#harry styles x anxious reader

[goldengalore]

Ready

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants kids. Y/N isn’t sure what she wants. Feeling pressured to make up her mind, she agrees to something she’s not ready for.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: Hello! It’s been a while. This fic is based on this ask I received forever ago. Enjoy :)

***

Y/N has always been on the fence about having kids.

As a young teenager, she assumed she would have them when she grew up, fell in love, and got married. Social norms, along with her own childish naivete, made her believe that this was the only path one could take in life. Having children was the next logical step to marriage, which was the next logical step to falling in love.

And then she matured and realized that life is not nearly as cut-and-dry, that having kids is a choice, not a necessity, and that she can absolutely go her whole life without having any if that’s what she wants. This realization came as a relief but also felt somewhat unnerving because how is she supposed to know what she wants? She is quite possibly the most indecisive person on the planet, so it’s no surprise that she has bounced back and forth between wanting and not wanting children throughout her entire adult life.

On one hand, she thinks of her friends who have kids and how their lives have become utterly consumed by the little humans that require their constant care and attention. There is just so much that Y/N wants to experience and achieve before settling into a life like that.

Not to mention the horrors of pregnancy. It’s not exactly a walk in the park, having to carry a human life inside of you for nine months and then give birth to it. The health complications, the irreversible bodily changes, the sheer, agonizing pain of childbirth.

And yet, on some days, she fantasizes about becoming a mother, of holding a tiny life in her arms and nurturing it into a full-grown adult. An important character in these fantasies has always been the sweet, thoughtful, loving partner by her side who takes equal responsibility for their child. This person was always a faceless individual—an idealistic depiction of the kind of partner Y/N hoped to find someday.

And then Harry came along.

Sweet, thoughtful, loving Harry who, unlike her, was always sure of his desire to have kids. For him, it was never a question of whether he wanted them but a question of when.

That moment finally arrived for him a year ago. But Y/N wasn’t sure if she felt ready yet.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked her one day. “I don’t mean that in a judgemental way. Bringing a child into this world is scary for anyone, including myself. I’m just curious to know what your specific concerns are.”

“Well, there’s the usual stuff, like whether or not I’ll be a good mother—”

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother.”

She smiled at him, then continued, “Or whether my kids will be able to have a good future with so much chaos in the world...” She trailed off hesitantly.

“But there’s something else,” he said, gently urging her to share what was really holding her back.

“I… I’ve always been terrified of the idea of having to raise a child alone, either because something bad happens to the father or he leaves out of the blue or we break up and I’m left to take care of this child by myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I… I’ve never been able to shake this fear.”

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous to me. I was raised by a single mother, so I know it’s not an easy job.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckle, never breaking eye contact. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You know that, right? We’re in this together. We’re a team, always.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Well, I’m alright with waiting until you feel ready. I want us both to feel ready before we jump into this.”

In the six months following that conversation, the topic would crop up several more times, like after Harry saw her interacting with his godchildren at a party or they walked past a cute baby in a stroller at the grocery store. Y/N didn’t mind discussing the topic. It gave her a chance to ponder and become more comfortable with the concept of motherhood.

Yesterday, Harry returned home from a month-long movie shoot in Sweden. Y/N surprised him by showing up at the airport. What he doesn’t know is that she has another surprise in store for him.

While he was in Sweden, she decided to go off her birth control and now wants to try for kids.

She plans on telling him later tonight once they get home from their friend’s birthday party. They’ve been all over each other tonight. That’s what being apart for a month does to them. Hell, even a week apart is enough to turn them into a couple of horny teenagers that can’t keep their hands off each other.

“You look so hot in that dress,” Harry whispers in her ear, half-joking because they both know this is his fifth time saying that tonight.

Emboldened by a couple glasses of wine, a tipsy Y/N whispers back, “I want you to put a baby in me.”

His eyes widen. He chuckles. “That wine bringing out your wild side?”

“I’m serious,” she states, glancing around to double check that no one is within earshot of their conversation. “I went off my birth control a month ago, after you left for Sweden.”

He stares at her blankly, like her words haven’t quite sunk in.

“H, I’m ready to do this.”

“Really?”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“We’re doing this,” he says as it finally sinks in. He kisses her wine-stained lips. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N can hardly keep her composure on the way home. Harry appears to be in the same boat, as he keeps sneaking glances at her while driving, his hand caressing her thigh. While he’s always been a responsible driver, she can sense the impatience in his maneuvers tonight.

Once they’re home, it’s almost a race to the bedroom. Harry gently pushes her onto the bed and climbs on top of her.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to watch you walk around in this dress tonight”—he runs a hand down her front—“and not be able to bend you over and just slip my cock into you?”

She moans as he cups her pussy through her dress with a firm hand. He lets her grind against it for a minute before pulling away to take off his clothes. She follows suit.

Soon, they’re back on the bed, sharing another series of ardent kisses. By the time he goes down on her, she’s already dripping wet and he licks it up as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in days. Her hips grind against his tongue like they did against his hand just a moment ago. It doesn’t take her long to orgasm.

He shifts up the bed to hover over her body. He kisses her again while lining up his cock with her entrance. As he slides into her, she feels a slight discomfort from being stretched open for the first time in a month. He pulls out and pushes in a little deeper each time to let her adjust until he fills her up completely and she’s too immersed in pleasure to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says, starting to pump in and out. “Gonna come inside you, yeah? Gonna come deep inside your tight little cunt and fill you up, put a baby in you. Is that what you want?”

Those words flip a switch in Y/N’s mind. She makes an involuntary noise that makes it seem like she’s agreeing with him, so he picks up his pace. Just as he finishes inside her, the terrible realization dawns: She is not ready to have a baby. Not at all.

“I love you,” Harry whispers in her ear, his body resting flush against hers as he comes down from his high.

Tears spring to Y/N’s eyes as she realizes what she’s done, what they’ve just done. When she doesn’t reciprocate his statement, he lifts his head to look at her. A tear escapes her left eye at that exact moment.

Concern furrows his brow. “Lovie? Hey, what’s wrong?”

She just shakes her head while staring at the ceiling.

“Y/N.” He caresses her cheek, urging her to look at him. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Did I go too—”

“We shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake,” she says in a trembling voice.

“What are you talking about?”

She tries to sit up. Harry moves out of her way.

“I’m not ready, H. I’m not ready to have a baby.”

His face falls. “I— But— Then why did you say you were ready?”

“I don’t know… To make you happy?” She covers her face and hears him sigh heavily.

“Y/N, you can’t— You can’t lie about things like that just to make me happy. It’s not like we were deciding what to have for dinner. We’re talking about having a baby, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know that. Of course I know that. But I just— I see the disappointment in your face every time we talk about this, every time I tell you I’m not ready. You seem so sad, Harry. I hate it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not able to hide my emotions as well as I thought I could. That still doesn’t mean you should lie to please me. I thought we were past foolish antics like this.”

She squints at him. “Foolish antics?”

He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like—”

She turns away from him and gets off the bed.

“Y/N.”

She shuts herself in the bathroom. For a brief moment, a part of her resents him. Resents him for being ready to have kids before she was. For bringing it up so often. For making her feel as though she needed to lie about being ready just to make him happy.

But now, as she stares at her teary-eyed reflection in the mirror, she knows she has to take responsibility. She is the one who led him to believe that she was ready when deep down, she knew she wasn’t. He never once pressured her to make up her mind or acted like he loved her any less for not wanting kids yet. He never made her feel any type of way about it. He has done nothing but be the supportive, understanding partner he’s always been. It was her who doubted that. She let her own paranoia get to her.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

A few moments later, he knocks again.

“Please, lovie? I’m getting worried.”

Finally, she opens the door. He takes in her red, puffy eyes and tentatively places his arms around her, only pulling her in when she steps into his embrace.

They stand there silently until he says, “Why don’t we head over to the pharmacy and get you a morning after pill?”

She agrees, so they get dressed and head out. The ride to the pharmacy is a quiet one. Every time she glances at Harry, his eyes are focused on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and he appears deep in thought. It’s the complete opposite of their ride home from the party, when he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. She tries to think of ways to break the silence, but nothing feels appropriate. The last time she felt so awkward and unsure about what to say around Harry was when they first started going out and she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

When they get back from the pharmacy, she swallows down the pill with some water and they head back to bed.

***

Y/N: Hey H, you on your way home? Hope you’re hungry, I made your favourite for dinner 😊

H: I have a business dinner tonight. Mentioned it this morning

Y/N: Oh! Sorry I forgot about that. I’ll save some in the fridge for you for tomorrow

H: Sure, thanks

Y/N stares at the message. She can’t tell if she’s reading into things or if Harry’s replies really are as dry and aloof as they sound. Her propensity to overanalyze everything makes it difficult to know. Ever since the incident in the bedroom a few days ago, it feels as though Harry has been avoiding her. Spending long days at the studio, coming home late at night when he knows she’ll be asleep, giving short replies, taking longer to text back. They haven’t had sex again since then either.

After scrutinizing their text conversation for twenty minutes, she comes to her senses and realizes that she can’t keep going on like this. It’s driving her crazy. What she needs to do is talk to him. But he’ll most likely be tired when he gets home.

At first, she thinks she’ll sit him down tomorrow morning and talk it out. But when he walks through the front door just after eleven o’clock that night, she can’t help herself.

She stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea, when he enters. The dark circles under his eyes are noticeable. He has been willing to sacrifice his sleep just to avoid being around her any longer than he has to. Her chest constricts.

“Hey,” he says, placing his phone and keys on the counter. “You’re still up.”

“Can’t sleep.” She stares down into her half-empty mug, the remainder of the tea quickly growing cold.

“How come?”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“About…?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at him. “About whether or not you’re upset with me and how I can fix it.”

He frowns. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“Because of what happened a few nights ago.”

His frown dissolves into something different—sympathy? Guilt?

“Y/N, I’m not upset with you about that.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like it. You’re gone before I’m even awake and you come home when I’m going to bed. We’ve barely talked or kissed or cuddled in the past few days. I know you haven’t been that busy since you got back from Sweden, so… I don’t really see any other explanation.”

He stares at her wordlessly for a long time before speaking. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. But it’s not because I’m upset with you. It’s because I’m upset with myself. I feel like I pressured you into doing something you obviously weren’t comfortable with. I never saw myself as someone who pressures people into doing things they don’t want to do. So, I suppose I’ve been feeling some shame and guilt about it… and then avoiding you because it’s hard to face these feelings.”

Y/N sets her tea on the counter. She never could’ve guessed that Harry felt this way. She was so convinced that he was mad at her, it didn’t even occur to her that he might just be feeling guilty about it all. After how long she has known him, it should have been obvious that the latter is more consistent with his character, but her anxious brain wouldn’t even let her consider that possibility. She walks over and wraps her arms around him.

“H, I had no idea you felt that way.”

He squeezes her tightly, resting his chin on her head. She turns her head to the side so that her cheek is against his chest.

“To be honest, there were times I felt pressured when the topic of kids came up,” she says. “But a lot of that pressure was created by my own fears and insecurities. I just hated disappointing you over and over. I was scared your feelings about me, about us, would change if I kept saying I wasn’t ready.”

“This hasn’t changed how I feel about you or us. Y/N, I want you more than I want kids. Way more. If you decided one day that you don’t want them at all, that still wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

She pulls back to look at him. “Are you sure? That’s a dealbreaker for a lot of people.”

“Well, not for me. Not when it comes to you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, he lifts her up onto the counter and stands between her legs.

“So. What did you get up to today?” he asks, planting a kiss to her collarbone.

She rests her hands on his chest. “Hmm, what did I get up to? I hardly remember anything other than obsessing over this whole situation.” She laughs.

“Aw, lovie, I’m sorry I had you all stressed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. Help you relieve all that stress.” He peppers kisses along the side of her neck and jaw.

She sighs softly and closes her eyes. “I would like that.”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[livingbreathingdreams]

Anxious!Reader Fics 🐰

Not necessarily declared as such by the author but me, an ✨anxious person✨ is getting the ✨vibes✨

• HARRY STYLES • JOEL MILLER • DIETER BRAVO •

🌶 Spicy, consume at your own risk ⎮ 🌸 Slow burn [because I’m a sucker for endless buildup] ⎮ ⚪️ Friends to lovers ⎮ 🧡 Personal favorite

//

Harry Styles

❤︎ Intimacy @goldengalore Y/N hasn't been intimate with someone in a long time 🌶

more Anxious!Reader by goldengalore

❤︎ Please You @adorebeea Weed Dealer!Harry AU🌶

❤︎ no strings attached @lilystyles Virgin!Reader, friends with benefits, Multi Chapter 🌶⚪️

//

Joel Miller

❤︎ Honeyed @softlyspector Tattoo Artist!Joel AU, Multi Chapter 🌸⚪️🧡

You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel.

❤︎ Body of Water @lambsigh body hair insecurity, soft!Joel

❤︎ skinny dipping with Joel @swiftispunk shy/innocent reader

❤︎ give in @cupofjoel Joel shows you how to love yourself 🌶

❤︎ Teacher's Pet + Part 2 @javiscigarette anxiety-ridden Virgin!Reader asks Neighbor!Joel for advice 🌶⚪️

//

Dieter Bravo

❤︎ Sex, Drugs and...Tacos @absurdthirst you haven’t ever had an orgasm with a partner, Dieter helps you relax 🌶

[thecuriousbeauty]

rough sex, size kink, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, etc. (don't judge me, I'm ovulating) ah, and I also love your writing

Rough- Harry Styles x reader (Smut blurb)

A/N:- Hey anon, thanks for the request! So sorry it took so long, I was on a little holiday:) Hope you love this!

Warnings: Everything in the ask! Pure filth. Smut. Fingering, degradation, light spanking, penetration(p in v), choking.

Word count: 1.6K

______________________________________________

You had pushed all his buttons. And now, he was fuming as he drove back home with you, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

To be fair, it was Harry who had to ditch your plans together because a meeting came up. He had been so busy lately, and he’d promised you that he’d spend the whole day with you. Although it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t hold up on the promise and he had to go away till the evening. Of course he apologized and told you he’d make up for it, but you decided to tease him a little in return.

When Harry was back, he wanted to take you to a fancy dinner but you said you just wanted to go out for drinks and that’s what you did. You wore a short silver dress that hugged your curves beautifully and the length stopped just right below your ass. You didn’t talk to him on the way. As soon as you got to the club, you went to the dance floor and started swaying your hips and your ass. Harry leaned on the bar stool, looking at you. 

He understood that you were pissed, so he just kept quiet. Until, you started flirting with another guy. It got so intense, he started rubbing against your ass from behind and you just giggled, enjoying how Harry’s eyes were burning as he watched it. He walked to the dance floor and threw the man off of you by his collar.

“Woah! What the hell man?”

“Hands off my girlfriend.”, Harry growled at him, and you tugged on his shirt. “Harry!”

“Geez I didn’t know she’s taken!”

And that’s how you were now sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car, arms folded across your chest while he drove you home. Harry didn’t say anything, which only made you anxious. Had you taken it too far? You just wanted to get him angry enough so he would rough you up a little. 

You were gonna rush up the stairs and to bed but Harry wrapped his hand around your hair, tugging it back, making you wince. “Not so quickly, sweetheart. You think I’m just gonna ignore that little act you pulled?” Harry’s deep voice rasped in your ear. 

“Y-You were being mean to me.”, you pout, gasping as he tugs you to his body, wrapping an arm around your waist and tightening his hold on your hair, making you lean your head back on his shoulder. 

“I was not. I apologized, I told you I’d make up for it. But no, you had to go and be a brat to get my attention.” 

As much as his hold on your hair hurt, you couldn’t help but smirk at how riled up he was, and you could see in his eyes how badly he wanted you. 

“Well guess what, baby? You’ve got all my attention now.” He dips his head down, lips finding the sweet spot on your neck and you moan softly, moving a hand to his hair to tug on his luscious soft curls. His hand moved from your hair to lift up your dress and land a smack to your ass.

You jerked forward, but his arm around your middle kept you in place. “Did I tell you could touch me?”, he asks, gripping the flesh of your ass. 

“No daddy..”, you moan, loving the sting from the slap but also how wet the thought of a punishment made you.

“That’s what I thought. You are not to speak or touch me until I say so, got it?”

“Yes.” You nod, yelping as his hand comes down again on the same spot he hit. “Yes, daddy.”, you correct yourself. 

He hums, yanking down the zipper of your dress and pulling it down your sides. “Fucking short little dress, putting on a show for everyone. Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna remind you who you belong to.”

He tugs off your bra before cupping your right breast and connecting your lips. You moan into his mouth as his tongue explores your mouth, and you’re tempted to touch his body, snake your hands under his shirt, feel his sculpted body under your hands. 

“Daddy..”, you whined, feeling his hardness against your ass. 

“I don’t think you deserve my cock. You were being a little whore today, weren’t you?”, he taunts, pinching one of your nipples.

“Sorry daddy, let me m-make you feel better.”, you say, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Shut up.”, he gives your breast a light slap before his fingers pull on the material of your thong. “This fucking thing barely hides your pussy.” He ripped it off, making you gasp. He was quick to stuff his fingers into your mouth, and the two fingers of his other hand slipped into your wet hole.

“I didn’t even do anything and you’re dripping wet.”, he says, sciscoring his fingers inside of you at a fast pace, making you squeal around his fingers in your mouth. He pushes them in further, hitting the back of your throat making you gag and your eyes water. 

“I think you forgot who owns your pussy. You’ll let daddy destroy your little pussy, won’t you?”

You nod fervently, your saliva sputtering around his fingers. He curls his fingers inside your vagina, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. “Fucking little slut. Do you want to cum?”

He removes his fingers from your mouth and presses his hand to your lower stomach, keeping you in place as you squirmed. Your legs were shaking and you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand. “Y-Yes daddy.”, you cry out, your toes tingling and your vision already going blurry with the amount of pleasure.

“Ask nicely.”, he hisses, biting your ear lobe. 

“Please, p-please daddy I’ll be good, please let me cum. I-I’ll be your good girl, I’m s-sorry!” You scream as his thumb applies pressure to your clit, rubbing quick circles. “Go on, cum all over daddy’s fingers.”

By the time you’re back on earth after the amazing orgasm you just had, Harry has you on the couch on all fours, giving you barely enough time to recover as he slides his cock inside your sensitive pussy.

“Shit, always so tight.”, he curses, fingers digging into your hips. “Daddy’s gonna fuck you like a whore. I know that’s what you like.”

You scream as he starts to thrust his hips, his cock hitting deep inside you. It felt so good. He filled you up incredibly. His huge dick came crashing into your walls and you could do nothing but cry out in pleasure. 

“You think that guy has a bigger cock? Can he fuck you like this? Make you cry?”, Harry leans down to ask in your ear. You can’t answer, your vagina trying to envelop him and at the same time, press him out. 

“Answer me.”, he gruffs, one of his hands coming up to wrap around your throat and lift your face up. 

“N-No, no daddy..”, you whimper and choke as he pulls up your upper body by your neck, and he adjusts himself so his cock hits a deeper angle. “Who’s the only one who can fuck you like this hm?”

“You, daddy. Y-You fuck me so good..” You were nearing your release again. “M-May I cum? P-Please daddy?”

“Yes.”, he slaps your ass, hard. He moans and throws his head back in pleasure as he feels your warm juices coat his pulsating dick. He’s flipping you around onto your back, holding your knees apart and slamming into you again.

You whine from the over sensitivity. “D-Daddy I-I can’t..it’s too much.”

“You can, you’ll take it like a good girl. I know you can.”, he says, looking down at your stomach to see the dent his dick was making from inside. His eyes move to your face, looking at your smeared mascara and plump red lips, then moving to your breasts. 

“So fucking pretty like this.”, he says, bending down to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth. “You can touch me, baby.”

Your hands immediately travel to his hair and his back to pull him closer to you. You were already as close as you could be, but you wanted him impossibly closer. His curly hair was messy and cheeks flushed from your activities, but he looked beautiful.

“I-I love you.”, you whisper, and he kisses you. You cling to him as he was the only solid thing around you, and he was the only one whom you trusted with your entire being. “I love you too, sweet girl.”, he whispers and presses his forehead against yours.

“Want your cum inside me daddy, fill me up.”, you say, clenching around him as you know he’s close.

“Fuck, just like that, baby, you take me s-so well.”, he moans. You cum again from the feeling of him filling you up, and Harry collapses over you as you both recover from your highs. The only noise in the room was of your heavy breaths.

Harry lifts his head to look at you, your closed eyes fluttering open as he taps your cheek. “You okay darling? Was I too rough?”

“I’m okay, it was p-perfect. Just tired.”, you tell him, smiling softly as he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek “I’ll run you a bath, get you something to eat and then we can go to sleep.”

You hum. “Sounds good.”

Harry stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Hey, I really am sorry about today, love.”

“It’s okay! All forgiven after that.”, you giggle and he grins, shifting to lay beside you so he could pull you into his arms. “Maybe I should make you angry more often.”

“Oh yeah?”, he smiles amused, pressing kisses to your face as you laugh. “My naughty little minx.”

______________________________________________

Taglist:-@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry (Lemme know if you want me to add your name to the taglist!)

[gurugirl]

Best Friend's Dad!Harry

best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship au

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, age gap, cheating, lying, angst, breeding kink

Song to listen to: Illicit Affairs (you guys have said over and over again that this song fits this series perfectly and I couldn't agree more)

note: should be read from top to bottom in order (unless noted that can be read as standalone)

Let Me Show You (6.3k words) - can be read as standalone

How your illicit affair with Mr. Styles began

Desperate (3.6k words) - can be read as standalone

A party at the Styles' house + sneaky bathroom sex

The Big Tease (7.8k words)

Some heavy teasing leads to you giving in to Mr. Styles

Not Fair (6.5k words)

Harry suggests something to you that blows up in his face *angsty*

He's Not You (7.8k words)

The aftermath of Harry's bright idea has some downfalls and he didn't expect to feel this way.

Liar (6.1k words)

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

More of You (5.1k words) - can be read as standalone

Harry's at your place for a couple of days and you're enjoying having him all to yourself.

Crush (3.5k words) - can be read as standalone

A flashback: When your feelings for Mr. Styles morph from just finding him attractive to a full on crush you feel a little guilty. But then when he shows more than just a friendly interest in you at Fae's 22nd birthday party you two become close and eventually ebb on inappropriate, but you can't seem to stop.

Magic Spell (5.3k words) - can be read as standalone

A raucous Halloween party turns naughty when you and Harry find a hidden room at the Baylor mansion.

Under His Bed (4.5k words)

Harry invites you to stay at his house for the night and the following morning you both get an unexpected visitor.

Relax (4.9k words)

Fae asks you something that you aren't prepared to answer. You and Harry discuss what to do next.

Here's to Us (6.4k words)

A quick little weekend getaway is sweet and romantic. You reveal something that makes Harry do something a bit out of character.

Homewrecker (7.2k words)

The one where you and Harry finally come clean to everyone. Featuring an angry Fae, a spiteful soon-to-be ex wife, divorce terms, and lots of tears.

The Warning (4.5k words)

You and Harry are trying to heal after coming clean to everyone and Mrs. Styles comes to you with a warning.

A Little Naughty (3.3k words)

Your parents invite Harry to come with you for Christmas and you feel a little bit naughty after everyone's in bed.

Best Valentine's Day (4.2k words)

It's Valentine's Day and Harry's got something special planned.

Intuition (3.4k words)

Harry's got a surprise for you.

Must Be Nice (3.4k words)

You and Harry feel like everything's coming together perfectly. You're both getting all the things you wanted. But when you run into Fae while shopping and she notices something new about you, it bursts your little happy bubble.

The message blurb (453 words)

Fae unblocks you.

Heartburn (4k)

You and Harry have been anxious about seeing Fae at your baby shower but things go so well it leaves you both feeling relieved. Except for the small run-in with Fae's mom. Featuring: lactation smut!

Quiet Christmas Morning blurb (1.5k)

You have a lot to celebrate with Harry this Christmas.

MORE TO COME!

divider by @firefly-graphics

[harrywavycurly]

Worst Mob Boss Ever: Mafia!Harry One Shot

Part 2: Here

Pairing: Mafia!harry x Rowland!reader

CW: Language, slight mentions of threats of violence

A/N: I got hella inspired by this post, the accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss one and this is where my mind took it. I wrote this in one sitting sorry if it’s shit I had to get it out of my head!

Summary: Harry gets into the wrong car when your brother Mitch picks you up from work and you just want to go to book club✨

Harry let’s out an annoyed sigh as he reaches over to grab his suit jacket, giving the man behind the coat check a tip before he looks down at the watch on his wrist. In all the years he’s worked for him, Harry can’t remember a time when David has ever been late to pick him up from his Monday lunch meeting. After putting his jacket on he quickly reaches in one of the pockets for his sunglasses before stepping outside the restaurant, Eric the head of his security detail already standing outside waiting for him.

“He got held up at the red light the construction on the new apartment complex down the block it’s causing some issues.” Eric informs Harry as the two men walk down the short staircase in front of the restaurant. Harry just nods as he slides his sunglasses on, Eric stands to his right and looks around to see if he can spot the black suburban anywhere.

“You’re looking to the left and to the right when the car is right in front of you.” Harry snaps harshly as a big black suv pulls up in front of the restaurant. Eric quirks a brow when he notices a disco ball hanging from the rearview mirror, he takes a step to the side to try to get a glimpse of the license plate. “Why do I even keep you around?” Harry questions mostly to himself but he says it loud enough Eric can hear him as he takes a step towards the car.

“Wait boss that’s not-” before Eric can do anything Harry is already climbing into the suv and shutting the door. Eric watches in horror as the suv begins to drive off and all he can do is reach into his back pocket for his phone and begin making a few phone calls as the head of one of the most powerful families in New York disappears around the corner.

Harry doesn’t hear what Eric says as he sits down and gets comfortable in the leather seat and lets out a sigh as he brings a hand up to take his sunglasses off and place them back in his jacket pocket. That’s when Harry notices a pink fuzzy pair of what he can only describe as slippers next to a bright purple backpack on the seat next to him. Now if he was a normal person this is when he would probably begin to either panic or get anxious because Harry doesn’t own any fuzzy slippers nor does he own a purple backpack, but Harry isn’t exactly built to panic so he just reaches over and picks up the backpack and brings it over to sit in his lap. He opens it up and rolls his eyes when the first thing he sees is a romance novel with a book mark half way through it, he reaches in and moves a few things around and finds it’s just mostly filled with clothes but then he spots a wallet. He picks the wallet up and to his surprise when he opens it all he finds is a library card with “Rowland” written on the back making him assume that’s the card holder’s last name and some cash, he finds it a bit odd because he wasn’t aware people even still used library cards anymore. He lets out a disapproving tsk when he doesn’t find any form of identification having hoped he would at least find out whose car he was in.

“Who the fuck are you?” A loud startled voice causes Harry’s gaze to move from the tacky silver glittery wallet in his hands to the man in the driver’s seat that’s turning to glare at Harry over the console that sits between the two front seats.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well I asked you first so…who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Harry Styles.”

“Cool so what the hell are you doing in my sister’s car?” Harry looks at the wallet in his hand and then to the slippers in the seat next to him and nods his head upon learning these items don’t belong to the long haired man driving the vehicle but possibly his sister, not that he’s one to judge but the slippers are god awful no matter who’s wearing them.

“Why did you stop in front of me in the valet line?” Harry questions as he looks out the window and notices they are parked in what just looks to be the back of the restaurant he was just inside of.

“I stopped because that’s what you do when the car in front of you stops. What did you want me to do? Ram into them? It’s basic driving manners you dick. Now get the fuck-”

“Oh thank god that shift is over it was hell in there.” The door beside Harry opens briefly as a jacket and apron are roughly tossed on top of him before the door is slammed shut. He feels his jaw clench slightly as he tosses the items to the seat next to him making them land on the slippers before sliding to the floor. The man in the driver’s seat turns his attention away from Harry as the passenger door opens so who Harry can only assume is the man’s sister can climb inside.

“What’s with the face? Mitch are you-”

“So your name is Mitch?” You slowly turn your head to face the backseat as Harry’s deep voice fills yours ears, it’s one you’ve heard many times seeing as he’s a regular at your job having a set reservation for every Monday at noon with four other guests.

“Uh Mitch why is Harry Styles in my backseat?” Your eyes meet Harry’s and for a moment he feels the corners of his mouth twitch as if he wants to smile but he fights it. Your eyes travel down to the wallet in his hands and the backpack that’s open and sitting in his lap and without thinking you turn your body so you can reach into the back seat and snatch the wallet from his hands with a glare.

“Where are your manners? Why are you going through my stuff? Are you some kind of weirdo?” You fire off questions as you close your wallet back up before reaching for your backpack and pulling it to sit in the front with you by your feet.

“You know this guy?”

“I don’t know him like we’re friends I just know his name and that he eats here every Monday.”

“I don’t eat here I just have a meeting here every Monday. The food here is-”

“Why are you still in the car? Just get out.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Harry watches you and Mitch both turn to look at him with raised brows making him let out a sigh. “If I get out of this car without informing my guys that you’re not a threat then the moment you drive on any open road I’m afraid it’ll only be a matter of hours before I hear about how your car is now a flaming heap of metal on the side of the road.” He explains calmly as he reaches down for your jacket that fell off the seat and places it neatly on top of your slippers.

“Listen the only threat in this car seems to be you and I’m sorry did you say-”

“Flaming heap of metal? Like what you’re-you’re going to blow my car up? You can’t just blow up people’s cars that’s so rude.”

“I can. Because I have. Many times.”

“Dude I’m gonna have to ask you again. Who the fuck are you?” Harry glares at Mitch because he hates repeating himself as you let out a sigh of frustration while running a hand over your face. Harry takes a moment to consider how much he should actually divulge about who he is but when he looks over at the pink fuzzy slippers, he decides that since he now knows your last name and where you work he can subtly keep tabs on you so if he ever needs to pay you a little visit you won’t be hard to find, so what he says next doesn’t seem risky at least not to him.

“I’m Harry Styles the current head of the Styles family and before you ask-”

“Say no more man. You said you’re head of a family that has to mean mafia and I’ve seen the god father so I don’t need the run down on how your little family works.” You look at your brother with wide eyes as he talks a mile a minute and runs his hands through his hair as an attempt to calm himself down and Harry has to hold back a chuckle because so far he was having a pretty shitty day and oddly enough ending up in the wrong car with the two of you has slightly begun to turn it around.

“You’ve got to be the worst mob boss ever then because how did you even end up in my car? Don’t you have security or something?” Mitch shoots you a glare as you turn to look at Harry who can only shrug because honestly this was all his own doing since Eric did seem like he was trying to warn him before he got into the car.

“I thought he was my driver because he stopped right in front of me in the valet line outside the restaurant.” Harry answers honestly making you roll your eyes, an action Harry usually doesn’t tolerate when it’s directed at him but for some reason watching you do it makes him smirk at how annoyed you are.

“Oh right because every black suburban must be for you is that it? That’s so narcissistic of you.”

“Please stop insulting the mob boss in the backseat.” Mitch mumbles as he reaches over and gives your shoulder a light shove, you just smack his hand away and let out a huff as you go back to facing the front.

“I’m sorry but he’s ruining my plans.” You inform your brother who then turns to look at Harry.

“So can you call your dudes and tell them we aren’t a threat so you can get out of the car?” Mitch asks as nicely as possible and Harry licks his lips before giving Mitch a small smile because he knows the long haired man isn’t going to like his answer.

“I can’t do that.” Mitch lets out a groan as Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t have my phone. Phones aren’t allowed at family meetings.” He explains as you lean your head back so it’s resting on the headrest and close your eyes and take a few calming breaths. Harry seeming to be so unbothered by the whole situation has you on the verge of causing a full on scene in the back parking lot of your work because you just got off a hellacious shift and all you want to do is go to your book club and change into your comfy clothes with a glass of wine while taking about the steamy scenes of the romance novel in your backpack.

“See what I’m saying? Worst mob boss ever. He doesn’t even have his phone.” Harry can’t help but laugh and that seems to not be a reaction you find acceptable because all of a sudden your glaring at him and Mitch is looking at Harry through the rearview mirror with an apologetic expression on his face because he knows his sister is about to let him have it. “Listen Mr. Mob Boss I have plans tonight. I’m only off nights one day a week and that’s Monday when I work the morning and lunch rush and tonight is book club and if you get in the way of that then I might actually become a real threat to your safety so if you refuse to get out of my car then fine how about I get out? Because-”

“If you get out of this car I will not be able to protect you from the men inside that truck over there.” While Harry is impressed with your willingness to stand up to him and even borderline threaten him, he knows you have no actual clue who you’re dealing with in terms of what lengths his men will go to in order to get him back. You watch as he motions to a black truck that’s parked near a beat up minivan a few cars over from yours in lot, the windows are blacked out and you know it wasn’t there when you left through the back of the restaurant just ten minutes ago.

“How do we fix this if you don’t have a phone and no one can get out of the car? We can’t just sit in here forever.” You argue as Mitch just rests his forehead on the steering wheel with a huff officially hitting his limit and letting this be his sign that he’s giving up.

“Let me see your phone.”

“Let me hear some manners. Even the worst mob boss ever needs to have manners.”

“May I please borrow your phone-wait I still don’t even know your name.” Harry states as he quirks a brow at you and he can’t help but smile when you tell him your name with a roll of your eyes as you hand him your phone.

“But just type in the number and I’ll do the talking because I really don’t have time for any beating around the bush okay?” Mitch sits up as Harry begins typing in Eric’s phone number and he can’t help but wonder how this conversation is going to go because he’s not even sure if his head of security will answer or not since your number won’t be one of his contacts.

“His name is Eric and-”

“Hello? Eric? Hi yes I have your mob boss in my backseat and I need you to come get him please—what? No I didn’t kidnap him he’s the one who got into my car on his own—Uh excuse me sir do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Yes I’m being serious I have things to do and he’s got to go so come fucking get him—no no no I do not have any demands besides for you to come get him from my backseat!—He’s not the one being held hostage! I am! He won’t leave my car and I have book club!—what? Signs of life? What like you think I killed him in my backseat? Do you know how hard it is to get stains out of floorboards of a car? As if I’d murder someone in my own car-” Harry has to admit he is very entertained and only a little shocked at how you’re speaking to Eric over the phone, given how you just kinda threatened him only a few moments ago but he can only imagine what his security is saying to you because your cheeks are turning red and he can tell you are slowly beginning to reach the end of your patience. That’s when he decides he needs to step in as he reaches over and gives you a small smile before he gently takes the phone out of your hand and puts it up to his ear.

“Eric.” Harry hears the other end go quiet for a moment before he hears a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank fuck I thought she was some seriously sick and twisted psycho or someone one of the-”

“I’m fine. I’ll be home later. Do not follow or mess with this car do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“And no one is to touch them. Ever. Understood?” Harry isn’t dumb, he knows he has to pick his words wisely or Eric will “accidentally” do something to one or possibly both of you and use the excuse that Harry didn’t say he wasn’t allowed to hurt the people in the car just that he wasn’t allowed to mess with the car. He also knows that with the amount of time this car has been sitting in this back parking lot one of the men in that truck have gotten all the information they need on you from your licenses plate.

“Understood.” And with that Harry hangs up and hands you back your phone.

“We can go to book club now.” Mitch doesn’t hesitate to put the car in drive and begin to leave the parking lot, noticing a few ominous looking black trucks are also parked in front of the restaurant as well. “Don’t worry they won’t do anything.” Harry says in an attempt to sound reassuring when he sees Mitch look a little nervous when the truck from the back parking lot pulls up next to them at a red light.

“We can go to book club? You’re not invited.” You explain once Mitch is further down the road and the truck has turned off a side road letting Mitch feel a wave of relief wash over him as he loosens his grip on the wheel.

“Even if I’ve read the book?” He asks making you raise an eyebrow as you twist around in your seat to look at him. Harry just chuckles as he clasps his hands together in his lap, twisting his S ring around a few times. “The Hating Game right? That’s the book in your backpack? It’s not the best but it’s not the worst the movie is horrible but the banter is-”

“You read romance novels?” Harry just shrugs as he looks down at his hands. “You read smut instead of horror or like crime novels? How lame.” He smiles at your teasing and he feels like for as long as he’s in the backseat of your car he can just be the guy who reads romance novels, doesn’t keep his phone on him, gets into cars just because they look like the one his driver usually picks him up in and most importantly he can just be the guy who thinks the girl in the passenger seat is cute especially when she’s annoyed with him. Or to put it simply when he’s around you, Harry feels like he’s okay with being the worst mob boss ever.

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[strwbabydoll]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; harry styles x fem!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; harry’s grumpy and y/n’s never had a valentines date

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 ���𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 𝟐.𝟐𝐤

masterlist • talk to me! • request a valentines prompt

Y/N never really goes out unless she’s with her friend, Sarah and her boyfriend Mitch. It’s not that she has no reason, she just doesn’t like going alone. She doesn’t like being surrounded by large groups of people she doesn’t know, so the majority of the time she stay in her room surrounded her stuffed animals, wrapped up in her soft and fluffy blanket either reading a book or watching a movie.

The past two weeks all she ever heard is everyone’s plans or ideas for how they want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, whether it’s showering their significant other with presents and love, or simply choosing to spend the day with friends. While she’s happy for her friends, she doesn’t get the point. Why would you wait basically a year to show your partner love and spoil them, when you can just do that every day.

Some might she say she’s only grumpy because she’s never had a true valentines, only spending it by third wheeling Sarah and Mitch at home watching sappy rom-coms and eating as much junk food as her stomach can handle. She would honestly agree, she’s mainly grumpy because she hasn’t had the chance to experience that, but it still doesn’t make any sense!

Sarah’s been hinting at trying to get Y/N a Valentine’s but she doesn’t wanna go with someone she doesn’t know, it’d be even worse than third wheeling in her opinion. She refuses with a simple wave of her hand and a laugh, telling her she’d be too boring and they’d fall asleep at the table.

Sarah will laugh along, but she has a plan. She refuses to let her friend go without the joy of a date any longer! So she gathers Mitch after their lunch date and they begin their plan.

- - - -

Sarah’s been taking an oddly long time getting ready today, normally she only takes roughly thirty minutes to do her hair and makeup, but it’s taken her an hour and she’s still not done! Y/N knows something’s up by the way Sarah keeps giggling and looking at her dressed in her sweats and oversized hoodie, but she simply says she’s just happy.

A knock at the door disrupts Y/N’s thinking as she watches Sarah run to the door, she smiles lightly thinking it’s Mitch coming to pick her up. As she goes back to the kitchen to make her some water, she can faintly make out Sarah and Mitch’s voice as well as someone else’s.

She comes back out and stops in the doorway when she sees Harry with a small smile on his face. His hair looking as fluffy as always, his dimples prominent thanks to the smile he’s trying to hide. His muscles straining against his white dress shirt, and his black skinny jeans complimenting his toned legs and she swears she can feel the drool pooling in her mouth.

Conveniently Sarah turns around and spots her in the doorway, smiling even bigger somehow as she beckons her over.

“Y/N/N!! Look who’s here!” She says and Y/N sighs softly. As she heads over to the group, she can’t help but to trail her eyes over Harry’s physique once again, a small smile gracing her lips.

She gently pinches Sarah’s arm when she reaches the group as she gives everyone a hug. She can’t help but notice how tense Harry is when she wraps her arms around his frame.

She wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but they’ve always made polite small talk whenever they happen to be in the same room. She doesn’t understand why he’s always so short with her but can have a conversation for hours with Mitch. She doesn’t understand why he doesn’t like her, she hasn’t done anything!

She sighs as she removes herself from the awkward embrace and tugs on the ends of her hoodie sleeves, a habit she does whenever she gets anxious or overwhelmed. Stepping back, she smiles softly as they all engage in conversation.

“Y/N. Harry’s taking you for Valentine’s.” Sarah says and Mitch nods once in agreement. Her mouth parts and she stares at Harry, confusion etched on her face.

“Wha- no. Wait, huh?” She asks and Sarah laughs softly.

“Well you’re always complaining on how Valentines is such a shit holiday, and we wanted you to see how cute it can be, so we got H to do it so no strangers.” Mitch says and her eyes narrow at Sarah.

“This is some sick prank right?” She asks and they shake their heads.

“Wouldn’t do that you lovie.” Sarah says and she scoffs.

“Harry’s never even had a girlfriend! Why would he want to take me on a date? Are we forgetting Valentine’s is for couples, which we aren’t?” She says, a heat beginning to warm her cheeks in embarrassment as she shakes her head and tugs on her sleeves again.

“M’a nice person, Y/N.” Harry says as he fiddles with his rings, his voice soft as if he’s scared of angering her. She sighs softly as she looks up at her friends.

“You don’t even like me Harry. If this is something out of pity, I don’t want it. I’m perfectly fine doing what I always do.” She says and he nods.

“Go get dressed then.” He says, his voice just a tad deeper and she shivers as she nods absentmindedly and runs back to her room.

While she’s getting dressed, the three continue to have a conversation.

“You know where you’re taking her?” Sarah asks and he simply nods in response .

“You think she’ll like it?” Mitch asks and nods again

“Did you have to use that voice?” Mitch asks and Harry laughs.

“What voice?” Sarah asks and both of the guys laugh.

“His intimidation voice. Scares the crap out of the girls but they listen.” Mitch says

“She listened didn’t she?” Harry says with a small smile on his face.

A couple minutes later, Y/N comes out and Harry swears his heart stops. Now it’s not like he hasn’t thought she was attractive beforehand, he always thought she was pretty. But he has to be mean because he knows he’ll hurt her. She’s so sweet, so soft, so angelic, and he’s the complete opposite. She was right, he’s never had a girlfriend, he just wants to have fun and not be tied down. After all, he’s young, it’s not like he’s gonna be getting married in a couple years, so he sticks with his one night stands and aimless flirting with anyone who’ll fall for his charm.

But seeing her right now, her brown silk dress hugging her curves perfectly, her black heels wrapping around her toned calves, her hair styled in a sleek ponytail, and her jewelry shining when the light hit, a simple necklace with a small gem wrapped her neck, matching bracelets on both wrists and a couple small rings sit on her polished fingers.

Harry can feel a small nudge on his chest and turns to look at Mitch who has a smirk on his lips. Harry shakes his head and clears his throat.

“Y’look beautiful Y/N.” Harry says as a small smile appears on her plump glossy lips.

“Thank you, H. Didn’t tell you earlier but you look good too.” She says and he fights back a smile.

As they all walk out the door and to their respective cars, Y/N tugs on Harry’s belt loop as she signals him to come back. He steps back and they walk together a little further behind the other couple.

“Haz, I’m serious. If this is out of pity, I don’t need yours. Valentine’s isn’t even a big deal to me.” She says and he scoffs.

“M’serious Y/N. I’m a nice guy, and I want to do this. Stop overthinking, I don’t pity you. I want you to have at least one good date.” He says and rolls his eyes.

- - - -

As he pulls into the parking lot, he can hear her gasp from beside him and he chuckles. He parks the car and they both get out, heading to the door and he quickly opens the door to let her in.

They walk in and she sighs happily as the different foods blend into one delicious smell, he watches her warily, a smile threatening to form on his lips. They walk up to the register and order whatever they’d like and when asked for the name and card Harry quickly slides his card in and mentions his name, she frowns lightly as she watches everything go down.

The lady ends up eventually walking away and Y/N turns to Harry

“I could’ve paid for that.” In response she gets a frown.

“Have you forgotten? It’s technically our first date and I gotta treat ya.” He says and nudges her shoulder.

“Well thanks.” She says and nudges him back with a small smile on her face.

They stand back some as they wait for their food, talking about random topics when she clears her throat.

“H, I really am sorry for everything I’ve said today. I guess I just judged you because I was kinda hurt.. I had to watch you be all buddy buddy with Mitch and Sarah but act like you hate me.. it’s so confusing.” She says and he grabs her hand softly.

“I don’t hate you, at all. If anything I really like ya.” He says

- - - -

After they eat, Harry drives her to a small flower shop picking up everything she picks up. After creating a big bouquet of her favorites, he hands it to her with a shy smile.

“Harry.. what’s this?” She says

“Uh.. I read you’re supposed to give your date flowers in the first date.. and technically I was supposed to give them to you when I first walked in to pick you up, but I didn’t know what flowers you’d like..” he says as she watches his cheeks begin to turn pink.

She can’t fight the big smile that spreads across her face. She squeals as she wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his neck. She can feel him tense underneath her grasp, but she can’t be bothered. She’s just too happy! He actually put effort in researching what to do and wanted to be good for her.

She pulls away and smiles once again, taking in his flustered face and red cheeks, a downturned smile on his face as he scratches his neck.

“Um, you’re welcome.. I hope you liked it.” He says, his voice smooth and silky but she can tell he’s embarrassed.

“I loved it H. Thank you for this. Best Valentines ever.” She says and he smiles softly at her.

They spend the rest of the day chatting and walking around the town, enjoying each others company. He ends up carrying all her bags as they walk around, it reminds him of the celebrities and their security guards on a shopping spree.

As they head back, he reaches one hand over to her and hesitantly grabs her hand. She giggles quietly as she intertwines her fingers through his, and they drive in silence. She can’t help but daydream about them as she stares out the window, a dopey smile never leaving her face.

Once they reach her and Sarah’s apartment he opens the door and lets her in after she unlocks the door. She smiles and thanks him quietly, setting her keys in the bowl placed by the door on the small end table and he places all her bags in the living room. As soon as he sets her bags down both Mitch and Sarah emerge from Sarah’s bedroom, excitement written all over their face as they bombard them with questions about the date.

After answering their questions Harry turns to Y/N and nods his head towards the door. She nods and they both excuse themselves and head back outside, closing the door behind them and smiling at each other.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks and she nods.

“It’s gonna be hard to beat this mister. You ruined it for any other boy that tries, thank you again.” She says and he chuckles.

“That wasn't exactly my plan, I just wanted to show you what Valentine's is all about, that it isn't all that bad. You just have to share it with the right person. I had a good time tonight and I hope you enjoyed yourself as well. Tonight has shown me that I'm tired of ignoring you and being grumpy with you. If it's okay with you, I'd like for us to try all of this again.” He says and she smiles as she nods her head.

“Harry… can I kiss you? It’s the only proper way to end such an amazing date.” She asks and he nods.

He places his ringed hands on either side of her face and they both lean in slowly. She can smell the faint scent of the food he ate earlier combined with the mint of his gum he chewed earlier as his breath fans against her lips. He leans forward just slightly and they both smile as their lips touch, both soft and sweet. The kiss is nothing short of gentle and tender, only lasting for a minute max before he pulls away and kisses her nose.

Maybe Valentine’s isn’t so bad anymore.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

love

pair: Harry Styles x reader

summary: 5 times Harry helps y/n(she/her) feel safe by gently stopping her anxious lip-biting with kisses

masterlist | navigation

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They’re just about to step into his mum’s house for dinner, and y/n’s practically frozen on the doorstep. She’s met his family before, but it always makes her anxious. Harry notices her chewing on her lower lip and gently tugs it free with his thumb, smiling down at her.

“Hey, none of that,” he says softly, brushing his lips over hers. “They already adore you, okay?”

She nods, feeling a little better, and Harry keeps her close as they walk in, his arm secure around her shoulders the whole evening.

It’s one of his big shows, and y/n’s in the crowd, nerves all over the place because, even after all this time, watching him perform for thousands of people still gets to her. When he finally comes backstage, he spots her lip trapped between her teeth as she waits for him, barely even breathing.

Harry walks over, wrapping his arms around her. “Hey, love,” he whispers, gently releasing her lip and giving her a soft kiss. “You alright?”

She smiles and nods, wrapping her arms around him too. “Just… watching you. Still can’t believe it sometimes.”

He chuckles, squeezing her tight. “Believe it. I’m all yours.”

They’re at a small get-together with some of Harry’s friends, and y/n’s feeling a little out of place. She’s standing by his side, lip between her teeth as they talk. Harry notices and quietly reaches over, brushing her lip free and holding her hand.

“Relax, they’re just as nervous meeting you, you know,” he teases, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Besides, you’re the most charming one here.”

She laughs softly, feeling her nerves settle with his hand in hers.

She’s standing in front of the mirror, looking frustrated as she bites her lip, staring at the two outfits she’s been swapping between for the past fifteen minutes. Harry, lying back on the bed, just watches with a little smile before getting up and walking over.

“Love,” he murmurs, gently taking her lip out of her teeth again and brushing his lips over hers, “you look beautiful in anything. Trust me.”

She huffs but leans into his hug, her nerves easing a bit. “Okay… I’ll pick this one, then.”

“Perfect,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he pulls her close.

The moment’s bittersweet. She’s trying her hardest not to cry, but her lip’s caught between her teeth again as they hug one last time before he heads out. Harry gently tips her chin up, smiling softly as he releases her lip with his thumb, then kisses her.

“Don’t worry, love,” he whispers. “I’ll be back before you know it. And we’ll video chat every day.”

She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he holds her just a little longer, as if he doesn’t want to leave either.

[pisstintedglasses]

Lessons of Letting Go

Fem! Reader x P.SH

warnings: MDNI, "i can fix him" syndrome backfires, consensual underage sex, somnophilia, mentions of underage drinking, cheating, a quite heinous amount of fluff. 

DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ

word count: 23.3k 

Playlist for whilst you read:

A Thousand Years - Christina Perri'

You are The Reason - Callum Scott

Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy

Don't Stop Me Now - Queen

"Get You" – Daniel Caesar ft. Kali Uchis

"Earned It" – The Weeknd

"Ribs" – Lorde

“Tangerine” – Glass Animals

"From the Dining Table" – Harry Styles

Chapter 1 of; Lessons Learned

The announcer's mic-amplified voice reverberated throughout the stadium as he revealed the scores of your opponent. Whilst she celebrated her relatively high score, clutching her fan-given plushie as she cheered with her coach, you fiddled with your fingers in an attempt to calm your anxious nerves. You were the last one to perform (thanks to your lucky hand when you pulled for the order of who performs), and all those before you exceeded each other's score each time, setting the standard higher and higher. And you were afraid you couldn't even just reach that same peak.

Your coach, Ivan saw your obvious discomfort, lending a firm and on your shoulder and shaking the bloody nerves off of you. "Calm down, will you? You've done months of training, just as much and maybe even more than your opps did. You'll put up a fight."

Ivan was a 29-year-old, Russian, ballet coach. He and your sister were classmates in college, and she just so happened to tell Ivan about your new little profound passion about ballet. You were only 9 at the time, but when Ivan saw that youthful spark of passion flare from your rusty arabesques, he jumped at the opportunity to shape your ember. Shape your talent into skill. And that, he did.

He streamlined your passion and made you into a decent dancer. Decent enough to win a couple regional-level competitions. Trophies of gold, silver, bronze from said competitions adorned your glass-encased achievement shelf. (Which your mom insisted to have built). Your parents were quite content with all your milestones, be it big or small. But you weren't. It pissed you off to no end that you couldn't go beyond the regionals.

One not-so-faithful day, on your last competition as a pre-junior, thoughts about how you have to win this consumed your better judgment. You couldn't focus at all. You kept throughout your entire routine, and it frustrated you to no end. And on the last Fouette that was supposed to be the cherry on top of your performance, your feet hit one another and leave you to come undone in a clumsy, crying mess.

With your heart feeling like it's caught up in your throat, you covered your tear-stained face and ran off stage right as your song ended. And so did your career. That competition had 9 finalists, and you ranked LAST. You couldn't even bare attending the awarding ceremony. You publicly embarrassed yourself out there, and especially now at your ripe pre-pubescent years, you knew your peers would be whispering among themselves about how dramatic you acted or how shitty your performance was. It was horrific. And just like that, what was once the spark that lit your dreary Mondays turned into to one of the most socially, emotionally, and mentally traumatic events of your life. So, in an attempt to cope with it, you pushed it away.

Anything related to dance, your old friends, Ivan. You wanted nothing to do with it anymore. You were already unraveling thread by thread, your fervent spark of ambition was being pulled away by the seemingly unreachable pinnacle, that is, the Nationals. Childish, or perhaps as arrogant as it may sound, you knew you had what it takes to get there, but your just somehow can't. And you don't know what's stopping you. You've blamed Ivan, for not teaching you enough, but you knew deep inside you wouldn't have gotten to the level you were at without him.

After coming to a consensus with your parents, they let you quit the team, and sent you to the studio to pick up your things while they handled the resignation letters. You were grateful they never pushed you to do anything. They saw that ballet became toxic for you and they didn't even hesitate to let you leave when you saw fit. Anyway, they drove into the studio's parking lot and headed for your head manager's office, in order to deal with the paperwork. It was nighttime now, so you presumed all of the others would have gone home.

So, you didn't expect to find him here. Ivan.

The studio was supposed to be empty. Late enough for the lights to be dimmed, the floor to be cold beneath your feet, the mirrors to stop echoing back the dancer you used to be. But there he was-Ivan-leaning against the far wall, arms crossed like he hadn't been waiting, but you both knew better.

You hesitated at the door, one foot still out in the hallway, as if you could still change your mind. As if walking away now would hurt less than what you were about to do.

"I'm done," you said.

Your voice didn't shake. It wasn't a declaration. It was just... a fact. Like gravity. Like something that had always been true, you just hadn't said it out loud yet.

Ivan didn't move. Not at first.

You didn't mean to say it like that.

But the words came out anyway, sharp and final.

"I'm done."

Your voice cracked a little, but you tried not to care. You didn't look at Ivan. You couldn't. If you did, you'd probably back down. You'd probably see that look on his face-that mix of confusion and disappointment-and swallow the words, like always. So you stared at the floor instead, at your busted old slippers with the frayed ribbons and the tiny bloodstain near the toe. You hated those shoes. And you loved them. And you hated that you loved them.

"You're quitting?" Ivan asked. His voice wasn't loud or angry-it was just quiet. Tired, maybe. Like he already knew.

You nodded, even though your hands were shaking.

"I can't do it anymore," you muttered. "I just... I don't want to."

That wasn't the truth. Not really. You did want to dance. You wanted it so bad your chest hurt. You wanted Nationals. You wanted the stage, the lights, the moment. But lately, it felt like the more you wanted it, the further it slipped from your hands.

Ivan didn't say anything at first, and that made it worse.

"I've been trying," you blurted. "I've been trying so hard. But it's like I'm stuck. Everyone's getting better and I'm just... here. Still making the same stupid mistakes. Still forgetting the same stupid counts. Still losing balance like a baby."

Your throat burned.

"I'm supposed to be good, right? That's what everyone says. 'You've got talent, you're a natural, you'll make it someday.' But what if they're wrong? What if I'm not enough?"

You finally looked at him. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight-but his eyes were soft. Too soft. You hated that.

"I thought you'd help me get there," you said, barely above a whisper. "I really did. But maybe you didn't teach me enough. Or maybe you thought I could figure it out on my own. But I couldn't. I can't."

Ivan stepped closer, but you took a step back.

"I'm twelve, Ivan," you said. "Twelve. I'm not supposed to feel like a failure already."

There was a silence after that-heavy, like the walls were pressing in. You wiped your nose on your sleeve, trying to be tough. Trying to not cry like a little kid. But everything was just... too much.

You thought he'd yell. Or say you were being dramatic. Or lecture you about dedication and drive and how quitting now would ruin everything.

But instead, he just looked at you, like he saw through all of it.

"You're not a failure," he said quietly.

You didn't answer. You didn't believe him.

Because right now? You didn't feel like a dancer. You just felt... small. And tired. And really, really lost.

He stood closer now, arms cautiously extended to his sides to offer a much-needed hug, which you've gladly accepted. You let yourself soak his leotard as you clung to him. "You've accomplished so many things-"

"Well I didn't accomplish enough! And I never will! Now that I blew my last pre-junior performance, I don't think people will take me seriously as a junior!"

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders. "Would it be too soon for me to suggest figure skating?"

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Now, stood you in one of the biggest ice skating competitions of your time, regionals, once again. The nationals are just at arms-length, so you knew deep within yourself you couldn't afford to pass this up. You dare not waste the 3 years Ivan has spent building you back up, this time, on the ice. You've done well in the short program, all you had to worry about now was the free skate. No longer clad in those painful pointe shoes, those itchy tutus, no. You sported a fresh, tight yet comfy, baby blue leotard that helped in boosting you confidence, paired with your favorite pair of blades-gifted to you by your sister.

The familiar vowels of your name ware called, summoning you to the spotlight, and claim the stage (rink) as your own. Breathing in the mint-scented air deeply one more time, you stepped onto the ice and glided along the sides, plastering a genuine smile and greeting those who cheered for you. The deafening clamor of the crowd's applause breeched your ears, you almost missed the first few notes of your song. The audience definitely did, though, as it seemed their hoorahs only grew louder at the sound of your performance starting.

You began to dance your prepared choreography upon hearing the calming voice of your designated piece for today-Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years." A sweet song whose melody harmoniously matched your performance. Innocent, almost fragile, your jumps were on beat with the cadence of the guitar, cello, and piano instrumental.

It wasn't just the soft melody that resonated with your performance; it was the lyrics as well. The words, "I have died every day waiting for you," seemed to echo in your heart as your body glided effortlessly across the ice. It was as if each movement was a reflection of the years of dedication, the countless hours of practice, and the quiet, unspoken devotion to your craft. Every jump, every spin, felt like a pledge of love to the art of figure skating itself-timeless and unyielding.

As the song built into the chorus, "I will love you for a thousand more," you could almost feel the embrace of the ice beneath you. It reminded you of the unspoken bond between skater and ice-an eternal connection that exists beyond the fleeting moments of each performance. The melody wrapped itself around you like a gentle, yet powerful force, urging you to give everything, to pour your soul into every movement, just as the song's lyrics spoke of eternal love.

You've always loved this part of figure skating, the cold air and ice beneath you enveloping your body and soul in this tranquil trance that helped keep your mind at ease. It was never like this with ballet. All you could feel in ballet was the sweat that would always pool at your back at the tremendous pressure of the spotlight and stares that settled on you on that non air-conditioned stage. The fans were usually directed at the judges as if they were the ones breaking their bones just to properly execute a Cambre. You never felt like that with your new love.

Figure skating, much like love, is about vulnerability-about trusting your body to carry you through difficult lifts, delicate landings, and dizzying spins, even when the odds seem insurmountable. The lyrics of "A Thousand Years" aligned with the very essence of what you felt skating on the ice: a love that transcends time, a passion that refuses to be extinguished. It was not just a performance; it was a love letter to the sport, an expression of devotion and commitment. "I will love you for a thousand more," you whispered to yourself, feeling the music fill every corner of your soul.

With each passing note, you were no longer just performing; you were telling a story of love, loss, and hope-of pushing through adversity and continuing to glide forward, no matter the challenges. Every movement you made felt like a promise-just as the song promised eternal love, you promised to keep dancing, no matter how many years it took.

And with the instruments slowing down to halt, so did your performance, as you struck your final pose. You finally let out the breath you didn't even realize was being held in and opened your eyes. The flashes of the lights overhead flickered your gaze, making you squint a bit before bowing at the judges who bared the look of satisfaction, impressed expressions. White roses and Frolass plushies were littered across the ice, which the staff has helped with gathering them all. You strode over to one of said plushies and hugged it close to your chest, giving the audience one final wave and bow if gratitude before you made your way off the ice.

Once your blades came in contact with the floor, you couldn't even get the chance to put your guards on them since Ivan sprung up to you and gave you one of the most genuine hugs he's ever given. "I told you you'd do amazing." You reciprocated the hug and pulled back, "You think the judges liked it?" Ivan scoffed, "Are you kidding? They looked entranced the entire time you were up there." The both of you couldn't help the proud smiles from spreading on your faces.

He guided you back to your designated seat where they filmed your reaction upon hearing your score, and he gave you a bottle of water, wrapping a jacket around you when he saw you shiver. You didn't notice it when you were still performing, but your hands were shaking from the cold. Well, you thought it was shaking just from nervousness. Not too long after, your family approached with proud smiles plastered on their familiar faces, already congratulating you with strings of praises regarding your performance.

A little girl passed by you, not too old-probably about five years younger than you. She was cheerful, skipping a little with each step as she clutched the hand of who you presumed was her grandmother. A middle-aged couple trailed behind, and next to them, a boy just slightly older than the girl, dressed in a striking figure skating outfit, clearly waiting for his turn on the ice.

Your heart warmed at the sight-there was something so pure about the quiet excitement of a supportive family. But then your gaze caught something else: a small red stain spreading across the girl's light shorts. You immediately recognized it. The judges take a while tocalculate the scores, so you decided to act on it.

You didn't think twice. You grabbed a pad from your bag, hid it under your jacket, and hurried towards her. Approaching gently, you quickly wrapped your jacket around her waist, discreetly slipping the pad into her pocket. Startled, the little girl stumbled back slightly, and her family froze, giving you confused, wary looks. You offered a small, apologetic smile, speaking in a hushed whisper, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but... she seems to have bled through."

The mother gasped softly, lifting the jacket to check-and sure enough, the growing stain was there. "Oh, dear," she murmured, her face melting into maternal concern. You gestured subtly to the pocket. "I slipped a pad in there... in case you need it." The mother quickly mouthed a "thank you" before hurrying the girl toward the restroom, the father and the boy following right after. You smiled to yourself, relieved to have helped, and turned to make your way back to the seating area where your parents were waiting-your performance long done, the adrenaline still buzzing faintly in your veins.

But a voice stopped you. "My, my," the grandmother called out warmly, making her way over. "You're not just a pretty girl-you've got a beautiful heart too!" You flushed, laughing shyly. "It was really nothing, ma'am. I know how embarrassing it can feel..." The grandmother nodded sagely, folding her arms over her chest. "Takes one who's been through it to understand. Kindness like that is rare, you know."

You smiled at her, a little bashful, but grateful too. Her gaze lingered on you a moment longer, her lips quirking mischievously. Then, leaning a little closer, she asked in a whisper, "Tell me, sweetheart... you're single, aren't you?" You blinked, caught completely off guard. "Um... y-yeah, I am." "Perfect!" she chirped, clapping her hands once with delight. She shuffled aside with a flourish-and only then did you notice that someone had been standing awkwardly right beside you this whole time.

The boy from earlier, the one in the figure skating costume. You had noticed him earlier when the men were called to warm up. His costume was a somewhat baggy blouse that faded from clear white into a very vivid and deep blue. It was a bit similar to yours, though much darker, it had the same ombre effect.

His head snapped up to meet your gaze at the same time you looked at him, both of you freezing like deer caught in headlights. "This here's my grandson," the grandma said proudly, patting Sunghoon's shoulder. "He's about to perform, actually. Talented, polite, good-looking-what more could you ask for, huh?" You stared, the realization hitting you a second too late. Sunghoon was stunning up close, even more so than you'd noticed before. His cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink as he gave you a tiny, sheepish smile.

"I-uh, I'm Sunghoon," he said, voice soft but clear. He gave a small, polite bow despite the obvious embarrassment pooling around him. You managed to smile back, flustered but charmed, as you introduced yourself. "I, uh, already performed. You're up next, right?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Kinda hard to focus after that whole thing, but... thanks for helping my sister." His voice was earnest, sincere, and you felt the knot of nerves slowly unspool in your chest. "It was nothing," you said, laughing lightly. "Good luck out there." The grandmother beamed between the two of you, her matchmaking spirit practically radiating. "Maybe you can stay and watch him perform?" she suggested sweetly, not even trying to hide her intentions.

You met Sunghoon's shy, hopeful gaze-and found yourself nodding before you could even think twice. "I'd love to. Is he up next?" The grandmother shook her head, "Only two more boys and then it's his turn. Won't you stay until then?" You were about to nod when you heard your dad call out your name, calling you over to them since you score was about to be announced. In a haste, you excused yourself with the promise of coming back.

Your heart thrummed violently in your chest, Sunghoon long forgotten as your mind was swallowed whole by endless insecurities and what-ifs. What if it wasn't enough? What if you fell short again? Your hands trembled as your family wrapped you into a tight, protective hug, excitement buzzing around you like static in the air.

The announcer's voice finally crackled over the speakers, slicing cleanly through the tension. "For our final competitor in the Junior Women's division-"The world seemed to slow to a crawl. "A free skate score of 117.48 points! You felt your breath catch, stuck halfway between a gasp and a prayer. "Added to her short program score of 72.36, that brings her total to 189.84 points-" A heartbeat. Another. "-securing first place!"

Your family's cheers burst into the air around you, your sister practically shaking you in her arms. You stood frozen for a second, as if the words hadn't quite registered, before the realization slammed into you all at once.

You had won.

You had won.

Cheers erupted around you, and you felt your heart soar, your dad lifted you in the air. The moment felt so surreal. Years of hard work and you've finally got what you wanted. All in an instant, it felt like a fever dream. One second you were being introduced to some cute guy, and you were a winner in the next. It's all happening so fast you couldn't believe it. It only took one look at Ivan's tear-stained face to have you let the waterworks loose too. Adrenaline and bliss thrummed throughout your veins as he spun you around. Amidst all the chaos, your eyes met Sunghoon's, who was looking at you with genuine astonishment.

Somewhere in the stands, you could faintly make out Sunghoon's family cheering too, his little sister jumping and pointing excitedly.

But right now, it was just you and the thundering beat of your heart, drowning in a tide of relief, disbelief, and a wild, soaring kind of joy you hadn't felt in years.

When he noticed your gaze on him, he hastily looked away. His mom and sister were back though, and they were looking over your noisy, still celebrating huddle as well. His mom looked over to the grandma for an explanation, which she gave. After being hauled around by your family taking pictures of you, you finally sought the chance to excuse yourself and do good on your promise to watch Sunghoon's performance earlier. Of course, your sister didn't miss the chance to tease you about it. And neither did your dad.

"Ooh, meeting boys already? Our little champion's all grown up," your dad teased, nudging you playfully with his elbow.You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "It's not like that," you mumbled, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. Your sister gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Not yet like that, you mean." Your mom chuckled from behind the camera she was still holding. "Let her be. She's earned a little attention after today."

Ivan, who had been listening nearby, chimed in with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just don't forget about us once you're famous and running off with handsome boys." That sent your whole family into another fit of laughter, and you swatted at the air in front of you, trying to escape. "I'm just going to watch his performance!" you insisted, voice climbing with exasperation. "Like I promised!" "Right, right," your dad said, exaggeratedly wiping a fake tear from his eye. "First it's watching performances... next thing you know, wedding invitations!"

"Dad!" you whined, your face burning hotter than ever. Your sister winked at you, clearly enjoying every second. "Go get 'em, champ." You shook your head, laughing despite yourself as you turned away, feeling their teasing gazes follow you all the way across the gym. Sunghoon's family beamed as they congratulated you on your win

"I knew your performance was something special. Sunghoon-oppa here couldn't take his eyes off you earlier-" Yeji, the girl you helped earlier, said brightly, but she barely got the words out before Sunghoon clamped a hand over her mouth, face turning an adorable shade of red. "Yeji!" he hissed in a hushed yell, his voice dripping with embarrassment. His nervous chuckle made their parents laugh, the sound light and teasing.

Sunghoon's mom smiled warmly at you, a fondness in her eyes as she looked between you and her son. "I hope Sunghoon gets into the nationals too," she said, voice gentle. "It'd be nice if the both of you won, right?" "It'd be the perfect excuse for a date," his grandma added mischievously, her tone playful enough to make Sunghoon visibly shrink into himself. "Halmeoni!" he groaned, dragging his hand down his face. You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you, nerves and flattery mixing into something light and giddy.

"It's okay," you said, smiling shyly at them all. "I think... just competing together would already be really special." Sunghoon peeked at you through his fingers, and when he caught your eye, he smiled too - small, genuine, a little shy around the edges. Yeji, now free from his hand, beamed. "You have to teach me how to be that cool when I compete!" Sunghoon's dad chuckled and asked, "How long have you been skating, if you don't mind me asking?"

You shifted your weight, thinking back. "Um... technically, not that long," you admitted. "I used to do ballet, actually, until about three years ago." "Really?" Sunghoon's mom perked up with interest. "Yeah," you nodded, a little sheepishly. "I kept trying to qualify for the ballet regionals, but... I never really made it past the preliminaries. I guess after a few years of that, I just felt like maybe my heart wasn't in it anymore. Skating kind of... gave me a second chance at something I really loved."

"You must have worked really hard," Sunghoon's dad said, sounding genuinely impressed. "I still have a long way to go," you said quickly, laughing a little. "But it feels different this time. Like... even when I lose sometimes, I want to keep trying." Sunghoon, quiet until now, spoke up, his voice softer, thoughtful. "That's really cool. I mean it." You looked over and found him smiling at you again - properly this time, without hiding - and the way his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners made your heart skip.

"You're already amazing," Yeji chimed in enthusiastically, tugging at your sleeve like you were an old friend. "I'm gonna cheer for you both at nationals!" Sunghoon's grandma patted your shoulder warmly. "You're part of the family cheering squad now too, dear. You better get used to it." Everyone laughed, including you, and for a moment, standing there with them, you felt something settle in your chest - a sense of belonging, easy and bright.

A few minutes later, Sunghoon was finally called down for his performance.

(Refer to this performance of hoonie if you want any visual aid lmao. for the sake of the plot, however, we are gonna ignore his actual rank in the video--- p.s. he did amazing here in this performance. ANOTHER P.S., this fanfic isn't too accurate on the times of hoonie's performances but alas, I am too lazy to redo it)

You hadn't expected to find yourself sitting here, bundled up among strangers who somehow already felt like family. After helping Sunghoon's little sister earlier, his family had insisted-no, insisted-you join them to watch his free skate. And you, still a little flustered and embarrassed, had agreed. Now here you were, heart thudding in your chest, watching the boy you'd only just met take the ice.

The lights dimmed slightly, and the familiar opening notes of the music drifted through the rink. It was a bright, soaring melody, full of lightness and energy-and somehow, it fit him perfectly. You leaned forward without meaning to, your breath catching as Sunghoon pushed off into his first glide.

Each movement was smooth, effortless, like water finding its path. His blades cut clean lines across the ice, turning with a precision that could only come from endless hours of practice, yet he made it look so natural, so easy. You couldn't tear your eyes away. His jumps were light, airy, as though gravity itself hesitated to pull him back down.

He was-

Beautiful.

Beside you, Sunghoon's little sister tugged your sleeve excitedly.

"Isn't he cool?" she whispered, her voice bubbling with pride.

You nodded quickly, a small, breathless laugh escaping. "He's amazing. He moves like... like the music was made just for him."

You turned your gaze back to the ice just in time to catch Sunghoon launching into a jump-a perfect triple. He landed so cleanly you barely heard the blade hit the ice. The melody picked up, playful and bright, and Sunghoon matched it effortlessly, his movements light and joyful without ever losing the grace that came so naturally to him.

His mom smiled at that, her eyes warm.

"He's always been good at feeling the music," she said softly. "Even when he was just a little boy. We'd put on anything, and he'd just start skating around the living room, pretending it was a rink."

"He makes it look easy," you murmured without thinking.

You ducked your head quickly, face burning, but couldn't help smiling.

Sunghoon's dad chuckled warmly.

"That's the trick. He's spent years making it look that way."

His grandma leaned in closer, her voice teasing.

"Maybe he's showing off a little more today, hm? After all... there's someone new in the crowd."

The music swelled into its chorus, and Sunghoon moved with it as if his body had been designed to echo the sound. Every turn, every extension of his arms felt right, like he wasn't just skating to the melody, but was the melody. You could feel his energy even from here-the quiet determination, the bursts of joy, the fierce concentration beneath it all.

The music softened into its final notes, and you turned back just in time to see Sunghoon finish with a quiet flourish, one knee touching the ice, head bowed. For a moment, the rink was silent except for the soft scrape of his blades slowing to a stop. Then applause erupted-and you were on your feet before you even realized it, clapping hard enough that your palms stung. Around you, his family cheered and whooped, but your eyes stayed locked on him.

Sunghoon straightened slowly, lifting his gaze toward the stands-and for a brief, dizzying second, it felt like he looked straight at you. Your heart somersaulted, your hands still clapping even as you forgot how to breathe. It was the kind of performance that made you fall in love with skating all over again. And maybe-just maybe-with the boy who made it look like flying.

He finally glided off the ice, going to the same seat where you were earlier. The 2 other boys who went before him gained a relatively high score, but you knew from the masterpiece you were just blessed with, he had a huge chance to win. Actually, you were praying on it. If he really did get to win, the two of you would get to go to the nationals together. You watched from afar as he heaved. All those jumps must have rendered him exhausted.

His family began to head to him, so they can check in, with you in tow. Though, it was still going to be a while before his score gets announced so you knew you had time. You passed by your family and quickly introduced them to one another first, just to get them acquainted and to let them know who you were walking with. Of course, praises for Sunghoon erupted from them as well. You've just come to terms with your attraction for the boy but it seems like he's already won the favor of your immediate family. Including Ivan.

Your seats were near the "hot seat" as you would call it, so you opted to just have the Parks sit next to your family, that way they'd be close to Sunghoon without having to stand the entire waiting time while the judges evaluated. After what felt like an eternity, the commentators finally revealed his score.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, snapping you out of your daze. Everyone around you leaned forward instinctively, waiting for the numbers to flash onto the giant screen. You found yourself holding your breath without even meaning to.

"And now, Park Sunghoon's score for the free skate..."

The screen flickered, and then the numbers appeared in bold, glowing print.

"He receives 154.26 points for his free skate-"

There was a small gasp around you-his family clutching each other's arms in excitement, his little sister nearly bouncing out of her seat.

"...for a combined total of 233.75 points!"

Your hands flew up to your mouth, hiding the huge grin breaking across your face.

"Oh my god," you whispered, half laughing, half breathless.

"He did it!" his sister squealed, grabbing your sleeve and shaking it.

Sunghoon's dad let out a booming laugh, clapping his hands together.

"That's our boy!" he said proudly, his voice thick with emotion.

You could hardly take your eyes off Sunghoon, who was smiling on the monitor, bowing politely before flashing a quick, bashful grin at the camera. He looked overwhelmed, relieved, proud-and somehow still so humble despite the incredible score. Leaning closer, Sunghoon's grandma teased in a low whisper, "Better start practicing how to answer interview questions. They're gonna be calling him a national treasure soon."

His mom brushed away a tear with a soft chuckle.

"He worked so hard for this. He deserves every point."

And somewhere deep inside, a small, secret wish stirred:

You laughed, heart thudding with pride that felt far too big for someone you had only just met. But somehow, it didn't feel strange at all. Watching him stand there, practically glowing under the spotlight-you were just... happy. And honored.

Happy to have witnessed it.

Honored to be part of it, even in this tiny way.

Maybe this wasn't the last time you'd be cheering for Park Sunghoon.

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The trip to another country was nice. New, but nice. Especially when a really cute guy (who is your boyfriend now) is sat next to you the entire plane ride with his head perched on your shoulder. To say you felt excited was a total understatement. You were fucking estatic. You bagged first place AND a total cutie? Honestly, the plane could have crashed but you still would have had a smile on your face.

Anyway, it's been 4 months since the regionals, during that time, Ivan and Sunghoon's coach arranged multiple joint training sessions among the two of you, the rationale being that both of you were representing the country anyway, so might as well see and know each other's routines. Maybe even help each other out and develop into partners.

And that's exactly what happened.

Every few days when your parents came to pick you up from the rink, his family would invite yours to their house to have dinner and vice versa. Everyone got acquainted quickly, and so did you and Sunghoon. Two months into practice, he told you to dismiss your parents from picking you up that day. Reason why? He wanted to walk you home. You still remember every detail from that walk so vividly.

The air was crisp, and the leaves were a cool shade of orange, since it was already fall. You're beginning to get the impression that Sunghoon had a very particular reason why he seemed hellbent on taking you home today. At first, you thought it was just because he was tired of being constantly teased and pressured both his parents and yours to get together with you, but the more you observed him that day, the more you realized he looked like he had something he wanted to say. His mouth kept opening and sharply sucking in a breath, as if he were preparing to give a speech, but alas, no words came out of his mouth.

It was a habit of his. A shy, timid boy who only gets loud with his sister. He was a man of a few words. Always twiddling with his thumbs, back slouched. Clearly not too confident in himself. You noticed this from the very first time you met, all the way back at the regionals' free skate. Whilst all the other participants flaunted even during just their warm-up with the stance and expression of confidence, he prepared meekly.

You always wondered why he was like this. To you, he has every right to parade himself, albeit you're glad he doesn't. He has the looks and talent, yet he seems to be so insecure. Opting to let someone else do the talking for him, in fear of being judged for something he'd say wrong. You wanted to change that. Help him get out of his shell and realize that he's fucking beautiful. That he has nothing to be afraid of.

You've only over seen him at ease sporadically; when he's with Yeji, when he's alone, and when he's on the ice. If only he could come to grasp how ethereal he looks when he's in his element. When he's not constantly thinking about what others have to say about him. You thought this way too, back when you were still in ballet, and it was NOT a healthy mindset. You learned that letting go of other peoples' hearsay was the key to living a happy life, ESPECIALLY as a teenager. As the saying goes; Ignorance is bliss.

As you finally got your spatial awareness back, you noticed you were already in your neighborhood. And you must admit, your curiosity of what Sunghoon wants to say was gnawing at you, since your time together for the was already close to being cut short. Looking over to the boy, he met your eyes, since he's been looking at you the entire walk, looking for a good opening to start his spiel. His head immediately turned upon being caught staring, stammering a small "sorry" as his ears flushed a nice hue of pink.

You stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixed on him with a hint of curiosity and suspicion. His flustered expression, the way he kept stealing glances at you-was it possible? Could he actually like you, too? Your thoughts began to race, but before you could process anything further, Sunghoon froze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you weren't walking beside him anymore.

He slowly turned around, face now a deep shade of pink, and stammered, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He trailed off, his voice faltering as he tried to form an excuse.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms loosely in front of your chest, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Sunghoon," you started, your voice playful yet laced with an edge of curiosity. "We've been walking for so long now. And I know you want to say something. So... just say it already."

Sunghoon shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering to the ground before he let out a nervous laugh. "I-uh," he began, trailing off again. The usual habit of his, always hesitant, always careful with his words, was in full force. You could see the way his fingers fidgeted at his sides, like he was gathering the courage to speak but wasn't quite sure how.

You took a step closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile. "Sunghoon, you don't have to be nervous around me. Just tell me what's on your mind."

For a moment, he looked at you, as if weighing the decision, before his mouth opened again. This time, the words came out in a rush, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-" He hesitated, then met your gaze directly, his eyes serious now, "I've been thinking about this... about you, actually." He took another breath, his voice trembling slightly, "I think... I think I might like you."

Your heart skipped a beat. The words hit you like a wave, pulling you under before you could take another breath. Sunghoon. Sunghoon was telling you that he liked you. Of all the things you thought might happen on this walk, that was the last thing on your mind.

You blinked in surprise, struggling to catch up to the moment. He... he liked you? You had always thought he was special, that there was something about him that set him apart from everyone else. But the thought that he might see you the same way? That was something else entirely.

"Really?" You managed, your voice softer now, as if you were trying to wrap your head around it. "You... like me?"

Sunghoon's face turned an even deeper shade of pink, his hands fumbling nervously with the straps of his backpack. "Yeah," he whispered, looking away, almost as if he were trying to make himself smaller, hiding behind the words that now seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. "I know it sounds sudden, and I-I didn't want to say anything at first. But... every time I see you, every time we talk, it just feels like I'm supposed to tell you. Like... like it's the right thing to do."

Your heart was racing, but you could feel your own body relaxing in response to his words. Something about the rawness in his voice made everything around you seem quieter, softer. For the first time, you realized that Sunghoon wasn't just the shy, awkward guy you always saw in practice-he was someone who, despite his quiet demeanor, felt things deeply. And he was letting you in.

You took a few steps closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the warmth of his nervous energy. "You don't have to apologize, Sunghoon," you said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not sudden. And it's not wrong to feel this way. But I-" You hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to say what was on your mind, "I'm glad you're telling me."

Sunghoon looked at you now, his eyes wide, like he couldn't believe what he had just confessed. You smiled at him, a soft, comforting smile, letting him know you weren't judging him. "You don't have to hide anymore," you continued, your voice calm and steady, "You've got nothing to be afraid of."

His gaze dropped again, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I'm just... not good at this kind of thing," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I've never been good at expressing myself. I guess I was always worried about saying the wrong thing, or not being enough." He paused, biting his lip. "But when I'm with you, it's different. I don't feel like I have to hide. Even if I mess up, you're just... you're just there, listening. And I've never felt that before."

You couldn't help but soften at his words, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was clear now-Sunghoon wasn't just shy because he was uncertain about his feelings for you. He was shy because, deep down, he didn't believe he deserved someone who saw him the way you did.

You moved even closer, until you were standing right in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch him. Your voice dropped to a whisper, as if you were sharing something deeply personal. "Sunghoon, you don't need to worry about not being enough. You are enough. You're more than enough. And you deserve someone who sees you for exactly who you are, without any fear of being judged. I like you. I've liked you for a while now, actually."

Sunghoon's eyes widened, his lips parting in shock, as if he couldn't believe what you were saying. His hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders relaxing in a way that was almost imperceptible, but to you, it felt like he was finally letting go of a burden he'd been carrying for so long. "You... like me?" he repeated, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his arm gently. "Yeah," you said, "I like you. And I think you're incredible just the way you are. You don't need to be anything else. You've got everything it takes to be amazing, Sunghoon."

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the only sound being the soft rustling of the fall leaves in the wind. Sunghoon's face softened as he looked at you, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked like he had just heard the most beautiful thing in the world, something he had been longing to hear for a long time.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for seeing me. I-I've always been so scared of what others might think, but with you... with you, it's different." He took a step closer to you, his voice barely above a breath. "You make me feel... okay. Like I'm not broken. Like I'm not something to hide."

You reached out, your fingers brushing his in a quiet, intimate gesture. "You're not broken, Sunghoon. You never were."

The moment stretched on, and for the first time, you could feel the weight that had been pressing on both of you begin to lift. The air between you felt lighter now, warmer. And in that quiet, fall evening, surrounded by the golden leaves, you realized something: this wasn't just a confession-it was the beginning of something new. Something both of you were ready for.

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The plane touches down in Hong Kong with a gentle jolt, and the air shifts in an instant. After four hours in the sky, you finally step foot on the ground of this bustling city. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your veins. The competition is finally here, and you're about to face it head-on, but the thought of being here, so far from home, feels surreal.

Sunghoon is right there beside you as the plane's doors open, both of you standing in the crowded terminal. He's been with you this entire time, and the fact that he's not just here as your boyfriend but also as a competitor, somehow makes everything easier. The initial shock of being in a new city fades when you look at him, his familiar warmth grounding you.

He notices the way your eyes are scanning the chaos of the airport, and he nudges you gently with his elbow. "Hey, are you okay?" His voice is soft, concern lacing each word, and you give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine," you reply, trying to mask the flutter in your stomach. "Just... this is a lot."

"I know," he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, a gentle touch that makes your heart skip. "But you've got this. I'm right here." You nod, grateful for his support. The nerves don't completely disappear, but they're definitely easier to manage with him here. As you both make your way through the airport, Sunghoon's hand slips into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in that comfortable, familiar way that makes you feel like you can face anything. The anxiety that's been gnawing at you slowly starts to lift with each step.

Then, from behind you, Ivan's voice cuts through the moment. "Oh, look at that," he teases, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "A couple of lovebirds, huh? Are we in Hong Kong for the competition or just here for a vacation?" His grin is all teasing, but there's a warmth in his eyes that tells you he's genuinely happy for you both.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes but grins nonetheless. "We're here to compete, Ivan, not go on a honeymoon." You grinned at his snide, lately, he's been able to joke and talk a lot more freely. It enlightened you, seeing him slowly breaking free of his laid-back inhibitions. Ivan raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you focus. You two are the definition of 'couple goals.'"

You glance over at Sunghoon, who's already laughing, the lighthearted moment easing the tension even more. It's good to know that even though Ivan likes to tease, he's just as invested in you both succeeding here. But what catches your attention is Sunghoon's coach, who has been silently observing from the sidelines. He quietly chuckles to himself, shaking his head as if amused by the light banter between you and Ivan, but he doesn't speak. His quiet laughter is a soft reassurance, like he's acknowledging the bond you share with Sunghoon without saying a word.

As Ivan continues his teasing, you lean into Sunghoon, your heart a little lighter. "You know," you start, voice playful, "if you keep getting teased like this, you'll never focus on the competition." "Don't worry," Sunghoon says, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm always focused when you're around." He gives you that smile-the one that always makes your heart race-and you can't help but grin back.

"Let's just focus on winning this competition first, then we can talk about being 'couple goals' after, yeah?" you say with a wink, nudging him back. He chuckles, pulling you closer, his arm casually resting around your shoulders as you walk out of the airport. "Deal. But, for the record, I'll be cheering the loudest for you." And just like that, the nervousness fades completely. With Sunghoon by your side, there's nothing you can't handle.

The competition isn't until tomorrow afternoon, because Ivan wanted to get here early, for the sole purpose of having time to explore around first. So, after the four of you went and left your luggage at the hotel you were accommodated to, the coaches let you two roam around the city (whereas they stayed behind the two of you just a few meters distant).

The narrow streets of Hong Kong bustled around you, neon signs glowing overhead as a soft drizzle misted the air. You clutched your umbrella tighter while Sunghoon adjusted the strap of his backpack, glancing over his shoulder to make sure your coaches weren't too close behind. "They're literally stalking us," he whispered, flashing you an exaggerated look of horror.

You stifled a laugh. "They're just... protective," you said, watching your coaches pretend to examine a street vendor's wares while clearly keeping one eye on you both. Sunghoon leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Protective is checking in by text. This? This is tactical surveillance." You bit your lip to hold in a laugh. "At least they're letting us walk alone," you teased. "For now." He nudged you playfully with his shoulder. "Race you to the next corner before they put us on a leash."

"You're on," you grinned, and with a sudden burst, you darted forward. Sunghoon chased after you, laughing, both of you slipping between the crowds with your coaches shouting "Be careful!" somewhere behind. When you stopped, breathless and grinning under the flickering lights of a side street, he caught your hand without thinking. "You're crazy," he said, eyes sparkling. "You love it," you teased back.

He opened his mouth like he was going to deny it, but then just shook his head, smiling. "Yeah. I do." His fingers squeezed yours. For a second, the noise of the city faded. It was just you, him, and the thundering of your heart before tomorrow's big day. "You ready?" he asked softly. "For tomorrow?" You hesitated, but his gaze was steady, grounding you.

"I think... with you here, I am," you said. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking a little bashful even as he did it. "Win or lose, you're already everything I admire." Before you could say anything, Ivan's voice rang out, startling you both. "Sunghoon! Five-minute break's over! Stretch time!"

You groaned, and Sunghoon laughed helplessly. "See? Tactical." As you made your way back toward the watchful eyes of your coaches, he whispered, "After you win, real date. No chaperones. Promise." You squeezed his hand once before letting go, feeling the silent vow linger between you. You would win tomorrow.

And Sunghoon would be waiting at the finish line.

After checking out this homey little restaurant, the 4 of you went back to your joint hotel room. The place you guys opted for was a bit expensive and fancy, so your coaches decided to just share the deluxe family room. It was beautiful there. 4 single beds, an adorable dining set just a few feet away from the beds, a fridge filled with complimentary snacks, a big ass bathroom, and a cute balcony that gave you a good view of the city.

"Whew, I am drained! You two shouldn't have run around earlier, you better not get sore right before the competition!" Ivan scolded, dramatically jumping into his bed with an exasperated groan. "Geez, we aren't old, Ivan, we don't get cramps as easily as you do." Sunghoon snickered as his coach feigned offense. Ivan could only roll his eyes at your mock, "Okay, okay. But on a serious note, you kids should rest up. Tomorrow's the big day."

You dismissed him with a nod, peering into the fridge and investigating it's contents. Oh! "Sunghoon-ah! There are some tiramisu bites here!" His eyes lit up upon the mention of his favorite dessert, "Really? No way!" He was already sticking his head into the fridge, hands already grabbing a piece, making you giggle at his eagerness. "You really like that stuff huh?" You say as you grab a piece of your own and some cheese flavored chips you bought from the convenience store earlier.

Oddly enough, the air-conditioner was positioned on the floor, right below his bed. He sat down right in front of it to refrain from sweating too much, after all, the weather here in Hong Kong is more humid than what you were used to in Korea. You settled down next to him, tearing both packets of the tiramisu and the chips, switching bites from the two snacks to avoid getting sick of the other one immediately.

The night had fallen silent, the usual hum of the city lost to the thick walls of the hotel room. The soft glow from the bedside lamp illuminated both of you as you sat on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed beneath you, staring at the floor. Sunghoon was quiet, his hands resting in his lap, fingers occasionally fidgeting with the fabric of his pants. The weight of his silence seemed to hang in the air, and it wasn't the usual comfortable quiet between the two of you. No, this was different.

You could feel his thoughts racing, the burden of something he was holding back. It wasn't like Sunghoon to be so closed off. Usually, he was the one who could make light of any situation, flashing that radiant smile that made everything feel easier. But tonight, he was distant. Something about the pressure of the competition seemed to have cracked open a part of him that he hadn't shared with anyone.

Finally, after a long pause, his voice broke the silence. It was softer than usual, quieter, almost as if the words themselves were hesitant to leave his mouth.

"You know," he started, his eyes focused on the floor as if searching for the right words. "When I first started skating, I was one of the only boys who joined. The rink was mostly filled with older girls. They were so... well, they were so different from me." He paused, his hand slowly brushing over his face, as if trying to erase the memories that were starting to resurface. "I was just a kid, and they... they never included me in their conversations. I'd watch them huddle in groups, laughing and talking about things I didn't understand. And I just... I stood there, feeling so out of place. I guess I just wasn't one of them."

There was a certain vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't heard before, a crack in his usual confidence. He didn't seem like the Sunghoon you knew, the one who walked through life with an easy smile and a confidence that could light up the room. This was something deeper. You could feel his pain in the quiet between his words.

"It wasn't just the silence," he continued, his voice growing even quieter. "They would snicker, and I could hear them whispering when I wasn't looking. 'What's he doing here?' 'He'll never make it.' I think... I think that's why I started closing myself off. I just didn't want to be the odd one out anymore. I didn't want to feel that way ever again."

You could see the sadness in his eyes now, something raw and unspoken that he was only just revealing to you. Sunghoon had always been a bit of a mystery when it came to his past, but this moment, this quiet honesty, was unlike anything you'd expected. He had always been strong, but this was his vulnerability - the part of him that had been shaped by those years of feeling alone.

For a brief moment, the room was still. You could feel your heart tugging for him, understanding more than ever why he had become so introverted over the years. The isolation, the judgment, the teasing - it was all still there, lurking in the back of his mind. But he wasn't just the shy, quiet boy anymore. He was Sunghoon - strong, talented, and capable of so much more than he realized.

"You know," you began, your voice steady, but your gaze filled with empathy, "none of that matters anymore. Fuck those girls, Sunghoon." Your words were sharp, but they were laced with all the conviction you could muster. "Don't mind what anyone has to say about you. They didn't know you. They didn't see the real you."

You shifted closer to him, placing a hand gently on his arm, meeting his gaze with nothing but honesty. "You're perfect just the way you are. You're more than enough. And if they couldn't see that, then that's on them. It has nothing to do with you. You're here, you've worked so hard to get here, and you're going to keep getting better. Don't let their judgment stick with you."

For a long moment, Sunghoon remained still, absorbing your words. His gaze softened as he looked at you, a quiet breath escaping his lips as though the weight of his past had been momentarily lifted.

"You're right," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "It's just hard to forget sometimes. You know, when you've been carrying something like that for so long..." You gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "I get it. But you're not carrying it alone anymore. Not with me. You never have to carry it alone."

Sunghoon's lips curled into a small, appreciative smile, his eyes glistening a bit, though he quickly blinked it away. The distance between you two had closed in that moment, a bond forged not just through words but through understanding. He may have been scarred by his past, but he was no longer alone in facing it.

And for the first time in a long while, Sunghoon allowed himself to believe it. To believe in the people who truly saw him - not as the shy, isolated kid on the ice, but as the incredible person he had become. The person who deserved every bit of happiness and success that was waiting for him.

There, the both of you collapsed into laughter as you shared embarrassing stories with one another, wiping some of the tiramisu's cream on each other's noses and cheeks, and basically just cuddling with one another. You didn't even notice that your hands were intertwined with one another, but when you did, your eyes snapped to his. He was looking at you once again, this time with that beautiful smile of his etched onto his face.

The hum of the air-conditioner filled the small hotel room, a low, steady noise that somehow made everything feel even quieter between you two. You sat side by side on the floor, your knees brushing lightly now and then, switching bites between the tiramisu and the chips, laughter still lingering from earlier. Every so often, you'd catch Sunghoon sneaking glances at you - not the playful, teasing ones he usually threw your way, but something softer, something that made your heart stutter in your chest.

A smear of cream clung stubbornly to the corner of his mouth. "Hold still," you murmured, leaning closer without thinking. You wiped it away with your thumb, only realizing how near you were when you felt his breath against your skin, warm despite the cool blast of the air-con. His hand instinctively found yours again, your fingers tangling together without hesitation this time. Your laughter died down into a tender, stretched-out silence. The humid air wrapped around you both, and it was almost too easy - too natural - when you both started leaning in.

At first, it was tentative, the space between you narrowing second by second. You caught the way his eyelashes fluttered shut just as your noses brushed. A soft, uncertain breath escaped your lips - and then you closed the last bit of space. The kiss was featherlight, like the both of you were scared to press too hard, scared to shatter the fragile, perfect thing that was happening. He pulled back just slightly, enough to search your eyes, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Finally," he whispered, voice low and a little shaky. You couldn't help but laugh under your breath, giddy, your forehead resting lightly against his. And for that moment - no coaches, no competition, no pressure - it was just you and him, and the sweet, dizzying feeling of falling into something you both had been tiptoeing around for far too long.

Your moment stopped when you heard the click of a camera. Your heads turned to Ivan, who had his phone out, mischievously grinning at his screen. "Ooh, I'm gonna send this to your sister." He taunted, earning a scoff from you, "You wouldn't" you challenged, now glaring daggers at the man whose fingers dangerously hovered over your sister's instagram icon.

"Hate to ruin your moment there, but you two should get ready for bed already." Sunghoon's coach tittered a laugh, nudging towards the darkening night sky that was visible from the balcony. Reluctantly, the both of you pulled away from each other as you silently agreed on who gets bathroom privileges first. It was you.

So, after quickly grabbing your hygiene kit and some pajamas from your bag, you headed into the bathroom and immediately switched on the tap and the shower, trying to make much noise as possible to cover the squeal you were about to make. OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS. The realization has just dawned you. You just kissed Park fucking Sunghoon. Of course, you're a new couple, so it took you 2 whole months to finally get a kiss in.

You were jumping around the bathroom as you watched your reflection from the corner of your eye. Your face was flushed, grin unable to be wiped off. You felt more mature then. You felt like a woman. "We can hear you, you know!" Ivan's voice rang from outside, making you sigh out in frustration. "Let me celebrate my first kiss in peace, dammit!"

Little did you know, Sunghoon was just as happy as you were, if not more. As you hurried into the bathroom, he leaned back on the bed, his eyes half-closed as the rhythm of his racing heartbeat filled his ears. Every thud felt like a drumbeat in his chest, strong and urgent, echoing the excitement that had taken root inside him since you'd stepped into his life. It wasn't just the rush of competition - it wasn't even the thrill of winning or the anxiety about tomorrow's big event. It was you.

He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check. The joy you exuded, the little sounds you made as you moved around the bathroom, all of it made him feel like he was floating. It was a feeling he hadn't anticipated, something deep and powerful that surged up from the depths of his chest.

And then, just as he thought his heart couldn't possibly beat any faster, he heard it: your excited peals of laughter, muffled but still clear through the thin walls of the hotel room. Your happiness, your genuine, unfiltered joy - it was contagious. It hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, staring at the ceiling as if trying to gather his thoughts in the midst of this overwhelming feeling.

He felt on top of the fucking world. Like nothing could bring him down, no obstacle too large, no competition too difficult to face, because you were here. You were in his life. And right now, that was all that mattered.

For a fleeting moment, his thoughts turned inward, a small but growing realization settling in his chest like a weight he couldn't ignore. Maybe it was too early to say it out loud, but the truth was undeniable. He was already in love with you.

He felt it - deep in his thrumming heart, that undeniable, warm certainty. The way his thoughts always returned to you, the way he caught himself smiling at the thought of you even in the most mundane moments. The way your laughter still rang in his ears, even now, and how it filled the empty spaces inside of him in a way nothing else ever had.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the blanket, but his mind was a million miles away, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that were only growing louder. It had only been a short time, but with you, everything just felt... right. More than right. Perfect. But when was the perfect time? He didn't want to rush it, didn't want to ruin this delicate, almost fragile moment between you two. It had to be special, the way everything with you felt.

As the minutes passed, and you continued your happy noises from the bathroom, he found himself lost in his own reverie, a soft smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. What was he even waiting for? Was there a perfect time, or was this it - now, in this moment, when everything felt right and the air between you two was thick with the unsaid but deeply understood feelings that had started to bloom between you?

Maybe it was the excitement and buzz for the upcoming competition, maybe it was the strange, charged atmosphere of the hotel room - but something inside him told him to hold onto this. To savor the joy, the uncertainty, the possibilities that lay ahead.

For now, he would wait. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He would find the perfect time. And when he did, he wouldn't hesitate. He had to be confident in saying it.

❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎

The bustling sounds of the city faded as you and Sunghoon stepped out of the cab and approached the entrance of Mega Ice, the indoor rink located in MegaBox. The nerves in the air were almost palpable as the crowd gathered around the venue, the buzz of anticipation rising with every passing minute. Today's event was just the short program for junior men and women, while tomorrow was the free skate. Two days of hell where you'll have to show all that you've got to the judges, the audience, and the cameras who were broadcasting everything to the world.

Sunghoon's eyes flickered to the sea of people, his shoulders tense under the weight of the situation. You could see it in the slight quiver of his hands as he adjusted the strap of his bag, his gaze lost in the magnitude of the crowd. He had always been calm in the face of competition, but today, something felt different. You could feel it in the way he moved, in the tightness around his eyes. The enormity of the event was sinking in, and his usual composure seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

You slowed your pace and walked alongside him, offering him a reassuring smile. You knew exactly what to do. "Hey, just remember... we've been preparing for this," you began, your voice steady, trying to match his unease with confidence. "You've worked so hard for this moment. All that training, all the hours on the ice, it's brought you here. And no one can take that away from you."

He sighed, his eyes still locked on the crowd, his breath coming a little faster now. "I know, but... I don't know. It's just... it's different today. The crowd is huge, and I can feel the pressure." He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable in the midst of the noise and chaos. "What if I mess up?"

You stopped walking for a moment and turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at you, his expression a mixture of doubt and exhaustion. "You won't," you assured him, your voice firm yet gentle. "You're not the type to mess up. You've got this." You smiled, giving him a playful nudge. "Look at you-you're practically made for this."

He let out a shaky laugh, but the tension was still there. "You make it sound easy."

"Well, it is," you said, meeting his eyes with a look of complete sincerity. "You've been skating for years. You've trained with the best. You're ready for this. And you've got me with you every step of the way."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. "And if you fall flat on your face, what then?"

You grinned, a playful gleam in your eyes. "I'll just make sure you catch me when I do."

The tension between you two slowly dissolved as he chuckled softly, the corners of his lips lifting. You could see the edges of his nerves softening, just a little. The thought of facing the crowd wasn't as overwhelming now. You stood there for a moment, both of you looking at the massive crowd in front of you, and then you turned to face him with more assurance.

"You won't fall, Sunghoon," you said, your tone lighter now, but filled with conviction. "But even if you do, I'll be there to pull you up. And I know you'll do the same for me."

He seemed to breathe a little easier at that, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks. You always know what to say to make me feel better."

You winked, giving him a thumbs-up. "Of course. But remember, you're not alone in this. No matter how big that crowd is, out there on the ice, it's just you. And you're going to crush it. I believe in you."

For the first time that day, he smiled fully, the smile that reached his eyes. It was a quiet moment, but in it, you both understood - the crowd, the competition, the nerves - none of it mattered. What mattered was the trust between you, the belief that you'd both give your best. And that was enough to settle both your hearts.

The men were called to perform first, ladies' second, so you stayed near the entrance to the rink so you could watch him up close, Ivan and his coach on either side of you, almost biting their nails in anticipation. Sunghoon was already called on the ice for their warm-up. Shrieks erupted from the audience when he took his jacket off in this cool ass mannner, and you couldn't help it, the action swooned you too.

Your heart raced-not for yourself, but for him. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he adjusted his suit one too many times. You knew what was coming, yet the nerves gnawed at you both. The atmosphere was electric and thick with anticipation.

After the boys were done warming up, Sunghoon and the rest left as one participant you recognized from videos you saw online centered, in front of the judges. The stage lights flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the entire venue. The hum of excitement from the crowd filled the air, creating a buzz that seemed to vibrate through the floor. You stood in the audience, watching Sunghoon as he prepped for his turn.

You had always admired how Sunghoon could stay composed under pressure, but tonight, something felt different. His usual calm was overshadowed by a quiet unease, the kind that was hard to mask, even for him. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him everything would be fine, but you could see the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. His breath was steady, but there was a flicker in his eyes that betrayed his nerves. You could almost feel the tension in the air, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you.

"Sunghoon," you said softly, as you approached him, "You've got this." You weren't sure if he heard you, but his gaze briefly met yours, and for a second, you could see a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. His opponent was already done, and he was already up next. Then, without another word, he stepped forward, his movements graceful but deliberate. He was going first, and you knew that meant he had to set the tone for everything that followed.

The moment the music began, you held your breath. The stage was his, the spotlight an extension of his confidence. He moved with purpose, his body flowing through the choreography, his expression focused. But even as he performed with precision, you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him-like an electric current you couldn't escape. His every move was calculated, but there was an undercurrent of doubt, something beneath the surface that wasn't quite in sync with the rest of him.

You couldn't help but feel that rush of empathy for him. You knew what it was like to stand before a crowd, vulnerable and exposed. You had seen him go through countless rehearsals, pushing himself to the limit, always trying to perfect every move. Now, it was his time to shine, and yet, you could see the hesitation in his eyes. A split second of doubt-a fraction of a moment-but you felt it too.

Your heart clenched when he stumbled, just a slight misstep in his footwork. It wasn't major, but it was enough to make you hold your breath. The crowd didn't notice, but you did. His face shifted, just for a moment, as if wondering whether he should keep going. You wanted to shout out, to tell him that it was okay, that everyone stumbled sometimes. But instead, you kept silent, your fingers pressing together as if in silent prayer for him.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the doubt disappeared. Sunghoon steadied himself, his eyes narrowing with renewed determination. His movements regained their fluidity, his form sharpening with precision. You could see the change, the way he refocused, pushed through the nerves, and turned what had been a potential mistake into a strength. It was like watching someone transform before your very eyes, finding their center in the midst of chaos.

As the final note echoed through the arena, you let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Sunghoon stood tall, his posture straight, his expression a mixture of relief and satisfaction. His shoulders were no longer tense, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself a small smile. The crowd erupted into applause, but you knew that it wasn't just the performance they were cheering for-it was his perseverance, his resilience. You couldn't help but feel proud, not just for the flawless performance, but for the man he was becoming.

Various stuffed toys rained from the audience, some bouquet of flowers as well for him. Another thing you loved about figure-skating was how adorable and thoughtful the crowd usually is after a performance, giving these cute gifts to those they were rooting for. Sunghoon beamed at the audience, picking up those they have offered him with sincere gratitude. 

You made your way to him as he stepped off the stage, his breath coming in steady waves, his eyes reflecting a quiet pride. Without thinking, you reached out, giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder. "You were amazing," you said, your voice full of sincerity. Sunghoon turned to face you, his usual stoic expression softened by the warmth of your words. There was a brief pause before he replied, his voice almost a whisper, "Thanks."

In that moment, you realized that it wasn't just the applause or the recognition that mattered-it was the small moments between the chaos, the understanding, and the connection you shared. No matter how many performances, how many challenges, you would always be there, cheering him on. The journey was just as important as the destination, and together, you were walking it side by side.

As Sunghoon caught his breath, you stood by him, offering the comfort of your presence. The night had been a reminder of just how much he had grown, not just as a performer, but as a person. There was so much more ahead of him, so many more stages to conquer. But for tonight, you would celebrate the victory of this moment-the one where he pushed past his fears and rose above them.

And as you both stood there, amidst the echoes of the crowd's cheers, you knew that this was just the beginning. Whatever came next, you would face it together. 

He gave you one final nod of encouragement as his coach dragged him away to the hot seat. The scores were still being calculated as the 3rd competitor made his entrance, the music already garnering the audience's attention. Ivan lightly tugged on your jacket and silently checked if you were anxious or anything, but his tense shoulders relaxed when he saw you didn't look pained in any way whatsoever. I mean, how could you be alarmed when Sunghoon just inspired the living shit out of you. If anything, you felt amped up. You were certain his performance would make it into the top three, so you had to make yours would be just as good. 

Minutes feel like hours whenever you're waiting for something to happen. It definitely applies to when you're squirming in your seat as you worry about your score in a prestigious competition since you're representing your fucking country. That's what Sunghoon was undergoing right now. There, in the hotseat with labored breaths, a sweaty ass and a white sheep plushie squished by his clammy hands. 

The chill of the rink seeps through your jacket as you wait near the boards, skate guards clutched tightly in your hands. Your heart hammers against your ribs, the steady beat louder than the buzz of the commentators overhead. You can't take your eyes off the screen, your breathing shallow and uneven.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," one of the commentators announces, voice slicing through the tense air, "the score for Park Sunghoon in the Short Program—"

You hold your breath.

Sunghoon's performance replays behind your eyes — the sharp precision of his spins, the fluid grace of every transition, the sheer command he had over the ice. It had been the kind of skate that pulled people to the edge of their seats, left them hanging on every movement. You know he deserves a spot in the top three. Still, anticipation claws at your gut, as if some unseen hand could still tip the outcome.

"Park Sunghoon, ladies and gentlemen, delivered a truly remarkable performance today," the second commentator chimes in, a note of awe in their voice. "A seamless blend of strength and elegance, especially in those final jumps. His precision is unrivaled, and it's no surprise that he's managed to capture the judges' attention with such a commanding presence."

Your pulse quickens at the praise. You can practically feel the energy in the rink shift as Sunghoon's score flashes on the screen. "Park Sunghoon scores 56.61 points, placing him currently in second place!" The crowd erupts into a wave of cheers and applause. You feel a rush of pride swelling inside you — he made it into second place. Just like you'd hoped. Just like he deserved. His performance had earned every bit of that ranking, and you can't help but beam. You're so proud of him. But as the excitement simmers, another feeling quickly rushes in to take its place: urgency.

You glance at the running order. Two more skaters, then it's the women's turn. Your turn. Watching Sunghoon climb the leaderboard doesn't just fill you with pride — it ignites something hotter, sharper inside you. I have to match that brilliance, you think to yourself. I have to step onto that ice and make it my own.

You think of the countless hours spent alone in empty rinks, the falls, the frustration, the quiet victories no one ever clapped for. The sharp sting of sore muscles after a long practice, the lonely moments when all you had was the sound of your skates carving through the ice. Every moment has led to this — a chance to show the world what you're made of. A chance to be seen. A chance to be remembered.

As the next skater finishes their performance, the nerves in your stomach twist even tighter. You want to be calm. You want to be composed. But the adrenaline is overwhelming, your breath shallow as you mentally prepare to step into the spotlight.

Sunghoon and his coach happily march back to you and Ivan, exchanging hugs and congratulations with to them. Such a sappy moment, yet it felt nice to tangle into the sticky sweetness before stepping into the cold abyss, that is finally performing for what you've aimed for since day one. Sunghoon's hand caressed your cold ones. Which is ironic since his hand was just as cold, but it helped warm you up nonetheless. 

It was finally your turn. This is your moment.

Tonight, you promise yourself, you'll leave your own mark deep in its surface.

The familiar coldness of the rink nipped at your skin, but it wasn't the chill that had your heart hammering in your throat. It was the weight of everything you had worked for, everything that had brought you to this exact moment. The crowd's energy buzzed in the air, but you shut it out, focusing only on the steady glide of your skates across the ice as you made your way to the center.

Your body moved without hesitation, instinct guiding you as you struck your starting pose. The judges' eyes were locked on you — you could feel their gaze, but it wasn't fear that tightened your chest. It was something else. You were ready. You had to be. The music began, the unmistakable opening chords of "Don't Stop Me Now" blasting through the speakers, the energy of Freddie Mercury's voice filling the arena. "Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time..."

For a second, everything else faded. The sound of your skates cutting the ice, the way the rink seemed to pulse with life — it all aligned. The song itself was a rush, a perfect match for the moment you had waited for. The kind of song that didn't just ask for you to perform but demanded that you pour every ounce of your being into it. You had no choice but to give everything you had.

Your costume caught the light as you moved — a sleek, form-fitting design that shimmered under the spotlights. The fabric was dark and mysterious, a deep, glimmering black with accents of gold that rippled as you spun. It reflected the tempo of the song, each motion sharp and confident, each movement drawing the audience in as if the performance itself was alive.

You moved across the ice with purpose, each glide more determined than the last. You remembered Sunghoon — not just the boy who had changed you, but the boy who had shared in your dreams. Together, you had promised to be winners. Together, you had built a future that seemed so possible, so real. The weight of those memories drove you forward. He had taught you how to fight for what you loved, even if he wasn't there with you now.

The music was building, your energy rising to match it. "I'm having a ball, I'm having a good time..." You could feel the audience, the judges — everything — pulling you in, urging you to give more, to push further. This was your moment. You weren't just performing for yourself anymore; you were performing for every memory, every person who had ever believed in you, every time you had doubted your worth. And yes, for Sunghoon too, in a way.

You spun, soaring through the air with a controlled grace, your body aligned with the beat of the song, the rhythm of the ice. Every jump felt lighter than air, every movement a declaration of everything you had fought for. And when you landed, the music hit its peak. You struck the final pose, chest heaving, your heart pounding not in fear, but in triumph. You had done it. You had given everything you had.

The arena erupted in applause. You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you skated a slow circle, the sound of your supporters cheering louder than anything else in the world. You looked up, catching sight of your friends in the crowd — and, of course, they were there, as always, holding a mountain of Pokémon plushies. Some were even tossing them onto the ice as they cheered for you, their excited shouts a joyful chorus. You scooped up one of the plushies, laughing softly, knowing that despite everything — the struggles, the pain, the growth — this was exactly where you were meant to be.

It felt liberating having to perform with all your might, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. Excitedly, you sped right through the eyes and straight at Sunghoon, jumping into his outstretched arms, sending both of you tumbling to the floor, the plushies you both were holding following suit. It's so cliche, but he made you feel all too giddy to the point where you don't care. Or maybe the adrenaline from the performance really got to you. 

Your coaches cracked up at your antics, pulling you up and off Sunghoon by the arms. You just came to notice the random burst of screams that came from the crowd since you jumped into his arms, confused at the sudden sound, your eyes scouted the arena for an answer. Perhaps there was an intermission number or something that stirred the crowd awake. Your questions were answered when you heard the commentators laugh out, ""It looks like our performer's got some extra energy after that routine! What an adorable moment, everyone! Looks like we've got a little unexpected performance happening here as well!"

You blinked in surprise, your face flushing a deep shade of red. It hit you then — the crowd hadn't been screaming because of some random intermission number. They were cheering for you. For the way you had jumped into Sunghoon's arms like you were the lead in some cheesy rom-com. The realization made you both embarrassed and oddly elated at the same time.

Sunghoon chuckled softly, holding you close for a moment longer before he helped you back on your feet. His grip was steady, and the glint of amusement in his eyes only made your heart race faster. "Guess we're the show now, huh?" he teased, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. You gave a playful shove, still trying to gather yourself. "Shut up," you muttered, but there was no malice in it. You were laughing, your pulse still pounding with adrenaline. You had just given it your all, and despite the sudden awkwardness, you didn't regret a single second of it.

The applause didn't stop. In fact, it seemed to grow louder, a mix of appreciation and laughter from the crowd as they witnessed the fun, carefree moment you'd shared with Sunghoon. But you could hardly focus on that now — your eyes were still darting around the rink, scanning for your friends, your supporters, the ones who had always been there.

It was cliche, yet, but sometimes cliche felt the most real. And in that moment, with all the noise around you and the lights shining down, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. With your heart still racing, you held onto that moment — and the plushies — for as long as you could.

Ivan eventually snatched you to the hot seat, your knees jerking as you hugged yourself in suspense. Why'd the judges always take so long in giving out ratings? It always just gives your stomach extra time to churn in and shrink itself. Your grip on Ivan's hand (which he offered for you to hold) steeled when the announcer's long awaited voice rang through the arena's massive speakers. 

"And there you have it, folks, what a spectacular display of skill and grace! Let's see how the judges scored this remarkable performance." The first commentator's voice rings out, his tone full of admiration. You can feel the tension building as the second commentator chimes in."Indeed, an impressive show of precision and artistry. Now, let's get the official score. After a routine like that, it's anyone's guess where she'll land, but there's no denying the level of talent she's bringing to the ice."

Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, it feels like everything around you fades as the numbers flash on the screen. You can't tear your eyes away from the display, holding your breath in the brief silence. "And the score is in!" The first commentator exclaims. "With a total score of  57.63, she secures the second-place spot in this highly competitive short program!"

A rush of emotion sweeps over you. Relief, joy, pride. You've made it. Your hard work, all the hours spent on the ice, and the moments of doubt — it all feels worth it. The applause from the crowd fills your ears, but it's the commentators' voices that hold your attention now. "Second place, folks, an outstanding achievement, especially in a field as competitive as this! It's clear that she's earned her place at the top. With the free program still ahead, anything can happen, but with a performance like that, she's definitely one to watch."

You can feel the warm glow of satisfaction spreading through you as your supporters cheer, their enthusiasm washing over you like a wave. You glance up at them, noticing the familiar faces, their smiles of pride and encouragement. But it's not just for them — this is for you too. You've pushed yourself further than you ever thought possible. The commentators' voices continue to echo in the background, but you're too lost in the moment to focus on anything else. You've made it this far, and you're determined to finish strong.

In the end, the two of you happily walked hand in hand, wearing matching grins and silver medals dangling from your proud chests. You've already told your parents about the win, and of course they were estatic. They actually already knew, since they were glued to the tv as to support from home. Your dad was crying when he picked up the phone, drawling about how proud the family is. As expected, your sister brought up the hug, but it was overshadowed by the good news. 

That night, your coaches spoiled the two of you rotten by treating you to this really fancy restaurant as a reward, buying some soju and urging the both of you to take a sip or two. "Come on, you know you want to. I won't tell you parents, so don't worry about them finding out" Ivan urged an already open bottle to both yours an Sunghoon's glass. Giving one another a look of uncertainty, the two of you internally debated whether or not to do it.

But the moment Sunghoon cracked a smile, you did too, already grabbing the battle from Ivan and pouring nearly equal amounts into your glasses, clinking it together and downing the bitter, clear liquid that was so strong, you were gagging the rest of the night while Sunghoon asked for a couple more sips. This night was the start. Sunghoon's turning point. 

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Years passed by in a blur, and now, you were 17, lounging in Sunghoon's bedroom as a random movie played on his laptop. The two of you has long gotten more and more comfortable with one another as you tried and experience more new things together. He bought you your first pet, you both went to your first unsupervised party together, and a lot more risque stuff. Both of you wanted to lead up to the actual thing with baby steps first instead of diving in headfirst and accidentally hurting each other in the process due to inexperience. So, you planned it. 

Today, you were going through another first. Your first blowjob as a couple. 

It began with a hand straying from his shoulder all the way to his thigh from beneath the blanket. Gentle caresses littered across his body until you saw a tent form. He was embarrassed from it, and tried to push you away, stammering a half-assed excuse to get you to stop, "D-don't look!" His demeanor only made you coo in his ear, "You don't want to, Hoonie?" 

Your hand halted, waiting for him to push you away. One last chance to walk away, but when he didn't move, your hand flew right to his crotch. Pointer finger poking at the clothed peak of the bulge. He bit his lips, hands grabbing at the laptop to raise its volume to drown out the sinful noises he knew he was going to make. "The door is locked, right?" You asked, worried his mom might barge in on you two.

Was he able to process your question? No. Did he nod nonetheless? Yes. 

Oh well, who were you to deny him of his pleasure when he obviously wants it, if his jerking hips were anything to go by. You continued palming at his erection, mouthing kisses all over his neck. Your bodies felt so hot, as if you were veiled by the warmth of your horniness, leaving you too feeling like your brains melted into a puddle of sinful desires. There was already a damp spot in his shorts, and he bagan to feel impatient.

Slipping a finger around the seam of his shorts and underwear, he pulled it off just enough to let his cock spring free. It slapped against your hand, making you retract it from the sudden feeling of touching a dick for the first time and him; sigh out in relief of feeling another hand touch his dick, even just for a split second. Your pussy fluttered when your hand made contact with the foreign...object?

Gathering enough courage, you reached for it again, feeling it twitch at your grasp, Sunghoon's already letting out silent moans. "What do I do..?" You ask eyes fully open yet not really looking at him. You were staring into nothingness as you imagined how your hand as his cock looked like under these sheets. "J-just wrap your hand around it and move it up and down.." He instructed, wrapping his hand around yours and guiding its movements.

You couldn't help but moan at the feeling of just his dick against your hand. His chest heaved as the pace of your hands quickened, "Baby, please-please.. talk.. I want to hear your voice." He breathed out. "W-what do you want me to say?" Twitch. "Anything, oh god, say anything, baby."

His voice was strained against his throat, head thrown back into the pillow. The muscles of his next were flexing, it looked so damn enticing. "Mm.. you look so hot right now Hoonie.." You say before you traced your tongue along the veins and Adam's apple on his neck. Whispering profanities, Sunghoon announced he was close. "Count for me..."

And so you did, counting down from three to one. And like some magic trick, he came on your command, cum spurting and wetting the blanket as he spasmed. His back arched, brows furrowed, mouth slacked. It felt like a blessing to get to see him orgasm. Because of your hand, not to mention. 

Your lips crashed into his with a messy urgency, tasting your shared breath as your tongues slid against each other in a sloppy, desperate kiss. Every flick, every suck, felt like a continuation of what had just happened—raw and reckless. Your hand, still slick from the way you'd been stroking him moments ago, trailed off his spent cock, his cum clinging to your fingers. Instead of wiping it away, you reached for his hand, lacing your sticky fingers with his, letting the mess smear between your joined palms. Filthy, intimate, and perfect.

"How was it, baby?" you murmured against his kiss-swollen lips, voice dipped in smug satisfaction as you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. They were glassy, half-lidded, the pupils blown wide with lingering pleasure.

He whimpered, actually whimpered, too fucked-out to form a real sentence. "It was... fuck, amazing..." His voice cracked, wrecked from moaning your name like a prayer.

You hummed softly, the sound low and pleased, vibrating from your chest. With a slow, languid movement, you nestled closer, laying your head over his heart, its thudding beats still racing beneath the surface of his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing began to sync with yours as your eyelashes fluttered closed. Wrapped in the sticky heat and the quiet aftermath, you allowed your body to melt into his, eyelids growing heavy, ready to drift off to sleep cradled in the comfort of his embrace.

You sighed, eyelids fluttering shut as his arm instinctively wrapped around you, cum drying on your tangled hands like a dirty little promise. The room was silent except for the soft sound of your breathing, still in sync, and the occasional satisfied exhale escaping his lips.

If you slept like this, stuck together and still covered in the aftermath, you didn't mind one bit.

"You definitely have to let me make you feel good too."

A smile found its way on your lips again, "Some other day, Hoonie."

And with that, the two of you slipped into dreamland, tangled against each other's limbs, movie long forgotten. The credit scenes were already showing at this point, when his door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Park. Had she walked in ten minutes earlier, she would've kicked you out immediately. Turns out the door wasn't really locked. 

Fortunately, the sight that met her eyes was just her son and his girlfriend fast asleep as they innocently cuddled. She sighed, feeling her maternal senses take over her once again, turning the movie off and folding the laptop shut, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her so as to not wake you two up. Completely unaware that his son's dick laid flaccid, caged in your warm hands, hidden beneath the warmth of her freshly laundered sheets. 

❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎

 The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound filling your room, aside from the subtle rustling of your sheets. The house was quiet—eerily so—but you weren't complaining. Your parents and sister were away for the night, some conference meeting they couldn't drag you to, and it had left the house blissfully empty. Yours. Yours and his.

Sunghoon sat on the edge of your bed, fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of his hoodie as he looked at you with that unsure, boyish glance he always gave you right before crossing a line. You knew that look. You welcomed it. "You sure?" he asked, voice just above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile air between you. "That I can... try?"

You leaned back against your pillows, legs stretched out and bare, your shirt slightly oversized—his, actually—and hanging just low enough to be teasing. You tilted your head, smirking softly. "I told you, Hoon... my body's yours to figure out." His breath caught.

You could practically see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. He wanted to touch you—badly. Not just to get you off, but to learn. To explore. To study every sigh, every shiver, every sound he could pull from your lips. His fingers twitched where they rested on his lap. "You can experiment," you said again, a little slower this time, the weight of the words sinking into his skin. "Touch me. See what makes me feel good. What makes me melt. What makes me beg."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, and the shift in his posture was subtle—but telling. His hand finally moved, hesitantly brushing against your thigh, testing the waters. Warmth bloomed where he touched you, tentative but thrilling. "I wanna learn you," he murmured, his fingers splaying out slightly, stroking over your skin like it was sacred. "I wanna be good for you."

You reached for his hand and guided it further up, heart thudding in anticipation. "Then learn, Hoon," you whispered, breath ghosting across his cheek. "Use me." His cheeks flushed, and his hand trembled just a bit—but it didn't stop. It traveled. Down, in. Testing. Tasting. Exploring you with reverence and heat. And with the house so empty, with no one around to hear the sounds he'd draw out of you, Sunghoon let himself indulge

His fingers traced the hem of your underwear with a kind of focused awe, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this—soft, slow, exploring, not rushing anything. You parted your legs for him without a word, giving him silent permission, and his breath hitched at the sight of you—barely dressed, spread out just for him, waiting.

“Tell me if I’m doing it right,” he whispered, voice hoarse, but his fingers were already moving. He slipped beneath the fabric, his touch featherlight as he finally cupped you fully, his fingers grazing your folds like you were the most delicate thing he’d ever handled. You bit your lip and let out a soft moan, hips twitching into his touch. “Keep going… You’ll know when you are.”

His jaw clenched, a flicker of pride flickering in his eyes. One finger dragged through your slick slowly, his eyes glued to your expression like it was his manual. He circled your clit once, uncertainly, then again with more purpose. Your breath hitched. “There,” you gasped, voice strained, and he immediately focused on it, his finger pressing just a little firmer, learning your rhythm, watching every reaction. “F-Feels good when you do that…”

Sunghoon licked his lips, completely entranced. “You’re so wet… fuck,” he muttered under his breath, a flush creeping down his neck. “Is that all from me?” You nodded, pulling him down into a kiss as he continued working his fingers in slow, exploratory movements. “All yours, Hoon. All because of you.” He groaned into your mouth, encouraged. Emboldened. He slid a finger into you carefully, eyes darting between your parted lips and the subtle arch of your back. Then another. Your walls clenched around him, needy and warm, and he swore softly again.

“God, you feel… amazing,” he whispered, curling his fingers ever so slightly, testing, watching. You gasped and gripped his wrist. “There. Just like that. Again—”. He obeyed immediately, curling again, hitting that spot that made you tremble. You moaned freely now, the sound echoing off your bedroom walls, shameless and hot.

He was getting better by the second—more confident, more curious. Your thighs trembled around his hand as he leaned in, voice low against your neck. “I wanna make you cum with my fingers,” he murmured, breath tickling your skin. “Let me? Please?” “Do it,” you whispered, dizzy with heat. “Make me yours.”

And that he did. Quickening the pace of his fingers as your hands desperately clawed on the sheets of your pillow. The pads of his fingertips reaching the all the good crevices in you, you swore you saw stars cloud your vision when you hit your peak. Sunghoon stood watch, keeping his hand in place, peering at the way you arch and spasm all because of him. He thought you looked so damn beautiful, with your sweat-stained face and neglected nipples perking through your shirt. 

Without much of a thought, he leaned in and popped your clothed bud into his mouth, nipping and prodding at it with his tongue. His act made your cunt flutter and pulse, so he kept doing it. All you could do was mewl and tangle your fingers into his soft, black locks. You rode out your high, and when you finally completely got off, the feeling of immense drowsiness took over you once again. And it seems like it had Sunghoon in a chokehold too, as he collapsed onto you and tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

Your body was still humming, nerves frayed in the best way, as if every inch of your skin had been kissed with static. You lay there—limp, warm, sticky, and so unbelievably satisfied—while Sunghoon draped himself over you like a blanket, his breath fanning gently against your neck. His lips pressed a lazy kiss to your skin, then another, like he just couldn’t stop touching you, even if he was too exhausted to do more.

You chuckled softly, the sound barely more than a breath. “You good?” you murmured, fingers lazily carding through his hair, still a little damp with sweat. “I think I died for a second,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and hoarse, but laced with a teasing kind of affection. “If that’s what death feels like, I don’t even wanna come back.”

You laughed, cheeks warm, your heart fluttering from more than just the aftermath. “Dramatic much?” “Dead serious,” he grinned, finally shifting to look at you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded, sleepy and content. “You sounded so pretty… like you were made for me.”

Your stomach flipped at the honesty in his tone. You turned to face him fully, your noses almost touching now, the air thick with warmth and something deeper than lust. “Mm… You’ve got good hands,” you murmured, fingers brushing down his jaw. “I think they’re my favorite now.” “Oh yeah?” he asked, smirking faintly, thumb tracing slow circles on your hip under the blanket. “Wanna let me try more things next time? Take notes?”

You raised a brow, pretending to be serious. “You’re taking this science experiment thing very seriously.” “I’m a thorough learner,” he whispered, kissing your collarbone softly. “And I wanna know everything… like what kind of kisses make you melt, what kind of touches make you gasp—” “What words make me beg,” you added cheekily, and he chuckled, low and fond.

“Exactly,” he breathed. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft creaking of the sheets as you both shifted to get closer. His leg tangled with yours. His fingers intertwined with your hand under the blanket—sticky, warm, and so gentle. “I like this,” you murmured, your voice growing sleepier. “Not just the… y’know, mind-blowing stuff. I mean this. You. Here.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, barely audible but full of something unspoken. “Me too.” And then nothing else needed to be said. Because in that dimly lit room, beneath tangled sheets and the ghost of each other’s touch, everything already felt like a promise.

You didn’t know how long you’d been lying there—tangled up, limbs heavy, breath slowing—but neither of you made any move to separate. Sunghoon stayed draped over you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go, his leg slung lazily over yours, his face still nuzzled in the crook of your neck. You shifted a little under him, chuckling weakly. “If you keep breathing on my neck like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re trying to wind me up again.”

He groaned softly, lips grazing your skin as he spoke. “Too tired to do anything right now… but if you wake me up in, like, an hour…” You laughed, real and low and warm. “Oh? Setting a cooldown timer now?” “Call it recovery time,” he mumbled, his fingers tracing idle shapes on your side. “You wore me out, babe.”

“Please,” you snorted, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger. “You were moaning like you were the one being touched.” “That’s because I was losing my mind,” he admitted shamelessly, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes. “You’re dangerous.” You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Dangerous, huh?”

“Mmhm. But like… the ‘ruin me in the best way’ kind.” You rolled your eyes fondly. “So dramatic.” “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheek, “but only for you.” Your cheeks warmed, but you were too relaxed to hide it. You let out a soft sigh, your hand sliding up his back, palm warm against his bare skin. The silence that followed was comforting, filled only by your breathing and the faint creak of the bed as he settled in even closer.

“Hey,” he murmured a minute later, sleep tugging at his voice. “Mm?” “When I wake up…” he paused, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Can I try using my mouth next time?” Your breath hitched, your thighs instinctively pressing together. “Hoon.” “What?” he smirked, already smug. “You said I could experiment.” You narrowed your eyes at him, lips twitching. “Yeah, and now I’m gonna experiment with suffocating you with this pillow.” He laughed into your neck, the sound sleepy but genuine. “Worth it.”

And with that, he tucked himself in against you again, holding you a little tighter as both of you finally began to drift, your bodies messy and close, your hearts stupidly full. "Seriously speaking, though, I'll let you." 

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So that’s how he woke you up— Not with a kiss to the cheek, not with whispered words or lazy cuddles. No. It was the wet, deliberate slide of his tongue, dragging between your thighs, starting at the crook of your knees and working its sinful way upward.

At first, you thought you were dreaming. The warm, slick sensation felt too good, too filthy for reality. But then you blinked open your bleary eyes, only to be met with the sight of Sunghoon sprawled out between your legs, his hair messy from sleep, his eyes dark and half-lidded with hunger.

Your legs instinctively clamped together, embarrassed by how easily your body responded to him even after everything last night. But he didn’t force them apart. He didn’t rush. He simply nestled himself deeper into the space you allowed, his large palms smoothing up the outsides of your thighs in slow, lazy strokes, coaxing you to relax without a single word.

Of fucking course he was.

And all the while, his tongue continued its maddening path—

Long, wet drags along your lips, broad and languid, never breaching further, never grazing your sensitive clit. He was taking his time, savoring you, tasting you like he had all the patience in the world. You let out a soft, frustrated whimper, threading your fingers into the sheets. He was teasing you.

Every slow pass of his tongue, every deliberate avoidance of your most sensitive spot had you trembling, your hips twitching in silent desperation. But Sunghoon just chuckled low against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight through your core. “You’re so warm down here,” he murmured, voice thick and gravelly from sleep, the tip of his nose nudging gently against your folds as he spoke. “So sweet.”

You squirmed, a soft, needy sound falling from your lips, but he only pressed a kiss against your mound—tender, almost reverent—and resumed his unhurried pace. “Relax, baby,” he whispered, teasing another slow lick along your slit, making your thighs tremble against his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And God, the way he said it—low, certain, promising—made your entire body feel like it was melting into the mattress.

You gasped. Your hips jerked. Your fingers flew to his hair on instinct, clutching at the soft strands as your back arched clean off the mattress. “Shit—Sunghoon—” you breathed out, voice already trembling. He moaned low against you like he’d been starving, like the taste of you was all he needed to survive. His arms looped under your thighs, locking you in place, and then he really got to work—flattening his tongue against your clit, then flicking, then circling, relentless and rhythmic.

Sunghoon was going to ruin you again.

And you were going to let him.\But you didn’t expect how quickly he’d shift gears—how the moment he felt your thighs twitch with impatience, he gave in. His lips parted, and with one firm, messy lick, he finally dragged his tongue over your clit.

There was no more teasing. No more testing. Just full, unfiltered hunger. The slick, obscene sounds of his mouth on you filled the room, and you were already unraveling, moans spilling out freely as he sucked gently, then harder, drawing more of you into his mouth like he couldn’t get close enough. You looked down through bleary eyes, and the sight of him nearly broke you—his dark hair messy between your thighs, eyes fluttered shut like he was praying with his mouth, a single muscle ticking in his jaw every time you whimpered his name.

You came hard, with a gasp and a shudder, your body curling into itself as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. He held you steady the whole time, lapping you through it, not stopping even as your thighs trembled violently around his head. When it was over, when your body had fully gone boneless and your breath came in shallow, spent little whimpers, he finally pulled back—his lips glossy, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pride. He pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh. “Good morning, baby.”

He lifted his eyes then, locking them with yours, and fuck—

That look. It was so full of need. Of devotion. “Come on, baby,” he rasped, breath hot against your core as he licked you again. “Let go for me. I wanna feel you fall apart.” And with how he mouthed at your clit—sucking slow, then fast, then slow again—you did.

And just like that, you took his first time giving head. And you'll be damned if you don't steal his first time receiving either. Instantly, after you regained your strength, you flipped him over, so now, you were mounted on to him, crotches dangerously close to one another. Your breathing was ragged. If you scooched your ass just enough, you knew this would immediately lead to something else. But it's too early for that. 

So, before he could even get a word in, you were already moving—sliding down the sheets with slow, deliberate grace, eyes locked onto the outline of him beneath his shorts. He was already hard. Straining. Practically twitching from how badly he wanted you, and yet still trying to keep it together.

You looked up through your lashes, lips parted just slightly, playing it innocent when the intent behind your gaze was anything but. "Can I?" you asked, voice soft—sweet like honey, sticky like sin. He looked down at you like he was caught between heaven and hell, his knuckles turning white where they fisted the blanket beneath him. You could see it all over him—the way his throat bobbed, the way his abs tightened, the way his eyes searched yours for permission and fear all at once.

You hovered just above his lap, face so close your breath ghosted over the fabric. And then—

You pressed your cheek against the bulge. That single, teasing nudge had him sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hips bucked, just barely, like he couldn’t help himself. Like your skin on him, even through the layers, was enough to short-circuit his restraint.

“Baby…” he whispered, voice strained, “what if I hurt you?” You blinked slowly, your expression still soft but oh so certain. “Then take it slow. Learn me.” Your fingers toyed with the hem of his waistband, eyes still never leaving his. “I trust you.” And that broke him. Something behind his eyes snapped—need, love, desperation all crashing together. He exhaled shakily, letting his head fall back for a second before locking eyes with you again, gaze wild now. Hungry.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, almost like a prayer. Almost like a promise. And then, his hips lifted slightly in silent surrender—offering himself to you, placing every ounce of his control in your hands. You smiled. Because now, it was your turn to ruin him.

Lowering his shorts, you peeled them down slowly, watching every inch of skin reveal itself like it was sacred. And the moment the waistband cleared his hips, his cock sprang free—flushed, heavy, leaking at the tip. But what caught your attention more than anything else… was the huge, damp patch darkening his gray boxers.

Your brows lifted, lips parting with a small, breathy chuckle. “Hoonie…” you murmured, tracing a finger just along the edge of the wet fabric. “Did you come while you were fingering me earlier?” His jaw tensed. His eyes fluttered shut, like even the memory of it was too much. A deep flush crept down his neck. “I—” He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to. You were just… you looked so pretty falling apart. I couldn’t—fuck, I tried to hold it.”

You smiled, eyes softening as you looked up at him. There was something heartbreakingly sweet about it—about how much he wanted to please you, how deeply your pleasure affected him. “That hot, huh?” you whispered, leaning in to press the lightest kiss to the slick tip of his cock. He twitched under the touch, breath catching.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. You hummed, lips brushing against him again, deliberately slow. “Guess I’ll have to return the favor… make you feel it all over again.” And this time, you weren’t playing innocent. You were in control—eager, unhurried, and fully aware of the way he fell apart beneath your touch. His hands gripped the sheets again, but this time he didn’t speak. He just watched. Watched you like you were something unreal—something he’d only ever dreamt of touching, let alone being touched by. And you—You were just getting started.

You took your time, savoring the moment—the way his chest heaved with every breath, the way his hands gripped the sheets like he was trying to hold onto his control. You knew what you were doing to him, and it made you want to tease him more.

With a slow, calculated motion, you leaned in again, this time pressing your lips gently to the tip of his cock, letting your breath flutter across him. His body stiffened immediately. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his eyes clenched shut in frustration.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled, a soft, knowing curve of your lips as you slid your hand up his shaft, your thumb swiping at the precum leaking at the tip. His hips jerked slightly, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at how desperate he already was.

“Patience, baby,” you teased, your voice a little too sweet. You swirled your thumb over him one more time before you let your tongue flick out, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his body shaking as you moved up and down, slow and deliberate.

“Just like that… fuck,” he groaned, head falling back against the pillow, his lips parted as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

You hummed in response, pulling back just enough to look up at him. His eyes were dark with lust, lips trembling, and you could see how hard it was for him to keep it together.

“You like that, Hoonie?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You like how I’m taking my time?”

“God, yes…” he moaned, his hips moving involuntarily. His fingers tightened around the sheets, knuckles going white. “You have no idea how bad I need you.”

You chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it—just a wicked thrill, the kind that made everything feel so much more intense. You slid your mouth down his cock slowly, inch by inch, taking him deeper. The feeling of him on your tongue made your own body ache with desire, but you were focused—completely focused on him and how he was unraveling under your touch.

When you finally took him all the way in, his body stiffened, and a loud, desperate moan escaped him. His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you even closer, but you pulled back, lips teasing the tip once more.

“Can’t have you coming too soon, Hoonie,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but your words were laced with authority. “I want to make this last.”

He groaned, eyes shut tight as if just hearing you say it was enough to drive him mad. “You’re fucking killing me,” he breathed, voice trembling. “But god, please… don’t stop. I can’t—fuck, I can’t wait.”

And you didn’t. You kept going, taking him deeper, sucking him slowly, teasing the edges of his control with every movement. Your hands cupped his balls, massaging gently, making him gasp, pulling every inch of pleasure from him as he squirmed beneath you.

He was losing it, and you could feel it—how his body was shaking with the effort of holding himself back, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Please,” he whispered, voice strained and desperate. “I need you to finish me.”

But you were far from done. With one final, long, slow draw of your mouth over him, you pulled away, leaving him gasping, eyes wild and wanting. The air between you both was thick with anticipation, the kind of tension that left you both breathless. Sunghoon’s hands were trembling slightly as he touched you, fingers skimming over your body as if he was mapping every inch of you. His lips brushed over your neck, gentle but desperate, his warm breath mingling with your skin.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, just above a whisper, but you could hear the doubt, the fear that you might say no, even though he was aching to go further.

You nodded slowly, running your fingers through his hair, holding his face close to yours. “I’m sure, Hoonie. I want this. I want you. But I need you to take care of me.”

A flicker of concern passed through his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something stronger. Something primal. "I’ll take care of you, I swear," he breathed, his hands moving to lift your legs gently, positioning you just the way he wanted you.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching, seeking permission. He needed to know you were truly ready, even though his body betrayed him—his cock was throbbing, aching, desperate to be inside you.

You held his gaze, offering a soft smile, your voice a whisper of reassurance. “It’s just you and me, Hoonie. Let go.”

His lips crashed to yours in an almost desperate kiss, as if the act of kissing you could drown out the flood of emotions swirling inside him. Slowly, he shifted between your legs, his breath uneven as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock pressing against your slick folds.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead resting against yours, his body trembling slightly as he fought the urge to just push inside. He was trying to be patient, trying to give you time, but the need inside him was overwhelming.

“You’re mine now,” he muttered against your lips, as he slowly pushed the tip inside, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”

You nodded, breathing deeply, your body slowly adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. It was a mix of pain and pleasure, but you knew it would be worth it. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with need. “Just… take it slow.”

Sunghoon’s face twisted in concentration, the effort to control himself evident in the way his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to rush it. He wanted to savor every second of this moment—your first time together.

He pushed deeper, inch by inch, his breath coming faster as he filled you completely. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him. It wasn’t easy—there was still that stinging burn, that feeling of being stretched, but you could tell by the way Sunghoon’s eyes widened that it was just as intense for him.

"God, you feel so tight," he muttered, his voice barely audible, strained with both pleasure and restraint. “So fucking perfect.”

You moaned softly, your body slowly adjusting as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first, as if he was waiting for you to tell him it was okay to go faster.

“Move, Hoonie,” you whispered, your voice thick with need. “Make me feel good.”

And with that, he let go. The restraint he’d been holding onto shattered as he started to thrust deeper, harder. His body moved with yours, a rhythm built on desire and the desperate need to feel more of each other. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your body quickly heating up from the friction, the connection.

He kissed you again, more urgently this time, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer, driving deeper into you with every thrust. You could feel the tension building, the way your body started to coil tighter, your moans escaping uncontrollably as he made love to you with a passion that left you breathless.

“Oh God, Hoonie,” you gasped, your hands grasping at him as you clung to him for support. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he grunted, his voice raw, desperate. “Not until you come for me.”

He was relentless now, his thrusts speeding up as your bodies collided with a force that made your head spin. The pleasure began to mount, and before you knew it, you were on the edge—teetering on the brink of ecstasy, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

With one final thrust, you exploded, your body shaking violently as the orgasm ripped through you, pulling a broken gasp from your lips. Sunghoon followed soon after, his name falling from your lips in a breathless, needy cry as he came inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both panting, your chests rising and falling in sync as you lay there, tangled in each other, letting the aftershocks of pleasure subside.

And you knew it. You loved it. Every second of it. He did too. And he sure as hell wasn’t afraid to voice it out.

Before he could think it through, the words spilled out of his mouth, and he just couldn’t hit the brakes. His body trembled beneath yours, eyes wide, filled with a mixture of desperation and raw adoration. The room felt thick with the tension, his voice strained as he struggled to hold it all together.

"Fuck... I love you," he gasped, the words slipping out like a confession he didn’t even know he was ready to make.

The moment hung in the air between you two, heavy and electric. His gaze locked with yours, wide and vulnerable, as if he’d just said something he couldn’t take back—but he didn’t want to. Not anymore.

His chest heaved as he breathed heavily, his fingers gently caressing your hair, as if afraid to break the fragile moment that just passed. “I love you, I love you so much, I—” He cut himself off with a groan, hands finding purchase on your hips as if grounding himself. “God, I don’t know what the hell I’m saying, but I know I mean it.”

You froze for a moment, feeling a wild rush of heat fill you—not just from the way he was touching you, but from the sheer vulnerability in his voice, the way his eyes begged for you to believe him. To feel it with him.

And it hit you.

It hit you harder than any of the touches or moans, deeper than any of the teasing and slow build-ups. He wasn’t just desperate for you physically anymore. Sunghoon was in love with you.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, letting the weight of the moment settle over both of you. His hands were trembling now, brushing over your skin like he was still in awe of the connection between you two.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered, voice shaky but full of the same raw emotion.

His lips hovered just above yours, his breath mingling with yours as he let out another desperate sigh, this time filled with a quiet ache. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he said, his voice cracking slightly, making your heart race. "I didn’t want to say it like this... but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love you."

Your heart beat wildly, and for a moment, neither of you moved, both suspended in the fragile vulnerability of the moment, both knowing this wasn’t just about the physical anymore—it was something deeper, something neither of you could deny anymore.

And before you could even answer, he kissed you—a slow, tender kiss that conveyed everything he’d just said. The love, the urgency, the wanting.

This wasn’t a tease anymore. This was real.

And you knew, then, you were both in this together.

"I love you too."

❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎

Reminiscing all your sweet moments, your firsts, the six years of your life you spent with him. Within those six years, you'd fixed his insecurities, helped his growth as a person, supported him through all his decisions—and he did the same for you. There was a time when it felt like the world revolved around just the two of you. You saw each other not as perfect, but as irreplaceable. Eventually, the two of you moved in together in a homey little apartment near your university. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a one-bedroom with creaky floorboards and slightly chipped kitchen tiles, but it felt like yours. It was yours. A space that smelled like his cologne and your favorite candle, always a little cluttered but always filled with laughter.

Sunghoon had gotten a part-time job at a cute cafe just around the corner. He insisted on it—to help with the expenses, he said—but more than that, he refused to let you stress. He absolutely refused to make you lift a finger if he could help it. “You focus on school, I’ve got the rest,” he used to say with a kiss on your temple and a warm mug in hand. And for a while, that worked. For a while, things were good. You’d wake up tangled in each other’s limbs, argue over what movie to watch, fall asleep in the middle of your shared chaos. You had your own rhythm, your own peace.

But then—around five months into living together—something shifted.

At first, it was subtle. Sunghoon started coming home later and later, offering excuses that felt thin no matter how kindly they were worded. “Extra shift,” “a coworker called in,” “the register was off.” You tried not to be that kind of partner. The clingy, paranoid type. So you gave him space. You didn’t question him much. You trusted him. But days stretched into weeks, and the distance between you only grew.

He was tired all the time, barely present when he was home. Meals were skipped. Conversations were short. Affection faded. What was once his warm hand on your back as you drifted off became cold sheets and an empty side of the bed. You were patient—God, you were so patient. You tried to initiate, to ask him gently if everything was okay. But he brushed it off, each time more dismissively than the last.

Until one morning, it all boiled over. The fight started like most fights do—quiet, subtle, like a crack in glass. You didn’t even mean to start it. Not really. You just asked him if he’d be home in time for dinner.

He barely looked up from tying his shoes, already halfway out the door. “Probably not. Minji asked if I could cover her closing shift again.”

Again. That word tasted bitter on your tongue now. Minji. Again.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You’ve been covering for her a lot lately.”

He looked up briefly, his brows twitching in annoyance. “She’s going through some stuff. It’s just a few extra hours.”

“A few extra hours every night,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. “Hoon, I don’t even remember the last time we had dinner together without one of us falling asleep at the table.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, the same hand you used to hold when things got hard. “I’m working, okay? I’m trying to help. We’ve got rent, utilities, your tuition—it’s not like I’m out partying.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you murmured. “But you’re never here anymore. I feel like I live with a ghost." The fight came out fast and harsh—words sharp like broken glass. He was getting ready for another late shift, and you, exhausted and hurt from feeling ignored for weeks, finally snapped. “It’s like you don’t see me anymore,” you cried, your voice cracking. “I didn’t move in just to live alone with someone else’s toothbrush in the bathroom!”

He looked at you, jaw tense, eyes tired—not from lack of sleep, but from detachment. “I’m working so you don’t have to. Isn’t that what you wanted?” he shot back. The words felt like a slap. And before either of you could stop it, it spiraled. It turned into something ugly, something neither of you wanted to say. You didn’t even kiss goodbye when he walked out. He didn’t even look back.

The words struck something in him. He stood straighter, jaw clenched. “So now I’m the bad guy because I’m trying to keep us afloat?”

“No,” you said, a little softer now, trying to rein it back. “You’re not the bad guy. I just… I miss you.”

“We’ll talk later. I’m already late.”

He paused, and for a moment, you thought he might meet you halfway. Say I miss you too. Say Let’s figure it out.

But instead, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Hoon—”

He was already at the door, not even looking back. “We’ll talk later.”

And just like that, the conversation ended with the click of the door closing behind him.

But guilt came fast. And heavy.

Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d pushed too hard. You didn’t want him walking into work with that fight weighing him down. So a few hours later, after pacing the apartment, you decided to go to the café. To surprise him. Maybe share a muffin, maybe hug him and say sorry first. Maybe—just maybe—fix things.

You stood there, staring at the silence he left behind. The untouched plates on the table. The half-cut vegetables you were chopping for a meal that wouldn’t be shared.

You didn’t know it then—but you wouldn’t get the chance to talk it out.

Because that night, while you were preparing to apologize, to meet him halfway, to forgive—

On the way, you stopped by a small fruit vendor and bought a small brown paper bag of fresh tangerines—his favorite. He always peeled them for you, careful not to get the juice on your fingers. It felt like a quiet way to say, I’m still here. I still care.

He was in someone else’s arms.

And the conversation would turn into a wound you’d never forget.

The bell chimed when you walked into the café. The place was warm and cozy, as always, but unfamiliar faces were behind the counter. One of the other staff—someone you’d only seen in passing—recognized you. “Oh, you’re Sunghoon’s girlfriend, right? He’s in the back. You can go ahead, he won’t mind.”

You smiled, heart fluttering with nervous hope, gripping the bag of tangerines tighter as you pushed through the swinging door into the back room.

And then your heart stopped.

There he was.

Sunghoon.

His back pressed against a shelf, hands tangled in the hair of a girl pressed flush against him. Her fingers were fisted in his shirt, his mouth locked with hers—hungry, desperate, familiar. You stood frozen, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere in your throat. The bag slipped from your hand. The tangerines hit the floor, rolling lazily across the tiles. They didn’t even notice at first.

It wasn’t until you turned, the door creaking slightly on your way out, that he looked up—eyes meeting yours, going wide with panic. “Wait—wait, no, fuck, baby—” You didn’t stop walking. Not until he grabbed your arm outside, dragging you away from the cafe’s front, his voice frantic and broken. “It wasn’t what it looked like, I swear, please—I messed up, but I—It didn’t mean anything!”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s supposed to make me feel better? That it meant nothing to you?” “I was confused, I was tired—things got hard, and I panicked—please, don’t leave me,” he begged, tears brimming in his eyes. “Let’s talk. Let’s fix it. We can fix this.” But something in you had already snapped. The trust you held so tightly—shattered. You had given him everything. Your love. Your time. Your home. Your soul.

And now you were standing outside the place he kissed someone else, the same place he used to bring you coffee from, the same one where you waited for him in the past—smiling, waving at him through the window like something out of a romance film. But this wasn’t a film. This wasn’t a scene you’d ever wanted to see. Because this—this was real. You were standing under the harsh neon glow of a sign that used to mean warmth and familiarity, and now it felt like it was branding you with betrayal.

The scent of roasted beans and sugar lingered in the air, but it was no longer comforting. Not when it clung to the fabric of your clothes alongside the image of her hands on him. Not when it tangled in your lungs like smoke from a fire he started with his own hands. Your voice came out quieter than expected, barely carrying over the ringing in your ears.

“I'm gonna start packing,” you said, almost to yourself. Sunghoon flinched like the words struck him physically. “No,” he whispered, as if saying it soft enough would erase it. “Please, no. Don’t go.” His hands trembled as he reached for yours, but you stepped back before he could touch you. And that broke him further. His breath hitched, eyes darting across your face like he was trying to memorize it—like he knew this might be the last time he’d get to look at you without shame, without distance, without regret.

“I know I fucked up,” he choked out. “I know I did. But I love you. I’ve always loved you. It didn’t mean anything, I swear—she was just there, and I was stupid, and I—I panicked. We were drifting and I didn’t know how to fix it.” Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how badly you wanted to believe him. But it wasn’t about just the kiss. It was about everything that led to it. The silence. The absence. The way he started treating you like an afterthought.

“And you thought that kissing someone else would help you fix us?” you asked, voice barely steady. “You thought that would bring me back?” “I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, almost childlike, like regret had stripped him of the version of himself you knew. “I was scared.” You shook your head slowly. “You weren’t scared. You were careless.”

He staggered back a little, like the words winded him. He opened his mouth, but no apology could fill the gaping hole he'd carved into something that used to be sacred. “I stood by you for six years,” you continued, blinking back tears. “I believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself. I made a home with you. I chose you. Every single day. And you—you didn’t even think twice.”

“I did think. I regret it. I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave. Please,” he pleaded, voice breaking mid-sentence. “You’re all I have.” You exhaled sharply, the pain gnawing in your chest almost unbearable. “Then maybe you should’ve treated me like that before you lost me.” The silence between you stretched. Only the faint sound of traffic and your own heartbeat thrummed in your ears.

You didn’t wait for him to speak again. You turned away, your footsteps heavy against the sidewalk, each step a confirmation of the choice you had to make—for yourself. You weren’t going to beg to be chosen anymore. Not when he had already chosen someone else—even if it was only for a moment. Because that one moment had torn through six years. And some things, no matter how much you want to save them, just don’t survive the wreckage.

You laughed at the absurdity of the situation. With you, he learned to love himself. But you, you learned to let go. It took you 6 years, but you finally graduated from this lesson. You also realized that Sunghoon didn't learn you. He fucking learned to be wild. To be confident in himself. And it hurt more knowing you taught him to. 

Eventually, you finally gathered all your belongings from your former home, opting to move in with your homie for life, Ivan, who accepted you with open arms. He didn't even say a word to your family or the Parks, but they still somehow managed to find out, awestruck and just as heartbroken as you were at the sudden separation. They couldn't blame your for wanting to leave, though. It just gravely affected them too, since you and Sunghoon practically came as a pair in gatherings or even just a normal dinner on a Tuesday night. 

It was gonna be hard filling out the cracks he's left on you and your family, (and vice versa), but you'll have to manage, and you are managing it. Just not in the healthiest way possible.

 - to be continued - 

[alonetimelover]

pairing: harry styles x polish!reader (fem, she/her)

summary: harry plays a show where one of the most important people in his life attends - his fiancée's granny.

submitted by @otaktomotyl, thank you and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!

a/n: i found polish translations on the internet, i hope they're okay.

masterlist ask, comment, come say hi!

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache, harryshoee and 37 201 others

harryupdates HARRY landed in Warsaw. I repeat, HARRY landed in Warsaw.

view all 3 013 comments

harrysmoustache and he's holding yn's hat???

harryshoee yn and harry can finally reunite... 🥹

harrysfan92 do you see his arms???? he looks like a Greek god, god damn

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harrysmoustache

liked by harryupdates, stylesbabie and 12 301 others

harrysmoustache HAARY AT YN'S COUSIN WEDDING!!!!

view all 2 492 comments

harryupdates you're so fast with those updates, lyla. im gonna lose my job...

stylesbabie yn be aware, he looks good enough to be THE groom. keep him close

⤷ harryslipstick i think that ring on her finger is saying more than anything

harrysmybestie guys, you know we are so close to see HIM at HIS OWN wedding...

⤷ harrysmylife don't

⤷ harrysmoustache why would you say that?!

⤷ outofstyles am i the only one awaiting that day impatiently??? i wanna see him being all nervous and loving and all of the emotions that people feel at the weddings

stylesislife only harry styles could come to my wedding wearing a tanktop that he also wears to his shows

⤷ hArrysbtch the only man i could forgive AND compliment on looking so fucking good

stylesbabie yn's cousin posted a photo from the ceremony, and you can see yn and harry being all snuggle and touchy 😭😭😭 i love them so much

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"What do you mean you're not coming up on stage? Harry, my love, what changed during the last two hours?" YN asked into her phone, anxious Harry being on the other side, soundly biting his nails. "And stop biting your nails, you've got a very nice colour on them."

"Is babcia (granny) here?"

"Mum texted they're close to the gate. Jeff, was kind enough to go there and pick them up so they wouldn't get in any trouble."

"Good, good, good. can- can you come backstage? I think I'd like some ted talk before the show," he said quietly, smile growing on his face. "And some kisses, too."

"Give me 10 minutes, I'll find that kind guard and ask him to guide me. I can't remember when to turn right."

"I'll wait for you. I love you."

"I love you."

Harry got up from the couch and started pacing from one wall to the other. His hands were trembling, getting sweaty. He couldn't remember when was the last time he felt this nervous before start of the show. Not wembley or Slane Castle were as nerve wrecking as Warsaw. He knew it perfectly that it wasn't because of the city or the country. Well, it partially was.

It was YN's home show. But also her whole family was just outside the gates or already walking down the hallways to get to their seats (VIP of course, besides YN's younger cousins that wanted the front row, barricade experiance). And probably the most important guests for Harry - YN's grandparents, especially her granny. A sweet 92-year-old lady that started learning english and using an iPhone to be able to talk and contact Harry. A lady who bought his heart with sweet butter biscuits that no one could replicate. A lady that listened and then learned his whole three albums for this day - the day she would finally see him play live.

So he was terrified to disappoint her.

"What if i mess up the lyrics?" he asked YN when she finally came to the greenroom, he had been pacing in.

"Then she will sing it to you."

"But what if she won't like hearing me live? I mean, it's- it's a possibility. What? Why are you giggling. I'm really stressed here, my darling."

"I'm so sorry." She kissed the crown of his head. "It's just that you're afraid of impossibility. There is no way she would laugh at you or be disappointed in you." YN stroke his hair, gently massaging it, bringing Harry peace.

"You sure?"

"I've never been more sure in my life."

"She'll like it." Harry reassured himself aloud.

"Yes, she will. Not only she loves you like her own grandchild, she's also nervous. This morning she facetimed me to help her pick up an outfit. She bought quite a few things after she saw some pictures of your fans on the internet." She laughed, finding it quite adorable.

"Did she?" Harry lifted his head from yn's lap. "Oh, bless her."

They spent the next few minutes in silence, letting Harry's heart to calm down and steady its pace.

"Wait, did you say that you've never been more sure about something in your life?" Harry eventually broke the silence.

"Yes?"

"So, you had doubts when I asked you to marry me?"

"Oh god."

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harryloveontour

liked by harryupdates, stylesmaaan and 21 491 others

harryloveontour first look at harry at tonight's show in warsaw! it wasn't even the first minute, and he was already seen sending kisses towards yn!

view all 6 023 comments

harrysmylife and it was not only for yn!!! her whole family is with her. even her grandparents.

⤷ stylesbabie omg, they must love him soooo so much

ynandhmyparents they are the sweetest couple i've ever seen, like ever

harrysmoustache is anybody live??? i need to experience this show, i have tissues ready

⤷ hArrysbtch hslotwarsaw is live and it's in such a good quality

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hslotwarsaw

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 21 291 others

hslotwarsaw this is harry's reaction to seeing yn dancing with one of the fans during adore you!!!

view all 3 491 comments

harryupdates omg, his reaction was priceless!!!!

hArrysbtch the way this man said "back off, my friend. she is taken. ring and all. no, no, no." he wa ready to jump from that stage to stop that man from hugging yn!

⤷ stylesbabie i mean, did that guy asked yn if that was okay?

⤷ lovingharry he did, you could see it on the videos that people already posted

harrysmoustache he's like "excuse me, man. that is my fiancée. MY fiancée."

harrysmylife oh, this concert just started and i know it's gonna be the best of all times

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lately you've been on my mind

honey, ah ah ah

The whole stadium was singing back to him. He could describe the feeling it awoke in him each time. It was similar but never the same. Especially today, everything seemed to touch him deeper, better, and clearer.

"Someone's stealing your girl, Styles"

Harry heard someone in his earpiece, making him stop singing. He played it cool by putting the mic towards the audience simultaneously looking for YN.

It didn't take him long. She was right where she promised to be. The space designed specifically for her family, not enclosed but clearly separated from the main audience. There she was dancing and laughing with some middle-aged guy.

Harry was a jealous person in nature. In particular when it came to his partners. He wasn't proud of it, and he definitely didn't have any way to believe that YN would sprint after every Tom, Dick and Harry. Every day she showed him how in love she was, there could be no way.

But here he was. Jaw clenched, not singing and glaring towards his fiancée.

"Harry, everything alright?" Again the voice in his earpiece.

YN stopped dancing, feeling that unmistakable eyes almost glued to her. Oh, it didn't look good.

"How you doin' Warsaw?!" Harry finally screamed into the microphone. The squeals, screems and whistles gave him all he wanted - distraction.

And when YN smiled at him so lovingly and sweetly, it was enough to carry him till this moment.

"Your sign says 'help me shoot my shot'. Is this person with you?" Harry asked the fan who was holding the very neat and colourful sign. Somehow he didn't recognise him from just a minutes ago.

"She's here."

"Wow! Your voice is so loud, man. But how do you want me to help you when she's here. She's next to you somewhere?"

And then if it would have been possible, Harry's jaw would touch the floor. That guy shamelessly pointed towards YN. Now he remembered.

People screamed so loudly, because everything was shown on the biggest screen behind the stage.

"Well, back off, my friend. She is taken. Ring and all. No, no, no." Harry tried to play it cool by laughing at the end. "And, as far as I'm concerned, we're not lookin' for the third one in the relationship."

Now the stadium was laughing along with the long 'ouuuu'.

"How did you know you'd be close to YN, anyway?"

"Manifesting."

"Manifesting?" Harry repeated so everyone could know the answer. "Well, you're doing it right, so I suggest betting or playing lottery. And, to be honest most importantly," he pressed. "Not stealing someone else's future wife!"

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 34 201 others

harryupdates harry introducing yn's grandmother at tonight's show.

view all 7 201 comments

hArrysbtch she is the sweetest lady, my god. i love her even though i don't know her 🥹

harrysmoustache "this show is very special to me. here are my future parents in law as well as grandparents. hello, hi!" i still can't comprehend harry being engaged...

harrysmylife "granny, how are you doing? do you need anything? no? you're good? excellent! that's what I wanted to hear. please give it up for granny!" and the way he started clapping both of his hands and the whistling???? and then speaking in polish i think???

⤷ polisharry Yes! He said 'dziękuję, babcia że tu jesteś' which means 'thank you granny for being here

harryfan82 this show is sooo good

outofstyles did anybody see harry constantly looking towards that area, where yn's whole family is?

⤷ harrysmoustache absolutely! i can't imagine how nervous he is, considering it's the first (at least that we know of) time he sings in front of them

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hArrysbtch

liked by harryupdates, harrysmylife and 33 101 others

hArrysbtch HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY MEDICINE BUT THE BAND STARTED IT WITHOUT HIS KNOWLEDGE. I CANT. HES REACTION IS PRICELESS. HES TERRIFIED.

view all 8 101 comments

harryupdates he didn't even started it on cue, thank god the audience was so pumped up for it and sang it!

harrysmoustache "no no no no no. we weren't supposed to play it. sarah!" the fear and confusion in his voice was everything. they got him good.

outofstyles "you're gonna pay for it. all of you." this is so funny

stylesbabie the funniest thing is how when he started singing it, he was all touchy and sexy. it was like he forgot about the problem in the moment...

godstyles "granny's terrified" HARRY YOU DIDN'T PUT THE MICROPHONE DOWN, MAN

⤷ harrysmoustache but they showed granny being all smiley during medicine. i think she enjoyed it just like any other song!

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, stylesbabie and 41 202 others

harryupdates harry smiling while talking to yn's little cousin (yn was translating everything to her and then to harry). she then opened as it was with "harry, I wanna say goodnight to you"

view all 3 201 comments

hArrysbtch i hate kids but that baby was so cute i wish i could squish her cheeks

harrysmoustache he was all smiles and gentle eyes while talking to her, he loves this family so much

styleslove i love when people are so open with their feelings for their partner's family

harrysfan081 so cute

stylesbabie give this man a child already

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hslotwarsaw

liked by harryupdates, stylesmylove and 61 201 others

hslotwarsaw harry after splashing water at yn and her family at the end of the show!

and with this photo, we're ending our 'photo-stream'. thank you all for helping us prepare all of the fan projects and thank you for welcoming harry so warmly in our country! till the next time!

view all 8 20q comments

harryupdates you did amazing job!

hArrysbtch yn's granny got so happy at the moment harry decided to threaten her with a bottle

stylesbabie granny had a water gun and threatened harry back with it!!!!! it was soo cute, he run away laughing

harrysfan88 best show so far

harrysmylife "this one of the loudest show i can remember. and i know why. my fiancée's whole family is here. and believe me, they can make so much noise it's impressive!" my friend stood next ro them and confirmed, they were so loud during the whole set list!!

harryshands i can't imagine better way for harry to cope with this amount of pressure. he delivered one of the best performances in his life - sound and entertain wise. truly amazing

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"Harry, my sweet boy."

Harry turned 180° from the conversation he was having with Jeff to see the face of the lady with the heavy accent he knew so well.

"Babcia! (granny)" he exclaimed, jogging towards her and ambracing in a tight hug. "How I've missed you."

"You saw me yesterday, you."

"I know." He pulled away, still having his arm around granny. "But it's already been almost 24 hours. A long time, don't you think?"

Granny shook her head with a smile and placed her head on Harry's chest. She was rather exhausted from all the lights, noise, dancing and standing up for almost three hours.

"You wanna sit down, granny?" YN asked, squeezing her grandmothers arm in a way showing her she was nearby.

"Oh, yes. My legs aren't 20 years old as much as I would like them to be."

The three of them sat down on the green couch and talked about the show. Granny was impressed with all the fans having the time of their life, but specifically the ones that seemed to take in the show on their own terms.

"There were those two girls just hugging the whole time and singing softly all the songs. It was so lovely," granny explained.

"It's funny how they were two of very little to not use their phone during the show," commented someone in the room.

And before harry got the chance to defend people taking photos and recording, granny sat up straight.

"Well, in the 60s, my father took me to see The Beetles and I wish i had a camera then. It was such a magical moment that I would want it to be not only engraved in my mind but also on paper. I took so many photos of you, Harry. I need you to print them so I can show them to my friends on the next bingo evening."

YN nodded her head with a smile, not only planning to print the photos but putting the whole concert that harry recorded on the CD. Granny loved watching that type of thing on her telly.

"Harry," granny spoke up after a few moments. "I do have a question however."

"Ask away, granny."

"That song, medicine. What is it about?"

[loved-reid]

You’re So Golden [s.r]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Reader admires Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Admiring someone? Having someone as your sun, I honestly don’t know, if anyone sees anything let me know immediately! :)

Note: I love this one, it’s nice and short and it’s kinda inspired by “Golden” by Harry Styles. :))

Notice: IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT

The yellow pale file folders were almost covering her view of the boy in front of her, only his dark hair and eyes visible.

The stacks upon stacks of case files were almost overwhelming to her, but every once in a while looking up to see his hazel eyes moving frantically along the papers assured her it wasn’t all that bad. For he provided some calmness to the activity, just feeling him nearby would ease her anxious nothings.

Her gaze would mostly stay too long upon his face, his pink lips she died to kiss one day, and his hands-

His middle finger was laid out on the paper, quickly scrolling down the text provided before he shut it, moving forward to the stack in front of him and grabbing another one, making a loud smack when he replaced the previously used file.

If she got lucky she would spot a tongue sighting, peaking out from in between his lips as he concentrated.

She found herself laughing at his infested expression, even more so at his raised eyebrow as he looked at her, features replaced with confusion.

“What?”

His voice was almost innocent, eyes sparkling with oblivion, not having a single clue on why she thought the situation was humorous.

She shook her head in response, her laughter slowly dying off as she did so. “I don’t know how you do this kinda stuff, Dr. Reid.” She questioned, closing a file before putting it back and finding another one to look through.

He scoffed out a chuckle, his own majestic laugh bubbling out of his chest, producing a noise she wanted to hear as much as possible; which would be all the time.

“I surprisingly kind of enjoy it, find it very therapeutic, actually.” He answered, obviously moving on to another file even though he just grabbed one for what felt like two seconds ago.

“Therapeutic you say? How?” She wondered, a look of ridiculousness flooding her features.

He nodded, eyes now looking at the stack in front of him. “Yeah, just sitting here with you and reading, nice and calm, I would say.”

She found an unexpected flush spread to her cheeks at his comment of being with her, being calm with her presence near him. Her heart stuttered, lungs stopping for a couple seconds as the blood rushed to her head, brain trying to comprehend what he spoke just seconds prior.

“You’re calm around me?” She practically squeaked, sounding like a bird calling from the trees. She felt like a love sick idiot, cheeks flushing and flooding with redness at a single comment.

He nodded again, hair bobbing. He looked up this time, hazel eyes meeting hers. His eyes didn’t need sunlight to shine, for she always seems to see some sort of rays within them doing all the work. In fact, she didn’t need the sun, for he was her sun.

He kept her warm and happy, giving her all the light she needed in her life. And she loved him for that.

She loved Doctor Spencer Reid; and no shade or thunder clouds could change that. His light would forever shine upon her skin, browning it in just the right way.

He looked at her, eyes keeping her warm. “Why of course I do, why would it be otherwise?”

She shrugged despite the repetitious flutter of her heart, trying to look like the comments didn’t just make her become a stuttering mess. “Don’t know, I just feel flattered, that’s all.”

The admission was blurt out but once it was out there, she couldn’t take it back. Not that she wanted to, for she felt like he had to know that she was grateful for the statement. Grateful that he was comfortable around her.

“Flattered?” He repeated, a confused curve on his lips. “But I didn’t day anything flattering.”

She laughed, moving the file stack that delegated them so she could look at him. A light purple button up covered his figure, along with black trousers, doing his legs wonders. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, a watch decorating his wrist.

He looked almost edible, and she couldn’t help but what a taste.

She shook the thought off as quickly as it came, shaking her head to do so. “Yes you did, you said you’re comfortable around me, therefore I feel flattered.” She explained, looking at him earnestly.

He smiled soft, reaching over and touching her hand gently, despite his dislike of germs and physical touch. The contact was brief yet meaningful, his fingertips brushing hers ever so slowly, hands rubbing over her knuckles a couple times.

“Well I’m glad you’re flattered by the truth.”

[grapejuicestyless]

We Can Run Away

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: She was everything he ever wanted, and she was clueless about everything he ever was. And somehow, they understood each other all because of the subway.

Harry usually wasn’t one to take the subway after a long night. Often, he was in some black van on his way to his bed minutes after he sang out the last note, the crowd still roaring with excitement from the set inside as he departed from the venue. But tonight, Harry was still wide awake after his set finished. Instead, he’d stayed behind, fixing things up backstage until the very last fan had left the arena, leaving Harry almost completely alone in the large space that was once filled with the love and laughter of anxious fans screaming his name.

So tonight, Harry decided to walk among the quiet folk and take the empty train back to where he was staying for the night. The subway only ran this late on nights like tonight. Nights where people were destined to be out late, living their young lives dancing in the pit and accompanying their children in the nosebleeds.

Harry hopped on the last train home, the emptiness of the car relaxing, his bag settled down beside him and a book on his lap. He found the atmosphere was a perfect place for him to wind down from his extended high, to tire him out and help him doze off peacefully tonight.

There was only one other person with him late at night. A young woman who wore frayed jeans shorts, boston clogs with bunched up socks, and the deepest red sweatshirt he’d ever seen. She looked like she wasn’t aware of the time, wide awake with a calm smile on her face as if the day was brand new.

The morning had just began to roll around, but darkness still covered the sky. Not even breaking three a.m. yet and still, she could have fooled him into believing it was nearly noon if not for the emptiness surrounding them.

She was no bother to Harry though, so he patiently flipped through his book, rereading some of the pages because his mind wandered off in the middle of the paragraphs and he couldn’t focus. But just before he decided to set the book down for the night and enjoy the rest of the ride, a soft voice spoke up.

“I love that book.”

Harry looked up to see the calm girl looking back at him. She had red lips and gentle eyes. The kind that pulled you in if you looked too deeply. The kind any person would trust blindly, and the kind that held a complex kind of innocence in them.

At first, he simply nodded, unaware of what he was supposed to say and not up for a conversation, but he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the captivating girl across from him.

“A Little Life, right?” The girl asked, persistently looking for a small conversation to fill the gaps of silence on the short ride across the city.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. “You have good taste.”

The girl simply shrugged.

“It’s a classic, right? I think everyone should read it at some point.”

“I don’t think everyone would enjoy it, it’s a little slow.” Harry commented, enjoying hearing the girls voice.

“Maybe.” The girl shrugged again, “But that’s what makes this one so good. It makes everything feel more real when it takes time for everything to crash down. The fall doesn’t happen overnight.” She defended.

“I take it you really love this book then.” Harry laughed quietly at the conversation.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

The train fell quiet again, but Harry couldn’t have gone back to reading if he tried. He placed the bookmark between the pages and instead took time to admire the way the book looked between his hands.

“I love the cover too. I wish I took that photo every day.”

Harry raised a brow, observing the cover more closely than he had before.

“I’m a photographer.” The girl added, and Harry hummed.

“What kinds of photos do you take?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“I mainly help with shoots for magazines. Vogue, Rolling Stone, Elle. I’ve been around the industry for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I help take photos for movies, which is cool, but mainly I just take photos for myself nowadays. You know, just letting my friends play dress up and creating the things I’ve been wanting to for a while.”

With the way she spoke about her job, Harry had not a single doubt that she held the most sincere love for the art she worked within. The kind girl talking quietly, but quickly about what she did and why she loved it, Harry wished she had kept rambling to him so he could have kept listening.

“What about you?” The girl asked suddenly, catching Harry off guard. He stumbled around for an answer before deciding on something vague.

“I work in music. I sing.” Harry nodded his head, watching how the girls eyes lit up in interest.

“That’s so cool, do you play shows ever?” The girl asked and Harry couldn’t help but bite back a laugh. He was sure he had glitter from his outfit he danced around stage in stuck to his face still and feathers from boas curled in his hair.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Harry smiled at the girls innocence.

“Do you play around here ever?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Harry smiled.

“I’m just trying to pass time.” The girl responded quickly. “So do you?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sometimes.”

The girl hummed.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.” She extended her hand, and Harry mouthed her name back to her after she’d spoken it. Just to see how it would feel on his tongue.

“I’m Harry.” She repeated his name softly like an echo as he took her hand in his to shake it.

The robotic voice announced the final stop, and Harry watched as Y/n stood in a way that mirrored his movements. He figured he didn’t mind the fact that his walk home wouldn’t be as lonely as he thought, and in fact, he found himself silently praying that she would walk the same way as him as they stepped onto the platform.

“I hope you’re not following me, Harry.” Y/n joked as their footsteps fell into sync, sweaty palms shoved into their front pockets and their eyes adverting each others.

“Maybe I just want to know more about you.” Harry smiled. He decided he liked the way Y/n made him feel. Like he was desperate for the next sentence to come out of her mouth. Like he needed to know what she had to say. But maybe he was just getting tired.

“There’s not much else to know. I live a pretty boring life, I think you’ll find.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I didn’t say there was.” Y/n smiled, and Harry found himself blushing.

“I think the quiet can be good.” Y/n stated softly, looking at the way her feet fell between the large squares on the sidewalk. “It can be lonely, and that can be sad sometimes, but I don’t really mind it if I get to keep my peace.” She explained thoughtfully.

“Do you think about this often?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“When you live alone you have the time to think about a lot of things.” She responded, and Harry simply nodded.

“I like the quiet life too. It’s nice to step into the storm once in a while and see where you get dragged, but it’s nice to know where you’ll end up in the morning without a doubt.”

Y/n hummed at Harry’s response.

“I used to party a lot in college.” She laughed at herself. “Which is hard to believe now because I feel like my back was broken by a thousand bricks somewhere in my mid twenties but, I get what you mean. It was fun when it was cool, and when I had people I liked going out with. But I think I’d much rather prefer to know I’ll end up in my own bed in the morning.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the girl beside him. Her toothy grin and her crinkles by her eyes. Harry imagined her a few years back, he imagined taking her to all the best spots in the city he could rack off in his mind. He figured she would be the life of the party. She made him feel like the subway was some first class plane ride and the trash rolling beneath his feet was golden.

“Are you always this talkative?” He laughed softly.

She shrugged.

“My mom would agree. She said when I was younger I would talk to anything that had ears. Sometimes she’d catch me pulling the grass outside because I liked to braid it, and she said I would be talking to myself. But I always told her I was talking to the butterflies.” She laughed at herself.

“What about you? Do you always entertain strangers on the subway?”

“Well, we aren’t really strangers anymore.” Harry argued. Y/n smiled at him.

“I guess not.” She shook her head thoughtfully.

“I don’t, usually, though.” Harry sighed. “But you’re nice enough. Easy to talk to, I guess.”

“Anyones easy to talk to when they can’t shut up.” She joked, and Harry simply laughed at her for the millionth time.

“I guess so.”

As their laughter fizzled out into giggles, a warm silence wrapped around them, the humidity of the summer air sticking to their skin like glue. Harry caught Y/n’s eye every few steps, swallowing repeatedly as if by doing so, he would think of something else to say.

“Are you from here?” She asked softly.

“Somewhat. What about you?”

She shook her head.

“I’m from the east coast. The United States.” She said softly.

“Why’d you leave?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“The city wasn’t for me. I wanted to live by a beach so I left to where I could find that. But then I guess that wasn’t what I wanted either. I think maybe I was made for the city, just not…that one.” She sighed in the middle of her sentence, like the memory of home was daunting to her.

“What about London? What drew you to it?” Harry asked softly.

Y/n shrugged, her eyes flickered to the ground.

“It reminded me of home without having to be there.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, but she didn’t really seem sad when she said it. Almost like it was some kind of relief.

“My mom said there was something really wrong with me when I was a kid, but I’ve always liked who I am.” She smiled up at Harry honestly, holding her hands in her palms.

“You know, I like that I can talk for hours, I like that I apologize all the time, I like that I’ve lived out my twenties the way I should have. I like when my bangs grow past my ears, and I like running because it reminds me of running in the park, and I’m not sorry because I love the girl who looks back at me in the mirror because she’s a collection of everything she’s ever loved and I think thats neat.” She ranted, a smile on her face the whole time, and breathy laughter escaping her lips.

Harry wanted to say something, to smile and agree that he also enjoyed her sticking around, but she had stopped a few feet back, her shoes wiping against a small brown doormat with no welcoming message painted on it.

“This is my stop.”

“Will I ever see you again?” Harry asked desperately from afar, like he couldn’t enter her space if he tried.

“Maybe.”

“Well, I really like the person you are too, I’d like to see you again.” He added, his words quick and desperate.

“You know where I live, Harry.” She stated simply, a smile on her face.

And it was true, he did. But she wasn’t on his way home. He’d passed his house a few blocks back, and somehow he hadn’t even noticed.

“What if you leave again?” He couldn’t help but ask.

She simply smiled.

“We can run away together.”

[thecuriousbeauty]

A Bad Day- Harry Styles x reader

Synopsis: y/n has a horrible day and she can't wait to come home to the comfort of her boyfriend, who can make anything better.

A/N:-Sorry for not posting anything for so long guys, college has been hectic. In fact, this blurb is based on my own bad day, except there wasn't a Harry to help me feel better. Hope everyone's doing okay and sending lots of love to you all.

Word count: 1,661

Warnings: Harry being sweet! Fluff!

__________________________________________

You were hanging on by a very, fine, thread. A thread you knew could break anytime, with how much you’d been through today. You really didn’t believe that there would be days where everything you did would go wrong, or get messed up. A bad day as people called it. 

You liked to take on the world with a positive headset, and it usually helped you think with a clear mind so you could find solutions to the problems. But today, no matter how positive you tried to be, horrible things just kept piling on, burying you under the weight of it. You were grateful that the day was finally over, and you were back home. 

Home, where you knew you wouldn’t be judged or frowned upon. Home, where you knew you had one person who would always have your back.

Harry probably didn’t hear you come in. You could hear him humming a tune while he worked around in the kitchen. You walk to the counter to place your bag, and see your boyfriend stirring a sauce, wearing your favorite red and white apron that has too many stains on it from your numerous cooking adventures. 

He turns his head to look at you as he hears your footsteps, and smiles, emerald eyes immediately washing over your face as he tries to figure out how you were holding up. He knew about one of the reasons for your bad day today, which was your instagram account getting hacked. You don’t even use the app that often, just to maintain contacts with everyone, and you were surprised when your friend texted you in the morning asking you to check if your account has been hacked. Your private account had been made public, messages had been sent to all your followers and they even posted things on your story. 

You were a little too panicked in the morning and the hackers had even changed the phone number of your account, so there wasn’t much you could do. When you were done panicking, you did what you could do and removed all your followers and deleted all your personal information from it before it got too late. 

“Hey.”, you say to him, going behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back, sighing.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m making a new pasta recipe!”, Harry says, placing his free hand not holding the spatula over yours and squeezing. 

“Smells good.”, you mumble into his shirt, inhaling his comforting scent. You appreciated that he was making food for you but you weren’t hungry. 

“Still worried, baby?”

You release another sigh, closing your eyes. “I-It’s not just that. Things just kept going bad after that..”

“Oh, darling.”, Harry coos, switching off the flame and taking your arms, gently lifting them from his waist so he could turn around and give you his undivided attention. Harry tugs you closer, one hand cupping your cheek. “It’s okay, you’re here now..”

You willed so hard for the tears not to form, but they did. “H-Harry..” 

“Come here, my love.”, Harry moved his hand to the back of your head and pushed your head into his chest, the other arm wrapping around you to hold you close to him. 

“T-There was a surprise oral test, a-and I knew everything but I-I got anxious and d-didn’t do so well. I-I couldn’t focus, Haz. And t-then-”

“Take a breath for me, sweetheart.”, Harry interrupts you gently as you stutter, rubbing his hand over your back in gentle circles. 

“A-And then during our practicals, a girl b-borrowed my pipette and i-it broke, s-so I couldn’t do the experiment. T-That’s gonna come for the finals, i-it was an important experiment.” You sob into his shirt, releasing all that had been building up and Harry lets you, simply listening and just being there. 

“I’m so sorry you had such a rough day, baby.”, Harry murmurs into your hair. “But you know what? You are so smart. You are where you are because of your hard work and skills, so not doing well on one test isn’t going to define your knowledge. Don’t be too hard on yourself, love, with the kind of morning you had, no one would have been able to focus!”

Harry runs his fingers through your hair, smoothing out some of the knots. “You can go ask the professor if you can do the experiment again when you have free time right? And they’ll give you revision before the finals, so don’t worry.”

You nod, looking up at him through your tear filled eyes. “I-I’m still not able to delete my account, instagram help is of no use.”

“We’ll figure it out, darling. On the bright side, at least the hackers didn’t get anything personal.” Harry wipes his thumbs under your eyes, stroking away the tears. “Breaks my heart to see you so upset.”

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t planning on sobbing into you as soon as I walked in.”

“You were planning on doing it maybe after a shower and dinner?”, Harry smirks, and you nudge his ribs, weakly laughing. Harry chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, love. I’m glad you feel safe enough to let out your emotions with me. Sometimes you really need a good cry!”

“That’s true.”, you agree, sniffling.

“Let me give my girl a kiss now.”, Harry says, gently taking your chin so he could press your lips to yours. You close your eyes, enjoying the sweet, comforting kiss. Harry knows just how to kiss you depending on the moment.

“Don’t let anything get to you, okay?”, he whispers when he pulls away. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

You finally give him a small smile, nodding. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Why don’t you go take a hot shower now, love? I’ll have dinner ready by that time.”

“Um, can you join too? I’ll help you cook later?” You really didn’t want to be alone. 

Harry understands, and he nods, turning around to find a lid for the pan. He takes off his apron as well. “Come on, darling.” He places a hand on the small of your back, leading you to the bedroom.

Harry strips, turns on the water and adjusts the water as you strip down, and holds out his hand for yours when you’re done. You sigh as the warm water hits your sore muscles, it was just the right temperature too. Harry brings you into a hug again, and you accept it gratefully, closing your eyes and just standing there for some time. 

After a few minutes, Harry reaches to turn the water off and takes some shower gel into the loofah before starting to run it over your arms and shoulders. “So beautiful.”, he praises, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and you can’t help but smile. “So are you.”

“I’m beautiful!?”, he sends his voice up by a few octaves, making you giggle. “Yeah!”

After he finished washing your body, he envelops you in a towel and helps you dry off. You both get dressed, and Harry picks you up, your legs tucking around his hips for support. “Did you eat today, love?”

“Um, I had a banana for lunch..”

“Knew it. You always skip food when you’re upset.”, he says, setting you down on the kitchen slab. “Not to worry though, you’re going to bed with a full tummy.”

“What can I do to help?”, you ask, watching him re-wear his apron.

“Why don’t you find something for us to watch?”

“That’s not helping.”

“I just have to toss the pasta in the sauce, baby, I got it. Go, pick whatever you feel like watching.”

By the time you found a show, Harry had plated the food and was bringing it to you. He settled on the couch next to you. You took the first bite and that’s when you realized just how hungry you were. You followed it up with another, and blushed when Harry looked at you with a grin. 

“This is great, babe. Thank you.”, you tell him.

“You’re welcome, love. There’s enough for us to take seconds, so eat up!” You watched your show while eating, chatting up with Harry about it. Then you continued to cuddle on the couch. Harry rubbed your arm with one hand while the other was holding your phone. He wanted to try something one of his friend’s told him about when his account was hacked as well.

“There, think I got it to deactivate.”, he says.

“Really?” You take a look as well, and see the message that says that it should get deactivated soon. You sigh in relief and hug around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d wither and die.”, he jokes, making you gasp and he laughs, stroking back strands of your hair from your forehead when you look up at him. “Are you feeling better now?”

“A little.”, you nod.

“Only a little?”, he asks, kissing your nose and you try to trap in the smile that’s fighting to break through.  “Mhmm.”, you hum.

“Well, I’ve got to take care of that.”, he says before holding your face in both of his hands and he leans closer so he can press little feather kisses all over your face. You start giggling, “Harry!”

Bad days and difficult times are part of life. You’re always going to have them. What you’ll always remember is that you have someone in your life that will help you through it. No matter how difficult of a time you are having, Harry will never let you deal with it alone. 

“There’s that smile.”, Harry says in success, grinning as he rubs his nose with yours. “I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too, H.” 

And you love that you get to come home to him.

___________________________________________

Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise @hermionelove

(Please let me know if anyone wants to be added to the taglist!)

[messyemmy]

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation. 

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance. 

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin. 

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant. 

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him. 

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you. 

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put. 

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding, 

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.” 

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace. 

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you. 

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets. 

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features. 

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso. 

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist. 

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat. 

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake. 

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you. 

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers. 

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release. 

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck. 

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth. 

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep. 

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock. 

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface. 

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically. 

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar. 

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him. 

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you. 

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines. 

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible. 

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more. 

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state, 

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again, 

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder. 

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear, 

“Ask me nicely.” 

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him, 

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him, 

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now. 

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms. 

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction. 

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed. 

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.” 

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.” 

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast. 

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly. 

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now. 

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together. 

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another. 

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction. 

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.” 

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job. 

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking. 

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours. 

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress. 

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own. 

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back. 

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure. 

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last. 

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness. 

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.” 

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin. 

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life. 

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.” 

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.” 

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck. 

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso. 

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.” 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips. 

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat. 

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention. 

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind. 

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige. 

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

[finelinevogue]

running buddies

summary - you and harry go on a little run in london with each other

word count: ~-1.5k

pairing: long-term-boyfriend!harry x reader

“C’mon, y’lump. Get up.” Harry tugged the duvet off your body, whilst you groaned in annoyance. “We’re going on a run.”

That’s how your morning had started.

A rude awakening and a run.

You and Harry had hiked up a hill and then ran along the top of it. He used it as a way to expel all his anxious energy for performing at Wembley.

The headphones you were wearing were blasting out One Direction songs, since your favourite music to work out to was their music. Specifically the album Four.

The headphones you were wearing were blasting out One Direction songs, since your favourite music to work out to was their music. Specifically the album Four.

The view from the hill was gorgeous and you could see over London.

You stopped to take a moment and enjoy the view. You took out your phone and captured a photo of the view, with the beautiful scenery below.

A second later Harry came and jogged up to you, pulling out his earphones.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just admiring the view.” You panted out, not understanding how Harry wasn’t even remotely out of breathe after your 3km run so far.

“Normally I have you for that.” Harry winked at his poor excuse for flirting.

“Fuck off.”

Harry moved next to you and you held up your phone to take a photo of the both of you and the scenery behind. Harry’s cheek was smushed against yours and you both smiled wide as you viewed each other in the camera.

Harry looked at you and you took another photo, before he kissed your cheek and you took your last photo.

“Love you.” He spoke, before kissing your cheek again.

“Mm. Love you too, H.” You smiled at him, leaning in to give him a kiss.

His stubble had not been shaved this morning, so you got slightly scratched by the dusting of hairs over his jaw and upper lip.

You hummed into the kiss as you took pleasure out of kissing him.

It made the run worth it.

“Run in front of me on the way back down?” He asked.

“Why?” You furrowed your brows.

“Well… ‘Cause.. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Harry Styles.” You cocked an eyebrow and pointed a finger onto his chest. He caught your finger and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss your palm softly.

“Fine. I want to have a good view on the way back down.” He smirked. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but you imagined they were slightly dilated.

“You’re so gross.” You pushed your hand onto his face and moved his head away from you jokingly.

“And yet you still want to marry me.”

“Steady on, my friend. You haven’t even asked the question yet.”

“Not when you’ve just friend zoned me.”

“H, baby. We’re so far out of the friend zone.”

“Are we now?” He teased, coming closer towards you again. You let him move close until his face is inches away from yours. His oxygen became your oxygen.

“Mhm.”

“So if I got down on one knee now…”

“Which you’re not.”

“How do you know?” Harry questioned with a giggle.

“Because you know that I’d hate this for a proposal. Instead I’d want to…”

“Be in bed after a night together and it to just be so random and so casual that it would be perfect.” Harry nodded. “Yes. I know you. I remember.”

“No friend of mine would know that.”

“Lucky me i’m not just your friend then.”

“You will be if you keep forcing me on these early morning runs though. Believe me.” You joked, turning around to walk down the path.

Before you can get far, Harry tugs on your elbow and whips you back around to face him. Your chest hit his and through your gasp, Harry captured your lips with his and roughly kissed you.

You moaned through the kiss and held onto him tight.

You moved your head to the side and kissed him from a different angle, kissing him like it’s your last time.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re never going to be just my friend, baby. Yes, you’re my best friend, but you’re also my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé. I promise you that.”

He was going to kiss you again when you saw some people walking up behind Harry.

One girl of them had a phone, which was obviously, not so subtly, recording the interaction. The other girl was walking up to Harry with a giant grin on her face.

“Excuse me? Hi. Are you Harry Styles?” The girl asked as if she didn’t already know.

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat, sort of standing in front of you because he hated the thought of you being filmed without consent because of him.

“I knew it! I love your music! We thought we saw you from down that hill, but were slightly unsure.”

So… they were following you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they had been hiding and filmed you and Harry this entire day. Including the heavy making out.

Your hand slid into Harry’s to comfort him, knowing how uncomfortable he gets in these situations.

“Can we maybe get a photo?” The girl asked.

“Um. Not today sorry.” Harry replied and you squeezed his hand in assurance that he’d said the right thing.

“Oh okay.”

“Lovely to meet you though.” Not.

“Oh my God. And you too! This is crazy aha!” She walked back to her friend and they started squealing.

You tugged on Harry’s hand and motioned for him to follow you. You walked down the hill in front of him, knowing he wouldn’t allow you to walk behind him now that those girls were back there.

“Can we run again, baby? Please?” Harry asked from behind you and it was obvious he had gained some new nervous energy that he wanted to expel.

“Of course.” You smiled and began to jog again.

Harry matched your pace this time and before long you were back down at the bottom of the hill and far away from those girls.

More people might be on their way here though if they know that Harry’s been here.

Harry wasn’t going to risk it, so you walked back as quickly as you could back home.

Home came quicker than you thought, having passed the time with Harry with mindless games and random chat.

The comfort of home felt good. A similar feeling that Harry brought you.

When you were through the door, you hugged him tight with your face pressed against his chest.

“I love you.” You reminded him.

“I love you too.”

“And you don’t have to apologise for saying no to photos. Especially when those girls were following us. I don’t want your apology, okay? I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m always okay as long as I have my best friend with me.”

[xreaderbooks]

Angelic

Pair: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius doesn't feel himself after his time in Azkaban and you reassure him.

Based off of this request

Warnings: post-azkaban, insecurity, low self-esteem, fluff, comfort

Word Count: 1.6k

Wattpad | AO3

Sirius Black Masterlist | Navigation | HP\Wizarding World Masterlist

Looking at him and the way he transformed back from his animagus form, he looked like a shell of his old self, as if someone had stolen something from him and he didn't know how to ask for it back.

You stood frozen, not sure whether to strangle him into a hug until he was suffocated from your love or wait and see if he would even want you to touch him.

There he was, Sirius Black, on the front steps of the home you had both picked out after graduating from Hogwarts.

"Y/n?" His voice croaked out. "Say something, please."

The only thing that escaped your lips was a sob as tears streamed down, you gave into your inhibitions and ran to him, throwing your arms around his shoulders. He caught you the same way he always had with the same hug you always gave him when you were excited to see him after a whole summer apart, or whenever you passed a test and were overly anxious to tell him.

His arms circled your waist in the same familiar way you had almost forgotten.

"I love you, I believed you, I never stopped believing" You cried into the crook of his shoulder. You needed him to know that. You pushed back all the memories of the conversations and debates you had with Remus and other members of the Order who believed Sirius was guilty.

He gently pulled you away from him, taking you in from the last twelve years he saw you, murmuring as he stroked your tear-stained cheeks "I love you more, darling."

"Come in," You entwined your hands to guide him into your once-shared home, a home he barely had time in. "The place is pretty much the same."

"Your taste hasn't changed," He took in the decorations and furniture of the house.

You let your hand fall from his and nervously fiddled with your fingers as he looked around, "Hope you don't mind."

A half chuckle- half sob escaped from Sirius, "Of course not, love." He swiped his nose with the sleeve of the black and white striped prison robes. "What I do mind is you seeing me in this wretched state, I assume the bath hasn't changed?"

"Same as it's always been, let me grab you a towel and some fresh clothes." You rush off to the bedroom where you had kept Sirius's old clothes in a box and a closet where you store all the extra household items.

You heard the shower running from the thin walls and took a moment to gather your thoughts. He was back, he was not a murderer. He was back and he still loved you. You took a few deep breaths despite your heart still racing at the sight of him.

~~~

Weeks had gone by since he had escaped from Azkaban and waking up next to him in the same bed had not felt real.

Weeks turned to months and life had taken a turn for, what could be considered the best.

What brought you to reality was the nightmares you would coax Sirius out of, something you were used to doing even before Azkaban unfortunately. The only difference was there was nothing you could tell him now that could comfort him.

What did help was the fact that Harry knew the truth now and the reunion between Remus and Sirius had gone well. As amazing as that was, Sirius wasn't himself.

He lacks the flair he used to have; not that you minded, whatever made Sirius happy- made you happy. Whatever made him upset, equally affected you as much. You noticed Sirius has been trying to follow a routine in the same way he used to.

Tried the same hair products he used to use, it ended up with his hair sticking out in odd ways that frustrated him to no end, if he didn't love his long hair so much he would've shaved it all off.

Sirius attempted to style himself the way he once did and your shared room was littered with mountains of his clothes.

The results would put him in a foul mood.

"What's wrong, love?" It was one of Sirius' more difficult days. He didn't communicate his thoughts, he kept it all to himself and stayed moody for the rest of the day until he returned to his normal state of being.

He appeared to be zoned out, lost in thought, leaning on the counter in the kitchen with his arms crossed. He shook his head, "Nothing. Just thinking."

You broke through his arms, your fingers threaded through his hair, and he relinquished his hold to settle his hands on your hips. "Mind if I ask you what you were thinking of?"

He stayed silent for a moment, then two, inhaling a shaky breath.

"Am I as handsome as I once was?"

The question would have made you laugh if it wasn't for the poor-kicked puppy look he had. Sirius was rarely one to be insecure, it had you at a loss for words.

Your eyes scanned his, then the rest of his features. The curve of his naturally dark eyebrows, that matched his raven black hair. The perfectly shaped nose, and lips that you never got tired of tasting. His skin, smooth and the light freckles scattered on his face looked like a constellation.

It was true that he had aged, but as you had always expected, his age didn't take away from his beauty. A decade and a couple of years weren't going to take that from him like he was blessed by a god.

"Sirius, you have been and always will be beautiful to me," You confessed. You kissed both his cheeks, "You're more than beautiful, you're angelic."

You catch his eyes as he ducks his head shyly with a smile creeping onto his lips and give him a small peck.

He runs his hand through his hair and releases a breath while looking at the ceiling to keep the tears from running, "Thank you, love. I just haven't felt like myself since, well, you know. Nothing has felt the same, except for you." He squeezes your hips and brings you in for a tight hug.

"No need to thank me, Siri, I'm just happy you finally told me what was wrong." You kissed the side of his head and enjoyed the warmth of his neck before pulling back. "I'm sorry I don't tell you enough, should've known what was wrong by the constant outfit changes."

He chuckled, and you echoed his laughter. His smile dies slowly and he admires you in a way that has always intimidated you, the weight of his stare is heavy, "I suppose insecurity is the cost of having a goddess as a girlfriend."

His lips crashed onto yours and moved with such a consuming want and need for you. All of his kisses were loving and filled with a combination of emotions but this one took you back.

A nervous giggle escapes you, "Sirius-" You mumble his name against his mouth that continues to pursue yours.

"Yes?" He answered after you were unresponsive. He opened his eyes and stared at you, "I'm being perfectly serious."

"No, I am," You insist placing your hands on his shoulders.

He moved into your neck and trailed kisses down to the crook between your shoulder and neck, "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

You tried your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach that was traveling lower with each suck and bite he gave you. "How about we do something haven't done in a while?"

"A while? Just the other day we-" He appeared puzzled when he pulled his head back.

"Not that!" You shook your head. "Come."

You lead him to the couch and gently push him down to sit, you then go into your bathroom and search through the drawers until you find what you were looking for. Back in the living room, you set down the materials you gathered and turned on the muggle television to whatever was on.

"What are you up to?" Sirius asked.

You pulled out the black nail polish from the pouch you held the paint bottles in and tossed his way with a last-minute 'Catch'.

"We're starting with this."

He lifts a brow, "Starting?"

"I'm helping you get back to feeling more like yourself," You sit on the couch, laying your legs across his lap, and bring his hands to settle atop your knees. "That's only if you want to, I just want to help and if you don't want to then we can find another way, nail polish was just a go-to back then."

You would've continued to ramble if not for him kissing you, being back with Sirius had brought back the little school girl in you that you had lost throughout the war, then again- he's always been able to bring out a different side of you.

"I want to," His voice was quick and encouraging.

"Good," You tapped his nose which made him scrunch it up. As you began coating his nails with a base, you felt a bit of courage to confess something you'd held in during the early years of your relationship. "You know at Hogwarts when we got together, some girls Marlene hung out with told me I wasn't good enough to be with someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

You hummed, brushing on the first coat of the black polish to the first dried base-coated finger. "Handsome, gorgeous, god-like."

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed, "God-like."

"Their words, not mine but looking at you now after all those years, they weren't wrong."

"They were wrong about you," He mumbled, laying his forehead against the side of your head and into your hair. "My perfect, pretty girl."

"And you're wrong about yourself," You took a pause on the painting and stroked his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you."

~~~

a/n: I actually really don't like this, i had a good idea in my head of what i wanted this to look like and over time i guess i losit it? i feel like i could have done a better job if writers block wasn't in the way but i didn't wanna take longer than i already have writing this request. lemme know what you think :)