariness that hinted at the weight she had been carrying. "I'm glad you're giving yourself this time," he said sincerely. "You deserve it."

As they sat on the grass, Y/N suddenly glanced at her watch and then back at Harry, her expression shifting. "I need to get going," she said softly, her voice tinged with reluctance.

Harry looked at her, concern etching his features. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I have stuff to do."

Harry felt a pang of disappointment but tried to hide it. "I get it," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “Let me walk you out?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure”.

They stood up together, brushing off their clothes. As they walked side by side through the park, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their path. The silence between them was comfortable, though charged with unspoken words and hidden feelings.

Y/N looked at him momentarily and she felt like she was in the dream. Like in one of the numerous dreams that she had when they had just broken up.

As they neared the exit, Harry felt a growing sense of urgency. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. The thought of not seeing her again gnawed at him, so he took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Y/N glanced at him, sensing the hesitation in his voice. "I’m not sure yet."

Harry's heart raced as he quickly blurted out, "I’m taking a course on making sushi in the afternoon, and in the evening, I was invited to an art exhibition. Would you like to come with me?"

He winced slightly, realizing how rushed and jumbled his words had sounded. But to his relief, Y/N seemed to understand him perfectly. She hesitated, clearly taken aback by the suddenness of the invitation. Her mind raced with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to decline, to remind herself of the pain that still lingered from their past. Yet another part of her, the part that still held onto the connection they once shared, was tempted to say yes.

She looked at him, trying to gauge his intentions. It wasn’t lost on her how much effort he was putting into this, how much he seemed to want to bridge the gap between them. But she also knew that accepting would mean opening old wounds, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

Deep down, she felt a strong need for closure. She deserved at least that from him—an explanation for everything that had happened in those last few months. The questions that had haunted her, the confusion that lingered, all demanded answers. And as much as she wanted to protect herself from further pain, she knew that without closure, she would never truly be able to move on.

She took a deep breath, her mind racing as she weighed her options. Harry’s invitation felt like an opportunity—a chance to finally confront the unresolved issues between them, to hear his side of the story, and maybe even to find some peace.

“Okay,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I’ll go”.

Harry’s eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and relief. “Really?”

She nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah”. she agreed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Harry nodded, his smile growing. “I’ll pick you up”.

“Sounds good” She gave him a small nod.

As Y/N walked away, a surprising sense of calm washed over her. She returned to the charming Airbnb she had rented, a place that had captivated her with its traditional decor and tranquil Japanese garden. This trip had been a rare indulgence—she never took vacations, so she had splurged on a stay that offered peace and serenity. Running into Harry had been the last thing she expected, a twist she hadn’t anticipated.

Once back, Y/N found herself reaching for the bottle of wine she had been saving for her last night in Japan. She poured herself a generous glass, savoring the rich aroma, and then slid open one of the doors that led to the garden. Sitting on the edge, she let her gaze drift over the carefully tended landscape, the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze soothing her nerves.

As she sipped her wine, memories flooded back—how it all began with Harry, how blissfully happy they had been during those first two years. The laughter, the shared dreams, the moments that had once made her heart soar.

Y/N rushed through the crowded streets, her phone cradle between her ear and shoulder as she fumbled with bags. She was late, as usual, and in the midst of her hurried pace, she decided to call her coworker to confirm a meeting time.

Without looking too closely, she scrolled through her contacts and dialed the number of her coworker. The phone rang twice before a voice answered on the other end.

“Hello?” a deep, distinctly British voice said.

“Hey, I’m running a bit late,” Y/N said not bothering with pleasantries. “But I’m almost there, so don’t leave without me, okay?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Um, I think you might have the wrong number, love,” the voice replied, amusement clear in the tone.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. That wasn’t her coworker’s voice. Realization hit her like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out, her face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I thought I was calling someone else!”

The man on the other end chuckled, a warm, easy sound that somehow made her feel even more flustered. “It’s not every day I get a call like this. I’m amused”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could disappear into thin air. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, feeling like a complete idiot. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Don’t hang up just yet” He assured her, his voice still light with humor. “I’m a bit curious now. Who were you trying to call?”

“My coworker,” she replied, still mortified. “We were supposed to meet for a presentation, and I’m runnin —”

Suddenly, the call cut off, the connection lost as she moved through a spotty area of service. She stared at her phone in disbelief, her face heating up with a mix of mortification and frustration.

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen, but she couldn’t bring herself to redial. It had been a mistake, after all. He probably didn’t think twice about it, she told herself, brushing off the encounter as nothing more than a fleeting moment of awkwardness.

Little did she know, the brief exchange would leave a lasting impression on him. The first track on his next album would be inspired by that stranger’s call, and it would become a hit record.

The next day, as they strolled through the bustling streets of Japan, Harry noticed the silence that had settled between them. The vibrant surroundings seemed to contrast with the quiet tension that hung in the air. He glanced over at Y/N, who was lost in thought, her expression distant.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Harry remarked gently, breaking the silence. His tone was soft, tinged with concern as he searched her face for any sign of what might be on her mind.

Y/N looked up, startled out of her thoughts. She offered him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Just taking it all in,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual too, as if she were trying to keep something at bay.

Harry nodded, but he could tell there was more to it. There was a weight in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a heaviness that seemed to grow with each step they took closer to the restaurant he had reserved for their private cooking lesson.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” Harry said, sensing the tension that lingered between them. He wanted to clear the air, to ease the unease that seemed to hang over them, but he knew that doing so would mean opening Pandora’s box—revealing a lot of things he wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

Harry’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want to make things more difficult, but the weight of unspoken questions pressed down on her, demanding to be acknowledged.

“Harry,” she began, her voice trembling slightly as she forced herself to continue, “what went wrong?”.

The question hung there, raw and exposed, cutting through the fragile peace they had tried to maintain. Harry’s steps faltered, his breath catching as he turned to face her, the streets of Japan fading into the background.

“Y/N��” he started, but his voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the right words. Or maybe he was afraid of them.

She looked into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, an apology, anything that could make sense of the pain that had consumed her in the months after their breakup. “We used to be happy until those last few months,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s chest tightened as memories of their past came rushing back. He could see it all so clearly—the late-night conversations that stretched into the early morning, the spontaneous trips, the way she used to look at him with so much love in her eyes. It was all there, and it hurt to think about how they had lost it.

Y/N stood outside the studio, her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned against the wall, trying to stay out of sight. She had only been dating Harry for a few weeks, and everything still felt so new, so fragile. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when she’d arrived at the studio, the sound of his voice singing had stopped her in her tracks.

She could hear him inside, his voice smooth and captivating as he worked through a melody with a small group of people. Y/N knew she should knock, let him know she was there, but something held her back. She was still shy around him, nervous about stepping into his world, a world she felt she was only just beginning to understand.

The music flowed through the walls, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She could hear the passion in Harry’s voice, the way he poured himself into every note. It was mesmerizing, and she found herself leaning closer to the door, not wanting to miss a single word.

She bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she listened. This was Harry in his element, doing what he loved, and she didn’t want to interrupt that. But as much as she loved hearing him sing, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place, like she was intruding on something private.

Just as she was about to quietly slip away, the door to the studio creaked open. One of the musicians stepped out, giving Y/N a polite nod as he passed by. She froze, hoping he hadn’t noticed her lingering there like some awkward fan. But as the door swung wider, Y/N realized with a jolt that Harry was looking directly at her.

He paused mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up with surprise and something else—something warmer. A smile spread across his face, and he excused himself from the group, his gaze never leaving hers as he stepped toward the doorway.

“Hey darlin’” Harry said softly, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and affection. “How long have you been out here?”

Y/N blushed, feeling caught. “Not long,” she lied, glancing down at her shoes. “I didn’t want to interrupt… You sounded amazing, by the way.”

Harry chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “You could’ve come in, you know. I don’t bite,” he teased, but his eyes were gentle, understanding her hesitation.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she admitted, still feeling a bit shy under his gaze.

“Come here. You can never distract me” Harry said, his tone sincere. He reached out, taking her into a tight hug. Harry pulled Y/N into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if he were trying to shield her from the world. She melted into him, her head resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Harry held her close, his hand gently stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. The tension she had felt earlier began to dissolve in the comfort of his embrace, replaced by a sense of peace that only he could bring her. He smelled like a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him, a scent that was both familiar and calming.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, his eyes soft with affection.

“You are staring” She murmured, her voice low and tender. Before she could add anything else, Harry leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to seal his words with reassurance.

The kiss was sweet, filled with a quiet promise that made Y/N’s heart flutter. When he pulled back, he gave her a soft smile, his eyes filled with warmth. Without letting go of her, Harry reached down and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. His grip was firm, yet gentle.

“You tell me,” Harry said, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the tension between them. “You were the one who left.” The bitterness in his tone was undeniable, the memory of that night still raw and vivid in his mind.

Y/N flinched at the harshness in his words, the pain of that night rushing back to her as well. “You still don’t get it? “How hard is to accept the fact that I left you because you didn’t deserve me?”. She shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “You shut me out. You pushed me away until I couldn’t take it”.

Harry’s jaw tightened, the frustration and hurt that had been simmering inside him now boiling over. “I didn’t know how to talk to you,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. “I still don’t know how to talk to you”.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her heart breaking all over again. “You made me feel like I wasn’t enough,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “Like I couldn’t do anything right, and that no matter how hard I tried, I was always going to lose you.”

Harry’s expression softened, the anger in his eyes giving way to regret. “It’s here” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as they arrived at the restaurant.

As they arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere feels almost serene, a stark contrast to the tension that still lingers between them. The restaurant is tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its traditional wooden façade illuminated by soft, warm lights. The sliding door opens as they approach, and they are greeted by the chef, a kind-looking man dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. His warm smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he bows slightly as he welcomes them.

"Welcome," the chef says in a gentle voice, his English tinged with a thick accent. "It is an honor to have you here today."

Harry returns the bow, his hand still lightly resting on Y/N’s back as they step inside. “Thank you for having us,” he replies, his tone respectful.

The chef guides them down a narrow hallway, leading them into a cozy kitchen space at the back of the restaurant. The kitchen is immaculate, with gleaming countertops and neatly arranged utensils. Fresh ingredients are laid out in beautiful wooden bowls, each one perfectly prepared for the lesson ahead. The smell of fresh fish, rice, and various seasonings fills the air, making Y/N’s stomach rumble slightly in anticipation.

The chef turns to them with another smile. “Today, we will be learning the art of sushi,” he says, gesturing to the ingredients. “Please, take an apron.”

Y/N reaches for one of the aprons hanging on a nearby hook, the fabric soft and clean in her hands. She fumbles slightly with the ties, her fingers a bit clumsy as she tries to secure it around her waist. Before she can figure it out, Harry steps forward, his hands gentle as he takes the ties from her.

“Here, let me help,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet warmth that makes her heart skip a beat.

Y/N turns slightly, allowing him to stand behind her. She feels the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck as he carefully ties the apron around her, his fingers brushing against her back in a way that sends shivers down her spine. There’s a tenderness in the way he handles the simple task, a care that speaks volumes, even without words.

“All set,” Harry murmurs, his voice close to her ear. He gives the ties a gentle tug to make sure they’re secure before stepping back, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips.

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, her heart fluttering at the look in his eyes. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice soft as she tries to ignore the way her emotions are threatening to bubble up to the surface.

The chef, oblivious to the silent exchange between them, claps his hands together, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. “Let us begin,” he says with enthusiasm. “I will show you how to prepare the rice, and then we will move on to cutting the fish.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to refocus her mind on the lesson ahead. But even as the chef begins to explain the process, she can’t shake the feeling of Harry’s hands on her, the lingering warmth of his touch a constant reminder of the connection that still exists between them, despite everything that has happened.

Part 2

438 notes · View notes

mountaesan · 3 days ago

Text

mend me, love me ; k. leehan

pairing. bad boy!leehan x nursing student!reader genre. hurt/comfort , pining , fluff , a twinge of angst , set in the 80’s but it’s not rly mentioned and it’s not essential to the plot synopsis. leehan was your first ever patient as well as your most frequent, treating him has always been second nature for you. so when he shows up at your window once again, unannounced, bruised and bleeding, you begin to wish that you could see him in different circumstances word count. 4.1k warnings. kissing , mentions of blood / fighting , one mention of a knife , leehan is injured , probably unrealistic and unsafe medical practices playlist. fallingforyou by the 1975 , meet me in the hallway by harry styles , the night we met by lord huron , like real people do by hozier notes. these two are so precious to me . not proofread

The rain came down in a steady rhythm, a soft patter against the windowpane, threading through the quiet of your room like a soft lullaby. It’s the perfect Friday night. One of those rare evenings where everything feels settled, where there was no unfinished work tugging at the edges of your mind and no looming responsibilities weighing down your shoulders.

The state of your room was pristine, the scent of freshly laundered sheets mingling in the air with the faint herbal aroma of your tea, the steam still curling in the air from where you placed it on your nightstand. The air was cool from the rain, but the warmth of your post-shower skin seeped into the plush comfort of your blankets. It cocooned you in a delicious contrast of warmth and chill.

The dim glow of your desk lamp flickered slightly, its light casting long, slanted shadows across the room. It danced over the neatly stacked textbooks and scattered notes that—for once—weren’t demanding your attention.

With a deep breath, you nestled deeper into the comfort of your mattress, pulling the covers just a little higher as you opened your well-worn copy of Emma in your hands. The spine creaked with familiarity, the pages soft beneath your fingertips, the edges slightly frayed from years of love. You traced your thumb along the words, sinking in the world Austen so carefully crafted; where meddling and misunderstandings unfold within the genteel drawing rooms of Highbury.

The rain continued its ceaseless drumming, a quiet accompaniment to the turning of each page. The weight of the week melted away, dissolving into the hush of the storm and the safety of solitude.

You’re glad to escape the world of responsibility and work; at least for a little while. In this moment, you were free: free to lose yourself in the clever and playful words of Jane Austen, warmed by your tea as you wrapped yourself in the comforting embrace of the quiet, rainy night.

The world outside is distant, softened by the misty glow of streetlights and the gentle patter of raindrops against your window. The steady rhythm soothed you, lulling you deeper into—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Faint at first, barely enough to steal your attention from the pages between your hands. A soft, rhythmic tapping. Your brows furrowed, eyes flicking up from the curling pages of your beloved novel, confusion and caution pricked at your skin.

For a moment, you wondered if it’s just a loose branch from the storm, swaying against the glass. But then, the sound came again, more deliberate this time.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap.

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP—

And then—you saw it.

A face.

Pale against the rain-streaked window, dark eyes peering through the glass and strands of wet hair clinging to sharp cheekbones.

Your breath caught in your throat, a strangled sound escaping before you could stop it. For a long moment, you simply stared, heart hammering against your ribs as you struggled to make sense of what you were seeing.

The golden glow of your desk lamp flickered against the raindrops of your windowpane, catching on the sharp planes of his face—pale from the cold, his usual smirk replaced with a tight grimace. His fingers flexed and strained against the wet wood of the sill, and another gust of wind made the familiar looking boy—or ghost—sway precariously.

“What the—” you spluttered. Finally snapping out of your daze, you scrambled out of bed. You practically threw the book aside as you rushed to the window, fumbling with the latch. When you shoved it open, for a split second, you simply stood there, the wind howling through the open window as rain splattered against your cheeks and the cold air bit at your skin.

The sight before you was utterly absurd—Kim Leehan, soaked to the bone, clinging to your fourth-floor window for dear life.

“Are you out of your mind? This is the fourth floor! How did you even—”

“A guy…” Leehan grimaced, tightening his grip on the slippery windowsill as his fingers began to slip. “Never reveals his secrets.”

He was visibly struggling, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep himself from plummeting to his death—or at least an expensive visit to the hospital. Your stomach twisted when you glanced down, seeing nothing but the slick, empty space between him and the ground below. His dark eyes, sharp as ever despite the rain dripping into them, flickered up to meet yours.

“Nice to see you too,” he drawled, though the slight shake in his voice betrayed him. “I’d love to catch up, really, but I think hypothermia is knocking on my door—along with the whole falling to my death thing, so—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” you grumbled, planting your feet as you hauled him in with as much strength as you can muster. He was heavier than you remember—lean but packed with muscle—and the rain didn’t make it any easier (can you tell that he’s done this a few times). Leehan groaned as his torso tipped over the edge, crashing into you as you staggered back onto your heels.

With a final, graceless heave, he tumbled in, landing in an unceremonious heap on your floor and rainwater seeped into your freshly vacuumed rug. A long silence stretched between you two, save for the steady drip, drip, drip of water pooling onto your pristine hardwood floor. You stared at him, breath still uneven from the exertion. He looked up at you through a mess of wet hair, breathing just as heavily, rainwater glistening along his jaw.

“What the hell, Leehan?” you finally said, hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline. “Why are you scaling buildings like some kind of delinquent Spider-Man?”

Leehan groaned, lifting his arm weakly before letting it drop back onto the floor. “One,” he started, voice hoarse, “never insult the best superhero like that ever again.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, he sluggishly sat up and peeled his drenched hoodie over his head. It takes a second for your to register what you’re seeing—but then, your stomach twists.

A deep, angry gash cuts across his torso, fresh and bleeding.

“And two,” he finally finishes, lips quirking into a weak, humorless smile as he gestured toward the wound.

Your frustration immediately morphed into something heavier, something sharper. “Leehan,” you breathed, crouching down beside him, “you need stitches.”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but you could see the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face, the slight tremor of his fingers as he pressed them into his side. “That’s why I’m here, doc.”

You exhaled through your nose as you rubbed at your temples. You should be used to this by now—Leehan showing up in the dead of night, bleeding and bruised, flashing that same reckless smile like it’s all just a joke. But it never gets easier. Not when it’s him.

“Bathroom,” you said with a firm voice. “Dry off, you know where the towels are. I’ll grab the suture kit.”

He nods, pushing himself to his feet with a wince. As he made his way to the bathroom, you pulled open a drawer to retrieve the spare clothes he’d left behind last time. (Which, coincidentally, had been because of the same exact reason.)

By the time Leehan emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel draped around his neck, you were already setting up the supplies at your desk. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you froze.

Bruises scattered across his arms and collarbone, blooming in shades of purple and blue. A fresh cut lingered just below his cheekbone and his bottom lip had been bloodied up, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, the words sitting heavy on your tongue. You wanted to scold him. You wanted to demand why he always did this; why he never thought about himself.

But instead, you gestured toward your bed and muttered, “Lie down.”

He obeyed, settled back against the mattress and lifted his shirt without a complaint. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself, ignoring the tightness in your chest as you pressed a sterile cotton pad against the wound. His skin was warm beneath your fingers.

Leehan didn’t flinch. He never does.

Instead, he watched you, head tilted against your pillow and dark eyes following every movement of your hands with a quiet sort of intensity. The kind that made your throat dry, the kind that made you wish you weren’t so used to this—patching him up and stitching him back together in the dim glow of your desk lamp while the rain sang against the window panes.

A tired cycle. A routine written into your friendship.

The room was quiet, save for the rain drumming against the window. You worked swiftly and precisely, and your hands moved with the familiarity of routine. Leehan didn’t flinch, doesn’t even so much as wince. He just stared at the ceiling, fingers tapping idly against his ribs.

Finally, you broke the silence. “What was it this time?”

He exhaled slowly, his hand pausing mid-tap. “Just a small scuffle,” he muttered. “Some guys were messing with Woonhak. Thought it’d be fun to pick on him.”

Your brows furrowed. “So you decided to take them all by yourself?”

“It wasn’t like that.” He shook his head, eyes trained back on the ceiling as his jaw tightened. “I just threw a few punches to scare them off. But then someone pulled a knife, and then there were sirens, and, well…” He let out a breathy, humorless laugh.

You pursed your lips as you knotted the last stitch a little too firmly. He hissed but didn’t complain.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, voice quieter this time.

“Yeah,” he muttered, head tilting slightly to look at you again. His lips twitched into something almost fond. “But that’s why I always come to you. Steadiest hands in all of Koz Uni’s nursing program.”

You didn’t look at him, didn’t let him see the way your expression wavered. Instead, you pressed a final piece of gauze over the wound, taping it down with the care of someone who wished they never had to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, well,” you murmured, smoothing down the bandage, “maybe next time, use that reckless head of yours for something other than getting it bashed in.”

Leehan hummed, the corner of his lips tugging up despite the exhaustion weighing heavy in his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you pressed the heel of your palm into his forehead—not pushing, gently—until he groaned and swatted your hand away, muttering a curse under his breath.

With a small smile, you leaned back, letting out a slow exhale. No matter how many times you gave Leehan stitches, you were always nervous like it was your first time. “You should rest,” you said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

After giving the typical ‘seek professional medical help in the morning’ lecture, you moved on to the rest of his minor injuries.

Your fingers moved with careful precision, the cotton ball, squeezed tightly between the tweezers in your grasp, was soaked in antiseptic as you dabbed gently at the wounds on Leehan’s arms. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, sharp and sterile, as it mingled with the lingering traces of rain and something distinctly him.

Leehan didn’t make a sound as you worked, though you could feel his eyes on you—dark, steady, and unwavering. The weight of his gaze pressed into you, searing like embers against your skin, but you refused to meet it.

You focused on the task at hand instead, the rhythmic motion of cleaning, dabbing, and wrapping. Anything to ignore the way your pulse quickened with each passing second.

But it’s hard to ignore him when he’s so close.

The space between you was barely a breath. The warmth of his body radiated through the air, despite the damp chill that still clung to his skin from the rain. His hair was a mess, black strands falling over his forehead in uneven waves, and there was something disarmingly soft about him like this. Battered and bruised and yet, undeniably alive, existing in your space as if he belonged there.

And maybe he did.

You swallowed down the thought and willed yourself to focus.

Your hands were steady as you finished treating the cuts on his collarbones, brushing over the bruises blooming across his skin with careful fingers. But when you reached his face, your confidence faltered.

The cut along his cheekbone was shallow but angry. A thin, jagged line that caught in the dim glow of your desk lamp. And then there was his lip—split and bloodied, the wound stark against the soft curve of his mouth.

You exhaled quietly, steeling yourself once again.

Leehan must’ve sensed your hesitation because he tilted his head slightly, giving you better access to his face. His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, but his voice was quiet when he murmured, “You’re overthinking again.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, too focused on pressing the cotton ball to the cut on his cheekbone. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He just watched you, his expression unreadable, eyes dark and glittering beneath the low light.

It’s unbearable.

The room felt smaller, the silence felt heavier. The storm outside softened into a quiet drizzle, but the air between you crackled with something you couldn’t quite name. Something warm and unspoken, coiling between the spaces where your hands nearly touched, where your breath nearly mingled with his own.

Finally, you moved to his lip, hesitant as your fingers brushed against his chin, tilting his face ever so slightly toward you. His lips parted just the tiniest bit, his breath warm against your wrist as you dabbed at the wound, trying your best not to linger.

Your thumb grazed his bottom lip—barely there, light as air.

Leehan inhaled sharply.

Your stomach flipped, heart stammering violently against your ribs.

You didn’t dare to look at him. You couldn’t.

Instead, you cleared your throat, voice barely above a whisper as you muttered, “Almost done.”

Leehan didn’t reply. But when you finally, finally gathered enough courage to glance up at him, his gaze was already waiting for you. And in it, you saw everything.

The weight of every unsaid word. The years of late-night visits, quiet comforts, and silent understandings. The way he looked at you now, like you were something fragile and precious—something he had spent too long pretending he didn’t want to hold on to.

Your breath was caught in your throat.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

And then—

“There,” you whispered, pulling back, severing the moment before it could unravel completely. “All done.”

Leehan watched you for a second longer, gaze lingering and unreadable. Then, his lips twitched—barely a smirk, more like an exhale of something unspoken.

“Thanks, doc,” he murmured.

And just like that, the tension splintered.

But the weight of his gaze still lingered—on your skin, in your breath, in the quiet thrum of your heart against your ribs.

And you don’t think it’ll ever leave.

Leehan stayed the night, like he always does. It was an unspoken tradition, a ritual that neither of you ever acknowledged out loud but followed without question. After every fight, every wound you stitched up, he stayed—like your dorm was the only place he knew to go.

The bed was too small for the both of you, but neither of you made a move to change it. You laid next to each other, bodies barely touching. Only the occasional brush of an arm, a shift of weight, a shared breath in the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the sharp sterility of antiseptic still lingering faintly between you.

The world outside was still now. The storm had passed, leaving only the rhythmic dripping of water from the eaves, the occasional rustling of tree branches against your window. Moonlight spilled in through the glass, casting fractured shadows across the ceiling, across the sheets, across him.

Leehan was lying on his side, turned toward you, and you should tell him to be careful. You should remind him that his stitches need time to set, that his body needs rest, that lying like this is only going to make it worse. But the words don’t come.

Because he’s watching you.

And you’re watching him.

His face was half-lit, half-hidden in the dim glow of the moon, his dark eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. You trace over the curve of his nose, the sharp edge of his jaw, the way his damp hair clings stubbornly to his forehead. Your gaze caught on his lips—split and swollen, still stained with the faintest trace of blood.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your hand moved on its own.

Your palm found the coolness of his cheek, thumb grazing over the cut on his lip with barely-there pressure. The moment your skin met his, Leehan exhaled softly, his eyes fluttering shut like he was melting beneath your touch. His body relaxed, tension unwinding in slow, steady waves, as if he’d been waiting for this.

You whispered into the dark, "I wish you didn’t keep coming to me like this."

Your voice barely carries between you, but Leehan hears it. You know he does, because his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, because his breath caught just enough for you to notice.

After a beat, you added, "You know it breaks my heart… right?"

Leehan’s eyes opened again, slow and heavy-lidded, the shadows deepening in their depths. His gaze was unreadable, something between sorrow and something else— raw and tender. He lifted his hand, covering yours where it rested against his cheek, his fingers curling gently around yours.

"… I know," he murmured. "I’m sorry."

The weight of those words settled between you. There was something unspoken in the silence that followed, something fragile and uncertain yet wholly understood.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

The only sound in the room was the soft, rhythmic ticking of the clock on your wall, the occasional drip of rainwater outside. The world felt impossibly small, folding in on itself until it was just the two of you, here, now.

Summoning every ounce of courage left in you, you whispered, "Please don’t make me worry like this."

Leehan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted, fingers tightening ever so slightly around your own before he slowly brought your hand to his lips.

Your breath stuttered.

His lips—soft despite the split, warm despite the cold—pressed gently against your knuckles, lingering for just a moment too long.

Your heart ached.

"I always knew you were going to be a nurse," he murmured, voice low, words melting into the space between you.

Your breath stilled for a moment. “What?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“I could tell back in high school,” he continued, his fingers further interlacing with yours. “Every time I got into a fight, you were always the one patching me up. Cleaning my cuts, scolding me and clucking over me like an old mother hen. You liked making people feel better.”

You swallowed as something warm bloomed in your chest. “I liked making sure you didn’t bleed out on the pavement,” you muttered.

You shook your head, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights pooling against your ceiling. You remembered those days vividly—him showing up at the doorstep of your childhood home with bruised knuckles and split lips; you pressing antiseptic pads to his wounds in an empty janitor’s closet while you muttered under your breath about his recklessness.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you had always been like this—drawn to fixing things, to soothing the ache in others, even when it hurt you in turn.

“You were always my favorite patient,” you admitted, turning your head to look at him again. He still had your hand pressed against his lips.

He exhaled slowly, and when he met your gaze, there was something lingering in his eyes. Something that made your stomach twist and your heart clench.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”

Another kiss—this time to the back of your hand, his breath featherlight against your skin.

Leehan lingered there, lips against your skin, like he was afraid to move, like this was something fragile that could shatter if he so much as breathed too hard. His grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as if grounding himself, and for the first time, you saw it—really saw it.

The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he always came to you, no matter how bruised and battered, no matter the hour or distance. The way he let himself melt under your touch, let himself be taken care of in a way you were sure he didn’t let anyone else.

He loved you.

And maybe—no, definitely—you had always loved him, too.

You weren’t sure who moved first, if it was you or him, but suddenly the space between you vanished. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and slow, mingling with yours in the stillness of the room. Your noses brushed, the barest hint of touch, but neither of you pulled away.

You let your fingers slip from his just enough to trail along his wrist, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath your touch. Your hand traveled higher, skimming up his arm, over the curve of his shoulder, before settling against the side of his neck. He let you. He always let you.

Leehan swallowed, the movement shifting beneath your palm. His lips parted, but no words came. You could see it—the hesitation, the fear of breaking whatever fragile thing existed between you.

“If I tell you something,” he whispered, voice unsteady, “will you promise not to run?”

Your throat felt tight. “Leehan…”

“Promise me.”

Your thumb brushed against the corner of his jaw, just barely tracing the line of his throat. “I promise.”

A shaky exhale. Then—

“I think I’ve loved you since the first time you pulled me into that abandoned janitor’s closet and shoved a crumpled up band-aid into my hands. ” He let out a quiet, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Maybe even before that.”

Your chest ached.

Maybe it was the way he said it—like it had been sitting inside him for years, waiting, festering, like he’d carried this love in his bloodied knuckles and broken skin, in every glance and in every touch that lingered just a second too long.

Or maybe it was the way you had always felt it, too.

Leehan swallowed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something else, but you beat him to it.

“I love you.”

It slipped out, simple and certain, like breathing, like a truth you had always known but never dared to say.

His entire body went still.

And then—slowly, cautiously, like he was afraid you might disappear—he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his nose nudging yours. His fingers found your waist beneath the blankets, tentative, uncertain. His touch was barely there, but it burned all the same.

You felt, more than saw, the way his eyes softened.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

You smiled, your heart stammering in your chest.

“I love you.”

Leehan exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead harder against yours like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, the warmth of this moment. His hands—scarred and calloused, always rough, always bruised—cupped your face, thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheekbones.

“God,” he murmured, voice thick. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

And then, with all the gentleness in the world, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent—it was slow, careful, full of years of quiet longing and late-night patch-ups, of stolen glances and words left unsaid. He kissed you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers, like you were something sacred, something he had no right to hold but was holding anyway.

When he pulled away, his lips were trembling against yours.

“You break my heart too, you know,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then let me be the one to mend yours,” you whispered back. “Just like I’ve mended your wounds since we were sixteen. And I promise, I always will.”

A breath.

A soft, breathless chuckle.

And then—Leehan’s lips found yours again, sealing the promise between you.

ᰋ liked this ? consider liking, reblogging, or providing feedback !

ᰋ want more ? send in an ask to be added to my taglist !

taglist. @taylorluvation

209 notes · View notes

maudie-duan · 13 days ago

Text

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time.

All Chapters Here <-

A/N: Okay, yay! to popping back into this one! I'm actually really feeling this story and think it has some good things in store. Thanks to all of those who have been patient and have supported this story in the past. I'm super grateful to you guys and love doing this!

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl

@lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional.

Five months ago, it was her ex-boyfriend; this month, it was Timothee Chalamet.

I accidentally fell into a rabbit hole, a self-created paradox in which I scoured the internet for every scrap of information I could find on Shiloh Taylor. With nothing else to occupy my time in this hotel room, I found myself immersed in an unrelenting quest to know everything about her. This was one of the final nights of our press tour for the movie, and afterward, we would conclude our remaining leg in the States, wrapping up in California, but that was three weeks away.

“Oh my God, T—just pick a color,” Shiloah laughs, her smile playful, and she nudges Timothee on the knee, making my heart pick up. Then she stands and exits the scene, and I observe Timothee’s eyes casually follow her, resting his chin on his propped knee, mellow in the way he turns his cheek, somber and at ease watching her move about out of bounds of the camera.

This is her newest live; well, she was live yesterday; the time difference seems to always have a hand in adding to my misery.

I woke to hundreds of tweets and random headlines about Shiloh Taylor getting a “special gift” from Harry Styles. In short, it all went back to the same burning question. Will this be the love connection we’re all dying for?

And now I was feeding into the gossip, abiding my jealousy as I studied the way Timothee looked at her, trying to catch glances that might linger a little too long, but they always seemed neutral. “Wait—I forgot about this whole basket of nail polish…” Shiloah says, walking back into the shot, a wolven basket in hand, and she sets it on the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of it as Timothee sinks to the ground from her couch, both sitting in comfortable silence like this isn’t the first time they’ve hung out, and I know it’s not, but when you only see pictures it’s hard to guess the dynamic between the two—are they or are they not fucking? Everyone wants to know…including me.

It’s like being a fly on the wall, neither of them acknowledging the camera. “Dope, dude—you have so many colors,” he says, starting to sort through the basket. Then, I’m upright in my bed when I see a familiar box in his grasp, and I turn the volume up.

“Yo, dude, are these from Harry Styles’s new line?” And Shiloh barely looks up. She was too busy setting up her tools, but if you looked closely enough, there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips, but only if you were looking for it like I was, and here I was spiraling down this obsessive void I’ve wormed myself into—a steady forming habit—me constantly trying to get my fix.

When Shiloh finally gives him her attention, he’s opening one of the three boxes I sent her—Perfect Pearl—Shiloh bends a knee to her chest, wraps her hands around her leg, and watches Timothee pluck each polish from its packaging, “How is he so cool? A nail polish line is perfect, dude. He’s so smart.” And Timothee is feeding my ego, filling my sense of pride, and it’s so hard not to like him. I don’t really have a reason other than I want to be him sitting in a room all alone with the girl I’ve wanted since the moment I saw her.

“I like that dark blue. Can I see that one?” she asks, “Inky Pearl…” she reads, setting it next to her. Timothee is already onto the next box—The Shroom Boom set—and while they’re unboxing, I’m reading through the comment section, which I know was booming because, as of late, my fans have been spamming her non-stop; once they finally figured out it was her in my Gucci Campaign, she became fresh meat.

I’ve been slowly watching her following climb, not just because of me. I think when she was hanging out with her Ex for a little while, she hit another wave, then the photoshoot. Now, she’s been seen hanging out with Timothee recently. The two of them being photographed out and about in LA, which has really sparked the rumor mill.

But not as much chaos as the photoshoot. I thought after a month, it would die down, but the fans have been persistent, relentlessly trying to ship the two of us for months. It’s been a while since they’ve actually shown a positive reaction to someone. The whole Olivia thing blew up in such a negative way that it almost felt like a breath of fresh air; there are worse people to be linked to.

My sister told me that Shiloh’s podcast session had been her most played episode yet, upping her following. When the clip of Shiloh not realizing that Gemma and I were related went viral, everyone praised her authenticity. It became a joke that was supposed to jab at my ego, but it only made me like her more. I liked that she could separate the two, which meant the friendship between her and my sister was pure at its core.

Right before the photoshoot dropped, headlines were spewing details of Olivia and I’s ending. Details popping up from the beginning when she left her long-time partner to be with me. Yes, the whole thing was messy, but I never expected it to come out.

Their nanny spilling details of fights between the two of them left me in a weird state of mind, being able to hear both sides of the story, not just hers. Details, I imagined happening but brushed them off because I was wrapped up in the idea of us, the whirlwind of this new adventure she was taking me on. Filming the movie kept us in a tight-knit community of people—they always say it’s easy to fall in love with a cast mate—they weren’t wrong.

I had no clue what was unfolding behind the scenes for her and Jason, and had I been a better person, I would have backed off, maybe given them space to figure out their shit, but it was fast, Olivia was interesting, and she knew so much about this whole other world that I was so interested in that we got swept up, and when the filming was over, we pranced around, her following me on tour, glued to my side, her own life becoming more and more disheveled. I could see her unraveling.

She wasn’t fit for my lifestyle, and I wasn’t settled enough for hers and the world that she played in—and now we’re tangled up in this messy ending that seems to be playing out for the world’s entertainment, both prisoners of our own expiration—I guess you can call it Karma.

“Alright, guys—” Shiloh announces, finally giving attention to the camera. She pulls the screen closer, her green eyes sweeping over the screen, definitely reading the comments, but she trained at her craft, and I’ve never been able to gauge any of her reactions.

“This last box has a note—” Timothee tells her, as I watch a scrap of paper float to the ground, and my heart races, knowing it was the handwritten note I had slipped in the last box, a sneak peek before our next launch, and she was the only one of the five people I handed them out to, the others being my family and friends—hints the spark of gossip, and here was proof.

Shiloah’s head turns in his direction, his eyes silently flitting over the note, and he smiles a huge grin, giving it away, then hands her the slip of paper, but she doesn’t read it. She places it on the ground next to her, my heart dropping with her lack of enthusiasm. Timothee, who hasn’t stopped smiling, observes this, and they make swift eye contact, and he rubs at his bottom lip to control his knowing smile.

She smooths her lips together, then her eyes are back on the screen; the comment section is freaking out because the fans that are watching have never seen that packaging, catching on that it’s new, something unseen, and here is Shiloh with the first glimpse and everyone is losing their minds except for her—even Timothee was more excited than her, and I’m over here reeling for even the tiniest morsel because at this point I don’t think I’ll ever live down that drunk dial.

“Oh—this is a Hot Holiday…” Timothee laughs, revealing the name of the next launch, “This is the color I choose.” And he holds up the color Harry’s Chair, a seaweed green, and reads the color out loud, the chat a non-stop ping in the corner of the screen, and my heart is thudding against my chest, dying for her to read my note, not even caring if Timothee just announced my next launch for me.

She glances over and smiles, moving away from the screen, “That’s a nice green. I like the yellow. Can I see that one—”

“Oh yeah—that would look nice with your skin tone…” He adds. This is the first flirty grin I’ve seen sweep across his face as he hands her the polish.

Shiloh returns the smile, eyes darting down to the polish in her hand timidly, something shy about her gaze, and she draws in a deep breath, her chest rising with the effort, then she shakes her head, glancing back up at him with that same smile, and I think they’re flirting—a silent chemistry that’s almost breaking my heart.

“Each box comes with nail stickers—” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Oh shoot, that’s so cool. Are those letters next to you?” And she reaches over the basket, coming up to her knees, planting a hand on the ground to steady herself. She’s hovering over the basket now, her black short shorts rising, her Spice Girl crop top billowing down, exposing the soft skin along her ribs, skin I’ve run my hands down, skin I’ve touched and savored. She reaches next to Timothee, who is completely unphased by her close proximity, her messy pigtail brushing over his arm wrapped around his knees, and he doesn’t even finch. He’s reading the label inside the box as Shiloh gathers the stickers he’s collected next to him.

Shiloh falls back on her heels, sorting through each one, “These are good, it’s going to be hard to choose…but I also kind of like that oatmeal-looking color next to you,” She expressed, eyes flicking to the pile of polish next to Timothee.

Timothee pulls it out of the mound and reads it out loud, “Tender Bud,” and she grins, a huge smile stretching across her face, and she bits down on her lower lip, making my heart soar, finally a reaction that I can live with, daydream about, fantasize about the possible thoughts running through her head at that very moment because what made her smile like that? Did she have a dirty mind like me? Because that’s where my mind went.

“I’m feeling neutral…” She pokes, “I think I’ll go with that one…also, you’re the first person that’s come on the show who wants to paint their own nails…”

“Really?” He asks, handing her the polish with that same friendly smile that never seems to vanish. A curl falls into his face, and he swipes it behind his ear. Shiloh catches the move, and even I swooned.

She smiles down at the polish, rubbing her glossed lips together, making me ache to feel them against mine, “Okay, before we start, you write down five questions from our guests—” And this is another thing about her. She’s so good at treating every viewer like they’re hanging out in the room, and the thing about it is that it’s not forced. It’s so fucking genuine that even I get lost in her presence, forgetting how long I’ve been staring at a screen.

Shiloh gives Timothee a notepad and pen, and leans over to the screen. “Alright, guys. You know what to do. Remember, play nice, give us some good questions…” Then they’re both staring at the screen, Timothee’s unwavering smile growing bigger as the questions flood in.

After a few seconds, Timothee plants himself in front of the screen, and Shiloh moves away, continuing to organize everything behind him. I watch her pick up each empty box and fold them back together with care, placing the packaging neatly on the couch, along with the bottles of nail polish that came with each set.

She moves the basket out of view from the screen, then yanks a pillow off the sofa and shoves the pillow under her butt, and sits cross-legged, waiting for Timothee to finish, then swipes her phone from a couch cushion. Every time he laughs or interacts with someone, she laughs, and I realize she’s watching it from her phone. All hands on deck, she has this down to a science as she replies to people in the comment section, everyone losing their minds that she got Timothee on the show.

“Okay, I need one more question, guys; come through; I know you got one…” Timothee coos at the screen, his charming charisma stealing the show, but I’m focused on Shiloh. The second she put the phone down, she slid my note in front of her, staring down at the floor, trying not to gain any attention—And maybe if you knew what you were looking for, you would see these tiny details, but it’s there, and her eyes are skimming over the note, her mouth smoothing together, trying to hide that smile that I see trying to break away, that tilt at the corner of her mouth fighting to break through and then it’s there, on full display, and she drawing in her bottom lip, finger tracing along the edge of the paper.

And I’m smiling, smiling so fucking big that I can feel the stretch in my cheeks. Then she peeks at the camera for a split second and smirks, eyes shifting back to the paper, and she slyly moves it back to its previous place next to her, falling back into the palms of her hands, her eyes pinned on the note. Her face is turned away from the screen, only feeding me a sliver of her profile, but the smile is still there, present in all its glory.

And I’m lost in her all over again; just as Shiloh turns around, a knock sounds on my door, and I slam the laptop shut, feeling like a teenage boy about to get caught watching porn. Then, I bound to the door and peeked through the peephole.

It’s Olivia.

My heart slams in my chest, and I pull back from the door. What the fuck could she want? We haven’t really talk much since the tour started, neither one of us wanted to draw attention, and we both thought it was in our best interest to give each other space, but here she was breaking that agreement.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, cracking open the door. I’m only in my underwear, and even though she’s seen me naked, it feels strange to put myself on display to her; it’s been three months since we broke up, and it still doesn’t feel long enough to have a casual interaction.

“Hey—umm…actually, I don’t know why I came here…” She answers, waving a frantic hand, then turns away, and of course, I feed into it because I know she went out of her way to figure out which room I was staying in—I told the team ahead of time that I wanted to pay for my own room to keep my privacy.

I open the door and step out into the hall, “Olivia, wait…it’s fine— come in—” I tell her, waving her back, already feeling annoyed because I know there isn’t a single thing we have left to talk about, but I kept my neutrality anyway.

She’s playing into her bit a little more than usual tonight, and when she turns around, I can’t tell if the pain on her face is real or forced, “I’m sorry—I just—needed to talk.” And she walks past me into my room, and now I’m stuck with the decision I just made.

“What’s wrong?” I nudge as soon as the door closes. Her eyes are darting around the room like she’s looking for something, but there’s nothing to find. It’s just been me. I haven’t been with anyone since the breakup.

She shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder, giving me this look that, please pity me; I’m a helpless fool for you, and it immediately throws me off, those big green eyes of hers begging, then she turns around and starts undressing.

“Olivia—” I start as her shirt comes over her head, her bare breast hanging there on full display. She knows this was my favorite part of her; her nipples easily peaked at even the slighted touch, and it always turned me on…like, I’m getting turned on right now.

My eyes flit to the bed, where the laptop rests on top of the bedspread. Then Shiloh appears in my mind, a vision of her reading my note, and my whole body wakes with it. Olivia must see the change in my expression as interest because she continues to take off her clothes, then walks over and drops to her knees in front of me, gazing up with those same pleading eyes.

“Just one last time…” She breathes, and I’m a penniless fool for her tone as she lowers my boxers and wraps her warm hands around my shaft, my dick hardening with what’s to come. I close my eyes then and let my head fall back, Shiloh moving across my mind’s eye, and as Olivia closes her lips around the head of the penis, Shiloh is all I can think about.

So yes, I fucked my ex, but I thought of Shiloh the entire time, swapping visions of curved hips and dreaming of her full lips pressed to mine, and when I came, I was so enveloped in her presence that I almost called out her name, breathing the first few letters into existence, abruptly stifling it with a seal groan caught at the back of my throat just as Olivia’s face came to view, and when the expression on her face went from pleasure to pissed, she climbed off of me in a furry, staggering to her pile of clothes laid out on the floor.

“I know what you were about to say—” she spits, “You couldn’t just give me this one last thing, could you?” And I push myself up on the bed, watching her slip back into her clothes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I lie.

“Bullshit, Harry—like I haven’t seen the rumors flying around…god, what’s that new one…” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, her finger on her chin, raking my inside with annoyance.

She laughs, “Oh—yeah, your fans are freaking out about your newest launch…well, I guess it hasn’t launched yet, but Shiloh has already gotten her hands on it, and everyone is just dying to know what the note said?”

“It was nothing, just a simple thanks for supporting Pleasing…I don’t know…I didn’t write it. I was just trying to get more press around Pleasing. You, of all people, know how that works.”

Olivia shakes her head, not buying the lie, “The thing is…is that I saw you at the Gucci Show, you were so distracted, and when we went home that night, you pulled away, I could see the end playing out in your eyes every time you looked at me.”

“Oh, come on, Olivia…enough with the drama already,” I exhale, getting worked up, irritated that she’s trying to call me out.

“No, seriously…and then I saw that photoshoot, and I still don’t know if I truly believe it was a random happenstance like you said…It seemed too good, spot on because everything made sense after that, the break? or fucking breakup, I don’t know anymore…”

I don’t say anything; I just stare at her, indifferent to it all because I don’t owe her anything, “Did you guys fuck? Is that why you didn’t come home until four in the morning the night of the photoshoot?”

“Olivia for fuck sake…I’ve already told you a million times. How many more times do I have to tell you I never cheated…there was no other woman. You and I were never going to work, and you know it.”

Her mouth drops into a frown, “I loved you…” She whispers as a low whimper rises up her chest just as tears begin to pull in her eyes.

“God—Olivia—” I breath, falling back into my pillow and swiping a hand down my face. “Do we really have to do this?” I yell.

“You’re the one that came to me…” I force, starting up at the ceiling. I don’t even want to look at her anymore, witness her fall apart for the umpteenth time because it’s getting old. What did she want? She got what she came for, and then I’m sick to my stomach, the thought of using Shiloh like that, to sink to that level when I’ve already hurt her. The thought that I just gave myself over to Olivia that easily has me out of bed, pushing past Olivia, who is standing there waiting for a reply she’ll never get.

“Just let yourself out,” I hiss, slamming the bathroom door behind me. Then, I’m on my knees, retching into the toilet bowl as the sound of the door slams in the distance, and I wipe my mouth with my forearm and force myself to turn on the shower.

A/N: Okay, but can we talk about how Harry was behaving during the press tour for Don't Worry Darling in Venice because that is where I drew inspo for this chapter. I imagined he was acting a fool because he had slept with Olivia and felt silly about his decision, so of course, it had to be awkward because he's just a boy after all.

All Chapters Here <-

My Tiny Masterlist Here<-

56 notes · View notes

lemoncrushh · 8 months ago

Text

You And I

Summary: Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), maybe a little angst. 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 4.5k+

A/N: Originally written and posted in 2019. Harry x OC, AU, written in first person. Loosely inspired by the Lady Gaga song (not the 1D song lol).

He’d told me to wait for him at the bar. I sat at the corner, nursing a gin and tonic while the band broke down their equipment. I laughed when Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” began playing through the speakers, the line about the old man making love to his tonic and gin poignantly accentuating the scene.

“Fitting, yeah?” chuckled Bruno, the bartender I’d come to know well over the last few months.

I sneered at him as I stirred the little straw in my glass. “I dunno. I was thinking more along the lines of Lady Gaga.”

“Gaga?” Bruno raised a brow.

“Y’know. At the corner of the bar with my high heels on.”

Bruno’s shoulders shook with laughter as he wiped down the bar in front of me. “I’ll put that one on next, darling.”

“Put what on next?” I heard a voice call behind me.

I twisted around on my stool to see Harry stepping off the stage, an easy grin on his handsome face. I returned the smile, happy to get a better look at him. For the first time, the band had opted to wear makeup, something I’d urged them to try before but had never happened.

“You and I,” I teased, swinging one leg over the other. “The Gaga song.”

“Hmm,” he sounded as he approached me. Reaching his hand out, he cupped my chin, lifting it slightly before placing a soft kiss on my painted lips.

“I reckon when it comes to you and I, there will be no putting on…” he paused, a smirk causing his dimple to appear in his left cheek. “Only taking off.”

“Oh Styles, but you do have a way with words,” I quipped in a playful, faux accent.

He let out a giggle then, apparently amused by his own joke. He gave me one more kiss before tapping his hand on the bar.

“Bruno,” he said. “One more shot for the road?”

“Long as you ain’t driving, love!”

Harry eyed me, no doubt silently questioning how many drinks I’d had. In the two hours I’d been at the bar, I’d only had two drinks including the current half-drunk one in front of me. I’d watched Harry and his bandmates drink at least twice as much during their set, in addition to shots that fans in the audience had sent up.

“I’m good,” I reassured him. I was his drive home anyway. It was kind of understood.

With a nod, Bruno poured Harry a shot of dark golden liquid. Taking it in his hand, Harry clinked the glass against mine and downed it in one gulp. Lowering the glass, he smirked again when he caught me staring at him.

“Wha’?” he asked.

“Just looking at you,” I replied. “You look good with eyeliner.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Kinda sexy, actually.”

“You think?” Harry stepped closer to me, loving the attention.

“Indeed,” I continued. Then when Bruno came around and took Harry’s empty glass, I asked him. “Bruno, don’t you think Harry looks sexy with eyeliner?”

“Of course, doll!” he agreed. “Sexy AF!”

I threw my head back laughing and Harry gave Bruno a wink. “Thanks, love.”

“Sing us a song, you’re the piano man!”

At the sound of singing, I turned around again to see Jeremiah, Harry’s drummer walking towards us. The youngest member of the band, he looked so much like Pete Wentz, especially tonight with the black eyeliner.

“All packed up, H!” he told Harry. “Ready to go?”

“Um...no…” Harry tilted his head to gesture towards me. “Alyssa’s here.”

Jeremiah looked from his bandmate to me and then back, the lightbulb going off in his head.

“Oh! Yeah! Right! Sorry, mate! I’ll just…” he pointed behind him, “head out. Good to see you, Alyssa.”

“You too, hon,” I smiled. “You were smashing it tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jeremiah beamed. Then with one last wave, he stumbled over his own feet and left the way he’d come. I giggled at his adorable awkwardness, blaming it on his youth.

Swiveling back to face Harry and Bruno, I took the last few sips of my cocktail which was mostly water by then. The first chords of “You and I” started then, and I lifted my gaze to the bartender who danced with glee.

“It has been a long time since you came around,” Harry quoted the lyrics as he slid his arm around my waist.

“Two weeks, Harry,” I chuckled. “I was sat right here at this bar two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks is a long time t’me,” he murmured, his lips finding the tender spot behind my ear. I giggled softly at the touch which sent goose flesh across my skin.

“I doubt that’s the time frame Gaga was referring to,” I said wryly. “Besides, you want me around more often, perhaps you should ring or text me.”

I heard Bruno make a muffled sound of shock from behind the bar as Harry��s mouth stalled on my neck.

“I reckon I should do that,” admitted Harry.

He stood up straight then, his eyes on mine as I gave him an accusing glare. It wasn’t that I really doubted he wanted me around. But sometimes I needed that reassurance.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he said, though his words were interrupted a bit by the noise of two more lads approaching.

“Alyssa! You made it!” shouted Gavin, the band’s guitarist.

I rose from my stool and hugged both him and Max, the bassist. Two females soon followed, and I noticed the one whom I didn’t recognise wrapped her arms around Max.

“I’m so glad you went with the eyeliner tonight,” I commented. “I don’t suspect you’ll allow me to take the credit.”

Gavin grinned, “Of course, darling, it was your idea.”

“No it wasn’t,” Harry jabbed.

I turned and poked him in the ribs. “Yes it was. Let me have my moment.”

He threw his head back laughing before pulling me to him in a bear hug. I could tell he was drunk, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the sweat beneath his shirt, but I didn’t mind. Some of our most fun times were when we could tease each other like this. Still, sometimes I did wish he would just be honest and tell me how he felt about me, rather than always being light-hearted and funny.

Gavin, Max and the girls all got beers from Bruno before he closed up the bar. We all sat and chatted for a bit before saying our goodbyes. Then with a look - that unspoken understanding - Harry stepped off his stool, reached for my hand and followed me out to my car.

“You’re different tonight,” he finally said after a long stretch of silence except for the 90s playlist I had going.

I raised a brow as I stopped at a red light. “How do you mean?”

“I dunno. You just...are.”

I eyed him and then turned back to the road. “I got a new lipstick.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “‘s not that. You just...seem different.”

The light changed and I accelerated, my heartbeat doing the same.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t understand. I’m still me.”

I heard Harry hum, perhaps in agreement. He was quiet again while the music changed from Alanis Morissette to Pearl Jam. I wondered what he meant exactly, though part of me had my own suspicions. Then when I was nearly a block from my flat, Harry reached over and turned down the radio, muting the voice of Eddie Vedder.

“Are we okay?” he asked me.

I stopped myself from giggling, something I sometimes tend to do when I’m anxious or nervous. Instead, I bit my lip and let his question roll around in my head. I pulled up to my building and parked before I finally let out a tiny laugh.

“We’re always okay, Harry,” I said with a grin.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, I opened my car door and stepped out. I half wondered if Harry would actually follow, but as I stepped onto the sidewalk, I heard the slam of the passenger door. Meeting me at the curb, he took my hand and walked with me up the stairs to my flat.

“I don’t have whiskey,” I called after I’d tossed my keys on the table and made my way to the kitchen. “But I have vodka and wine.”

“None for me, thanks,” I heard Harry reply.

“What?” I turned around, my eyes wide. Harry always wanted a nightcap.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Oh.” Now he was the one who seemed different.

“Did something happen, Alyssa?”

Taken aback, I paused a moment and shook my head. “Something...like what? When?”

“Since I saw you last,” replied Harry.

I turned from him, pretending to walk to the refrigerator. Then I changed my mind and took a glass down from the cupboard and poured myself water from the tap.

“Lots of things happen in two weeks, love,” I commented. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

Setting my untouched glass on the counter, I looked back at him. His face was expressionless, though his eyes seemed to reveal a bit more. Perhaps it was the makeup. No wonder they call the look “emo”.

“Tell me,” Harry said softly.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?” I accused.

He stared at me blankly. “Yeah, baby.”

I snorted. “So, I’m baby now?”

“Alyssa…”

Ignoring the tone of his voice, I sighed and looked away.

“Let’s see…” I began. “I’ve been working a lot. Visited my mum last Saturday. Got my nails done. And bought the new lipstick like I mentioned...oh and I got a new succulent, see?” I reached for my newest addition to my cactus collection to show him. “I’ve named this one Prince because he has a bit of a purple hue to him-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted.

I stared at him, frozen. “Sorry? For what?”

Harry stepped closer to me, taking Prince from my hands and setting it on the counter. “I’m sorry I waited two weeks to ring you.”

“Oh.” I blinked.

Sliding his hands around my waist, he pulled me to him. Tilting his head, he pressed his lips to mine, softly at first. When I responded with my hands sliding up his shoulders, he kissed me harder, with purpose.

“I do like the new lipstick,” he murmured against my lips. I grinned when I noticed some of it had rubbed off onto him.

“You have such pretty lips,” he added, his eyes focused on my mouth. “First thing I wanna do when I see you is kiss them.”

I smiled at his comment, not just from flattery but because I’d always felt the same about his.

“I also meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “So do you.”

Harry grinned then, a sexy smirk. “You like the eyeliner, yeah?”

“I really do,” I nodded. “I think you should wear it more often.”

“I will if you come ‘round more often.”

“You have to ring me, Styles,” I reminded him. “I have a life, you know. As much as you may like to think otherwise, I don’t keep up with your schedule.”

“Maybe I should give it to you,” Harry said, his voice deep with no trace of humour as his hands roamed down to my bum. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“My schedule, I mean,” he added with his own chuckle. “God, woman, what are you doing to me?”

“Me?” I raised a brow.

“Yes, you. You get me all flustered, I dunno what I’m saying.”

“I’m just stood here, Harry.”

“That’s enough.”

I studied his face, trying my best to read his eyes. The green seemed more defined with the black liner, and for a split second I felt my stomach flip. I lifted my hand to touch a curl that had fallen across his forehead and heard him release a breath.

The man was definitely a mystery. For months I’d shown up here or there to see his band play. In between we might’ve had a few dates, but I never felt like what we had was anything serious. We always ended up shagging, and it wasn’t like I regretted it. We definitely had that chemistry, and we were good in bed. But I didn’t think he considered me his girlfriend; I didn’t think he considered me at all. At least, not until he was ready to see me again. And like always, I would be there when he wanted, because I really liked him.

But then he’d turn around and say something like this and I’d get all kinds of confused.

As it was, I had a hard time concentrating myself with his hands on my rear end. His lined eyes kept shifting between my own eyes and my mouth, and I could tell he wanted to kiss me again. This time, however, I was the one to give in, reaching for his neck and pulling him to me.

“Mmm, baby…” he moaned against my lips. He’d called me baby a handful of times before, but it never really meant much to me like it did now. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was...perhaps I was wanting him to feel what I felt. Or just...something.

I let my fingers linger on his chest before I began to unbutton his shirt. I knew where this was headed, but I wasn’t about to stop it. Feelings or no feelings, I wanted him in my bed again.

When I reached the bottom button, our lips broke free and Harry stared at me once again, his eyes now full of desire. At least I had a knack for reading that. Just like in the pub, I took his hand with an unspoken understanding and we walked down the hall to my bedroom.

“You got new sheets,” Harry commented.

I cringed, not sure if I was more embarrassed that I’d left my bed unmade or that he’d been there enough times to notice the sheets were different. Nervously I straightened the pillows before reaching behind me to unzip my dress.

“Let me,” I heard Harry say.

He strode across the room to me, his fingers on the zipper before I could protest. When my dress fell off my shoulders, his hands took its place, pushing it down the rest of the way. I felt the chills down to my toes as I stepped out of my heels and turned to face him.

I reckon I expected him to gawk at me some more like he’d been doing all evening, so I was completely surprised when his mouth crashed into mine. I immediately wound my arms around his neck and he lifted me up and onto the bed. He continued his assault on my mouth while his fingers tangled in my hair at the sides of my head. I could feel his erection through his jeans, the friction a fabulous sensation between my legs. Bending my knees, I lifted my hips slightly as I let out a gasp, the feeling of denim on cotton nearly too much for me.

Harry paused the snogging long enough to sit up and loop his fingers through the sides of my knickers. He looked at my face as he bit his lip. I wondered for a second if he was changing his mind, as this was usually not a part of the scenario where he’d stop.

“Something wrong?” I dare asked.

“Do you want me, Alyssa?”

My immediate reaction was more confusion. He’d never asked me that before. Sure, he’d moaned in my ear or against my mouth on more than one occasion that he wanted me. But he’d never asked if I wanted him. My expression softened and I gave him a smile.

“I always want you, Harry.”

With the tiniest grin and a nod, he pulled my panties down and let them fall on the floor. Then stood at the edge of the bed, he began to remove his own pants. I reached over to the bedside table then where I kept the condoms and pulled one out of the drawer.

“I promise I’ll bring my own next time,” I heard him say.

Lying on my back, I watched him crawl up the bed again.

“Next time?” I couldn’t help but razz him. The first time he’d stayed over, he didn’t have protection, but I did. I reckon after that it was just assumed.

“Yeah…” he lowered his face to mine. “Next time, love. I promise.”

He kissed me softly then, the softest kiss ever. He continued with a second on my chin, a third on my neck, a fourth on my chest…

I lost count after that.

I gripped the sheets underneath me when I felt his breath on my inner thigh. A low moan-like sound escaped my throat as I felt his thumb graze over me where I was already wet and waiting.

“You want me here?” Harry asked.

I barely heard him, his voice was so low and deep. But somehow my insides reacted and I managed to make a sound similar to yes.

I shut my eyes when I felt his tongue on me. He licked me delicately at first, like he was testing the temperature of his tea. I squirmed underneath him until he looped his arms around my legs and pulled me closer to him, his tongue pressing just a bit.

“Harry…” I panted. “Oh god.”

My legs shook around his head while he began to devour me, his tongue working faster. Opening my eyes, I began to watch him, as much as I could at least. I reached down and pushed that one stubborn curl from his forehead and his eyes shifted up, locking with mine.

“‘s that good, baby?” he murmured, barely tearing his mouth away.

I merely nodded, the only thing I could manage at the moment besides coming undone. I bit my finger when he smiled and resumed his task, making me reach the edge.

I tugged on his hair as I came, calling out his name. He nipped at my thighs gently as they trembled before climbing up the bed to hover over me.

For a solid minute or two, he just stared at me. Perhaps he was waiting for me to say something. Perhaps he was waiting for the green light. Or perhaps he was just waiting for me to stop shaking, I dunno. But I swear his gaze was like a magnet. I couldn’t look away.

The eyeliner had begun to smudge a bit from his recent activity. I started to reach up to swipe my thumb underneath his eye when I remembered the condom in my hand. I smiled and raised my brows, offering it to him.

“You still want me, baby?” he asked, taking it from me.

“What did I say?”

“Just making sure.”

Harry uncertainty was definitely something I was not used to, but as I watched him roll the condom on, I wondered if it wasn’t a put-on. He was nothing if not confident.

Situating himself, he kissed me once more before looking into my eyes.

“I always want you too, Alyssa,” he murmured.

Then before I could respond, he entered me fully. I gasped a tiny breath when I realised how deep he was so quickly. Then exhaling through my nose, I wrapped my legs around him.

“Mmm, I love when you do that,” he said.

I couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that was definitely something he liked, and I liked pleasing him. We moved together, a slow, steady rhythm at first. I could already feel my core reacting, my most sensitive spots throbbing.

He lifted his head again and I watched his face, his eyes burning into mine as he began to move faster. I had to unravel my legs from him, lifting my knees to give him more room for thrusts. Then with a groan, he sat back and held my hips as he fucked me hard. I bit my lip to keep my moans at bay, but I couldn’t help it. Dropping my arms beside my head, I cursed and called his name.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled. “So good, innit?”

“Fuck, yes.”

He slowed down then, a low chuckle releasing from his throat. “C’mere.”

I looked at him in wonder as he guided me up and onto his lap. I noticed then that he was perspiring, beads of sweat dripping on his forehead. This time I did reach to wipe them off, but instead Harry took my hands and kissed the backs of them.

“You’re amazing, Alyssa, you know that?”

I beamed at him as I slowly began to ride him.

“You want me, Harry?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck as his gorgeous green eyes looked up at me, the makeup starting to run down one cheek. I didn’t want to wipe it away this time. He looked so sexy.

“Always,” he replied.

I licked my lips and kissed him hard, my tongue wrestling with his. His hands covered my breasts while my hips moved gingerly. Then breaking the kiss, I rode him faster, bouncing on his lap.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned as he moved his hands to my hips for leverage.

“Is that good?” I asked him, just like he’d asked me earlier.

“Fuck yeah, baby, you drive me crazy.”

I watched his face, knowing he was close to unraveling. He let out a few expletives as his fingers dug into my flesh.

“Come for me, baby,” I urged. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to watch him, and just the thought of it made me drip with delight.

“You first,” he shook his head.

I wanted to argue that I already had, and that was enough. But I knew he’d just argue back. This goddamn boy. He was going to make me fall for him, wasn’t he?

I slowed down my pace, only slightly as I needed to rejuvenate. My breaths evening out and heartbeat slowing, I kissed him again. Our lips still locked, Harry grabbed my waist and laid me back on the bed again. Then he lifted my leg and pounded me hard.

“Fuck, Harry!” I screamed.

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” he requested.

I came immediately, the sensation of him deep inside and the sounds of his moans tipping me over the edge. My body trembled beneath his as his breaths quickened in my ear.

“Baby…” he groaned. “Oh, Alyssa.”

The sounds he made as he came were indescribable. This wasn’t our first shag. But it was definitely our first something else.

I lay spent on the dampened sheets, wishing I’d remembered to turn on the fan. Sticky with sweat, Harry rolled off of me, discarded the condom into the nearby bin and laid on his back breathing hard. We stayed like that for a while in silence until Harry surprised me again.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said for the...how many times? I turned my head to look at him, but his gaze was on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text just to let you know I was thinking of you. Because I was.”

My breath caught in my throat but I managed to clear it. “You were?”

“‘Course.” He turned onto his side to face me. His lips were so close to mine if either of us moved only slightly, they would touch.

“How was I supposed to know that, Harry?” I asked just above a whisper.

Shaking his head, he seemed to consider my question. “I reckon you weren’t. I’m sorry.”

I bit my lip as he leant his forehead against mine and swung his arm across my waist. He hummed softly as though he had a song in his head.

“I wish I’d rung you to talk about your day. To ask about work or your mum. To hear about your adorable succulents.”

His last comment made me smile. “To be fair, you did text me Wednesday. So not quite two weeks.”

“Fucking Wednesday. Jesus, Alyssa,” he sighed. “And a text. How the fuck am I to expect us to be okay when I bloody text you on a Wednesday?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are we okay? Because you kind of have me worried now.”

“Yeah, if I haven’t already fucked it up,” he groaned.

“Harry…I never said you fucked it up. I’m still here. I still came to your show. I showed up and waited at the bar like you asked me to.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Did I really seem different tonight?” I asked.

“Not...well, kinda. You just...didn’t seem like yourself, that’s all.”

“Well then, I apologise, because I thought I was the same as I’ve always been - the same as you want.”

“What I want?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Well, Harry…” I hesitated. “We’ve never really discussed what we want from each other. But I assumed you didn’t want anything serious. We’re like...friends with benefits I reckon.”

“No, we’re not,” he stated.

My jaw dropped as I glared at him.

“I don’t want you to be..." he added.

“What?”

“Baby, I don’t want you to be just a friend with benefits. I want...this.” Harry gestured between us.

“This?”

“Us. You and I. Or, um...you and me, whatever.”

I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and I was sure it was so loud he could hear it. “Seriously?”

Harry nodded, his hand sliding underneath my jaw. “I want you, baby.”

I sighed, tears starting to form in my eyes. Blinking fast, I swallowed hard. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t mean just sex. I want you, for real. I was gutted when I thought something had changed between us, but then I realised it was my own fucking fault.”

“I don’t...know what to say, Harry.”

“Say you want me too. You and I.”

I smiled as I reached for him, kissing him tenderly and eagerly. “Always.”

Harry’s dimples appeared in his cheeks as he beamed at me. I couldn’t help it. I started giggling.

“Oh love,” I sighed. “Please tell me you’ll continue to do the eyeliner thing. I’m with Bruno. You look sexy AF.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Truth? You look completely fucked. And I love that it was with me. Only makes me want you more.”

“Well, in that case,” he murmured low, pulling my leg across his, “I’ll wear it from now on.”

“Just so I know it’s for me, and not your groupies.”

Harry snorted. “Or Bruno?”

“Eh, I don’t mind so much about Bruno. He’s on my side.”

Harry laughed harder before kissing me across my cheek and down my neck.

“You really are amazing, Alyssa,” he whispered in my ear. “Now...tell me about your succulents.”

“Well Prince is the newest, like I said,” I began, Harry’s mouth continuing its trail down my neck and shoulder. “Mick and Freddie were my first two and they’re still going strong. But Bowie is a bit temperamental…”

Hope you enjoyed!

Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

dividers by @firefly-graphics

90 notes · View notes

yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 10 months ago

Text

Style

Extended Masterpost

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: ex!Jake x Reader

Genre: mix of sort of angst, sort of hurt, sort of fluff idk, ex!Jake

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come.

Previous track : Secrets from a Girl

Chapter soundtrack : Style – Taylor Swift You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt, And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt, And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'Cause we never go out of style.

Laughter filled the air as friends and industry colleagues toasted to Danny's happiness and success. The drummer's 25th birthday party was an intimate affair, tucked away in a bar on the outskirts of LA. Greta Van Fleet just happened to be in California at the time which meant, to everyone’s delight, that YN could attend the celebration.

"Holy shit, I'm so fucking hammered," Josh declared as he plopped down onto the seat beside YN, the pulsating beat of the music reverberating through the air.

A soft chuckle escaped YN's lips. "Might be time to lay off the melon liquor, babe," she teased, casting a playful glance in Josh's direction.

Josh leaned in, feigning despair as he buried his head in her cleavage. "If drinking fruity little drinks is wrong, then I don't wanna be right.”

“Fine,” she laughed, shoving him off, “but don’t come ask me to pull your hair back later.”

"Well, you're one to talk," A voice interjected. They both looked up to see Jake approaching. “I’m pretty sure your breath could power up a tank right now, YN” he smirked.

"And yet here you are, Jacob" she retorted, shooting him a playful grin as she eyed the drink he’d gotten her, “my bartender in shining armor”.

"What can I say? Can't let a girl die of thirst," Jake shrugged casually. "Uh-uh,” he shook his head, holding the glass just out of her reach, “first… would you look at that!" he exclaimed, pulling a glass of water from behind his back.

"That better be tequila in there, Jacob," YN said, eyeing the clear liquid warily.

"Drink up, superstar," Jake insisted, his tone teasing yet firm.

As she reluctantly grabbed the water and downed it, Josh chimed in with a question. "So, why'd you say Harry couldn’t come, again?"

"Prettyboy is shooting a perfume ad somewhere in Tuscany," Jake replied before YN could, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Jealous, Kiszka?" YN teased, raising an eyebrow playfully, “But yes, that’s why I’m flying out tomorrow, we’ll do New Year’s there.”

“Aw, a New Year’s kiss with your new lover, how adorable,” Josh teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he and Jake visibly gagged.

"Bitterness is an ugly look, you know?" YN retorted with a roll of her eyes.

Suddenly, Sam's booming voice cut through the din of the party, calling out to YN from atop the bar. It was a familiar sight – it wasn't really a party until Sam was up on the bar, urging others to join him in his revelry. “Come on up!” he shouted, holding out his hand.

“Not in a million years, Sammy,” she yelled back over the music.

The youngest Kiszka’s eyes widened in mock disappointment, “You used to be fun, you know?”

YN scoffed. But before she could respond, Jake interjected with a smirk, “She’s a good girl now, haven’t you heard?”

YN turned to the guitarist, her expression a mix of amusement and surprise at his teasing. “Am I, really?” she countered playfully, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Alright, give me a boost,” she relented, allowing Jake to grab her waist and hoist her up onto the bar with unexpected strength.

“There we go,” Sam declared, immediately pulling her into a twirl as she laughed.

“YN, sweetheart, that is an awfully short skirt you’ve got there,” Josh chimed in mock-shock, clutching his pearls for added effect.

“Well, keep your head down, then, perverts,” YN shot back with a grin, as she looked down. She met Jake’s gaze, who raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” he interjected teasingly. She rolled her eyes at his comment, but a shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Amidst the vibrant energy of the party, Jake found himself caught in a moment of quiet observation. His gaze softened as it lingered on YN's figure, admiring the way she effortlessly commanded the attention of those around her.

Josh, ever perceptive, caught the momentary lapse in Jake's usually composed demeanor. He observed the subtle softening of his brother's features as his stared at the girl he used to have and hold.

Sensing Josh's scrutiny, Jake shifted uncomfortably, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he realized he had been caught. With a playful smirk, Josh raised a knowing eyebrow.

The guitarist's response was swift and dismissive, a pointed retort to deflect Josh's silent observation.

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on, stay a little longer,” Josh pleaded with a playful grin as YN slipped on her coat, “it's barely past midnight."

"I told you I have an early flight," YN replied with a regretful smile.

"Party-pooper," Sam nudged her.

As she reached for her phone, Jake approached her. "How are you getting home?" he inquired.

"I'll just get a cab," YN responded.

"No, let me give you a ride," Jake offered, his tone firm yet gentle, “I’m the designated driver, anyway.”

YN opened her mouth to protest, but Jake raised a hand to silence her, “I'm not letting you get in some random cab in this state," he asserted, his gaze unwavering.

She relented eventually, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she yielded to his insistence.

But as she moved to bid her farewells and make her exit, Danny's voice cut through the air, his arms wrapping around her in a brief embrace. “Are you sure you have to go?” he pouted in playful desperation, “Italy’s not going anywhere.”

"Sorry, babe” she mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to the drummer's cheek, “Happy Birthday."

YN blew kisses to everyone else in the room and, with a final wave, she turned towards the door. Her steps faltered slightly as Jake's hand closed around her arm, halting her in her tracks.

"Stay here," he instructed, "I'll go get the car. You'll catch your death with that skirt."

YN waited inside, her mind swimming with a heady mixture of alcohol-induced thoughts. She couldn't help but think of the way Jake had looked in the dim light of the bar, his rugged features softened by the glow of the party lights.

Moments later, the sound of a car pulling up outside snapped her back to reality, and she made her way out to find Jake waiting by the driver's side, a chivalrous smile gracing his lips.

"Madam," he greeted her with mock formality, opening the car door and extending a hand to help her inside.

"Remind me to give you a tip," she chuckled as she settled into the car, the warmth of his hand lingering on hers.

Jake made sure YN was nice and buckled up, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he ensured her safety.

Thoughts of the past and the uncertain future crossed his mind. Long drives like these once had a tendency to either end in burning flames or paradise. There had seldom been an in-between for the two of them.

After a while of playful arguing over the GPS setting, the air conditioning, and the radio channel, they finally settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the music filling the car.

Jake couldn't help but steal glances at her as they drove, his wild eyes flickering from the road to her. She caught his gaze.

"Take a photo," she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips, “it'll last longer.”

"Can't blame me," he quipped back with a smirk, "It's been a while since I've gotten you to myself."

"Well, to be fair," she retorted, her tone light yet tinged with a hint of underlying seriousness, "It's been a while since I've heard from you."

Jake sighed knowingly. They both knew they should do more to stay in touch, but life always seemed to get in the way. Despite the easy banter, there was a subtle tension lingering between them, unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging heavy in the air.

"So, how's the next album coming along?" he broke the silence, in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject.

She didn’t reply, instead turning up the volume to avoid his question. Only, the subtle sadness lingering in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Not good, apparently.

"Come on,” he persisted, his tone lightening as he tried to cheer her up, “I'm sure you must have something cooking for your new muse."

She giggled at his playful mockery of her recent romantic endeavors. The sound was like music to his ears.

“Here, I’ll help you out,” he cleared his throat. "His eyes green as English grass, and boy, did you see that ass?" he mockingly sang over the music, his voice going in and out of tune.

She chuckled at his attempt at lightening the mood, turning the volume up even higher to drown out his voice.

"Boybands may be a bit crummy," he continued even louder, reveling in seeing her smile again, "but you know he's giving me the one D."

"You're an idiot," she laughed, shaking her head affectionately.

As the GPS finally announced their impending arrival, YN suddenly spoke. "Wait, turn there instead" she instructed.

Jake glanced at her, his brows furrowing in confusion as he followed her gaze to the upcoming turn. What was she up to now?

Before he could voice his question, she continued, her words taking on a playful tone, "You love that song."

She quickly reached out to turn up the radio and open the car roof, allowing the cool night air to rush in and tousle her hair. The wind whipped around her, sending tendrils of hair cascading over her shoulders as she swayed to the music beneath the open sky, her movements fluid and effortless.

Fuck. He did love that song.

As he watched her, a surge of something pulsed through him, igniting a fire that had long lain dormant within his soul.

In that moment, as the world faded away and all that remained was the two of them and the music, Jake knew one thing for certain:

They would never go out of style.

The car eventually came to a smooth stop and they both stepped out onto the quiet street. The night air was cool against their skin as he walked her to the door.

"I should get going," Jake murmured as he glanced back to the car.

YN's lips curved into a playful smirk, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes as she drunkenly leaned against the doorframe. She knew deep down she should tell him to leave, but in that moment, with the warmth of alcohol coursing through her veins, she couldn't bring herself to do so.

"Don't you want to take a peek?" she teased; her voice laced with playful invitation. Jake had yet to see her new place. “I did promise you a tip,” she added.

She knew she was playing a dangerous game.

The guitarist looked hesitant. He, too, knew too well where such things often led.

"Do you really need me to tuck you in?" he asked.

"Come on," she insisted with a smirk as she stood on her tiptoes, “I've got choccy milk in the fridge," she murmured in his ear.

Jake couldn't help but chuckle at her antics, the corners of his lips quirking upwards in a reluctant smile. He could never say no to her.

He stood by, patiently, as YN drunkenly fumbled with her set of keys. With a triumphant click, she finally managed to unlock the door.

Together, they walked into the cozy confines of her home. She made a beeline for the light switch, her movements slightly unsteady, while Jake shrugged off his jacket.

"So, this is your new place," Jake remarked as he took in the surroundings. It wasn't extravagant, but it was quintessentially LA, with sleek furnishings and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

YN hummed in agreement. “Make yourself at home,” she said, a contented smile gracing her lips as she disappeared into another room. Left to his own devices, Jake settled onto the plush leather sofa.

Moments later, YN returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Jake's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"No chocolate milk?" he gasped in mock offense, his tone laced with feigned disappointment. "Can't believe I've been tricked into coming in under false pretenses."

"I know, right?" YN replied with a chuckle as she poured the wine, “You’ve got to be more careful.”

Jake's expression softened, a hint of concern flickering in his gaze as he studied YN's flushed cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes. "Don't you think you've had enough for tonight?" he asked gently.

But YN simply brushed off his concern with a dismissive wave of her hand. With a playful giggle, she extended a glass of wine towards Jake.

"I'm good, thanks” he said. Their gazes met in a quiet exchange. A silent acknowledgment of the boundaries that needed to be maintained. Jake couldn’t indulge if he wanted to drive back. And he had to drive back eventually… right?

YN said nothing in response. She simply nodded and kept the glass to herself. But there was something in her gaze as she took a sip. A mix of appreciation, respect, and something else that Jake couldn’t quite make out.

Truth be told, it was disappointment that lingered in her eyes. Who she was disappointed in, though, was a different question altogether.

"Mind if I light up?" Jake broke the silence.

YN nodded in approval, and he pulled out some rolling paper and tobacco from his pocket.

She watched from beneath hooded lashes as Jake skillfully rolled the cigarette, his fingers moving with practiced precision, her knees pressing together involuntarily when his tongue dragged against the rolling paper.

With a flick of his lighter, the tip of the cigarette glowed cherry red as Jake took a long drag, smoke curling lazily into the air. YN couldn't help but inhale deeply, the familiar scent stirring memories buried in her flesh.

He held out the cigarette to her, a silent invitation.

She shook her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. She’d been avoiding smoking to preserve her voice. Besides, Harry disliked the smell.

Right, Harry. Harry disliked the smell.

"I'm a good girl now, haven't you heard?" she said in playful defiance.

"Are you, really?" he countered, a low murmur that sent a shiver down YN's spine, before placing the cigarette back between his lips.

She chuckled softly and stepped forward. With a gentle touch, she plucked the cigarette from his lips, her fingertips brushing against his skin ever so softly.

He watched, mesmerized, as she brought the cigarette to her lips, her red lipstick leaving a smudge of crimson upon the filter. Jake clenched his jaw, something primal stirring deep within him.

The smoke filled her lungs, swirling around her like a lover's embrace. Heady and intoxicating.

She settled on the sofa beside him, their thighs brushing in a tantalizing caress. With a soft sigh, she leaned back against the cushions, her breathing slowing as she fought the creeping pull of sleep.

“Alright,” YN began, blowing out some smoke, “you know all about me and Harry.” his heart skipped a beat as reality hit him like a cold shower. Jesus fucking Christ. He’d almost believed it.

“So, tell me about you” she continued, a playful glint dancing in her eyes, “I heard you’ve been out and about with some girl.”

He didn't reply immediately, instead reclaiming the cigarette from her fingers and taking a slow drag.

"It's not true?" she pressed, curiosity evident in the tilt of her head.

"No, it's true," he admitted with a nonchalant shrug, flicking ash into the nearby ashtray. His mind briefly wandered to the random girls he'd been seeing, or rather just fucking – a decent distraction when the quiet of the night got too loud.

"A couple of them," he added, his gaze focused intently on the glowing ember of the cigarette between his fingers.

She giggled softly. "Not keen on being tied down, Kiszka?"

He sighed. “Not in a while, no.”

Her smile faded slightly as she met his gaze. She’d been the only exception.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the weight of their shared history lingering in the air. YN leaned on her side, her blinking slow and heavy.

"I think about it sometimes, you know?" Jake broke the silence, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "You and I, I mean."

YN's nod was barely discernible. "I get that," she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy, "I've been there too, a few times."

Jake couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness in the pit of his stomach at her words. He wasn't accustomed to speaking about such matters sober.

After a moment of reflective silence, Jake leaned forward to extinguish the cigarette, the ember fizzling out with a faint hiss. As he did, he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wonder where we’d be now, had things been different." His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken longing and regret.

"You know what I mean?" Jake's voice trailed off into a whisper as he finally turned back to YN, only to find she had drifted off to sleep against the cushion, the soft rhythm of her breathing now filling the room.

A faint smile played on Jake's lips as he watched her peaceful features. He was almost grateful for the wine induced coma. It had perhaps been a sign from the universe, stopping him from going any further. Saying something they’d both regret.

With a tender brush of his fingertips against her cheek, Jake whispered softly into the stillness of the night, "Sweet dreams, superstar."

As the early morning light filtered through the windows, YN stirred from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open to the unwelcome sound of an alarm she hadn't set.

Confusion washed over her as she realized she was lying on top of her bed, a warm blanket draped over her form.

She sat up with a groan, her head throbbing from the remnants of the previous night's indulgence. Rubbing the remnants of sleep she found that her makeup had been removed, leaving her face bare, yet she was still fully clothed in the outfit she had worn the night before.

YN sighed, slowly recalling the previous night’s events.

Jake.

She wondered when he’d left. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.

As she stepped out of the shower and began to get ready for the airport, her phone buzzed. It was from Danny, thanking her for the previous night and attaching a treasure trove of photos capturing the festivities.

Still wrapped in her towel, YN scrolled through the myriad of pictures she’s been sent. Sam and Josh's antics filled the screen – dancing, laughing, and inevitably ending up face down on the floor. Danny's face, alight with joy as he blew out the candles on his birthday cake, was a heartwarming sight, even with his hair and face smudged with vanilla icing.

Her scrolling halted abruptly when she came upon a photo of her and Jake.

In the dim glow of the party lights, they sat side by side, lost in conversation. Her head was thrown back in laughter, eyes shining with unbridled joy. Jake, his expression softened by a rare smile, looked at her with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine.

YN stared at the photo, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.

Yeah.

Looks were overrated.

But God knows these two would never go out of style.

Next Track : The Way I loved You

Extended Masterpost

OK TIME TO BE HONEST THIS IS VERY MUCH A FILLER CHAPTER, BUT I REALLY WANTED YN TO RELEASE A SONG CALLED “STYLE” BECAUSE I MEAN COME ON THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY OF THAT GIRL

Anyway, hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter

@gretavanhockey

27 notes · View notes

jahayla-parker · 2 years ago

Text

Tom Holland Navigation

NAVIGATION TOOLS:

FLUFF: ~

ANGST: *

SMUT: #

Banners below sort fics based on type of work(s)

Premieres: Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Description: Social Media Fic for Tom x GF!Reader at some movie premieres; including No Way Home and Uncharted.

Warnings: None

Picturing Tom: Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Description: Social Media Fic for Tom x GF!Reader where the reader is a photographer; meaning she gets the chance to take photos of Tom often

Warnings: None

Comedic Muse: Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Description: Social Media Fic for Tom x GF!Reader where the reader is a comedian and Tom supports her even when she jokes about him being her muse (also mentions of The Brothers Trust)

Warnings: None

This Sacred Heart: Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Description: Social Media Fic for Tom x GF!Reader where the reader is a singer and the fic shows their relationship dynamics including song(s) about him, etc.

Warnings: None

Crowded : Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Description: Tom Holland Instagram SMAU based off bts for/of his show The Crowded Room. Fluff

Warnings: flirting, I think that's all

Spoiler Stopper : Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Descr: reader is an actor who is dating Tom Holland and tries to stop the king of spoilers from spoiling more details about his Marvel projects. Fluff

Warnings: a few curses, Tom being a div who spoils things, that's all I believe

British Civil War : Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Descr: Smau, Y/n is a major fan of British singer Harry Styles, and it shows on her Instagram. However, her British actor boyfriend Tom Holland is ready to defend his position. Fluff

Warnings: flirting, playfulness, light teasing, shirtless Harry Styles and Tom Holland

Golden Addition : Tom Holland x Reader SMAU ~

Descr: Reader and Tom (established couple) adopt a golden retriever puppy and y/n documents the journey from picking out which puppy to adopt until they get home. Fluff

Warnings: i think a curse word is in there somewhere but otherwise just fluff!

My Darling Queen: Tom Holland x Reader + SMAU ~

Description: 7.4k wc, Tom takes the reader y/n, his girlfriend out for a fancy date night, going out of his way to ensure she has a great night. Contains both a FIC and SMAU

Warnings: Suggestive, implied smut, making out, curse words. 18+ please given material

Waves of Emotions: Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 3.7k wc fic of a Co-Star reader (featuring on set interactions) who is friends with Tom but it forms into a romantic relationship; aka Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Fluff mostly so minor warnings of mutual pining, mentions of fake injuries (as part of the filming), and a few curworse

This Isn’t The End: Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 1.7k wc, Filming with his crush becomes too real and emotional for Tom during a tense scene causing him to expose his feelings for the reader / y/n.

Warnings: Character death, crying, and a fake hospital scene

Self Care Compromise: Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 3.75k wc, Reader/ y/n is dating Tom Holland and once again finds her boyfriend to be overworking himself so she takes matters into her own hands to fix it.

Warnings: None, just fluff (other than brief mentions of being burnt out from working too much)

Buzzing Nerves: Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 2.9k wc, Tom is worried his girlfriend y/n won’t react well to him needing to get a buzz cut for his role in Cherry. Y/n makes it a point to reassure him.

Warnings: some minor self doubt, a little suggestive, spoilers for Cherry, cotton candy level fluff that may cause a cavity, one tiny curse word.

Family Date Night: Tom Holland x Reader ~

Description: 2.8k wc, Tom and his pregnant wife Y/N try to celebrate the release of Uncharted by going to watch a movie at the theaters that he rented out for them to have some privacy but get interrupted by a fan.

Warnings: some minor self confidence issues, intrusive fans (not respecting personal/family time) hormones, mentions of pregnancy, and Tom being so cute it hurts

Conning Fans at Comic-Con: Tom Holland x Reader~

Description: 1k wc, Tom and his MCU Co-Star/Girlfriend Y/N suprise fans at Comic-Con together

Warnings: none (I think maybe one curse word lol)

More Than Kittens: Tom Holland x Reader~

Description: 3.1k wc, Tom is jealous when the reader, his co-star/actress girlfriend is ignoring him while they do the Buzzfeed kitten interview for their latest film.

Warnings: Minor mentions of PTSD (as part of a movie is all, like 2 lines), Tom being cranky I guess lol.

It’s Okay to Not Be Okay: Tom Holland x Reader ~*

Description: 6.1k wc, the reader, y/n is Tom’s girlfriend and he notices she seems to be under the weather but he soon learns there’s more to it than that. Tom learns about her depression and does everything he can to be there for her as she fights against herself/it. Lots of comfort and care.

Warnings: depression (no su!cide discussed), strong emotions, and feelings of loneliness discussed. Note: Does NOT romanticize depression/mental health (more related disclaimers on fic)

Not The Only Option: Tom Holland x Reader ~

Description: 1.9k wc, The reader, y/n and her boyfriend Tom are the leads/co-stars in the remake of Titanic; this is essentially a behind the scenes look at some scenes and banter between each other during filming.

Warnings: a few curse words, titanic events discussed based on the script found here. Otherwise fluff

Spoiling Wonderland: Tom Holland x Reader + SMAU ~

Description: 1.2k wc, Tom and his girflriend y/n are staring as leads in the new Alice in Wonderland remake but it is a secret from the public at first. Tom -in his typical yet adorable manner -spoils his and y/n’s roles in the latest adaption by accident. Contains both a short fic / blurb and SMAU showing the various situations/events that took place during this attempt to keep it a secret and offers a peek at their relationship dynamic.

Warnings: one suggestive comment, Tom spoiling things again, a few curse words.

Stay: Tom Holland x Reader ~

Description: 1.6k wc, Fall prompt of “It’s storming too hard to go home, why don’t you spend the night?” With Tom holland and his gf Reader

Warnings: none just fluff

Ghosted: Tom Holland x Reader ~

Description: 930wc of Tom and his girlfriend y/n go trick or treating even though they’re not little kids anymore.

Warnings: curse words otherwise fluff

Don’t Touch Us: Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 3.4k wc, started based off this and then my adhd took over. Basically Tom’s protective side comes out when the public starts getting more aggressive towards him and the reader.

Warnings: maybe a few curses, aggressive fans, mentions of being tipsy, that’s all I think otherwise just far too fluffy Tommy.

Cannot Be Broken : Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 2.9k wc, reader is dating tom and get into a situation in which overly aggressive and/or eager fans end up hurting her and he has to help take care of it and her.

Warnings: I think two curse words, angry Tom, mention of broken bones and bruises, otherwise fluff

Getting Personal: Tom Holland x Reader #

Description: 13.5k wc smut where Tom falls for his personal assistant y/n and the heat between them is palpable but he struggles given their professional relationship.

Warnings: 18+ smut content, jealousy, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, mentions of orgasm, cum, masterbation, etc. teasing, and similar sexual content

Warmth : Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 41.k wc fluff fic for the prompt “let’s get you out of these wet clothes”. Y/n’s boyfriend cheats on her and her best friend Tom is there to help her through it.

Warnings: mentions of reader’s boyfriend cheating, angst, breakups, confessions, kissing, pining, a few curse words I think.

Dents and Dinners : Tom Holland x Reader ~

Description: 4.78k wc, Tom injures Reader and takes her to dinner to apologize and keep an eye on her during the early hours of her recovery. Minor injury, fluff, meet cute, first date, hurt-comfort

Warnings: minor injury/concussion, mention of doctors/hospitals/related, a couple curse words, I think that’s it!

Aches and Loss : Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 2.1k wc, Tom Holland helps reader through the loss of her aunt. Hurt-comfort.

Warnings: mentions of death, funerals, Catholicism, and related topics.

Crazed: Tom Holland × Reader *~

Description: 8k wc, A crazed fan breaks into Tom's house when his girlfriend is home and she has to defend herself until Tom's security gets there.

Warnings: curse words, violence, stalker/crazy fan behavior, hostage situation, threats, danger, mentions of a break-in, (minor) injuries, hospital (brief), knife/blade, keys used as weapon.

Uncharted Territory : Tom Holland x Reader*~

Description: 9.1k wc, Reader finds herself working on the set of one of Tom's movies in an attempt to escape her stalker. Only, it seems she can't outrun her troubles even in another country. This means y/n and Tom find themselves in uncharted territory as they try to navigate their way through the ordeal. Dark, stalker, hurt comfort, protective, injury comfort, angst to fluff. Happy ending.

Warnings: dark theme(s), violence, curse words, guns and gunshots, wounds/injuries, blood/ bleeding, stalkers, stalker behavior, break-ins, and related.

TikTok Prank Preference: Stuck Tampon ~

Description: blurb preference based on the viral TikTok prank where the person pretend they have a tampon stuck and need their partner to help them to see how they react.

Warnings: mentions of period related items and topics, minimally suggestive words, otherwise fluff

Period Simulator: Tom Holland x Reader Preference ~

Description: 530 wc blurb/preference (Tom is listed 1st) of him trying a period simulator to understand what his GF!Reader Y/N experiences

Warnings: pain, stupid boys, and, a few curses.

Happily Ever After: Tom Holland x Reader ~

Description: Blurb/headcanon and small fic for Tom Holland based on the Happily Ever After character series of fics. This covers topics such as the proposal, wedding planning, who is in the wedding party, etc. leading up to -and including- the wedding day!

Warnings: anxiety/nerves, proposal, weddings, marriage, budgeting/finances, family

“You’re Supposed to Be Dead” : Prompt Preference

Description: "You're supposed to be dead", "Yeah, sorry about that" prompts; enemies to lovers

Warnings: mentions of fake characters/roles deaths

Very British : Tom Holland Blurb ~

In Time : Tom Holland x Reader COMPLETED Series

Series Description: Reader is a cashier at a grocery store in Atlanta and crosses paths with Tom while he's in the area filming No Way Home. Tom quickly falls for y/n but she has a boyfriend. Does/will y/n feel the same? Will they ever end up together? Are they destined to be friends or something more? Fluff, comfort, hurt-comfort, angst, strangers-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, etc.

Series Warnings: cursing, some spice/suggestive content, brief mentions of previous smut/sex but not actually written, toxic boyfriend behavior, minor aggression/violence, arguments, self doubt, mean fans, food/eating, breakups, pining, kissing and related romantic behaviors, and mentions of cheating. Please let me know if I missed anything!

The Master : Tom Holland x Reader COMPLETED Series

Series Description: Reader is the prop master for Uncharted. She therefore meets Tom on set and soon they're falling for each other. But will things burn out before filming is over? Or will they be able to make it? Fluff, some hurt-comfort and angst-to-fluff

Series Warnings: flirting and pining of course, manipulative 'friends", reader can't swim (& falls into ocean very briefly), gift gifting, birthdays, (briefly mentioned) creepy man, mentions of alcohol, SEE WARNINGS for Part 8 separately below,

Notes: Reader's ethnicity (Latina) and age are briefly mentioned in part 7 but rest of the story is meant to read as a reader insert still.

Red Flag (Mini-Series / Two-Part Fic): Tom Holland x Reader *~

Series Moodboard / Aesthetic Concept

Part 1- Tom’s One Red Flag: Tom Holland x Reader *

Description: 3.1k wc, Tom’s GF!Reader only ever saw one red flag when it comes to Tom. His dad (using Tom’s fame for his own agenda without offering real support). Will they be able to keep pushing through when this glowing red flag begins waving between them?

Warnings: Angst, cursing, Tom’s dad

Part 2- Red Flag Recovery: Tom Holland x Reader *~

Description: 5.1k wc, Part 2 to Tom’s One Red Flag . AKA the resolution and happy ending.

Warnings: mentions of grief and strong emotions, weapons/violence used to describe feelings, a few curse words, counseling, family drama, manipulation discussion

Tom Holland’s Characters’ Navigation Masterlists:

Nathan Drake Navigation

Spider-Man & Peter Parker Navigation

Request Info (Details)

Main Masterlist Navigation (All My Works)

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smau #smau #tom holland fluff #tom holland pics #tom holland funny #tom holland x gf!reader #tom holland x co star!reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #navigation #nav page

275 notes · View notes

0oolookitsme · 3 years ago

Text

I do not give anyone the permission to translate or repost my work. Please do not plagiarize it! Apart from that, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for fishing out your precious time to read my fics -- it means a lot and I appreciate your support so much! I genuinely hope you enjoy your time here <3

All the love always,

Klaus Mikaelson ff sideblog: @aklaustaleteller Fic rec blogs: @ireblogwhatireadcauseduh and @hsficrecommendation MOST RECENT FIC: Baby, We're Fireproof (A, F) (S) Smut. (F) Fluff. (A) Angst. One Shots (2k+ wc) | One Shoty Blurbs (1k+ wc) | Blurbs (1k- wc).

SINGER!HARRY X CEO!Y/N

ONE SHOTS

Baby, We're Fireproof (2.1k) [A, F] Harry has been writing an album, and while Y/n wants to go easy on him, she just can't adjust to his absence and the fact that he has abandoned their relationship. But Harry is quick to realise his fault and remind her that they're fireproof.

Double Date Day (3.0k) [F] It is Valentine's Day, also known as the Double Date Day in the Styles' house. And being one of the highly anticipated days for the family, a lot of preparation and antics take place throughout the day!

Harryween Night ...In! (2.0k) [F] In which Harry and Y/n have cozy night in on Halloween night at Anne's -- watching nineties scary movies, and handing out treats (specifically to a girl who's too sweet and dressed up as Dorothy).

A Messy Day (2.5k) [A] In which Harry doesn't communicate his feelings well, and decides that y/n is the one acting childish.

A Little ‘You’ Wannabe (2.4k words) [F, A] In which Harry, Amore, and Andre decide to pay Y/n a visit at her office, but only after reaching there does Harry realizes that she’d be in a meeting. Andre, being the sneaky boy he is, enters the meeting room.

First Time in Paris (5.2k words) [S, F, A] In which Y/n realizes she hasn’t gone on a vacation with Harry and hasn’t even engaged him. [PS- One thing happens against their will]

Sleepless Nights (2.1k words) [F, A] In which Y/n has a stress-filled week, followed by insomnia and supported by Harry’s gentle words which escape his mouth when he thinks she’s asleep. [PS- It’s vice-versa]

Hello M’ Heart (4.4k words) [S, F] In which a small Playful text leads to tears then to the cancelation of a surprise date and then to making love.

ONE SHOTY BLURBS

Such an Opportunist [F] Harry really needs to sleep, and Y/n is very shocked to learn that he's written songs she'd yet to hear. Also, Harry falls on some Lego bits and what better opportunity to ask for a back massage?

But Baby, It's Cold Outside [F] Y/n and Harry are decorating for Christmas with a baby soon to arrive, and Harry keeps draping a blanket over y/n's frame even though the room has grown too hot.

Falling in Love [F] In which they are still falling in love, and Harry believes there always needs to be sweet for salty. (Previously knows as 'Sweet for Salty')

More Than One [F] In which they are in a bath together, and Y/n messes up her concept of plural and singular when Harry asks about the baby growing in her womb.

Take an Off Tomorrow [F] I honestly don't know what this is other than a combo of two asks. So, thanks to @harryfeatgaga and her anons :)

Time For A Little Show [F] Amore had convinced harry to do a little show in London so that she and her brother can see him perform their mutually favourite song, live for the first time.

He Remembers [F, S] In which it shows that the song ‘Golden’ isn’t his, but his wife, Y/n’s pov. And also, in which Y/n dissolves in the crowd and cheers when Harry doesn’t find her by the last song, but the spankings prove just something else.

BLURBS

Cuddles, Loud Laughs and sleeping babies [F]

Tit-for-Tat [F]

Glowing [F]

Not a Movie Night [F]

FOOTBALLER!HARRY X ART DIRECTOR!Y/N

ONE SHOTS

Like Gold Dust (3.1k words) [A] Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

My Good Girl (4.3k words) [S] In which Harry finds you, his girl best friend, pleasuring yourself and shows you just what he can be other than a sweet best friend who agrees to bring pastry for the movie marathon.

Home, Sweet Home (2.1k words) [F] In which Harry returns home to his family after an away game.

Heart Showered in Rose Petals (3.1k words) [F] In which Harry pleads Y/n to watch his biggest University game and romantic events unfold just after the game. Not to forget about the funny moments attached to the whole day.

ONE SHOTY BLURBS

Knight in the Shining Armour [A, F] Harry and Y/n are at a party and everyone's enjoying their time until comes in a dude who can neither take no for an answer, nor register the fact that he's just been warned.

Keep On Waiting [F] Harry somehow tricked Y/n into coming over and wrapping his presents for him -- but when he hugs her for too long, Y/n can't help but think that she really would keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe.

No More Kisses [F] In which Harry comes back to the frat house late after a practice session, Y/n has decided to takeover his room's floor to lay down her projects and somehow ends up getting tricked by Harry into taking a shower with him.

Mum for the Day [F] In which it’s Sunday and the missus is found asking for a sleep-in day. So, Harry finds himself up and out of bed, and on his way to their kids.

Swollen Belly [F, S] In which Harry proves that he can fulfill her cravings and not only make her satisfied but happy ...and horny.

Positive [F] In which Y/n has pregnancy symptoms and mistakes it for a slump, which results in her blaming herself for everything. Only when Harry recommends her to take a pregnancy test do they find out about the precious life forming in her belly.

BLURBS

Save Some for your Daddy, Baby Boy [S, F]

Cool Daddy Mode? On. [F]

Tired [F]

A Routine [F]

Melted Ice Cream [F]

Dismissed [F]

Sleepy Drunk [F]

MODEL!HARRY X FASHION DESIGNER!Y/N

ONE SHOTY BLURBS

Shoot [F, S] Just a compilation of the events that take place at the Dazed photo shoot.

Is She an Actress? [F] In which James Cordon convinces his two friends to do a game show with him. Only during the show does he realize that the two people who he thought were strangers to each other, might be more than friends.

BLURBS

Cancellation of Little Plans [S, F]

FAKE IG

Flower Goes Floral [F] Harry at the Brits, wearing an iconic dress suit, styled by none other than his girlfriend, Y/n.

New Year and Another Year of Us [F] Just a compilation of events that take place on days around the New Year told through pictures, captions, and comments :)

ARTIST!HARRY X PHOTOGRAPHER!Y/N

ONE SHOTS

Carving Pumpkins and Making A Memory (3.3k words) [F] I think it's all in the title hahah <3

ONE SHOTY BLURBS

Piece of His Heart [F, A] Harry and Y/n were students, and now, parents to a newborn babygirl as well. With all of the newfound emotions rushing through them, one thing he knew was that they were going to build this new little family slowly, and lovingly.

Exhibition Times [F, A] The one in which Harry is behind on his work for his exhibition but Y/n just makes everything better.

Mama's Day [F] Harry adores his wife and takes Opal with him for cooking her mama some breakfast in bed.

Picnics and Fist Bumps [F] In which Opal is taken on her very first picnic and Y/n and Harry can't help but discuss some sweet memories.

DWD!HARRY X DWD!Y/N

ONE SHOTS

Burning Up (2.0k) [F] Harry is sick, and Y/n is panicking because she isn't quite sure how one takes care of a sick person, plus, she can't even cook well enough! But, as she takes care of him, it's like time slows down, and then speeds back up -- just like her heart each time that he lazily smiles at her.

Anything For You... And I (2.9k words) [S, F] In which Harry is in a good mood and so he makes Y/n feel good too.

Whiskey Eyes and Liquorish Blush (2.2k words) [S, A] In which Jack cheats on his fiancé, y/n, and receives a strip tease instead of conversation from her -as a goodbye, along with a kiss + slap to his cheek.

BLURBS

Promotion [F]

NO AU!HARRY X NO AU!Y/N

ONE SH0TS

Best Gift and Waffles (2.8k) [F] It’s y/n’s birthday, Harry ends up being assigned the duty of making waffles every time they’ll be planned to be made, and Juno’s gift is termed as the best she’s ever received. (for sunnie <3)

ONE SHOTY BLURBS

We'll also Sit there One Day [F] In which Harry and Layla get it written in their destiny that if their knots are tied, they will be with each other only. (for maya <3)

Next-Door Stranger [F] Y/n hates frogs, except the one because of whom she got to meet her pretty neighbour. But she still kinda hates him because he was the reason why Harry’s Rose pot was broken by her.

Not His Fault [F] In which Posey, a doggy who was to act in the MV of Kiwi gets sick and Y/n just happens to be there with her dog, Bingo.

Dia Dos Namorados [F] In which Harry plans a little Valentine's surprise and only when he gets to it does he realize just how hard it is to bake a Brigadeiro cake; and also, how fast he can make himself look presentable.

BLURBS

Storm [F]

My Charger! [F]

The Gender Revealers [F]

Stop Huffing! [F]

Donuts [Blurb] {For @/band–psycho} [F]

Harry’s Blushing! [Blurb] {For @/heloisedaphnebrightmore} [F]

UNEXPLORED (SO FAR) AU'S

MARVEL AU! Y/N X HARRY X TOM HOLLAND

Auditions (Platonic Era) [F]

A Day Made Better (Platonic Era) [F]

BAKER!HARRY X FLORIST!Y/N

Hello Ms. Baker [F]

WOLF!HARRY X DETECTIVE!Y/N

Unnecessary Growl [F]

DEVIL!HARRY X (VAMPIRE) ASSASSIN!Y/N

Dazzled [S, F, A]

EXCERPTS

NHL!Harry x Figure Skater!Y/n [It's Buzzcut Season, Anyways!]

HEADCONONS

[both of them are basically ‘step-by-step’ blurbs lmao]

Doing Magazine photoshoot with Harry [F]

Artist!Reader [F]

MILESTONE/FESTIVE CELEBRATIONS

Drabble nights - 200 lovelies Celebration!

Fics-mas for Christmas - Just a small n' smutty celebration for Christmas :)

Kinktober'23 - Another smutty celebration, but this time 'round, it's simply for October ;)

Remember that everything will be alright and to tpwk (including yourself)! All the love always, A <3

1K notes · View notes

asgardwinter · 3 years ago

Note

steve harrington and keep driving by harry styles (my two greatest loves)

here we go... thank you for the request!!

occasional

summary | It all happened so naturally, you knew it would hurt when it eventually reached the end of the road.

pairing | Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

warnings | fluff and angst, suggestive themes, allusions to semi-public sex (yeah, idk how we got here), sort of hopeful/bittersweet ending, this sort of delays season 4 for a year so no spoilers :)

word count | 1,3k (blurbs? i don’t know them anymore)

author’s note | idk, i listened to this song in an insane loop and sort of went with a summer love vibe because no one could stop me, but now i’m sad and i want these two to have a very happy ending… anyways, see it for yourselves :)

song: keep driving by harry styles

Steve Harrington Masterlist | join the taglist! | Main Masterlist

After moving out for college life in Hawkins felt weird.

Going back to your old home for Summer Break brough not only all the memories from your high school year but all related to The Upside Down events and it was… well, it felt even more weird.

You went to Family Video first, a way to get back to the Hawkins atmosphere after a good while you were gone — your mom would certainly kill you if you spent the break anywhere else that wasn’t her home again. There was no way to contain your surprise as you walked inside and saw Steve Harrington on the front of a shelf organizing movies, all that while involved in a playful conversation with Robin Buckley, one of your old friends.

With the Mind Flayer incident being distant by almost a year you ignored the last occurrences of your last month in Hawkins — that included the unexpected friendship between Steve and Robin and how he somehow knew who you were after surviving together in a Russian Military Base.

“I can’t believe it!” Robin said in the middle of whatever Steve was trying to reason with her. “It’s been months since I’ve heard from you.”

She came from behind the counter to give a hug, one that was very much welcomed by you. You truly missed her, distance made things harder and you feared the day one of your only friends in that small town would move on completely from you.

But at least you were still safe from that, it seemed.

“I didn’t mean to take so long to come back here and the phones… they don’t collaborate with a poor girl with too much gossip to tell.” You started to justify your every action before she just smiled and interrupted you.

“I get it, but I’m happy to see that you’re still alive.” Robin was still Robin, you grinned.

“Hi.” Steve finally came from behind the shelf, running his hand through his hair and smiling at you — why was he smiling at you like that? “Long time no see, Y/n.”

“Oh, hi Steve. I’ve been a little bit distant.” You heard Robin scoff the moment “little bit” left your mouth.

“So, now that you’re here, how can I help you?” He gestured around him, making you remember what your intentions were at first.

“Right! I came here to look for a… movie.” You told him the obvious, only five minutes inside the store and robin had enough material to tease you. “Don’t even say anything, Robin! Would you have any suggestions for an indecisive person?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t have one now would I?”

Robin told you later he would.

…

If you told any past version of you that you’d be one of those girls in Steve’s car you’d laugh in your own face. But there you were, during a summer break and very much occupied laying in the backseat. It seemed to be one of your favourite pastimes along with finding an excuse to go to the video store and talk with Robin, both of you teaming up against Steve.

Of course, she didn’t know about the other stuff that kept filling your daily schedule, but no one knew about that and it was better like that.

The “secret” rendezvous didn’t start as something intentionally hidden. Going to your house or his house when parents weren’t there was just easier after two casual encounters at a diner. It wasn’t hard to figure out you told no one about it and he neither, so that became a silent agreement.

Yes, the boy you considered a complete douchebag through all your High School years and avoided any possible conversation was now quite busy with the buttons of your blouse and not taking his lips away from yours. Things were different then a year ago.

There was no need to make a big deal about something with an expiration date.

But in those moments when you were so lost in each other you allowed yourself to think what would be like if it could last, just to hide the question in the darkest corner of your mind.

No need to make a big deal about something with an expiration date.

…

It was comfortable, that’s why you allowed it to happen.

Talking with Steve was good. He knew about the Upside Down even before you did and there were no lies about how you’d spent the last summer fighting a monster from another dimension. Steve was fun and charming, you felt safe with him even as the shadow of your departure came looming above you two.

And that was something you avoided talking till the last minute, you wouldn’t say you forgot because it was completely intentional.

That was the problem with things that flowed way too easily at the start, between wine glasses and late night drives the important stuff kept left out to create a new problem in the future, the type of problem you only stop ignoring until it’s too late.

“I got back to Washington tomorrow.” You suddenly announced.

Steve hit the breaks almost as fast as it, making you gasp with surprise since you were in the middle of the road.

“What?” That was the only thing he could think of asking. What on Earth were you saying?

“I’m going back to college tomorrow.” You repeated it, the nonchalant tone made his heart clench playfully and he had no idea yours was hurting in the exact same way.

“And you just tell me now? Less than 24 hours earlier?”

Your silence only seemed to make things worse, but there was nothing you could do. “You never asked me when I was going back.”

“It is because I was pretty sure you were going to tell me eventually!”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Now I know.”

The quiet and uncomfortable atmosphere was a stranger in that car, but helped the tension to rise more every second you both spent with months shut.

“You should pull out the road.” You suggested in a whisper voice.

Steve took your suggestion in silence and all you wanted was to get out of his car and disappear.

“I guess this is it.” Steve said, pulling on your driveway and parking right in front of your house.

“Steve…”

“No.”

“Hey! I’m sorry, okay? I liked every moment we spent here. A lot. Probably more than I should.” You confessed to him even if Steve avoided looking in your eyes. “But we always knew this wouldn’t work.”

“Just say you don’t want it, assume you think it’s better this way but don’t say ‘this couldn’t work’ like me thinking it could work is the craziest idea you ever heard.” Steve said bitterly and you had no reaction to it besides the tears pooling in your eyes. “If you really wanted…”

“Now this is bullshit, Steve!” You exploded and his face fell.

“What did you say?”

“It makes no sense! It doesn’t mean I like you less, it just means there’s so many things that aren't in our favour right now and… God! I’ll miss you like hell, but I can’t even keep in touch with my friend, Steve.”

“You… like me?”

You frowned at his question. “I like you, I really do. Like, so much I know young me would slap me if she found out.”

“Wow, now that’s a pretty huge risk.” Steve joked and relief washed over you seeing his attempts at going back to your usual behavior.

“I know.” You smiled sadly at him.

The silence was back, the tension had dissipated but the weight of the words that were said was impossible to ignore.

“Well see how it goes. I…” Your rambling was cut off by a soft kiss, also a melancholic one. You wouldn’t dare to say it was a goodbye kiss, it was more of a don’t-wait-another-year-to-come-back-or-I’m-going-to-find-you-myself type of kiss.

“How many days till Winter Break?” Steve asked you when your eyes were still closed.

You didn’t even bother to answer the question, just pulled his lips back to yours by the collar of his uniform.

Taglists:

Everything Stranger Things: @emiscrying @wheresantarctica

#asgardwinter writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reader insert

211 notes · View notes

watermelonlovershigh · 2 years ago

Note

Will you put out another image soon?

Medicine (SMUT) /blurb/

AN: right now!!! a little surprise fic for you. its short but sweet and spicy.

This story contains: sex, playful teasing, mild angst

{ dadrry - husbandrry - soft!harry }

word count- 812

Harry does something rather cheeky in bed one night and when you're at his Wembley Night 3 concert, you recognize him recreating that cheeky move in front of thousands.

One week before Wembley Night 3 show:

It was a cozy evening tonight in your family home in London. Thank goodness you were in a city where you had a home because you despise staying in hotels all the time. Harry had just finished putting your three and five year olds to bed while you wrapped up your nightly shower.

Not thinking twice about it, you come walking out your shared bathroom that's located inside your bedroom stark naked with just a towel around your hair. As you were pulling some underwear out of your dresser drawer, Harry enters the bedroom but freezes when he sees you.

He looks you up and down and immediately you know what his eyes are giving. They're giving his "bedroom eyes". The eyes Harry gives to you when he's in the mood for sex. Though you joke that Harry is a horny bastard sometimes, you're just as equally horny the same amount if not more.

Somewhere between you grabbing your sleep clothes and walking over to the bed where you put on your lotions and creams, Harry stalked over towards you and pushed you back on the bed. Not in an aggressive way but in a playful way. "Harry", you giggle, the towel around your hair falling to the ground, "what are you doing?"

You know damn well what he's doing but you play dumb. Harry has you starfished out in the center of the bed. He's straddling your hips with his legs locked around your waist and his hands pinning your hands down to the mattress. "Think you can walk around our room naked and me not want to prance on you? Huh?"

Harry leans his head down to whisper against your mouth one last, "Huh?" and you being needy now, encloses your mouth around his lips. He doesn't fight back on trying to get an answer but instead just falls into your lustful kissing spell.

One thing leads to another and the clothes he had on (sweatpants and a t-shirt) has been shed off onto the floor and now he's fucking you. Well he made sure you were wet first but then, he got into fucking you. It's not rough sex but it's also not your "love making" sex either. You'd almost say its playful sex. Teasing sex. Sex where you're laid flat on the bed and Harry's on top but isn't pressed down on you. Just sitting up right with your legs around his waist and his hands on your hips as he thrusts in and out of you.

After this goes on for a few minutes and Harry can see how tired you've become, he speeds the process up but reaching a hand down to stimulate your clit. This gets you coming within a minutes time. And the feeling of you coming nearly triggers his but because he didn't wear a condom, he quickly pulls out.

As you lay there reeling from your high, Harry grabs his dick and continues his stimulation by jerking himself off. But being the cheeky man he is, he pretends to shoot his load sprinkler style where he twists his hips to the far left and slowly turns his hips to the right. His cock being held by both hands.

Once you catch sight of his doings, you hiss, "Don't you dare get cum on our duvet."

Harry laughs, "M' jokin'. M' jokin''" But his playful attitude only last a second more before he throws his head back and stills his hips. He removes one hand from his cock so that his other hand can go full force in the jerking motion. He roughly jerks the shaft of his cock until cum spurts out onto your belly. "Mhm, aghh!" he moans.

When Harry finishes coming on your stomach, he quickly reaches for some tissues that sit on your bedside table and goes to wipe his sticky cum off your skin before it dries. Then he leans down to peck your lips where you both mutter "I love you's" before actually getting ready for bed.

--------------

Wembley Night 3 show:

As you stood in the friends and family section of your husbands concert with your two kids dancing their little hearts out down beside you, you notice something familiar. While Harry is performing his unreleased fan favorite song Medicine, he suddenly holds the mic stand up to his front as if it was a dick and twists his hips side to side.

When you stare at the sight before you, you see Harry winking directly at you and that's when the memory comes to your mind. The memory of him doing this move exactly a week ago in bed, except he didn't have a mic stand. He had his actual dick in front of him, jerking it off while rotating his hips left to right. That cheeky mother fucker.....

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @stylesmygucci // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #dadrry #dad!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry x reader #famous!harry #famousrry #harry styles blurb

473 notes · View notes

justlemmeadoreyou · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request for an blurb?? Never requested to anyone but I have this idea!!

So like H nd reader is in a relationship but H being famous nd all so because of that media nd his fans doesn't know he is in relationship nd to hide that thing he had to do PR relationship with someone else!! Nd he doesn't acknowledge that he had being ignoring reader nd spending more time with that pr girl!! So one day H came home nd reader was crying nd saying to H "do you love me?? Nd saying please don't leave me" nd H assure her she is it nd in few months he proposed the reader by saying how she is the only girl for him nd to never doubt his love for her!!

Ahh so sorry for such a lengthy request!! Nd it's okay if you don't wanna write!!:)

words: 4k (sorry!!!)

warnings: angst, lots of it. a fake pr, crying, some smut too. happy ending.

i changed this a bit, especially the ending. hope you don't hate this!

***

"I miss you," you whispered into the dark emptiness of your bedroom, clutching Harry's pillow tight. Another restless night alone while he was off being pictured with that pretty model for their fake relationship.

When would this torment end? Your heart ached constantly from the secrecy and lies shredding your real romance with Harry. All you wanted was to be open about your love...

It had started off so blissfully a year ago when you literally crashed into Harry outside of a coffee shop. You'd been rushing out the door, distracted and clumsy as always, when you rammed straight into a solid wall of human. Your face went bright red as you scrambled to pick up your scattered belongings.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'm such a disaster, I seriously need to watch where I'm going..." you babbled, finally looking up into the kindest pair of green eyes you'd ever seen.

The man was watching you with an amused tilt to his soft lips. Something about his tousled chestnut hair and casual style felt vaguely familiar, though you couldn't quite place him.

"No worries at all, it's my fault. Are you alright?" He asked in a deep, sumptuous voice that made you shiver.

As realization dawned, your mortified expression deepened. "Oh wow...you're...I just headbutted Harry Styles in the stomach."

He laughed easily, dimples flashing as he bent to help gather your dropped papers. "Very impressive ab attack there. Been taking self-defense classes?"

You flushed again at his playful teasing, finding yourself surprisingly flustered by this international superstar's carefree charm. Most celebrities seemed to carry an air of inflated ego, but Harry radiated a humble warmth.

"Do you, er, come to this cafe often?" He asked curiously as you both stood. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly, you shook your head. "No, I don't. I was just stopping in for a coffee on my way to work."

"I see." His gem-green eyes slowly traced over your features, as if admiring a fine work of art. The intensity of his gaze sent a tendril of heated awareness washing through you.

Before you could think better of it, you blurted out the first thing on your mind. "Would you...maybe want to get coffee? With me, I mean? Right now?"

Harry's full lips curved in an amused smile. "I'd love that, actually."

You could scarcely believe this was reality as you led him back inside the cafe, trying not to visibly swoon at the casual brush of his fingertips against the small of your back. For the next hour you talked and laughed more freely than you had in ages, feeling utterly intoxicated by Harry's mere presence. Everything about him radiated authenticity and vulnerability, a creative wildness simmering beneath his polished exterior. You felt like you could be yourself with him instead of carefully cultivating persona upon persona as you did with most people.

By the time you forced yourself to reluctantly leave for work, exchanging numbers with Harry, you were positively giddy. Dancing through your day in a euphoric bubble, you hardly noticed the pitying looks from coworkers.

"You know he's just gonna ghost you, right?" Julie the receptionist said flatly when you told her about your morning coffee date. "Have you seen how many girls fall all over themselves trying to get Harry Styles' attention? You're out of your league, sweetie."

You frowned at her harsh dose of reality. As if you weren't well aware of your lack of impressiveness compared to supermodels and actresses in Harry's orbit. Still, you couldn't shake the magnetic connection you'd felt with him, the bone-deep certainty that he was someone truly special.

Much to everyone's shock, Harry didn't ghost you. In fact, a simple text from him that evening asking how your day was led to a rapid-fire exchange of messages stretching long into the night. Over the next few weeks, your life revolved around hushed phone calls, secret rendezvous at out-of-the-way cafes and restaurants, and marathon conversations revealing every layer of one another.

Harry was purely intoxicating - a whirlwind of brooding intensity balanced with vivid spontaneity and an excellent sense of humor. He seemed utterly fascinated by every small detail you revealed about your life, respectful in a way that made him feel like a wonderful dream. And you fell harder and harder for Harry with each passing day. Something about his quiet attentiveness and insatiable curiosity about you made you feel cherished in a way you'd never experienced before. Gone were the shallow, vapid interactions you were accustomed to in the dating world. With Harry, you could truly be yourself - he somehow coaxed out your authentic self that you typically kept heavily guarded.

At the same time, you were in absolute awe of the whirlwind of depth and experiences that defined Harry's life. His stories of touring the globe, writing deeply personal lyrics, collaborating with musical icons - they all painted a vivid portrait of an artistic soul soaring to brilliant creative heights. You drank in every glimpse into his inner world like a lifeline to another realm of existence.

Yet whenever you'd express feeling unworthy of his profound love and admiration, Harry was quick to sweetly rebuff you.

"Y/N, you dazzle me more than anything I've experienced in this mad career of mine," he insisted one evening over a cozy home-cooked meal you'd prepared. Catching your hand across the table, his green gaze pinned you in place. "Don't you see? Your warmth, your light, your way of finding detailed beauty in such seemingly ordinary moments - that's what enchants me. You make me want to shed all the superficial trappings of fame and just...be."

You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper, tumbling into an intimacy more profound than you'd ever imagined. If Harry hadn't told you himself that he'd only had a few relatively tame celebrity girlfriends in the past, you'd never have believed his immense experience from the way he worshiped you.

"So responsive, so gorgeous," he rasped against your swollen lips, calloused fingers stroking delirious patterns over your sensitized skin. "God, I could spend eternity between your legs”

Those stolen passionate encounters, tangled up and gasping one another's names with wild abandon, only added to your lovestruck infatuation. You felt deeply seen and cherished on a soul level, like you were both puzzle pieces finally slotting seamlessly together.

In the dreamy, lust-addled haze of new love, you almost didn't notice the growing tension in Harry's manner as typical relationship pressures began encroaching. Paparazzi grew increasingly aggressive in tracking his day-to-day movements whenever out in public. Well-meaning friends expressed concerns about the obvious strain he was under from lack of a romantic life in the public eye. And perhaps most troubling, his management team forcefully "suggested" it was time for him to embark on a high-profile PR romance to capitalize on album promotion and touring.

Harry had looked utterly fed up that evening when he broke the news, pacing in your living room.

You watched him apprehensively. "They want you to do...what? You mean...go along with a staged relationship? Like have a beard or something?"

"No! Absolutely not, I won't do it. I won't treat you like some secret, and I refuse to fake anything in my private life for publicity."

"Harry..." you tried to soothe him, rising to your feet and rubbing his tense shoulders. "I understand the pressures you're under-"

"No, you don't!" He rounded on you with surprising intensity. "You don't get it, Y/N. You are the best, most precious thing in my world - my safe harbor from all the bullshit fake expectations. I won't sully what we have with PR lies. I just...won't."

His words were at once incredibly romantic and terribly naive. As much as you longed to stay cocooned in the warm, intimate bubble of your relationship, you knew the real world would inevitably intrude. Harry was a public figure on a massive scale, his romantic life constantly scrutinized. For the sake of his livelihood, he might not have any choice but to bend to the publicity machine's demands.

***

Those first seeds of conflict only blossomed further over the following weeks as the PR relationship issue remained unresolved. You did your best to stay supportive and understanding, but it was a challenge keeping your own hurt and insecurities at bay.

"I just don't see what the big deal is," Harry groused one evening over a tense dinner. "So what if they want me to go out a few times with some model or actress, let the paps get pictures? It doesn't mean anything to me."

You poked at your food sullenly. "It's not that simple though, is it? Couldn't something like that, even if fake, seriously complicate things for us?"

He reached across to squeeze your hand. "Baby, you know you're the only person who matters to me. A little PR sham doesn't change how utterly mad I am about you."

But it did change things, whether Harry wanted to admit it or not. The striking difference in how he treated you, his real partner behind closed doors, compared to how he'd have to pretend with someone else for public consumption - it stung deep.

One night shortly after, you were cuddled up watching a movie when Harry's phone started incessantly buzzing. Pulling it out with a furrow in his brow, he quickly scanned a series of messages and emailed photos. An unmistakable look of chagrin crossed his face.

"What is it?" You asked, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. "Looks like the publicity team is really pushing ahead. They've, uh, they've arranged for me to be caught having dinner with Kendall Jenner tomorrow night."

Your heart plummeted as an uneasy feeling settled over you. This was really happening - right before your eyes, your private intimacy was being infiltrated with PR lies.

"So you're...going to be going out with her? In public, on a fake date, while the whole world watches?" You tried and failed to keep the hurt out of your voice.

"Not a date!" Harry was quick to insist, shifting closer to pull you into his arms. "Y/N, you have to understand this doesn't mean anything. It's all just smoke and mirrors, love. You're my world, I promise."

You wanted so desperately to believe him. But the lingering ache still took root somewhere deep inside as you watched the paparazzi frenzy ignite over Harry's "outing" with Kendall. Photos of the two models laughing intimately over drinks and dinner plastered every gossip rag and website for weeks.

It soon became a narrative that followed Harry everywhere - probing reporters shouting questions about whether he and Kendall were officially an item now. Rabid fans prying him online, trying to get every new shred of detail on the new, perfect couple.

"Hey, come here," Harry murmured soothingly whenever he saw the sadness and uncertainty cloud your eyes. He'd pull you into his chest, peppering kisses over your face. "I'm yours, baby, only yours. None of that bloody circus matters to me, I hope you know that."

You wanted to have his quiet confidence, truly. The way Harry could compartmentalize the fake PR relationship and his very real feelings for you with such clear separation. But it didn't stop the anxiety slowly gnawing away at your trust and security.

Increasingly, special romantic gestures from Harry felt like overcompensation for all the public affection he was faking with Kendall. When he'd surprise you with extravagant getaways to exotic locales, you couldn't fully relax into the pampering without wondering how much of it was just hiding guilt. And his constant reaffirmations of his love and devotion started ringing hollow amidst the growing circus his life was becoming.

The worst of it came at one of his first concerts after the publicity whirlwind began. You'd been so looking forward to experiencing the screaming crowds in a whole new light as Harry's actual partner, not just a casual fan. But the huge video screens kept flashing candid photos and fake couple shots of Harry holding hands and hugging Kendall, selling their phony romance to the fans.

You couldn't hold back the tears slipping down your cheeks as Harry serenaded the arena full of thousands, having no choice but to play along with the charade on the world stage. He caught your eye for just a second during the encore, and his smile instantly morphed into a look of sheer sorrow and guilt, looking at your tear-ridden face. He knew you, even if he stood so much away from you. But there was nothing he could do then except push forward with the manufactured story.

That night after the concert, an emotional Harry fell into your arms the moment you were alone in his dressing room. He clung to you desperately, peppering apologies across your tear-stained and defeated face.

"God, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rasped, emerald eyes awash with remorse and frustration. "Seeing you hurting like that because of this bloody sham...it killed me. You have to know how madly in love I am with only you."

You nodded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in your throat. Of course you knew, deep down, that Harry loved you wholly. His attentiveness, the intense spark of intimacy and passion between you, the emotional connection - it was all achingly real. This PR relationship was merely a toxic byproduct of his celebrity, something massively unfortunate but not defining your actual bond.

And yet...Harry couldn't deny the growing chaos enveloping his personal life. The fake romance was now Priority One to his team, staged and milked for every ounce of publicity. Constant video calls and strategy sessions mapped out each calculated move - where Harry and Kendall would stage a coffee run for the paps, when they should be papped holding hands emerging from a nightclub, how often they should update their couple-y Instagram shots together.

Harry grew increasingly sullen and withdrawn the more deeply engrossed he became in maintaining the facade. And you couldn't ignore the mounting jealousy and hurt rapidly corroding, chipping away your self-esteem and faith in the relationship.

***

"Maybe...maybe we should take a break," you finally broached one afternoon after an especially grueling set of publicity demands. Harry's head whipped up from where he was moodily going over plans for an upcoming awards show appearance.

"What? Why would you say that?" There was an edge of panic in his tone. He looked shocked, but you knew it was a long time coming.

You shrugged. "Harry, can you honestly tell me you don't resent me at all for the toll this whole – charade has taken? That some part of you doesn't wish you could just live your life freely without me holding you back from giving publicity stunts like this your full effort?"

He immediately rushed to gather you into his arms. "No! Never, Y/N. You're my world, my everything. Without you, all this would mean nothing!”

Burying your face into the strength of his shoulder, you wished you could cling to his words and find comfort there once more. But the turmoil swirling around you was rapidly becoming too overpowering.

"I'm just...I'm so tired of feeling like an afterthought, Harry. Of being the dirty little secret you have to hide away while flaunting someone else to the world. I can't keep living like this, sinking into doubt and jealousy constantly."

Harry's arms tightened around you convulsively. "Don't say that, my love. You could never be an afterthought to me. I need you here, by my side, to keep me grounded and remind me of what's truly real."

Though his words warmed your heart, you found yourself pulling back to gaze at him searchingly. "Then prove it. Enough with the grand romantic gestures, the desperate promises. I need you to actually fight for me, for us, instead of just going along with everything. Either that, or–” the lump in your throat deepend, “ –you can let me go”

Harry was taken aback by your words. But still, there was a part of him that didn;t fully understand what you were going through. "You know it's not that simple, Y/N. One wrong move that tanks this publicity team's plans and my entire career could crater."

"So what?" you challenged, tilting your chin defiantly. Harry wasn't the only one being forced to make impossible choices. "Is the career really more important than your actual life, your happiness in a real relationship? Because I love you with everything, but I can't keep sacrificing my sense of self-worth and spinning out into reckless jealousy every waking moment just so you can have the best of both worlds."

"I...you have to understand, none of this publicity shite actually matters to me. Not really. It's all a smokescreen that will fade away eventually. But you, us - this love is my truth, my be all and end all. Don't give up on me, baby. I'll fix this, I swear it."

You wanted so badly to believe the desperation in Harry's voice. But the ache of sadness and insecurity had burrowed too deeply. What once would have swept you up in romantic adulation now just hollowed you out further.

"I really hope you can, Harry," you rasped, pulling away with immense reluctance. "Because I can't keep holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop much longer. This half-life just isn't enough anymore.I can't, Harry.I can't keep living like this."

Harry looked hurt now. He knew it was only a while before it all came shattering down, but the thought of Y/N walking away felt like a shard of glass lodged in his heart.

"From this moment on, things change," he rasped. "No more bowing to bloody publicists and image managers. My truth, our bond, comes before anything else. You're about to become my permanent bloody shadow, love."

A smile curved your lips at his words. Reaching up to trace the sharp edge of his chiseled jaw, you felt a wave of relief and renewed hope. "Well, I do make a devilishly charming shadow, if I say so myself."

Harry's gaze drank you in like a man rewarded with an infinite oasis after years of directionless wandering. "That you do, baby. No more hiding that radiant light of yours, yeah? "

He sealed the vow with a kiss that seared straight through to your bones. You clung to him, every brush of his hands and velvet tongue rekindling the deepest intimacy between you two.

When you finally pulled apart, chasing oxygen, Harry made an immediate move to sweep you up into his arms like a blushing bride. "Come on, love. Let's go remind the world of who they're dealing with, shall we?"

You looped your arms around his neck with a giddy laugh as he strode through the penthouse with you cradled protectively to his chest. Despite his determination, his hold was soft, cherishing. Like you were something infinitely precious to be handled with utmost care, or you would break.

Without explanation, Harry marched you both out and down to where a sleek black car was out front, the doorman quickly ushering you inside the backseat. Once the privacy partition rolled up, Harry immediately turned to you.

"I mean it, every word," he stated plainly. "No more deceptions or hiding our connection. From here it's full transparency and only the truth."

you felt overcome by tenderness and awe. "So...does that mean an end to the fake relationship with Kendall then?"

"Among other things," Harry confirmed without hesitation. To your surprise, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and thumbed it open to the camera app, situating you both in the frame. "We're going to document and share every moment of us, the real us. Let my supporters and fans see who truly holds my heart before all others."

You blinked in astonishment as he looped an arm around your waist, pulling your bodies flush as the camera captured. Was this really happening? After all your heartbreak and insecurity brought on by that disastrous PR relationship, was Harry truly throwing it all to the wind?

That was clearly his intention as he leaned in to nuzzle your cheek dotingly, snapping pic after sweet pic of shameless embraces and intimate caresses being exchanged between you. Each time the shutter clicked he murmured loving adorations, his focus immovable.

"Gorgeous girl...my forever woman...heart and soul of my entire world..."

You blinked back tears. When was the last time you'd felt this elevated by Harry's worshiping? Your shaky exhales intermingled hotly as he maneuvered you fully into his lap, slanting his mouth hungrily across yours.

"My everything," he growled against your lips before kissing you breathless.

"Harry..." you finally managed to gasp out as you pulled apart, "what are you doing? If you post those shots, then-"

"Then the whole world will know I'm mad for you, and only you," he said, with nothing but seriousness and devotion in his voice, "No more closeting my actual partner away like a mistress to be hidden from disapproving eyes. You're the only romantic relationship fully grounded in truth that the world needs to be focused on."

You shivered at the assurance in his tone. This was really it - the definitive line in the sand. And with Harry looking at you the way he was, you couldn't find it in yourself to argue or question further. You simply melted into his heat, losing yourself in the incredible feeling of being staked as his claim.

With a few taps, Harry posted the first of intimate photos and captions that set the internet instantly ablaze. Breathy confessions of forever love intermingled with searing makeout shots - it was a rush of letting go of months of pent-up passion and adoration for the world to finally bear witness.

All the while, Harry refused to tear his stare from worshiping every inch of your body. His broad palms trailing over the exposed curves of your hips, waist, the swell of your breasts - anchoring you fully into the present.

Your social media was immediately swamped by a plethora of comments, tags and speculation over the tsunami wave of intimate reveals. Harry's fanbase seemed to have divided between celebration and outrage over their beloved idol being so thoroughly claimed by an average nobody.

More jarring, however, was the media/PR teams' explosive reactions. Both your phones blew up with frantic calls and enraged messages demanding explanations and emergency meetings. As expected, the team working to orchestrate Harry's fake relationship with Kendall were melting down over the sheer negligence of you both, and damage control now being initiated.

For a long while, you both simply ignored it, too immersed in devouring the rebirth of your connection to spare any attention elsewhere. You reveled in being subjected to Harry's fervent, undivided worshipping as his fingertips and lips swept across every velvet hollow and slope. His sensual assault was purposefully overwhelming, etching his permanent claim over your quivering form.

"They'll keep the noise up for a while, try spreading all sorts of misinformation and manipulation to regain control of the narrative," Harry finally mumbled without breaking the rhythm of stripping you bare and lavishing undivided attention over each exposed new expanse of satin flesh.

You shivered beneath him, and he tilted your chin up with a knuckle to capture your gaze, "But none of that shite matters now, okay? All that matters is that I’m all yours now. Only yours.:

And you were never letting him go.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this!

feedback | masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli

@tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely

@whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @harryhitties

@mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton @youcan-nolonger-run @prettythingsworld @chesthairrry

@becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @hisparentsgallerryy @storyschanging @selluequestrian @islakp217 @swiftmendeshoran @princessaxoxo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hermoinelove @chronicallybubbly @angeldavis777

338 notes · View notes

taste-in-music · 2 years ago

Text

taste-in-music’s top 30 songs of 2022

Hello everyone! Welcome back to my annual countdown of my 30 favorite songs of the year. 2022 had a lot of great music releases, and I’m so excited to recount the songs I replayed throughout the year. Now, on with the list!

This year was so jam-packed I have ten honorable mentions to share before we get to the list proper: tears in the club by FKA Twigs ft. The Weeknd, Destination l’amour by Pi Ja Ma, Little Freak by Harry Styles, Fast Times by Sabrina Carpenter, EMPATHY 4 BETHANY by Saya Gray, Be Cool by Maggie Rogers, This Hell by Rina Sawayama, Heavy Heart by Bartees Strange, Karma by Taylor Swift, and Shotgun by Soccer Mommy

F2F by SZA: “F2F” was a fast favorite that came late in the year, mostly for how pleasantly surprising it was. The 2000s pop-punk revival has been percolating for the past few years, and SZA’s entry into the genre suits her frighteningly well. She’s written on the complications of revenge sex and missing an ex before, but the area-ready bombast of the guitar-driven instrumental elevates it to the next level. It may have looked to the past for sonic inspiration, but it feels fresh.

君に夢中 (Kimini Muchuu) by Hikaru Utada: I didn’t know what to expect when I clicked play on J-pop icon Hikaru Utada’s new album on a whim, but when I heard “君に夢中,” which translates to “crazy about you” in English, I was immediately struck by a feeling of familiarity. It may be because the opening synth riff reminds me of “Boys Of Summer,” it may be Utada’s impassioned delivery, it may be the rattling hi-hats that instate an undeniable groove on the song’s back end. Whatever it is, Utada managed to capture something ethereal on this track, and I can’t wait to explore more of her catalogue in the future.

Flower (In Full Bloom) by Luna Li ft. Dreamer Isioma: Romantic angst never sounded so damn dreamy. On “Flower (In Full Bloom),” Luna Li pleads with a lover that refuses to put in the effort in a relationship, while Dreamer Isioma provides the opposing perspective speaking about how the spark has already died. As the song progresses, the cushy soundscape of twinkling keys escalates to a bitching guitar solo that makes for one hell of a final moment.

Kissing Lessons by Lucy Dacus: If nothing else, “Kissing Lessons” is a marvel of concision. Each detail Dacus compiles, bracelet charms, hair tosses, dreams of buying a three-story house, all come together to form a rich vignette about a young girl’s budding sexuality and growing inculcation into gender roles in just under two minutes. Place those details over a rollicking rock instrumental and you’ve got on special sucker punch of a song that gives you just enough to want to know more. The only choice, then, is to hit repeat.

It’s Raining by Superorganism ft. Dylan Cartlidge and Stephen Malkmus: For Superorganism, there is no sample too silly, no instrumental flourish too strange to throw into their melting pot. Describing “It’s Raining” from their sophomore album World Wide Pop means describing the barrage of baffling moments it throws at warp speed. Frontwoman Orono Noguchi sings about a “cyborg grilled-cheese-sandwich machine” over thunderclaps. English rapper Dylan Cartlidge spits bars about Elon Musk over a backing chorus of what sounds like demented Muppets. Pavement frontman Stephen Malkmus’s lyrics about riding a horse-drawn carriage are ushered in with clip-clopping hooves and a sample of a neigh. These moments come together to form a loopy, loping confection that’s as absurd as it is addictive.

Superfan by Chelsea Jade: On “Superfan,” Chelsea Jade navigates the blurred lines of talking to a crush, a situation where you’re trading adversarial jabs and confrontational quips and you can never tell if you’re flirting or fighting. Ultimately, Jade reveals the obsession lying beneath the surface, identifying herself as a “superfan” trying to play it cool. Driving home the playful awkwardness is Jade’s use of vocal samples throughout, whether they’re narrating along to her conversation or splicing through the chorus with hiccup-y clips of harmonization. It’s a song that cuts through the guise to reveal the vulnerability at its core.

Holding Back by BANKS: In the years since her debut, BANKS has become my go-to artist for electropop bangers that conjure emotional vulnerability and goddess-level confidence alike. “Holding Back” may be an outpouring of memories in the wake of a doomed relationship, but the hard-hitting electronic groove and boosted bass breathe new life into a familiar concept. As BANKS switches between vulnerable coos and full-chested belts, she unleashes the innermost desire for her care to be reciprocated. “I wrote you a melody,” she sings in the chorus, “can’t you see that?”

Whatever Fits Together by Skullcrusher: Skullcrusher has perfected the art of weaving immersive tapestries from whispy sonic fragments, a strummed guitar here, a gossamer synthesizer there, a lyrical fragment about leaving home to tie it all into a single package. “Whatever Fits Together” pulls disparate pieces from their distinct places in the ether to form something transient and melancholy, the mournful tone of Helen Ballentine’s voice balanced by a sunny tambourine. It’s ephemeral, it’s beautiful, it all fits together perfectly.

Another Man’s Jeans by Ashe: Ashe may have broken onto the pop scene with brokenhearted ballads, but there’s always been a confidence and cleverness to her delivery that’s made her stand out. On her comeback single “Another Man’s Jeans,” she douses her witty songwriting with pure funk concentrate and struts through a kiss-off to a situationship with more swagger than she’s ever showcased on tape before. It makes for one of the most fun party jams of the year.

girlfriend by hemlocke springs: I first encountered hemlocke springs via an Instagram Reel where she posted a video propositioning “do u wanna hear the weirdest bridge you’ll ever hear in ur entire life?” The subsequent bridge shows springs hurling her voice up and down the scale with reckless abandon over a spritely synth groove, and wile it might not be the “weirdest bridge” I’ve ever heard, it certainly was one of the most memorable the year had to offer. The rest of the song, a blasé kiss-off to a potential suitor, pulls of the rare achievement for a viral song and lives up to the catchiness of the initial clip.

Spitting Off the Edge of the World by Yeah Yeah Yeahs ft. Perfume Genius: “Spitting Off The Edge of the World” is awesome in the archaic sense, encapsulating the simultaneous awe and terror that comes from facing something so much bigger than yourself. It’s a song that earns it galactic sense of scope from the quiet moments it provides to contrast it, as Karen O and Perfume Genius trade demure, flitting verses before the chorus kicks in on the heels of a larger-than-life barrage synths and guitars. It’s titanic, it’s triumphant, it’s just awesome, (in that it’s also just damn great.)

The Loneliest Time by Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Rufus Wainwright: I remember when this song was released just ahead of The Loneliest Time album and questioning how this collaboration could possibly work. As soon as I heard it, the answer was clear: never question Carly Rae Jepsen. At this point, Jepsen has boiled pop music down to a science, but that doesn’t mean it’s sterile or forced. The string-adorned, disco-inflected groove on “The Loneliest Time” is the perfect landscape for Jepsen and Wainwright to trade verses about giving an old flame a second chance. It all culminates in that excellent bridge where Jepsen enthusiastically declares “I’m coming back for you baby / I’m coming back for you!” I, too, will continue coming back to this song, and Jepsen’s catalogue as a whole, when I need a pick up from my own personal loneliest times.

fairy song by beabadoobee: Throughout her second album Beatopia, beabadoobee’s jaunty melodies and sugar-sweet vocals just barely cover a greater desperation for care and connection percolating beneath the surface. The best demonstration of this is “fairy song,” where a running list of self-care tasks atop perky pianos slowly cracks apart until it fully breaks into a buzzy whirlwind of distortion and beabadoobee’ screams just barely audible in the background. Then, just as the pandemonium reaches its peak, the song pulls itself back together and returns to the chipper atmosphere it began with. Ignoring one’s distress will only take you so far before the weight becomes too much to bear. Sometimes, drinking water and going outside isn’t enough. Letting the mess fly free every so often might just be the key to moving forward.

Cardigan by Sophie Cates: “Cardigan” is my silly pop song of the year, the track I turned to when I needed an instant sugar rush of endorphins. Sure, Sophie Cates rhymes “again” with “again” with “cardigan” with “again” again on the hook, but when it's set against the most instantly catchy melody of 2022, I hardly even notice. That’s not a slight against Cates’s writing though, the other choice details she employs throughout the song paint a vivid picture of a romance that’s lost its sparkle, and the wistful desire for the magic to return. It’s that undercurrent of longing that elevates “Cardigan” from being just a silly pop song to a great silly pop song, one that sticks around long after the initial rush has passed.

Bump by Dora Jar: Dora Jar’s music captures the dark whimsy of a fairy tale, but the real fairy tales where the pixie dust and glass slippers come with a hungry wolf or vengeful witch lurking in the shadows. It’s a musical world that’s a little spooky, rife with curiosity, and lit up with a flicker of excitement. “Bump” is one of the best demonstrations of this quality, with Dora Jar describing the wonder of a chance encounter that may escalate into something more. The song is accented with astonished gaps, a swampy chorus of backing vocals, and an air-tight beat. It’s sweet and wondrous and a little claustrophobic, sonically capturing that tight-throated, heart-hammering anticipation to see what comes next.

In The Eyes Of Our Love by Yumi Zouma: “In The Eyes Of Our Love” is good in a way that just feels obvious, providing a breezy yet danceable energy that’s poised to play out the romantic climax of a teen movie from the 90s. Beneath its cheery surface, though, is a tremor of anxiety. Lead vocalist Christie Simpson signs of crumbling walls, splitting lips, and looming storms, worries that accelerate and melt away over the song's duration. Every great pop song grows all the greater with a sense of urgency, and “In The Eyes Of Our Love” threads that needle effortlessly while still being danceable as hell. What more could you want?

Part Of The Band by The 1975: Over the past few years, The 1975 have twisted the anthemic pop-rock that put them on the map to reveal the absurdity and anxiety at the heart of modern life. On “Part Of The Band,” the band’s first single off their 2022 album Being Funny In A Foreign Language, frontman Matty Healy’s musings on social upheaval are equal parts hilarious and insightful. After stuffing the song full of dizzying rhymes, (“vaccinista tote bag-chic baristas” with “communista keisters” especially comes to mind,) Healy finishes on a searing moment of self-reflection: “am I just some post-coke, average, skinny bloke / calling his ego imagination?” With a twitchily elegant backdrop crafted from plucky string swells, chopped-up vocal samples, and quivering synths, it’s a song whose catchiness, cleverness, and creativity lives up to the critiques on display.

ALIEN SUPERSTAR by Beyoncé: It was difficult to pick a favorite track from RENAISSANCE, an album so consistently excellent in its delivery of dancefloor euphoria. In the end, I had to go with the self-love celebration “ALIEN SUPERSTAR.” Every element of this song oozes self-assurance, from the spacy disco instrumental to Beyoncé’s vocals, which switch from sensual cooing to a British accent-inflected declarations to braggadocious belting at the drop of a hat. The result is a track poised to dominate dancefloors across the galaxy for years to come, and who’s surprised? She’s one of one. She’s number one. She’s the only one.

Nothing Gives Me Pleasure by Girlpool: I clicked play on Girlpool’s fifth album Forgiveness without any clear expectations. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be blasted with a wave of distorted synths followed by the most memorable opening line of the year: “Do you even want me if I even have to ask? / Break it to me gently with your fingers up my ass.” It’s an unforgettable one-two punch that immediately establishes the core themes of the album, trying to reconcile the desire for emotional and physical intimacy, and how those desires often conflict with and contradict one another. “Nothing Gives Me Pleasure” walks the power balance in a relationship built on mismatched expectations, trying to sate yourself with sex and coming up short. The soundscape skitters and heaves, the distortion ratcheting up as Harmony Tividad reiterates the title line over and over: “Nothing gives me pleasure like the words I know you won’t say.”

cool by Uffie: Uffie made a name for herself in the bloghouse scene of the early 2010s, a musical moment defined by glitchy earworms, a punkish dedication to keeping the party going as long as possible, and lots and lots of glitter. For her 2021 comeback single with Company Records, “cool,” Uffie evolves the quirky maximalism of her past into something slick, modern, and effortlessly, well, cool. On “cool,” Uffie digs for gold in moments of stillness amidst chaos, chronicling moments of reprieve during a night out: sleepy Uber rides, poolside kisses, eating cereal with her partner. The best demonstration of this comes when, at the precipice of each chorus, all the music cuts out for a moment before Uffie ushers in the razor-sharp groove with a simple utterance of the song’s title, delivered with a blasé surety of someone who’s seen it all. As she sings in the song’s third verse, she’s “got nothing left to prove.”

HENTAI by ROSALÍA: Amidst the raucous genreclash that makes up the rest of the MOTOMAMI tracklist, the gentle pianos of “HENTAI” may initially feel a bit out of place. But if you listen closely, there’s much to discover beneath its deceptively simple surface. First off, the lyrics are filthy as hell, (I know, big surprise for a song literally called “HENTAI,”) but the cheeky references to bike riding and tape making are balanced out by a tender backdrop that knows when to up the bombast. Whether it be the barely-there string flourishes, fluttering vocal runs, or the skittering blast of drums that drives the song’s closing moments home, “HENTAI” provides just enough off-kilter details that make the song transcend from mere sexy piano ballad into only “La ROSALÍA” could provide.

Simulation Swarm by Big Thief: Despite Big Thief’s fifth album Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You dropping all the way back in February, I found “Simulation Swarm” shamefully late in the year. But as soon as I heard it, I knew it would be on this list, and pretty high up too. Adrianne Lenker crafts songs that are immediately familiar, like I must have been listening to them from childhood. The details she employs throughout "Simulation Swarm” balance beauty and malice, painting the dark fairy tale and casual terror of modern life “crystal blood like a dream true,” “swallows in the windless field,” “river of light who I love / That I sing to in the belly of the empty night.” Set against a locomotive folk instrumental, “Simulation Swarm” feels like a gentle hug from the abyss, voicing the ability to face danger and walk forward with hope.

Till We Run Out Of Air by Hatchie: I thought I knew what to expect going into Hatchie’s sophomore album Giving The World Away. Early singles like “Quicksand” and “This Enchanted” delivered another helping of the joyful shoegaze pop she’s been delivering for years. It’s a sound I’m always willing to gobble up, but there was an echo of something greater hovering right beneath the surface. With the final song on the album, Hatchie delivered a falcon punch of a finale that transforms that spark into a fireworks show. With its susurrus of swirling, watery synths and arena-ready chorus, “Till We Run Out Of Air” plows right through me with each repeated spin. It’s a song enraptured in the fine line between destruction and exhilaration, tracing the final moments in a romance with larger-than-life bombast. Perhaps the best encapsulation of this euphoria comes at the precipice of the chorus. “Open the curtains and let in the light,” Hatchie sings, before a glowing blossom of synths barrels the listener right into the song’s most anthemic refrain. It’s like the light at the end of the tunnel finally breaking through the darkness at just the right moment.

doomsday by Lizzie McAlpine: On her second album five seconds flat, Lizzy McAlpine elevated her personal songwriting with a cinematic scope. This approach is immediately introduced on the album’s opening “doomsday,” a slow-burning ballad chronicling a breakup though the lens of hindsight. McAlpine circles through deathly metaphors throughout the song: pulling the plug, violent ends, her partner as a “murderer” initiating their split on Halloween, the sample of a bone being split in half. This ghoulish gravitas of is backed up by an orchestral swell that makes the melodrama feel earned. These compounding elements build up the song’s momentum until McAlpine’s final revelation slams into you at full force: “I would’ve married you / If you’d stuck around / I feel more free than I have in years / Six feet in the ground.” The relationship may be dead and gone, but McAlpine makes it clear that she’s only getting started.

Lullabye by Grace Ives: Throughout Janky Star, Grace Ives concocts idea-stuffed soundscapes that vacillate between the anxieties and thrills of young adulthood. The earworms come so casually that they even materialize in the album’s moments of brevity. “Lullabye” is a perfect example of this. As the album’s closer, it shows the chaos winding down, giving way to moments of reflection. Ives’s breathily narrates the “lovely mess” of her life: watching movies on repeat, casually attempting gymnastics moves in the kitchen, and swapping confessions with a loved one late into the night. Set against gauzy landscape of synths, skittering drums, and chirpy backing vocals, I turned to the casual wisdom of “Lullabye” all the times this year when life got overwhelming. “No it’s nothing to be sad about,” Ives sings in the song’s closing moments, “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.” It’s a welcome reminder of the power ruminating on small joys can hold.

Say It by SASAMI: On her latest album Squeeze, SASAMI took to flipping white male-dominated genres like punk and metal to articulate her own rage. One of the best examples of this is “Say It,” an unapologetic frenzy of glitchy rock scuzz. In an Apple Music interview, SASAMI stated that the song was “about the pain of someone not communicating with you,” carried out as she trades places with a bassy, distorted mirror of her own voice. Situated atop a strutting groove concocted of squealing guitars, grumbling bass, and booming drums, it all comes together to form something equal parts cathartic and terrifying. “Say It” might be one of the best rock songs the year had to offer, but amidst the ruckus, it’s first and foremost a call to throw your repentance to the wind and speak your mind.

Yuck by Charli XCX: If you’ve been on TikTok for the past year or so, odds are you’ve come across the idea of “the ick,” the moment in a romantic relationship where something as simple as watching your beau chase a ping-pong ball across the floor flips your feelings of adoration into disgust. It only makes sense that one of pop’s most forward–thinking artists would capture this cultural phenomenon with masterful specificity and simplicity. Over a bouncy synth-heavy beat, Charli XCX lays out the moment when her love interest’s gooey romantic devotion starts to drive her away. Throughout “Yuck,” she takes romantic tropes like puppy dog eyes and bouquets of roses and flips them on their head. The result is the definitive song to throw on when the candy hearts get cloying. After spending the last few years of her career pushing pop to its very limits, her latest album Crash was a welcome reminder that even without all the hyperpop flourishes, she can still write damn good and effortless catchy bangers like this.

Free by Florence + The Machine: How do you persevere in the face of suffering? seems to be the question Florence Welch fixates on most throughout her projects with Florence + The Machine. She’s turned to several places in the past: making a break for freedom on her breakout hit “Dog Days Are Over,” self-destructive love on rock bangers like “Ship To Wreck” and “Shake It Out,” and reconciliation on her previous album, High As Hope. While the definite answer for such a question may never materialize, Welch has recognized how music can be one of the most potent salves for such woes. Her 2022 album Dance Fever provides several welcome additions to Welch’s growing catalog of musical catharsis, but it was “Free,” a free-spirited banger co-written by Jack Antonoff, that ended up hitting me the hardest. “Free” taps into something primal yet graceful, a raucous recognition that sometimes, the most inspiring feelings of freedom come hand in hand with singing at the top of your lungs. “For a moment, when I'm dancing,” Welch declares with titanic vocals over a propulsive drum beat and glittering keys, “I am free.” This relief may be temporary, but for the moment, it’s nothing short of magical.

American Teenager by Ethel Cain: On her debut album Preacher’s Daughter, Ethel Cain chronicles a journey of adolescent ennui and religious turmoil through sprawling, atmospheric ballads. Before she gets into all that, she also proves that she can write a teen pop anthem for the ages. “American Teenager” is the first official song on the album, and while it may be shorter and more immediate than its predecessors, it’s no less deftly crafted. Cain harnesses the larger-than-life, anthemic synth pop of the 80s, accenting the soundscape with shining synths, booming drums, and a bright saxophone solo. While the song relishes in altruistic Americana imagery of crying on the bleachers and whiskey-fueled rebellion, Cain also acknowledges the darkness lurking beneath the jubilation on the surface. The opening verse describes her neighbor’s brother being shipped home in a coffin, “another red heart taken by the American dream.” Still, despite this darkness, there’s a hope at the core of “American Teenager” that catapults it into the stratosphere, that suggests that maybe someday, those promises might come to fruition.

touch tank by quinine: I first came across “touch tank” as a fragment on TikTok, a looping clip of quinnie lip synching along to the first few lines of the chorus: “He’s so pretty / when he goes down on me.” And what an attention-grabbing set of lines they are, it’s not everyday that you stumble across a sweet, unassuming bedroom pop song explicitly discussing cunnilingus. But it isn’t just the refreshingly matter-of-fact references to sex that make “touch tank” stick in the memory, it’s the atmosphere of intimacy quinnie builds around those lines. In its final form, “touch tank” builds an aqueous wonderland of small yet palpably intimate moments, freshly laundered t-shirts, discovering new tattoos, choosing to be gentle. “touch tank” is a tribute to those early stages in a relationship where you��re poking and prodding with care, trying to reach tender places without drawing blood. Rounded out with warm guitars, cooing flutes, and just a twinge of vocal distortion, it’s a song that feels lived in, welcoming, drawing you deeper into its depths with each repeated spin.

What were your favorite songs from this year? Did I miss anything? Leave a comment or tag some in the reblogs and let me know.

This year has been an absolute whirlwind, and I hope you all have some good memories from it. Here’s to a safe, healthy 2023!

#songs #song recommendation #taylor swift #SZA #lucy dacus #carly rae jepsen #beyoncé #charli xcx #florence + the machine #ethel cain #taste in music 2022 faves #taste in music

31 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 3 years ago

Text

Hidden Gems by @vukovich

I was rereading holemate the other day and it occurred to me that one could consider Vuk’s works an “acquired taste” - in the literal sense of an “appreciation for something unlikely to be enjoyed by a person who’s not had substantial exposure to it”, in other words the more we get, the more we’ll want 😔🙌 Vuk’s works are bold and fresh, engaging, intriguing and with such a distinct feel - it lures me enough to go check anything they decide to write, and I love the thrill of never knowing what to expect when I’m starting a new fic.

It’s not every day you find an author in whom you’re willing to trust to take you out of your comfort zone, and I do it consciously, knowing I’m gonna thank them for the experience no matter how the journey goes. Vuk’s writing is sexy, confident, unapologetic. I love the grasp they have of the characters, and that precise understanding of where they want to go with a story. Their Draco and Harry are deeply flawed, complex and adventurous - what’s not to love? They feel very human and I love that for them and for us! Whenever I’m looking for something outside the box, clever and full of personality but also edgy, hilarious, fucked up, devastating or haunting, I know where to go. I listed below my faves that I revisit often and I think they’re a great showcase of Vuk’s genius and range. Vuk also has a fabulous collection of short stories for peculiar prompts that you can find here. Go ahead and feast!

Manna (2021, E, 814 words) - brilliant sexy short feat. public sex, this got me at the edge of my seat!

Harry developed a taste for hiding in the Slytherin train car. And maybe for getting caught.

"I'll Figure It Out." (2021, E, 2.6k) - brilliant idea perfectly executed with hot af & hung lawyer!Draco putting Harry’s mouth to good use. One of my favorite PWPs 🔥

For the prompt: "Don't let your mouth get you into something that your ass can't handle." Harry's mouth repeatedly gets him into situations his arse can't handle. Then, he finds himself in a situation his arse can handle better than his mouth.

Epitaphs in Autographs (2021, E, 7k) - deliciously angsty and devastating, only Vuk would lure me with tags I usually make sure to avoid. Prepare the tissues. Cw: MCD, infidelity, implied domestic violence, sad ending

A series of works surrounding death, imperfect relationships, flawed coping, and humanity. Also a firing range of writing style.

Harry Potter: DILF Hunter (2021, E, 11k) - hilarious Himbo Harry shenanigans, this will make you laugh non-stop, major kudos to Luna & Neville (they’re both so great!) and that hot hot ending with dilf Draco and dad Harry finally doing the dirty together 😌

Auror Potter doesn't know what a DILF is, but if Malfoy's one, then Harry's gonna be the Ministry's best DILF Hunter ever! Or, five times Harry heard Draco was a DILF, and one time he found it to be pleasantly true.

holemate (2021, E, 19k) - it’s about the yearning!!!! Devastating soulmate AU with Draco whump and oblivious Harry, we love to see it! Smut & angst as per, but don’t worry it’s a happy ending :) Cw for recreational drug use, wasting condition and some police brutality

Most people never get a soulmate. Harry has buried three. When the mark appears again, this time alongside an American Auror, perhaps a diversion can keep everyone alive. A diversion that looks a whole lot like a chaotic, fuckable Malfoy.

The Foxing Ring (2021, E, 24k) - my first Vuk fic is probably the fluffiest story she’s ever written and one of my all-time faves. Playful and clever, with an unusual plot, witty humor, and unexpected fur kink! Love the squib Harry + powerful Draco combo, they’re a perfect match and white fox Draco is everything we need in life 🙌

What. The. Fluff.* Harry's got no magic, one good ear, no great dating prospects, and a nice little wand workshop. Draco's got too much magic, a history of biting off ears, no great dating prospects, and a growing fondness for wandmakers. And a very fetching tail. Read my rec here and check perfect fox Draco art by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm here.

Fearful Trill (2021, E, 29k) - the most romantic dark fic you’ll find! An intriguing and brilliant angst with a happy ending with unredeemed prisoner Draco, inexperienced Head Auror Harry, BAMF Hermione public sex, lots of angst and smut. Cw: terminal illness (cancer)

Harry should have come out and met someone when he was younger. He should have seen a doctor about the pain in his hip while youth was still on his side. Now, he's made his peace with dying young, but maybe not with dying alone. Draco should have got the Kiss. He should have died in Azkaban decades ago. Instead, guards throw him in a Ministry lift with a dying man who could stand to live a little.

#hidden gems #day 38

57 notes · View notes

positivelyholland · 3 years ago

Text

Masterlist

profile navigation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KEY:

⭐️= fluff

🌙= angst

⚡️= hurt/comfort

***= same fic, different people

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CELEBS

Chris Evans

⚡️Worried Sick | SUMMARY: you get really sick and end up hospitalized, and your dad is with you every step of the way. ☼

⭐️Red Carpet Date | SUMMARY: you go with your dad to one of his movie premiers

⭐️Throw it Back | SUMMARY: you *try* to teach your dad a TikTok dance

⭐️Dodger’s Costume | SUMMARY: you try to convince your dad to dress Dodger up for Halloween

⭐️Early Morning Workouts | SUMMARY: your dad wakes you up too early to workout with him

🌙Bad Grade | SUMMARY: you get a bad grade, and your dad gets upset, like really upset

⭐️Talk Show Talking | SUMMARY: your dad talks about you when he’s on a talk show

⭐️ Y/N Evans Once Said 2 | SUMMARY: a list of random quotes that evans!reader would say

⭐️Front Row Tickets | SUMMARY: your dad surprises you with tickets to a Taylor Swift concert, and something incredible happens

⚡️Seasonal Depression | SUMMARY: you get severe seasonal depression, and your dad, Chris is there with you every step of the way

⭐️Not for Taylor Swift | SUMMARY: getting ready for a Taylor Swift concert but your dad is seriously lacking in the glitter department.

⚡️Homework Sucks | SUMMARY: when school gets to be too much, you're dad comes and saves the day

⭐️Name Tattoo | SUMMARY: Chris has a tattoo of your name

⚡️Surprises | SUMMARY: after being supised by your dad and going on a daddy-daughter date, you run into some suprise paparazzi and get scared ***

••••••

Tom Holland

🌙Overheard | SUMMARY: you overhear your brothers talk about you behind your back, leaving you heartbroken

🌙Fights and Hospitals | SUMMARY: you and tom fight all the time, but only once did it end in you leaving and then eventually in the hospital

⭐️The Fight For Our Lives | SUMMARY: if only you could go back in time

⭐️Homework Help | SUMMARY: what happens when two dyslexics try to write an essay together? short answer: chaos.

⚡️Please Don’t Cry | SUMMARY: Tom doesn’t like it when you cry, but you can’t help it after he comes home.

🌙Help | SUMMARY: tom wants to help you, but it’s hard to talk about your feelings.

⭐️The Hickey | SUMMARY: When you have a hickey, your family reacts in the most unexpected way

⚡️Lost | SUMMARY: when lost on the unfamiliar streets of New York, you call your brother

⭐️ Come Around To It | SUMMARY: You need to have an important conversation with your oldest brother, Tom. Things don't go as smoothly as you would have hoped, but luckily for you Tom is the best big brother in the world.

⚡️Fainted | SUMMARY: when Tom got the call that his youngest sister had passed out and was in the hospital, he hit level 100 of worry.

⭐️Thanksgiving Roadtrips | SUMMARY: a social media au of the holland family going to their grandma's house for thanksgiving

••••••

Taylor Swift/Harry Styles

⭐️ Lights Up | SUMMARY: a moment with a father, his daughter, a massive stage, and a crowd full of thousands

⚡️Like This | SUMMARY: whenever you have to switch between your mom's to your dad's house, it isn't all smooth sailing

⭐️Flashing Lights | SUMMARY: you attend a red carpet event as your moms plus one

⭐️There For Me | SUMMARY: moments with harry and taylor’s daughter who's a singer

⭐️Singing in the shower Bathroom | SUMMARY: your mom definitely didn't record you singing while you get ready

🌙You're Not Sorry | SUMMARY: After overhearing your dad say some pretty terrible thing about you, you were expecting him to apologize, not to scream at you

⚡️You're not Sorry 2 | SUMMARY: after a week of tension between you and your dad, Harry ultimately comes to his senses 7 days after saying the terrible words he did

⭐️New Faces | SUMMARY: you meet one of your dad's friends at a park outing with your parents

⭐️Tour Life | SUMMARY: moments of your life on your parents' music tours

⭐️Forever Young | SUMMARY: Never Grow Up being played with the mother-daughter duo throughout the years.

⭐️Unpaid Babysitter | SUMMARY: A day spent at the Lively-Reynolds household.

⭐️Steady Hands in the Storm | SUMMARY: Harry's daughter helps her dad cope with his former bandmate's death.

••••

Tom Cruise

⚡️Good and Bad Suprises | SUMMARY: after being supised by your dad and going on a daddy-daughter date, you run into some suprise paparazzi and get scared ***

••••

Sebastian Stan

⭐️Magic of Movies | SUMMARY: your dad brings you to one of his film sets with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHARACTERS

Steve Rogers

🌙Paralyzed | SUMMARY: you’re paralyzed, and your dad is missing your help, which results in words being said that are later regretted

••••••

Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson

⭐️"That explains a lot" | SUMMARY: unaware of your relationship, your half brother Percy finds you with luke in a compromising position.

Moon Knight

⭐️Secret Boyfriend | SUMMARY: their reactions to you having a boyfriend and not telling them

••••••

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

⭐️A Hit to His Ego | SUMMARY: only one person can get away with teasing maverick, his daughter.

⭐️Skeptical Suprise | SUMMARY: your dad and brother have a suprise for you, which is definitely a little nerve wracking

🌙Plagued by the Past | SUMMARY: your dads been through a lot, but you still wish he'd pay a little attention to you

#positivelyholland’s masterlist #positively holland #sophie's navigation

350 notes · View notes

lemoncrushh · 8 months ago

Text

Fratboy Harry - Part 2

Summary: Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, angst, a very cocky Harry. 18+ ONLY!!

Part 2 Word Count: 2071

STORY PAGE

Wandering through the house, you stepped over empty beer bottles and bodies making out in the hallway. When you'd met up with your friends, they hadn't seemed anxious to leave any time soon, so you'd taken off by yourself again. You weren't really having the best time, but you didn't want to be a party pooper, so you stayed.

After finding the restroom, you stepped back out into the hallway, almost bumping into Jimmy, a guy you knew from your Ethics class.

"Hey, Y/N!" he shouted over the loud music. "I didn't know you were here."

"Hi, Jimmy," you greeted, "what's up?"

Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets. "Not much. Was just about to grab a drink." He nodded towards your empty hands. "Looks like you could use one too."

You shrugged. "I've already had a couple but...why not?"

You followed Jimmy down the hallway toward the living room where the music grew louder. Side stepping a drunk girl on the floor and shoving past a large group of people, you finally made it back to the kitchen. A few people lingered, just chatting and sipping cocktails, and a couple at the far end were kissing. But much to your relief, there was no sign of Harry.

"So what'll it be?" asked Jimmy as he grabbed a red Solo cup. "I make a pretty mad vodka on the rocks."

You chuckled. "Anyone can do that, Jimmy," you teased. "That's just liquor and ice."

"Damn," he muttered. "I was hoping you wouldn't catch that."

Giving him a playful punch in his arm, you reached for your own cup, filling it with ice. As Jimmy poured vodka into both of your cups, you heard a burst of laughter. Looking up, you saw a small crowd of people enter the kitchen, and when you caught sight of the plaid shirt, your stomach did an unwelcome flip. You tried your best to focus on Jimmy and whatever he was concocting, but the point was moot.

"C'mon, Harry," you heard a female voice squeal, "let's do some shots!"

You stared down at the kitchen counter, waiting to hear Harry's response, but none came. Curious, you eased your head up and shifted your eyes. You nearly jumped when you saw that Harry was looking right at you.

"Here ya go." You'd almost forgotten about Jimmy's presence until he handed you the drink. You smiled politely, taking it from him.

"Thanks. Cheers."

Tapping your cup against his, you took a large swig. You weren't sure exactly what was in it, but it tasted really good. As you lifted the glass to take another larger gulp, your eyes met Harry's again. He had his entourage with him, this time a couple of girls in tow. One in particular, whom you assumed must have been the one to suggest the shots, stood right up against him, one hand holding a beer, the other his arm.

You watched as she stood on her tip toes to whisper something in his ear. His lips stretched into his signature cocky smirk though he still didn't look at her. Instead, he started walking directly toward you, causing you to nearly choke.

"I thought you'd gone," he stated when he stopped in front of you.

You shook your head. "No." You sipped on your drink some more, hoping he would get the hint.

"Ah," he gave a curt nod. "So it's just me then."

"What do you mean?"

He cocked his head to the side, gesturing toward Jimmy. "You'll drink with him, but not me."

You narrowed your eyes. "Jimmy's my friend."

Harry gave a look of hurt and shock, placing his hand over his heart just like he'd done earlier on the back porch. "I'm your friend," he said.

Before you could give a comeback, you heard Jimmy scoff. Harry turned to glare at him. "Got a problem, mate?"

"Nope," Jimmy rolled his eyes before knocking back his drink. You thought you heard him say something under his breath about not being his mate.

Harry turned back to you, his green eyes blazing. Then he took another step toward you, so close that he barely had to whisper.

"I thought we had a moment."

Okay, you could admit you were attracted to him. You could also admit you'd enjoyed the shot, and the kiss, and the way his hands had felt on your waist. But you were not going to pretend that it meant anything to either of you.

You bit your bottom lip, grinning up at him. "You flatter yourself, Harry."

He shut his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. "Why must you hurt me, Y/N?"

You puffed out a breath, laying your cup on the counter. "Why must you be so dramatic? It was one shot."

You turned slightly, hoping to find where Jimmy had gone, but you didn't see him. Harry grabbed your arm, pulling you back.

"I'm sorry," he pouted. "You're right. It was one shot. Let's do another."

"Uh...no," you refused.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. But I'm pretty sure that girl over there's been dying to lick salt off your neck." You pointed at the girl he'd entered the kitchen with, whom you'd noticed was still chatting with her group of friends, but kept eyeing you and Harry.

"C'mon, Y/N!"

"Why do you keep saying my name like that?" you demanded.

"How am I supposed to say it?" he asked. "Am I saying it wrong?"

You chuckled with a sigh. "No. You just..."

You didn't want to be having this conversation. You should have just left the party when you'd left the kitchen the first time. Or better yet, you should have told him to go to hell when he'd spoken to you in the first place.

"I just what?"

You looked at his face again, time suddenly seeming to stand still. Your mouth went dry and you forgot what you were going to say.

"I just what?" Harry asked again, lifting his hand to your neck, sliding it under your ear.

"You just..." you swallowed hard, lifting your hand then to grab hold of his wrist, "you keep saying it like you already know me. Like I'd already introduced myself to you without my knowledge and somehow we're already..."

Your words trailed off as Harry leaned closer and grazed his lips across yours. You momentarily lost your train of thought as you gave in to his kisses. You tasted the alcohol on his breath, but it only made you want him to kiss you more. Feeling bold, you found his tongue with yours, a soft groan escaping his mouth. It only occurred to you when you heard the clink of ice that you were surrounded by other people.

Pushing against Harry's chest with your hands, you broke the kiss, your own chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyelids were heavy as he gazed down at you. You were quite certain you heard the girl he'd come in with gasp.

"C'mere," he said, taking your hand.

For reasons unknown, you followed Harry through the living room and down the hall. You gave no hesitation or resistance when he reached a bedroom door, pushing it open. You stepped inside, waiting for him to shut the door behind him. When he did, he stepped closer to you, placing his hands on your waist like he had the last time.

"Don't you like me, Y/N?" he inquired, his voice suddenly deeper.

"I...I do..." you breathed. "I think that's the problem."

"Why is that a problem?"

You bit your lip again, trying to think of an answer.

"Because...we're different," you finally confessed.

Harry raised his brows. "How so?"

When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I don't think we're that different, love," he murmured against your skin, moving down to your nose. "I like you..." he kissed your lips, "you like me."

You gave a quiet hum when he kissed you once more before his lips traveled down to your neck. At that exact moment you learned the meaning of two things for the first time in your life. You understood the phrase "weak in the knees", and what it meant to surrender.

"Harry..."

As you grabbed the shoulders of his shirt in your fists, he lifted you up, your legs quickly wrapping around him. He gave you a sexy grin as he guided you backwards toward the bed. He laid you down, his body hovering over yours before he kissed you again, the deepest kiss yet.

You felt a sensation take over your body, removing all doubt and resistance you might have had. Your nerve ends tingled, your toes curled and your breaths quickened. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until he rose to his knees, removing the shirt himself. You eagerly reached for him, needing to touch his skin.

You raked your fingers down his back as he sucked on your neck, sure to leave a mark. You felt his hand glide up your side, underneath your shirt. You gasped when he cupped your breast, the warm sensation between your legs now on overdrive.

You lifted your torso slightly to allow Harry to remove your shirt and bra. Neither of you had yet to utter a word, only the sounds of your breathing and soft moans being the conversation. But when Harry's assault on your neck stopped and his lips traveled to your ear, he whispered in a low groan.

"I want you."

The part of you that would have said no, the part of you that was guarded and knew Harry Styles was nothing but trouble was nowhere to be found. You'd lost your inhibitions twice tonight thanks to him, and now there was no going back.

"I want you too," you murmured, gently grinding against his undeniable erection.

Lifting his body once more, Harry eyed you seductively as he removed your jeans and underwear. Then he did the same with his own, grabbing a condom from his pocket. You watched him as he put it on, then crawled on top of you again.

Up until now, the idea that there were other people in the house, and someone could possibly walk in hadn't occurred to you. But as you felt the pressure of Harry entering you, the idea was simply titillating and taboo.

Harry's breathing got louder as faster as he began to thrust. You stared up at the ceiling for a moment before closing your eyes and letting the feeling take over. Your hands grabbed his shoulders and you spread your legs wider. You had to admit, you hadn't expected it to feel this good.

"Oh..." you heard yourself let out as your hands made their way to his neck, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape.

"Yeah, baby," he moaned in your ear. "Feels so good."

Finally when his lips met yours and he lifted his head, you let yourself look into his eyes. Although he still wore that cocky smirk, you couldn't get over how beautiful he was.

As he began to pump his hips faster, you knew you were getting close to the edge.

"Shit," he swallowed, confirming his own ending was coming soon.

Grabbing your thigh, he situated himself at a certain angle that finally did you in. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as you reached your climax, calling his name. Harry soon followed, his body trembling over yours as he let out a few more expletives and a long breathy moan.

When you both came down from your highs, trying to catch your breath, you sat up and reached for your clothes. Harry watched you get dressed, but neither of you said anything. You hadn't expected him to, after all. This was probably just a one time thing, a "hook up" as they call it. However, when you were pulling your shirt over your head and he had finally pulled on his jeans, he took your hand.

"Please let me call you, Y/N," he said, his voice scratchy.

It was your time to smirk at him. "You don't have to."

"I know I don't. I want to."

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. "Alright."

Then leaning forward, Harry slid his hand under your ear and gave you one more tender kiss.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

94 notes · View notes