#harry styles x black OC

[reputationbarbie]

Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know?

it's my birthday and i got my master's degree yesterday! celebrate with me by reading one of my fics. I'll be updating them later in the week. <3

─⋆ ❝all-american bitch❞ bodyguard michael b. jordan x president’s daughter oc ─⋆ ❝sweetest pie❞ chef joel x baker oc ─⋆ ❝karma❞ frat boy harry styles x sorority girl oc

love you all and thank you for a great year!

[whorediaries-09]

cardigan;

pairing- therapist!sirius black x reader warning(s)- none i can think of. let me know i should add any. a/n- i'm mentally deranged ( i have my mathematics exam tomorrow.)

ps- gonna post a fall event soon <3

masterlist

you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleedin'

'you came,' you whisper, as you slowly open the door to your apartment. your eyes are clumped together with tears and old mascara. he smiles, his stormy eyes healing the storm which bubbles furiously within you.

'you called.' he says, tucking sweaty strands of your hair behind your ear. you offer him a shaky smile as he enters your house. something about the scent of his smoke and your incense sticks calms you. you tuck your lower lip under your teeth as his arms engulf your shaking body against his. you melt underneath the warmth of his touch, the softness of the sweater.

'it's okay, sweetbug.' he murmurs, his finger tantalizing the mess of your hair.

you feel hot tears pool in your eyes, as you tuck your lower lip underneath your teeth. his touch calms you, soothes you. but a voice screeches inside your head. he does this for money. he does this for your money. you want to push him away at the thought, but you can't. he feels comforting. he feels like a hot cup of cocoa on a christmas eve. he feels like the scent of incense that hangs around in your house. he feels like the shadows you'd chase at the grocery line as a kid. he feels like home.

'sweetness, it's okay to cry,' he whispers, as he holds you closer. there's a beat of silence before you break down again. your eyes spill tears of anger, shame, guilt and sorrow and you're clutching the wool of his cardigan. you shake violently with your heart drenching sobs and it kills you, but this feels better. better than the moment when his ink bleeds on paper while he listens to you. better than the moments when he talks to you about your issues. you want him to hold you close, but then again it's a professional setting.

'i shouldn't have called you,' you sob.

'it's okay love,' he soothes, placing a soft chaste kiss on your forehead. 'can you take some deep breathes for me darling?' he questions as you slowly try to calm yourself. your chest heaves against his, your throat scratchy but you take a few deep breathes. you hide your face against his chest,

'i'm sorry, sirius.' you say. you can hear his heartbeat against your eardrums, and it calms you.

'it's okay love,' he whispers, his nose hidden in your hair. he inhales the scent of your shampoo. his chest rumbles.

he feels like the comfort of your old cardigan.

[chainmailchalamet]

sugar high 🍒

synopsis: sugar daddy hs, always black n non-binary reader, established dynamic w/ some power play, possessive language, lil degradation, spit kink, mean dom(ish) hs, yktfv

Harry is…complex, by nature. He is a well curated structure of contradictions. He is a rockstar, an animal, a glossy beastly thing on stage. He glows under the spotlight, basking in all that concentrated attention with the air of a man who deserves every last drop. He is a hip roller, a tongue wagger, a dark eyed pretty boy dream. He’s sharp cut hips, tatted all over and wrapped up in glitter.

He is also a cream puff — that’s the version of him you met first, assisting a stylist on a Gucci suiting campaign. You’d steamed his double breasted coat, matched the ties to his green-glass eyes, buttoned him up all snug in his dress-shirt. And he’d blushed and dimpled his way through all of it. Told you that you didn’t have to do all that (“I kind of do, darling, it’s my job”), said please and thank you and stood where he was supposed to stand and made everyone laugh and look at him all fond because he was a professional sweetheart, an actual dream to work with. With the way he acted, you couldn’t tell he found you attractive until after the shoot wrapped and he walked up to you all bashful to ask for your number. It was the way he stated his intentions that got you, the way he said, soft and steady “anything you want, we can do anything you want as long as I can keep you company”.

He took you for squid ink pasta for the first date, because you’d never had it. He showed you how he liked his oysters (“a little lemon, just a squeeze..”) and how to tip them back into your mouth to taste them, and he watched the way your lips wrapped round the shell with a low heat gaze, kept his desire on the simmer like he didn’t want to scare him away. You let your inhibitions sink away into a glass of champagne, flirted with him in the same breath you talked his ear off about your job, about the books you were reading, about your vision for the future. He was so like you — the same raw ambition, the same comfort in the way you wore your skin that you’d both fought tooth and nail for, the same wicked tongue. You liked to make him blush, to tease him until he was giggling in faux offense (“it is not a whore house, it’s a family show, that’s the whole point!” “sir, at last show you sang the words “if you’re getting yourself wet for me”, and then rubbed your fingers together to demonstrate said wetness, those are the actions of a whore!”), until he let some of that babygirl cupcake act drop long enough to thumb some passion fruit sorbet from the corner of your lip and take it into his mouth, closing his eyes and groaning a little under his breath like you just tasted that good.

The second date was a flea market in the south of France. He prepared you with a simple instruction to pack light, and in response to your question about the cost of the train and accommodation and time off work he responded the same — kissed you on the temple and said “I’ll take care of all of it, you don’t have to worry about a thing, you can have anything you want, sweetheart”.

And then he did, took care of every detail — told your boss he was borrowing you for a shoot (“bring them back in one piece, styles, they’re one of our best” “mm, no promises”), got the both of you a private carriage so you could watch the grey London skyline fade away into lush fields of lavender, held your hand all the way, looked at you like you were the best view in sight, whisked you away to a cute little hostel where no one but the owners recognized him (the lady of the house absolutely fawned over him, called him strawberry boy, chided him for being gone for so long).

You used maybe two braincells that weekend — he made sure of that. Every whim, he tended to. If you wanted coffee, he went to the market and fetched you something freshly ground with notes of toffee and dark chocolate. If your stomach rumbled, he sat you down on the kitchen counter and fixed you lemon pasta, fed you dates by hand while the sauce settled, stole kisses in-between bites — cupped your face in his hands and licked into your mouth and said “feel so lucky, can’t believe your here, are you happy, what do you need, whatever you want, wanna give you everything…”.

You let him fuck you during that trip. After a dreamy morning picnicking with a jar of strawberry preserves and fresh bread and heavenly salted butter, and a whole day at the markets where he bought you a whole new wardrobe, gently insisting that he wanted to do this for you. “Harry, this is vintage alaïa, I don’t need that” you’d said. “You’re a stylist, sweetheart, might come in handy — and you’ve been eyeing it up since you saw it, at least try it on, yeah? See how you feel after”.

You’d tried it on, and it fit so perfect your mouth went a little dry — and his eyes on you, the way he smoothed his hands over your hips and told you that “you look so pretty, angel, prettiest fucking thing I ever saw” made you light-headed, running your thighs together in the dressing room. He liked doing that to you, putting you in pretty things, seeing you admire yourself. He bought you the alaïa, the cavalli handbag, a silk Gucci scarf — he was still polite, still your sweet thoughtful boy, but you could see through the cracks to what lay beneath that. The power he held over you, the obvious pleasure he took in being able to take care of you, showering you in nice things, the way he made you feel you didn’t have to think about anything when you were with him because he could do the thinking for you.

That’s the man that took you to bed. The one that told you to put your pretty new things away and wait for him in the bedroom while he tucked the groceries away. The one who met you with hungry eyes when he found you stripped down to your new chocolate brown agent provocateur set and kneeling on the bed and just clicked his tongue and asked you if he told you to do that. Tutted when you looked at him all confused and tried to explain yourself, shushed you and said (with the same quiet intensity as the first day he met you), “not your fault baby, didn’t have to think at all today, you’re just my pretty little doll, huh?”

that’s the Harry that felt every bit of your mouth with his fingers, pressed down on your tongue until you drooled a little and then made fun of you for it. The one that wouldn’t let you touch his dick until he worked you up so good that you thought you would cry, ran his tongue over the lace on your body, teased over every single sensitive inch of you until you were shaking and begging (“please, Harry please, just touch me, anything, anything” “look at you — pretty fucking mess for me, huh? wanna see you cry, baby, can’t give you my dick unless you ask real nice for me”).

He fucked you slow and deep with a hand wrapped around your neck, told you that one day he’d buy you something shiny to lay where his hand had been, but until then you’d just have to wear his fingers around your throat — told you that it was his favorite thing you’d tried on all day, called you his doll, his baby, his perfect little slut. “M’gonna give you everything you fucking want,” he said, licking the salt off your skin as it trailed down your cheek, pulling your head back to spit in your mouth and rub it into your tongue (“filthy thing, you like that? nuh-uh? you got real tight on me, baby, you must really like that”), rolling his hips and driving in hard until your eyes rolled back and you couldn’t even find your voice to beg him for more. “And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you? Not gonna fight me, are you baby? Just gonna let me take care of everything, I know what you need, daddy’s gonna give you fucking everything — that’s it, angel, just shut the fuck up and take it, you’re so good at that”.

He made you come like that, and then flipped you over, lifted your hips up and licked you out from the back, slapped you across the clit if you tried to run away from it, told you to “take it, don’t fucking run, gonna make a big mess aren’t you, show me, fuckin’ show me, that’s so good, you’re so good”, and then fucked you like that — pushed your face into the mattress and laid into you until you did make a mess, till you were drooling with it.

He was back in full sweetheart mode when he was done with you — ran you a bath and toweled you dry and held you in his arms till you fell asleep, kissed your head and said “thank you, baby, did so good for me, gave me everything I’ll ever need”. He was complex like that — a menace, an angel, a demon, a fucking fairytale prince. And you were lucky enough that you got to see every inch of it, bask in the flow of it.

[stylesparadise]

Hi friends! I hope this post finds you well! I’m going to cut to the chase and say that I am once again looking for someone to (telegram) roleplay with!

My life has been a bit crazy lately, but I’m finding some inspiration and free time that I would love to put into a creative outlet to strengthen myself as a writer. I am over 21 so I request that my partners are the same, maybe 18+, but absolutely no minors. I’ve been writing for at least 9 years and would like to say that I’m well seasoned in this! I normally write a page (or more) depending on how well detailed the other response is so that I feel I can have enough to write off of. I’m more than okay with switching plots and trying new things so please do not hesitate to ask on any of those. I also get lives get in the way and I will put in here that I do work a full time early morning job!

I am interested in broadening from my normal and would like to search for someone to write for Sirius Black (or Harry Potter in general), Pedro Pascal or Joel Miller, and as always Harry Styles, One Direction (and solo!), 5SOS. if any of this interests you please message me and hopefully we can connect!

I do ask that you use “,” quotations when speaking, proper grammar and spelling, and are able to write in this lengthier responses (I understand short ones happen). I normally prefer doubles and would like to stick to that as I feel it’s only fair and wouldn’t want to make someone write as only a male lead. We can discuss everything else!

4.16.2023

[loviestyless]

Whispered Temptation*

Summary: Nova simply couldn’t help herself but test Harry’s patience, pushing him until the tension between them got too much. Just how she had planned. (rockstarry x oc)

Warnings: drugs, mean harry, smut, dom!harry, bratty sub, oral (m receiving), public sex, praise kink, slight exhibitionism

A rhythmic tapping of heels against concrete echoed backstage as Nova allowed the excited chatter of the crowd to wash over her while she awaited the cue to hit the stage. Nervous energy flooded her veins, making it almost impossible to stand still while she toyed with her outfit and messed up her curls. Bending over slightly to get a closer look in the mirror placed perfectly in her view, Nova found herself pushing her tits up in her shirt so more cleavage was on display and tidying up her red lipstick that had smeared slightly in her rush to leave her dressing room on time.

Five minutes until show time and Nova LaRoy felt fucking invincible. She didn't care she was merely the opening act, the crowd would be hanging off her every note just like they did each night without fail. They may have bought the ticket with the sole intention of seeing Harry Styles but they would leave this venue tonight seduced by Nova's talent.

The thought alone made a cocky smirk tug at the woman's lips. Everyone fucking loved her.

"That fucking bitch!" A deep voice rumbled in the distance, thundering footsteps hurrying with purpose in Nova's direction. The darkness dripping off his words should have made Nova nervous, knowing full well the type of anger this man could harbour, but instead, it simply made her snicker to herself as she continued to admire her reflection.

Crew members scurried about backstage, their actions turning into a fearful frenzy as they made themselves busy to avoid getting caught up in whatever was about to take place. Nova found herself suddenly alone, microphone in hand as the minutes until her cue ticked away.

Her bandmates had already taken to the stage, messing around with their instruments to pass the time until the curtain rose. Just the right amount of anxiety settled Nova's stomach, making her jittery and determined to put on the best show of her life. Her cherry red guitar was propped up on the stand by the stage, ready and waiting for her grand entrance and Nova found herself itching to stomp across the stage and strike the first chords for the screaming crowd to enjoy.

Suddenly the waft of cherry perfume flooded her senses as Harry's reflection appeared in the mirror behind her. His cheeks were flushed with fury, matching the fire in his eyes as he located the person to spark such emotion deep within him.

Judging by his appearance - black leather trousers left partially unbuttoned and the absence of a shirt - Harry had been in the middle of getting dressed into his stage outfit when he'd discovered what Nova had done.

"You!" Harry spat, dark eyes locking on Nova's honey brown as she spun to face him, not realising he was closer than she first thought. His tall frame towered over her, their bodies inches from touching. But she didn't shrink back like he wanted. Instead, she made herself stand taller, chin held high as a devilish smirk played at her painted pink lips.

"It's me..." She teased, acting oblivious to what was inspiring such rage within the man in front of her. His inked chest heaved with heavy breaths as he struggled to contain himself and Nova found herself forcing her gaze to remain on Harry's, not trailing down the expanse of his toned torso emphasised by the red hue of the stage lighting.

From the very first day she met Harry Styles, it had not been lost on her how attractive he was. He was effortlessly pretty in the way that only rugged rock stars could achieve and Nova often found herself wondering if she would have fallen for his natural charm if it wasn't for his huge ego. After mere hours on the road, the woman quickly discovered that there was a side to the famous rockstar that his fans were kept from seeing.

Everything had to go Harry's way and if it didn't, there would be hell to pay. Trashed dressing rooms and pathetic temper tantrums followed in Harry's wake and it became very clear that if the rockstar didn't like you, then you'd better stay out of his way. His snarky attitude and diva-like temper were fuel to Nova's sharp tongue and no matter how many times Harry expressed his dislike for her, she couldn't help herself but purposefully piss him off.

As one can imagine, it caused a lot of tension on the road.

"Give it back." His words were stern and dripping with authority. Harry was obviously under the impression that being the star of the show every night gave him the right to boss everyone around. Most people did as he said, knowing their lives would be easier to avoid upsetting him. But Nova was never one to do as she was told.

"No idea what you're talking about, honey." Sweetness oozed from her lips, the playful nickname only winding the rockstar up even more. His sharp jaw clenched, left hand moving to cup her chin tightly to keep her attention on him instead of the crew member that had appeared to try hurrying her onto the stage. Her band was watching from the stage, rolling their eyes when they realised that she was being held up by yet another petty argument with Harry fucking Styles.

"My coke. Give it now." A hint of desperation tainted his words, barely detectable but Nova could sense it as he demanded she give back what was stolen.

She knew he depended on bumping a few lines before his set, unable to battle his crippling stage fright without a little help. It wasn't as if she had planned to steal the drugs from his dressing room but the opportunity was right there for her to take when the door was left wide open with no one inside. Besides, if he didn't want someone to take something he was so reliant on, perhaps he shouldn't leave the white powder out on the coffee table for anyone to snatch.

"Oh!" Nova suddenly gasped, hand on her chest in mock realisation. "This is your coke. My bad."

Instantly, her fingers dipped into her bra and fished around for the little baggie of crushed bliss she'd placed there for safekeeping. As she did so, Nova didn't miss the way Harry's eyes drifted across her chest, lingering on her breasts in her low-cut top for longer than needed.

Heavy bass suddenly flooded through the speakers, causing a round of screams to ring out through the entire arena and forcing Harry to remove his grasp from Nova's jaw. She had around thirty seconds to go bounding onto stage or her band would be forced to improvise the opening song.

"Oops, that's my cue. Gotta go!"

"Don't you fucking dare?" Harry snarled, his fingers gripping Nova's wrist and tugging her harshly so she stumbled into his body. Their faces were mere inches apart as fury blazed in Harry's eyes, brows knitted together in a harsh frown.  "Give me the coke, sweetheart."

"Come get it, honey." Her voice oozed seduction as she pulled the top of her thong above her mini skirt slightly, stuffing the drugs between the cotton material and the heat of her skin, revelling in the swirl of emotions making the air grow thick between them. Harry's brows raised slightly, a little taken aback by her bold action and what it implied - especially considering she had never given him such implications in the past.

Taking her opportunity, Nova stepped back once again, this time able to grab her guitar and prepare herself to run out in front of the crowd before her band got too pissed off by her antics.

"You think that will stop me, sweetheart, you've got another thing coming," Harry smirked, no doubt a plan forming in his mind on how to get Nova back for this. "I always get what I want."

"Is that a promise?"

Blowing him a kiss, Nova sauntered onto the stage, ignoring the ache between her legs at the promise of what would be awaiting her when she got off stage.

.......

Cigarette perched between her lips, Nova found herself leaning against the side of her tour bus as the night air cooled her flushed cheeks.

Heavy rock music floated through the air, drifting from an open fire exit and serving as quiet background noise in the otherwise peaceful parking bay. The small walkway between her and Harry's tour bus offered enough privacy that she doubted anyone would be able to find her until she was ready to socialise again. Her bandmates were no doubt in the middle of sweaty mosh pits, enjoying Harry's show like they did every night while crew members were too busy sorting through endless piles of equipment ready to pack up the stage the moment Harry went back to his dressing room.

Having stepped offstage almost two hours ago, Nova found herself needing to unwind alone - the screaming crowd still ringing in her ears as she processed the insane night she'd had. Every time she took the stage it never truly hit her that she was finally living out the dream she'd been working so hard to achieve for years.

It all became a little overwhelming in the time between her set and hitting the road to the next venue and she found reflecting on her life while chain-smoking a pack of cigarettes was the best way to process everything.

Tonight, however, all that consumed Nova's mind were those dark green eyes glinting mischievously with lust as she made her way through the setlist.

As the final song of Nova's set rang through the arena, the singer could feel Harry's intense stare watching her every move and knew that she had to make this song count. Sweat glistened on her chest as the heat of the lights bore down on her and Nova found herself using it as an excuse to tug her top over her head so she was strutting about the stage in her black lace bra and leather mini skirt.

Sure, it was a little excessive but it was all part of her charm. And it most definitely caught Harry's attention judging by how she caught him sneakily trying to adjust himself in his pants as he watched on from the darkness of the side stage.

"I was in your wet dream

Driving in my car

Saw you at the side of the road

There's no one else around"

The atmosphere of the crowd was electric, singing at the top of their lungs as they recognised the lyrics from when Harry covered the song a few months prior. Her messy curls clung to her sweaty forehead, a taunting smirk tugging at her lips as she swayed her hips with every step across the stage. She forced herself to remain focused on performing rather than glancing over to assess whether Harry was still watching what she was doing.

"You're touching yourself, touching yourself

Touching your, touching yourself

Touching yourself"

As the lyrics left her painted lips, Nova slowly trailed her hand across her chest and squeezed her tits - earning screams from the crowd that made her smirk with confidence. The song continued with Nova feeding from the energy of the crowd, chuckling slightly at some of the signs people were holding up in the front row and waving to those she recognised from previous shows.

"You climb onto the bonnet

And you're licking the windscreen

I've never seen anything so obscene"

Her singing became lighter as she acted as if she was breathless, taking her opportunity to tease Harry by getting onto her knees, spreading them just wide enough so that her skirt rode up her thighs but didn't expose the material of her thong underneath. Leaning back slightly, she rocked her hips slowly as her honey-brown eyes locked onto Harry's darkened green. His amusement had disappeared, completely taken over by lust.

"It's enough to make a girl blush

It's enough, it's enough to make a girl blush"

Her fingers trailed down her sweaty body, tantalisingly slow while she teased the crowd and the rockstar side stage as she inched closer to the waistband of her skirt.

"It's enough, it's enough, it's enough, it's enough

It's enough, it's enough, it's enough, it's enough to make a girl blush"

Harry's eyes never left Nova's and suddenly everything faded around her as she focused solely on the gorgeous tattooed rockstar giving her his full attention. Her fingers grazed over the material where his coke was currently hidden in her thong, breathy moans tainting the lyrics drifting through her lips and Nova didn't fail to notice the flush dusting Harry's cheeks at her action.

Forcing herself to remove her seductive stare from Harry before she sparked rumours neither singer wanted to deal with in the morning, Nova returned her attention to finishing the song. Getting back up on her feet, Nova reigned back the sexual display she was putting on and returned to a level of professionalism required of her to do her job.

As the final notes of the song echoed through the arena, Nova dared one last glance side stage and found Harry had promptly left. Most people would assume this was so he could prepare himself for taking his place on the stage in half an hour.

But Nova knew he was biding his time until he could make her pay for her little performance.

"Did you enjoy yourself out there?" Harry's deep voice cut through the silence that now hung in the air. So engrossed in thought, Nova hadn't realised the music had stopped and distant chatter filtered through the streets as streams of people made their way home.

Leaning against the end of his tour bus, Harry's silhouette loomed in the walkway between the buses - the limited lighting casting intimidating shadows across his sharp features. Nova remained silent in Harry's presence, instead taking another drag from her cigarette as she awaited for the man to pester her for his coke. The absence of a smart remark was enough for the rockstar to continue taunting Nova, taking slow steps towards her in the darkness as he tried to earn a reaction.

"Acting like a slut for thousands of people to see." There was an edge to Harry's words and Nova had to refrain from smirking to herself when she picked up on it. As much as he tried to maintain his usual angry demeanour, it was obvious he was currently being fuelled by sexual frustration.

"You sound jealous." Nova purred, nonchalantly taking a final drag of her cigarette while she watched Harry slowly approach her. She flicked the butt of her cigarette onto the concrete, squashing it with the heel of her boot before speaking again. "Need some attention, honey?"

The rockstar's trademark cherry perfume flooded Nova's senses once more as his presence loomed over her. One minute he was a few metres away, the next his arm was leant against the tour bus, pinning Nova in place with his body mere centimetres from hers. His green eyes glinted mischievously as they locked on her honey brown, causing Nova's breath to hitch slightly in anticipation of what he might be planning.

"What I need is for you to return what you stole, sweetheart." His voice was rough from a mixture of lust and the strain from performing, sparking a wave of desire to roll through Nova and settling as a throb between her legs. His thumb came up to her mouth, lingering on her bottom lip as she pouted playfully. Opening her mouth, she allowed him to push it in further with the silent demand to suck. Nova wasn't one to do as she was told but she also wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to tease the sexy rockstar with his body pressed against hers.

A soft moan rumbled in the back of her throat as she set to work, ensuring Harry knew exactly what she could offer the moment she got on her knees for him.

The cold night air suddenly turned thick as Harry's eyes trailed down Nova's body, lingering momentarily on the miniskirt riding up her thighs and threatening to expose the thong keeping his drugs in her possession. Nova smirked as she noticed this and decided to get things moving - her core was aching and Harry wasn't moving fast enough for her liking.

"Like I said before, come and get it." She shrugged, her brows raised slightly as she dared Harry to follow through with what he was implying. "You know where it is."

Immediately, Harry's fingers ghosted down her stomach, toying with the waistband of her skirt while his lips attached themselves to her neck. Nova found herself relaxing under her attention, the tension that had been building all night finally starting to uncoil as the promise of release was on the horizon. Tangling her fingers in Harry's long curls, she tugged gently as he busied himself marking up the pale skin of her neck and was instantly rewarded with a soft groan.

Nova felt Harry's hand dip past the waistband of her skirt, teasing her cunt over the fabric of her thong and letting his fingertips graze the small bag of coke hidden close to her dripping sex. It took everything in her not to moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing to her.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He breathed, finally stepping back after retrieving what was stolen. "You're fuckin' trouble."

The pair shared a soft chuckle in agreement, Harry's shaking hands desperately working to open the baggie to get the drugged-out bliss he was denied before his show. Right as he was about to tip a line out on the back of his hand, Nova snatched the bag out of his grasp.

"What the fuck-"

"Call yourself a fucking rockstar?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tugged down the neckline of her top, exposing the lace bra Harry had been admiring hours prior. "You won't even snort coke off a pair of tits."

His eyes widened slightly at the realisation of what she was suggesting, curse words tumbling from his lips as he rushed to help her unclasp her bra. Her nipples hardened against the cool air the moment Harry relieved Nova of the lace garment, allowing her chest to be on full display. Being hidden between both tour buses while everyone else was still inside the area had its perks and luckily for Harry, it meant he could bury his face in a gorgeous pair of tits without being interrupted.

"Shittin' hell" He cursed, lustful gaze admiring the way Nova squeezed her tits slightly just to tease him. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was a man who was easily distracted by a woman with a nice rack - as had been demonstrated a few times tonight.

"Go on then," She purred, tipping a messy line of white power along her right breast, brown eyes watching Harry with anticipation. "Indulge yourself, honey."

"With fucking pleasure" Not needing to be told twice, Harry pressed his lips to Nova's in a lustful kiss before moving expertly south to snort the line without hesitation. Tipping his head back, he let out a loud groan that sent waves tingling through Nova's body. Not even bothering to wipe his nose, Harry allowed himself to indulge in more than just the coke, sucking at the sensitive skin of her chest with desire.

His free hand toyed with Nova's left breast, squeezing it softly and toying with her nipple all while he marked up her right with hickies that would last for days. Hot breath tickled her skin and Nova leaned her head back against the cool surface of the tour bus, whimpering with pleasure as she let Harry do what he wanted.

His hips pushed harder against Nova's body as he switched to suck her other breast and a quiet gasp filled the air as she felt his hard length on her thigh.

"Perfect, darlin'" He hummed quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "Perfect fuckin' tits, sweetheart. So sexy."

"That's all I'm good for?" She teased, curling her fingers in his hair and pulling him away to look her in the eye. Blown pupils, swollen lips and white powder dusting his nose made him look dazed - a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as pleasure filled all his senses.

"What's wrong? Happy to act like a whore but don't wanna be treated like one?" Harry immediately bit back, snaking his hand around her neck and squeezing slightly to keep her focused on him. Her smart mouth was pissing him off just like Nova had planned, all she needed was to push him a little more and she'd get the rough fucking she was after.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, darling." He whispered, bringing his face closer so their lips were practically brushing together. "Bad girls don't get fucked like princesses."

"Fuck-" She breathed out, the wetness collecting at her core practically dripping down her thighs at his words. As much as she hoped she appeared more composed than she felt, Nova just needed to feel relief. Her whole body was on fire and judging by the flush in Harry's cheeks and the bulge in his leather trousers, he too was feeling the tension.

"Give me back my coke and get on your fucking knees, baby." Harry's voice was sharp with authority and paired with the squeeze of his fingers on her neck, Nova knew the time for teasing was over. Silently, she obeyed. Harry shoved the coke into his back pocket and watched in slight disbelief as Nova sank to her knees and waited patiently for her next instruction.

"Good girl." He praised and a smile curled at Nova's lips. "Now put that mouth to work and suck my fucking cock."

"What's the magic word?" Her voice was playful despite the tight fist the rockstar had on her messy curls.

"Now."

Nova's fingers immediately tugged at the zipper of his trousers, her eyes locked on Harry's who watched her every move. She worked expertly to tug down his trouser just enough so that his cock would spring free from its confined, brows quirking upwards when she noticed he had been commando all night as if to ask: 'Really?'

All he did was shrug his shoulders in response, his chest heaving with anticipation as her delicate touch curled around his thick length. Adjusting her position slightly, the concrete dug into her knees as she let a string of spit drop onto Harry's tip, collecting it with her hand before slowly working his length to make sure he was fully ready for her mouth.

"Shit-" Harry's head tipped back with pleasure, small grunts filling the air as he tried to keep his composure. "Feels so good."

Taking this as the indication to go further, Nova took him into her mouth with a soft moan, revelling in the salty taste as she worked him slowly. Her hand covered what wouldn't fit in her mouth, making sure to give him her full attention.

"Nova. Fuck-" Harry's hips bucked forwards unexpectedly, causing her to gag at the feeling of his length hitting the back of her throat before she was ready. As soon as Harry noticed, he backed off a little with a small apology but Nova was unfazed.

Instead, she took it as a challenge. She willed her throat to relax and took him deeper into her mouth, making sure to swirl her tongue over his tip as she sucked to make him squirm. Gorgeous moans tumbled from Harry's open lips and Nova peered up at him through her lashes to see his eyes had fluttered closed and brows knitted together with pleasure.

The sight alone was enough to get Nova soaked and she found herself in desperate need of relief, something she wasn't currently getting from Harry. It was time to take matters into her own hands...literally. Taking advantage of Harry being too wrapped up in his pleasure, she trailed her free hand down past the waistband of her thong and began to tease her clit slowly.

Her rhythm never faltered on Harry's cock as she continued to toy with her clit, her soft moans only adding to the rockstar's pleasure. It was only when she pushed a finger past her folds that her attention slowly became focused on herself, something that Harry was quick to pick up on.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?" His voice was husky with lust as his fist tugged Nova's hair hard enough that she was pulled off his cock with a soft pop. A playful smile brightened her features all while she continued to work herself deeper towards the blissful waves of an orgasm crashing over her. "Always have to misbehave."

His rough hand snaked back around her neck, squeezing a little as he demanded she get back on her feet. Reluctantly, she did as she was told, the fire in his eyes persuading her to go along with his instructions so she could finally get the dick she'd been dreaming of for days.

Without warning, Harry had spun her around and had her pinned against the tour bus with his tall frame. Her bare tits were pressed against the cool surface of the bus, serving as a welcome relief to her burning skin as Harry's hot breath ghosted her neck. Dragging his tongue against her fevered skin, the rockstar nibbled and sucked his way upwards until his teeth tugged at her earlobe.

"Need me to teach you a lesson? Hmm." His tone was dripping with arrogance but Nova didn't care to bite back at this moment. For once she was going to keep quiet and let him take what he wanted. A small nod was all she gave him, unable to trust her voice from wavering the moment she opened her mouth but this earned her a sharp tug on her curls in reprimand.

"Use your words, sweetheart." He purred, rolling his hip against her ass to remind her of what she could have if she did as she was told. "Lord knows it's never been an issue before."

Harry's foot gently nudged Nova's legs further apart as his arm wrapped around her waist, waiting for verbal consent before touching her aching cunt.

"Please, Harry-" She whined desperately, pushing her hips backwards slightly in an attempt to get him to do something, anything, that would ease the ache between her legs. "Fuck me, please."

Harry's fingers slowly began to circle Nova's clit over the fabric of her thong while she spoke, his movements just slow enough to keep her on edge and drag this out for longer. He could tell she was holding back a little, perhaps unsure how far Harry wanted to take this, but he was determined to make her feel comfortable.

"You can do better than that, darling." He demanded, "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Harry, just fuck me. Teach me to be your good girl, please." Nova's breathless whines got Harry's cock throbbing with need, a bead of precum collecting at the tip as he pictured all the possible ways he could truly teach her a lesson. But they were outside where anyone could catch them at any moment. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd walked offstage but he did know that the crew would soon be wanting to hit the road for the next stop.

If he wanted to take his time with Nova, it would have to wait until he had a night in a hotel. For now, they'd just have to fuck out the tension between them and Harry was more than alright with a quickie after a night of so much teasing.

"Need to be quick, sweetheart. Don't wanna get caught." Harry panted, peppering lazy kisses against her skin as he took his thick length in his hand and began to drag his tip along her clothed cunt.

"Don't care, just need you inside me." But when Harry continued to tease her, she quickly added. "Please, honey."

"So polite." A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled her thong aside. Without hesitating, he entered Nova with a groan of pleasure, his mind completely overwhelmed by the feeling of her tight cunt taking him so well as his thick length stretched her out. "Fuck, baby. So fucking perfect."

His fingertips dug into Nova's hips as he slowly began to move, heavy breaths and pretty moans of pleasure rang through the air as Harry took control. It took all of Harry's strength to keep her right where he wanted, pinned tightly between his sweaty body and the cool surface of the bus as she squirmed with desire. As much as she knew they needed to be quick, she wanted Harry completely - she needed him to kiss her, to fuck her, to give all of himself to her. Their current position made it almost impossible for that to happen but she supposed that was what she'd asked for, to be taught how to behave.

As Harry had alluded to, bad girls don't get what they want.

"H-Harder, need more." Nova moaned and Harry growled in response. His hips snapped sharply upwards, causing his cock to brush against her g-spot as he fucked her as she demanded. But it still wasn't enough. She wanted to see him, to watch him fall into the depths of pleasure while he fucked her - this wasn't her.

Never had she been so needy, so desperate to be so close to someone during a quick hookup. Harry was different, she wasn't sure why but he was, even with such a horrible attitude.

"Harry-" She went to speak up, but it seemed as if he was feeling the same.

"I know, sweetheart." He nodded in understanding, pulling out quickly and allowing her to face him once more. "Wanna watch as you fall apart."

His strong arms gripped her thighs, helping her jump slightly so he could wrap her legs around his waist. Their mouths met in a heated kiss as Harry pushed her back against the bus once more - Nova's moans being swallowed by Harry as he made sure they wouldn't get caught. Nova's hand tangled itself in his curls, tugging hard enough to make his eyes close with satisfaction, the other wrapping around his cock to guide him back inside her.

From this new position, she immediately felt him hitting the perfect spot with every thrust.

"So deep." Her words were breathless, her mind going blurry as waves of pleasure began to build within her. "Needed you so bad."

"Oh yeah? Needed me to fuck you like the slut you are?" Harry taunted, sweaty forehead pressed against hers as he continued fucking her with a surprising amount of energy considering the long day he'd had. "Fuck you raw, fill you to the brim with my come?"

The sound of skin slapping and fevered moans filled the air as Harry picked up the pace, his rhythm never faltering as his lips attached themselves to the soft skin of her neck once again, making sure she was marked up just to his liking.

"Yeah, baby. I want it all. Need all of you." Everything was starting to become a little hazy as she succumbed to every feeling rolling through her body. Harry knew exactly how to please her and her body was responding accordingly. Her toes curled in her boots, eyes rolled shut and lips fell open as she felt the wave rising in her lower stomach.

"Look at you, such a good girl taking me so well." He praised, smirking as Nova let out a loud moan, tight cunt clenching around his cock with approval. "Can't wait to take my time with you, spread you out on my bed all night."

His hips began to falter, every thrust bringing the pair of them closer to release. Neither of them cared how loud they were being, whether any lingering fans could hear them from the other side of the arena walls.

"Harry." Nova's head fell back against the bus as she threatened to topple over the edge and Harry jerked his hips harder as he chased his own orgasm.

"Go on, baby. Let go f'me."

And with that, Nova's orgasm hit her instantly. Her hips bucked in time with Harry's as he helped her through the waves of pleasure that crashed over her, his own release following soon after as she clamped around him tightly. Thick come painted her insides as Harry rested his forehead against Nova's chest, both of them panting quietly as the night air stilled around them once more.

Minutes ticked by as they remained embraced in the shadowed privacy between the two buses, neither one of them wanting to separate.

"That was-" Nova started only to get cut off by Harry who seemed to share her thoughts. Realising it must be time for the crew to nearly make their way back out to the buses, Harry pulled out so both of them could tidy up their appearances to look presentable in front of anyone close by.

"Fuck, why didn't we do this sooner?"

Both of them chuckled lightly, Nova pulling her skirt back down against her thighs as Harry zipped his trousers back up. There was no awkwardness between them, their little escapade had only served to bring them closer together, all the tension between them now out of their systems.

"We could always go for round two." She suggested playfully, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck to peck a soft kiss on his lips. After being so close to his warm body, she found it hard to face the possibility of spending her night alone in her bed.

"My bus or yours?"

[elioslover]

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 💞

[lemoncrushh]

You And I

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

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

Word Count: 4.5k+

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

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

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

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

“Gaga?” Bruno raised a brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Long as you ain’t driving, love!”

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

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

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

“Wha’?” he asked.

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

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Kinda sexy, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No it wasn’t,” Harry jabbed.

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

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

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

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

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

“I dunno. You just...are.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we okay?” he asked me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

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

“Did something happen, Alyssa?”

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

“Since I saw you last,” replied Harry.

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

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

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

“Tell me,” Harry said softly.

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

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

I snorted. “So, I’m baby now?”

“Alyssa…”

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted.

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

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

“Oh.” I blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” I raised a brow.

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

“I’m just stood here, Harry.”

“That’s enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got new sheets,” Harry commented.

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

“Let me,” I heard Harry say.

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

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

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

“Something wrong?” I dare asked.

“Do you want me, Alyssa?”

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

“I always want you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I lost count after that.

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

“You want me here?” Harry asked.

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

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

“Harry…” I panted. “Oh god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did I say?”

“Just making sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first,” he shook his head.

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

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

“Fuck, Harry!” I screamed.

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

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

“Baby…” he groaned. “Oh, Alyssa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I know.”

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

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

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

“What I want?” Harry asked incredulously.

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

“No, we’re not,” he stated.

My jaw dropped as I glared at him.

“I don’t want you to be..." he added.

“What?”

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

“This?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t...know what to say, Harry.”

“Say you want me too. You and I.”

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

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

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

Harry chuckled. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

Harry snorted. “Or Bruno?”

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

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

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

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

Hope you enjoyed!

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

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[goldenbuckyyy]

PARALYZED

Summary: Your mind is making you believe things you shouldn’t.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x OC, Mentions of HS x OC

Word Count: 4kish

Warnings: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST PARTNER, mentions of blood, slapping, tugging, and previous events of D.V. Also being gaslit, believing something you shouldn’t, allures to depression, anxiety, PTSD from D.V events.

PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF ANY OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

A/N: First off, I am so sorry I’m barely posting part 4! I know it’s been a long time since I posted part 3, but I was in a funk about this short series and I had no idea what to do with it! I’m thinking since it’s such a heavy topic, it felt almost draining, but.. here it is! And I hope you all enjoy it. 🫶🏻 thank you for supporting me and loving my work!! I’m also tagging the people that commented on the last part! Song Inspo: “Paralyzed” by NF

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been home since your accident. 

Accident. 

The word felt weird in your brain. It felt weird in your mouth. It felt weird even thinking about it. 

Because the more you thought about it… the more your brain tried to remember the events that had happened to you and the more pain it caused you. 

You had spent the entire time locked up in your home. 

Absolutely terrified to go outside. To see your friends. To see your family.

You hadn’t even seen Harry and it wasn’t for his lack of trying. He called. He texted. He even came to the house when he knew Asher would be at work. He’d stay outside for hours in his Range Rover and you’d secretly watch him from the window upstairs that he didn’t know had the perfect view of him. 

And he looked just as rough as you felt. 

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak to him. Let alone see him. 

Sometimes.. sometimes you’d cry sitting against the front door as you listened to Harry talking to you from behind it. 

But you would simply just text him to leave you alone and that you couldn’t speak to him anymore. 

He sent you so many messages daily and it made you feel guilty. Guilty for shutting him out after he was there for you.  Ashamed for what you had done to Asher. And terrified because you didn’t want anything to happen to Harry. The more you thought about what had happened to you… the more it made you afraid of Harry getting hurt because of you. 

You just felt so horrible. So ashamed. So guilty. So gross. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to record anything for your socials. 

You had been posting old drafts that you had saved for a rainy day and you feared that your followers were slowly realizing something was going on. But you ignored the feeling and persisted with your day to day life. 

Well, you were trying. 

Your body still aches. You still felt incredibly sore, but it was slowly getting better. 

The swelling around your face had gone down and the bruising was now a greenish/yellowing color. You still felt horrible. You felt hideous and ashamed. 

You didn’t know why, but you felt so ashamed of yourself. 

And you were terrified of Asher. 

You couldn’t even look at him. He had gone on with his day to day life after you had been released from the hospital. He tried to be there for you, but he could tell something was wrong because you wouldn’t let him touch you. 

You were so scared of him and you didn’t know why. You kept having nightmares of ‘the accident’ and the more and more you dreamt of it… the more the person resembled Asher. The more you saw the figure in your mind… the more their features twisted into Asher’s. 

Those dark eyes turned into angry blue ones. The messy black hair in your dreams turned into bright blonde. The blurry jaw turned sharp and all the features soon morphed into Asher. And it terrified you. 

Had it been Asher who had done this to you? 

The more you thought about it… the more those muffled words the person yelled turned into words yelled at you by Asher. 

The more you think about it the more your breathing starts feeling restricted because you can almost feel the way his strong hand was pressed against the base of your neck. The way he was physically choking you against the wall and how you cried to him, begging him to let you go, but he never did. 

Silent tears fall down your cheeks as the memories pile into your thoughts. You didn’t want to believe it. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

You grip onto your shoulders as you hug your knees to your chest and the cold bathtub feels good on your naked skin. But you feel hollow inside.. almost empty. 

The water surrounding your naked body is cold and your skin is breaking out into goosebumps. But you can’t find it in yourself to get out of it. 

You feel as if you’re drowning in all of your emotions with your heart pounding in your ears. Trying to find the meaning of why he did this to you. 

Why would he leave you with these scars inside of you that will never heal? 

You know what you did was wrong. So wrong. That’s why you hadn’t spoken to Harry in two weeks, but did you honestly deserve all of this? 

Maybe you did. 

Maybe you did deserve this. 

You did this. You cheated on him. You hurt him first. You destroyed him first. He just got even. 

The annoying little voice in your head kept repeating those sentences to you and you were starting to believe it. 

You let out a shaky breath as your body shakes with it. You slowly start to get out of the bathtub, your body feeling weak, and you know you look like shit. 

You had been feeling so nauseated and disgusting. You couldn’t keep anything down, but you kept trying. 

You obviously haven't been eating right and your body is showing it, but you avoid yourself in the mirror and dry yourself off in the dark closet. You pull on an oversized jumper and matching bottoms. You braid your wet hair into a braid and let out a deep sigh. Your chest feels heavy. 

You sit for a second, letting your eyes slowly go up, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your dark under eyes and hollow cheeks are enough to make you instantly look away. The bruises you still hold make your eyes sting. The fading handprint marks on your neck make you cringe. You close your eyes quickly and curse at yourself. 

You slowly make your way to your bed, putting your phone to charge, and slipping under the covers. 

And at that moment, Asher walks into the room in his work suit. His eyes immediately find you and you freeze in the bed. 

You wonder if he knows that you know it was him.  

Was it him? 

It was. 

His eyes never leave you as he bends down in front of you. You grip onto the covers around you and hold your breath when his fingers caress your face. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks with sincerity in his voice and warmth in his eyes. And you wonder how he could have ever laid a hand on you. 

“I’m okay,” you reply in a whisper and try to not shake underneath his touch. 

Why are you afraid of him? He was upset and you deserved it. 

“I’m glad,” he says as he quickly kisses your forehead and then goes into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and you let out a shaky breath that you were holding in. You wipe the wet kiss he left on your skin and then when you hear the shower start, your body relaxes into the bed. 

Then your phone vibrates on your nightstand. 

Your entire body runs cold and you quickly get it, jogging out of the room, and running downstairs. 

You step outside into your patio and answer your phone. The cold air hitting your face and making you instantly shiver.  

“You have to stop calling me,” you whisper immediately when you put the phone to your ear. Your heart thumps rapidly inside of your chest. 

You hear a small sniffle from the other side of the call and your heart tightens. 

“Sun..” 

You clench your eyes tightly and try to even out your breathing, “Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.” 

Even if your heart is screaming at you to let him back in. To ask him to come save you. To save you from Asher. To save you from yourself. 

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” His voice is filled with anguish, disbelief, and he sounds absolutely devastated. 

Because you can't admit that he did this to you. Because you deserve everything he did. Because you made the biggest mistake when you slept with Harry again. Harry doesn’t want you anymore. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose as an uneasiness settles into the pit of your stomach. “What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t,” you start pacing your backyard, wet grass tickling your feet, “How could he have done this to me?” You silently beg him for an answer. 

You weep silently as he asks, “You remember?” 

You silently groan and wipe your tears away in a rush. 

“I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me,” you demand as you quickly end the call and sit down on your patio chair. Trying to relax your heart rate as the ugly images rush in your brain. 

You clench your eyes tightly together, your hands grasping at the roots of your hair, and you let out a little whimper. 

Stop crying. You deserved it. 

You slowly start to work on your breathing, your entire body shaking with feelings of anxiety and desperation, and you lean back onto the chair. Letting yourself inhale deeply and calmly. Your eyes are still closed as you try to relax. 

“Y/N?”

Asher’s voice startles you which makes you flinch, which causes you to jump in the chair, your hands gripping onto the arm rests in a panic, and gasping deeply. Your eyes go wide in fright and you see Asher standing in front of you in only his pajama pants. His blonde hair is wet and messy. 

“Hey, it’s just me.” He coos at you, leaning down to watch you, his cold hands covering your own, and you try not to snatch them back. 

He notices your hesitation and he frowns. 

“Why are you outside?” His voice suddenly turned cold. 

“I just needed some fresh air,” you lie as you try to speak clearly and without any shakiness. 

Because your mind won’t stop trying to tell you about what happened. 

His eyebrows furr and his lips go tight. 

“You need to come inside before you catch a cold,” he demands. His hand tightens around your wrist and he basically tugs you onto your feet and drag you inside. 

You yelp loudly, “Asher, what are you doing? Let go of me!” 

He loves you. He wouldn’t hurt you. Would he? 

He already did. 

His hand only grips tighter around you as he drags you into the kitchen. 

The only place you had been avoiding since the accident. Your heart rate immediately goes sky high, confusion runs through you, and you beg, “Asher.. wh-what are you doing? Let me go, please.” 

Fear runs through your body when he shoves you into the kitchen stool and he stands in front of you. 

“Since when do you remember?” 

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes go wide, “Remember what?” 

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, and his dark eyes turn to you. “Let’s just stop this game where you pretend you don’t remember what I did to you and why I did it to you.” 

“I…I don’t—I don’t know…” 

You look down to try to avoid his hard stare and start fumbling with your fingers. A feeling of uneasiness surrounds you. 

His hand slams onto the countertop, the loud bang making you jump, and tears fill your eyes. Because you’re terrified. Your lip quivers in fright. 

“Stop fucking lying to me!! You’ve been lying to me for years! Saying you and Harry are over! That-that nothing was going on between you guys! That it was over! It was never fucking over!! You kept fucking him behind my back and I want to know why!” 

His hands grip your arms tightly, tears falling down your cheeks as you try to avoid his eyes, and he grabs your chin in his hand. 

“Stop fucking crying and tell me why you kept fucking him!!” He roars at you as angry tears run down his face, chest heaving in rage, and he looks terrifying. 

You cry into his palm, “I-I d-don't know why! It-it just happened, I s-swear!! Please, Asher! Please believe me! It only h-happened a couple times and—-“ you whine as his grip tightens around your chin and pain shoots all over your body from it. 

“So, who’s the father?” 

What? 

His question makes your tears halt, you suck in a deep breath, and your hands immediately go into his wrist to try and pull him off of you. Your eyes staring into his own in shock, “What are you t-talking about?!” 

Father? 

He shoves you off his palm and you steady yourself in the chair again, watching him, and trying to stop more tears from falling. He walks around the kitchen, shaking his head, and he lets out a chuckle in disbelief. 

“Asher!” You cry out, standing up this time even though you are shaking from head to toe, and you feel completely afraid of him. You have to know what he meant. 

“What are you talking about?!” 

He turns to look down at you, his eyes roaming your body, and he stops at your belly. You flinch under his attention, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you’re trying to protect your body from him, and he moves closer to you. 

“I told the nurse from the hospital that I’m your fiancée and she told me that you’re pregnant.” You gasp loudly, covering your mouth as sobs break through you, “The only reason why they told me was because they were about to tell you after they checked your blood work again to make sure, but I begged them not to say anything. Saying something about how it would be too much for you too soon.” He rolls his eyes at your sobs and continues, “I had to practically beg on my knees for them not to tell you, but you were beaten up so bad that they felt bad for you.” 

He leans down to look into your eyes as you try to back away. 

“Little did they know it was me who did it to you,” he whispers, “but then I found out you’re pregnant. And I admit.. I did feel a little bit guilty. But then I felt pissed. Because I don’t even know if the baby is mine. Do you?” 

You whimper as he gets closer to you, your arms wrapping tighter around your body, and you look down to your feet.  

“You did this to me,” you sob out in a whisper, finally admitting it out loud, and you feel your shoulders start to shake. 

He suddenly grabs your neck and in an instant without even hesitation, you react by slapping his face hard. The loud smack startles him as an angry groan rages out of his chest and you instantly retract backwards, fumbling and tripping on your feet to the floor. 

Why would you hit the man who loves you?

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t touch me, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me!” The words fly out of your mouth at a rapid speed as you quickly scatter into the corner of the room into a ball, trying to shield yourself from him with your arms, and your breathing picks up instantly. 

Asher’s quick steps allow him to reach you in an instant, his big hands swallow your wrist, and he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his embrace as he holds you tightly against his body. 

His free hand tugs into your hair, pulling at it by the roots and he laughs when you let out a pained whine, and tears spring out in the corner of your eyes, and you’re frozen in his hold. 

He’s pulling your hair down so that you’re looking up at him, his tight hold doesn’t let you move an inch, and his white teeth are covered in his own blood from the hard hit you gave him. 

“Are you scared of me?” He questions as he slowly caresses your face. 

You let out a low whimper as you watch him, scared to even breathe. 

“Why would I ever hit you? You’re my fiancé and I love you,” his voice is steady and cynical. You gulp down the lump in your throat as your lips quiver. 

Your body is aching already from his tight hold and you wish you were braver. 

“I would never hurt you again. Don’t you trust me?” he whispers into your neck as he starts kissing down your jaw. You shiver at his touch and don’t move. 

“Isn’t that right? I would never hurt you again. I’m sorry I ever touched you like I did before. I was only upset. You forgive me, right?,” he whispers into your mouth as his lips hover over yours and he slowly kisses you. Fear is etched into every single fiber of your body and you don’t close your eyes as you watch him kiss your lips. 

You let out a shaky breath as you move your lips against his as you try and think of what to do. How would you even get out of this situation? 

He’s taller than you. He’s stronger and faster than you’ll ever be. You don’t think you’d be able to make it far. You don’t think you’d make it out the door without him catching you. 

“And now you’re carrying my baby. I’m not ever going to hurt you again,” he whispers into your mouth as you cry silently. 

What are you going to do now?

Harry couldn’t live with you. 

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t fucking think without you. 

He couldn’t even fucking breathe without you. 

His chest hurt from your absence in his life and he was trying so fucking hard to help you. But you wouldn’t let him in. 

He tried calling, he tried texting, he tried staying outside of your house to get you to talk to him, but you just wouldn’t. He didn’t want to force you to remember and he didn’t want to physically take you away from your home. 

He couldn’t do that to you. But he was terrified every single second of the day. He didn’t know what to do. 

He tried talking to your family and seeing if they had spoken to you or seen you, but they said they hadn’t. They said you messaged them every day, but only simple worlds that you were okay and that you were recovering. And that you were tired and needed to be alone. 

It was killing Harry. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

He was torn about what to do. Because he didn’t know what the fuck to do. How was he supposed to just take you away from your home? It would be basically kidnapping. 

But he was scared that Asher was going to hurt you again. How was he supposed to know if he didn’t already? 

He just wanted you to be okay. He just needed to see you. He just wanted to be with you. 

He’d protect you. He’d love you. He’d keep you safe. 

If only you’d let him. 

And now you weren’t even speaking to him. You kept telling him to leave you alone and that everything that had happened between you two was a mistake. 

How was he supposed to believe that? You are the love of his life. 

He couldn’t give two fucks about Vivian and Asher. 

Matter of fact, he called off his engagement with Vivian the second he got home from the hospital and she was out of his home the next day. She said she knew it was too good to be true and apparently fucked off to Paris. 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to care because he was too worried about you. And he knew what he was doing wasn’t healthy. But what else is he supposed to do? 

Kidnap you? 

Take you away from your home and keep you in his? 

Keep you in his home until you remember what Asher did to you? And make you leave him? 

Maybe he should. 

Harry’s eyes started burning as tears filled the brim of his eyes and he stumbles out a loud, frustrated sigh, because he’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired of crying! 

He’s so upset at himself for not doing anything. He’s pissed off at the world. He’s pissed at himself. He’s pissed off at Asher for ever touching you and he’s pissed off at your brain for making you forget. 

He wants to kill Asher. He wants to beat him to a pulp. He wants to make him hurt the way you hurt. 

But how is he supposed to do that when you still believe he’s the golden boy you used to love? 

Harry knows he’s not supposed to call you. He knows you probably won’t answer. You never do. Well, usually. But he misses your voice. He needs to hear your voice. He begs god that you remember and that you ask him to come for you. Please. He needs this. 

He clicks on the first contact in his favorites list and his breathing almost hitches when he hears your voice. 

“You have to stop calling me,” he hears your sweet voice whisper into the phone. His heart tightens in his chest. 

He sniffles as he feels his lips quiver and he frowns, “Sun…” 

“Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.” 

He can hear your strangled breathing on the other side of the phone. His heart is thumping rapidly at your words. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” He yells into the phone trying not to get too upset. But he feels so much pain right now. He feels devastated. He just needs you to believe him. Why don’t you believe him? 

He clutches his own chest as if he’s trying to console his own heart from the pain he’s feeling. 

“What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t.. How could he have done this to me?” 

Harry listens to your rapid words and he aches for you. All he wants to do is take away everything you’re feeling. He wants to take away all your pain. 

He begs god to give it to him instead. He can handle it. He can take it.

You can’t. He doesn’t know if he can save you from this. He wants to save you. And then it clicks. 

He silently gasps when your words click in his own brain. 

“You remember?” 

He hears you groan into the phone before you speak again, “I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me.” 

Then, the line goes dead. 

Harry stares at the phone in shock. His mind reels a million thoughts every second. What should he do? 

He doesn’t even think before he shoves on some shoes and goes into his Range Rover. 

He’s going to save you. Even if it kills him. He’s going to take you away from Asher. 

And he hopes you forgive him for not coming sooner. 

Tag list: @yellowtrain28 @sarcas-latte @st-ev-ie @ingrid-ingrid-ingrid @cherry01 @writinghost @that-daydream-look @marzhshaim

[sonotpattismith]

just say when (Megumi Fushiguro x OC)

once you go without it, nothing else will do (chapter seven)

chapter six.

playlist | masterlist

song inspo for chapter: meet me in the hallway by harry styles

warnings: this story contains explicit mentions of depression and suicide. if these are topic that are triggering for you, please refrain from reading. I will be putting a warning on the chapters that may be particularly triggering. please enjoy otherwise xo <3

Megumi Fushiguro would never touch another painkiller in his life, he swore to himself as he stared up at the ceiling of his dorm in horror. They hadn’t spoken about… whatever it was that transpired between them that night. In fact, they hadn’t spoken at all. It was beginning to seem like a pattern— the week or two of radio silence following each of their meetings. Despite not having spoken to the girl in days, his mind was constantly littered with images of her perched upon the kitchen counter staring up at him with those blown out, vulnerable eyes. Hell, he’d even begun dreaming of that night, but each time, the evening would end differently than it actually had. 

He rolled over in his creaking bed, shoving his burning face into the pillow. It was very likely that he had ruined everything. If it wasn’t his borderline creepy forwardness that put her off, then it would surely be the fact that he hadn’t reached out to her since. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but he had no clue how to come back from the grey area he’d so boldly dragged them to that night. What could he say to her?

His friends had noticed his sudden attitude shift. They were used to his standoffish demeanor and irritable nature, but lately, he was on another level; not bothering to give any input on conversations, blowing his fuse far easier than normal, and the dark cloud of gloom that seemed to follow over his head everywhere he went. Kugisaki and Itadori had had at the very least six private conversations discussing how they should broach the topic. 

In the end, it was Itadori that earnestly knocked on his friend’s door to check on him after he hadn’t come out by noon despite their free schedule. He heard a rough grunt on the other side of the door, some shuffling, and a brief sigh before the door slid open. The pink-haired boy whistled lowly at the sight of his friend. Sure, he was used to the flat expression on the boy’s face, but the glare he was currently on the receiving end of was nothing short of chilling.

Megumi didn’t say anything. He simply stared-- glared-- blankly at the visitor. Undeterred, the bubbly boy shoved past him and into the nearly pitch-black dorm room. 

“You look like you can use some good ole’ vitamin-D!” Yuji announced as he moved to open the blackout curtains, allowing sunlight to flood into the pristinely kept room. Megumi flinched at the sudden onslaught of light with a groan, taking a seat at the edge of his bed. “See! Already looking better.”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Fushiguro stated plainly, bringing a hand up to rub at his aching temples. 

“That’s the vitamin-D working.” 

Somehow, that dumb remark made the aching that much worse.

The beaming boy took a seat on the floor, leaning back on his elbows and stretching his long legs out in front of him. He looked pensive at Megumi, tilting his head a bit. Despite the smile on his face, there were undertones of concern swimming in his brown eyes as he observed the tired expression on his friend’s face. 

“How’s Zumi doing?” Itadori questioned. Truthfully, both himself and Nobara assumed that the girl had something to do with the sudden mood shift. Still, the red-head reiterated the importance of easing into the topic to avoid a complete, Megumi fashion shut down. He couldn’t help himself though, never having been the most subtle person in the world-- or at all. 

An icy glare was once again shot his way. Bingo. 

“C’mon, Fushiguro,” he urged, kicking at the boy’s foot. “If you’re having girl problems, you know you can always ask your favorite wingmen for help.” By wingmen, Megumi assumed he meant himself and Nobara. The prospect of going to his friends for help with a girl was mortifying to him. It was uncharted territory. Still, it wasn’t like he had a perfect model for what a relationship should look like growing up-- or any model at all. No father to teach him the right things to say, no mother to show him how to be gentle with those important to him.

Megumi sighed, tearing his gaze from his friend to look out the window. Maybe asking Itadori for advice wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. While he didn’t have a long list of past relationships, Yuji at the very least seemed to have a better understanding of how to navigate these types of things than him. 

“Ha!” he started, leaning forward a bit, seemingly able to read his friend’s movements better than he’d anticipated. “I knew that’s what this was about. Spill-- what’d you do?”

“Why do you automatically assume I did something wrong?” 

“Did you?”

Megumi grumbled irritably, his lips pulled into a tight frown. It almost looked like he was pouting. He wouldn’t meet Yuji’s gaze. As if he could feel the ‘aha!’ look on his friend’s face, he sighed, flopping back on his bed to glare at the ceiling instead. At least it couldn’t read him so easily. In his conflict-ridden mind, he weighed his options-- which were slim. A new perspective on things could give him some clarity on what the next steps should be, or if there was anything salvageable at all. 

So, without meeting his expectant gaze, Fushiguro begrudgingly recounted the events of that dreaded night to Itadori, leaving out the more sensitive details that Zumi had entrusted him with. As the story progressed, he could feel that familiar heat rising from his chest, up his neck, and into his face. It was silent for a minute when he finished his retelling, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Yuji. 

“Dude!” There was a mixture of amusement and disbelief in his tone. It only served to make Megumi feel even dumber than he already did. He raised his arms to cover his face with his hands. “You practically almost banged her on a kitchen counter without so much as a first date and then ghosted her?”

A pillow flew across the room and smacked Yuji in his dumbstruck face. For the first time since this makeshift heart-to-heart, Megumi sat up to grace the boy with a new, charged up glare. 

“That’s not what happened, don’t talk like that.” He growled, folding his arms across his chest. Maybe opening up about his pathetic experience wasn’t the best idea. “And I didn’t ghost her. I just… I don’t know what to say after-- all that.”

“Well what did you guys used to talk about before the… incident?”

Fushiguro resented the use of the word incident to describe what had transpired between them, but he let it slide. Parting his lips to respond, the words seemed to evaporate on his tongue. It felt too vulnerable-- sharing the simplistic hobbies that he and Zumi had become accustomed to together. Once again, he was getting that overwhelming feeling that this was something he wanted to keep for himself, away from the prying eyes of others. More than anything though, he wanted it back: the lighthearted banter about what they were reading, the feigned seriousness of their video game battles, the nights he’d spend just listening to her ramble on about whatever awful movie was playing in front of them. He craved the domesticity of it all-- the normalcy. 

Part of him wished he could just close his eyes and will it to go back to normal. Truthfully though, he knew that it would never suffice again. Now that he’s felt the delicacy of her touch, the rawness of her emotions, the privilege of her trust; how could a man be expected to just forget it all? And how had he gone his entire life without it? Megumi was strong in so many aspects of the word, but in her hands, he’d fall putty, a shell of the guarded brute he’d been his entire life. 

“Just forget it.”

_______________

After the third day without a word from the boy she’d practically bared her soul to, Zumi stopped jolting awake so early in the morning to check her phone. The afternoon of the fifth day with no contact, she stayed in bed, staring idly at the wall. By the seventh day, she was being hauled out to the balcony by her more than concerned brother. She considered fighting him on it- pounding against his back till he let her crawl back under the comfort of her blanket or yelling that she was too old for him to be pulling this kind of shit, but she couldn’t find it in her. That scared Satoru even more. 

Now, sprawled haphazardly against her familiar yoga mat as the sun’s rays assaulted her, she wanted to laugh at herself. How pathetic, she thought. After working so hard to build herself back up from the darker periods of her life, when she’d surely faced tribulations far more grueling than this-- she’d allowed herself to succumb to it once again. And for a boy of all things. 

“C’mon,” Satoru groaned from his downward dog position, grimacing at the blank expression on her face. “You’re freaking me out with this robot shit. What’s going on?”

“I think I’m an idiot.” 

Well, he was glad that she was at least talking. Fighting back an amused smile, he tilted his head at her.

             “Aw, well I could’ve told you that, Zoom.”

              She wordlessly stuck a leg out to kick one of his arms out from under him. His face hit the mat with a groan.

             “I’m messing with you.” Gojo chuckled before moving to sit with his legs crossed, leaning back on his hands to watch the way the sun peaked up the horizon. He glanced over to see if she was watching it too. She was. “What’s on your mind?”

            Azumi sighed. Just as she had admitted to her brother, she felt like an idiot. Before that night, she had resigned herself to the fact that nothing would likely come from the school-girl crush she had developed for Megumi. After his seemingly sincere desire to know her though, paired with the way he held her… the way he felt her and allowed her to show such vulnerability in the way she explored him; she thought maybe her fantasies weren’t so outlandish after all. 

           Still, the girl had never ventured into this territory before. Parasocial crushes on celebrities and fictional characters as she was growing up— sure, but navigating the maze of a living, breathing man’s mind? These were uncharted waters. It may very well have been that she misread the signs. Another, more evil, devil on her shoulder whispered a possibly worse fate into her ear. Did Fushigiro just want to screw her? The ghost of his friendship following their rudely interrupted escapade haunted her with this notion.  

               “If I tell you, can you just—” she pursed her lips pensively, wondering if she was really daring to broach this subject with him. From her peripheral vision, she saw him nod for her to continue. “Can you be a cool older brother and not a weird one about it?”

               “Not sure when I gave up the cool older brother card— but sure thing.” 

           She didn’t dare look at him as the question fell from her lips. 

           “How do you know when you’re not just friends anymore?”

            It was silent for a moment. Only a moment though. A gasp of relief filled the quiet air around them as Satoru beamed triumphantly as if he’d just come up after being submerged in water for far too long.

            “Thank god you brought it up! I thought I was going to go crazy waiting for you two losers to get it together.”

             At this, Zumi’s head swiveled to the side to gape at him. Heat indefinitely rushed to her cheeks, but it only made his victory lap that much more satisfying. Moving to stand up from the floor, she shook her head.

             “Nevermind—”

             “Wait!” Satoru’s strong grip forced her back down by her shoulder as he composed himself. “I’m sorry, ask me again. I’m cool brother Toru now.”

            It was almost more embarrassing the second time around that she asked. 

            “At the risk of sounding like the weird older brother here, nothing about what I heard last week sounded like just friends anymore. I think that ship sailed.” 

              This had her quickly sitting up to face him with furrowed brows. 

           “What do you mean ‘what you heard’?”

           Gojo blinked at her a few times before throwing the back of his hand dramatically against his forehead in a mock swoon. 

           “Oh, Megumi, you’re making me so nervous right—”

           She quickly slapped her hand over his mouth, her face burning impossibly warmer than it already was. The vibrations of his boisterous laugh shook against her hand as she stared at him in horror. 

          “You’re such a fucking creep, Satoru! What would possess you to eavesdrop on something like that?”

          Prying her hand from his mouth, he raised his hands in defense.

          “You think I was trying to hear the two losers I practically raised going at it in my kitchen?” His explanation wasn’t helping his case, and it certainly wasn’t doing anything to soothe her searing embarrassment either. In fact, she felt nauseated by the whole ordeal. Groaning, she shoved her face into her raised knees. “I mean you idiots are adults, I don’t care what you do— but where I eat?” 

            “We… We didn’t do anything.” Zumi mumbled dejectedly against her legs. Tears began to pierce the corners of her eyes. “But I haven’t heard from him since, Toru.”

            Hearing the strain in her voice, he dropped the comedic tone he had taken on to help ease the tension of the awkward conversation, placing a firm, but comforting hand on the crown of her head. The man thought about how Megumi’s energy had changed so drastically in the past week. Having known the boy since such a young age, Gojo always knew he was awkward and not exactly proficient in articulating how he felt. Specifically though, he knew Fushiguro to fight internal battles whilst ignoring the opportunities for ceasefire right in front of him. 

            “What if it screwed everything up? How do I know it wasn’t just me?” Zumi continued through soft cries. 

             “You don’t always know, Zoom.” Satoru explained softly as he smoothed her hair down. She glanced up at him hesitantly, a mess of tears and white hairs sticking to her face. “Sometimes you’re just gonna have to take the risk to try, even if it bites you in the ass.” 

            It was quiet as she pondered his words, her soft sniffles occasionally breaking the silence. Possibly the worst part of it all was that they already had taken the risk— and she was now on the receiving end of the ass biting. 

             “Is that—” She paused her question to glance at him, gauging the energy before bringing up the sensitive topic. “Is that what you did?”

            The question was vague— timid— but he knew what she was asking. A fond smile settled over his lips.

            “It wasn’t me,” he confessed, grabbing the blindfold from his back pocket to tie around his face. If asked, he’d say it was because the sun’s light was becoming overwhelming, but Zumi would know better. “I was too scared of the ass-biting.”

            His sister’s soft laugh broke the tense air surrounding them. Resting her cheek on her knee, she urged him to continue through blurry eyes. 

            “He was always better with the sappy shit than I was anyway.” Gojo huffed, stretching his arms out around him as if it would ease the sudden weight on his chest. 

            Zumi hummed in acknowledgment, not wanting to press him further on the topic. Although he always only spoke of Suguru with fondness, she knew the weighted reality of the situation pained him. So, she never brought it up much. 

          “What if it doesn’t go back to normal? What if I lost the one friend I’ve ever made because I thought he was hot?”

          Her brother coughed up a laugh at her desperate question and shook his head knowingly. 

         “You don’t want it to go back to normal,” Satoru stated matter of factly, ruffling her hair. “You just want him to grow a pair and text you so you can get back to whatever you degenerates were doing in the kitchen at five in the morning.”

          “Satoru—” She groaned, but he cut her off.

          “Give him time.” He finally offered sincerely. “Megumi is a barely functioning human being when it comes to social interactions, never knows the right things to say. He always follows his gut in the end though— for as long as I’ve known him.”

             That much Zumi knew was true, but there was still that lingering fear in the back of her head.

             “You don’t think…” she thought about how to word her awkward question, finding solace once again in hiding her face against her knees. “You don’t think the kitchen… was all he wanted?”

              Azumi swore there’d be a noise complaint by the afternoon as her brother’s obnoxious, unwavering laugh pierced the tranquil, morning air. 

           Stupid question— note taken.

•••••

           After his abrupt cut off of Yuji’s advice session, Megumi tried as best as he could to go back to his old self so his friends would stop looking at him so strangely. So, he forced himself out of his dorm room to at least eat lunch with them occasionally, and he tried to be mindful of the dark expressions that fell so naturally on his face. Kugisaki and Itadori weren’t entirely convinced, but they were mostly just relieved that he wasn’t holed up in his room anymore. 

           Life as a sorcerer slowly resumed to normal too after his week long rest following his hefty injuries. Well, technically he was told to take it easy for at least a week more, but he needed to take his mind off of that night. Maybe focusing on something physical would help clear his mind to make a better decision once he came back from his dissociative fight or flight state. He insisted he accompany Itadori on an upcoming assignment, stating that he was more than healed enough already. By the knowing expression on Gojo’s face, it was clear that he wasn’t convinced of the boy’s insistence. Still, he relented only because he knew Yuji would be there as well. They worked well together— kept each other in check. 

              “If you’re going that stir-crazy then fine.” The sensei gave in finally, shooting a pointed look the boy’s way. “But don’t be an idiot.”

              For a moment, Fushiguro couldn’t tell if they were still talking about the assignment. He so badly wanted to ask about Zumi, whether she seemed to be feeling the affects of their radio silence as well. From what he understood, Gojo and her seemed to have a close knit relationship in their own way. Would she have felt comfortable confiding in her brother about something like this? 

            As if he could hear the internal battle raging in the boy’s mind, the blindfolded man smiled softly. He reached down into the bag that was thrown haphazardly underneath his desk. 

          “Oh, I almost forgot, Fushiguro.” Procuring the desired object, Satoru flopped it down on the desk in front of them unceremoniously. Megumi paled as he looked down at it. It was the gray t-shirt he’d shoved under the couch that night in the frenzy of trying to cover himself up— a damning piece of evidence. “Think you forgot this. You were in such a rush to leave! Must’ve had a lot on your mind, huh?”

             The boy’s navy eyes wouldn’t raise to meet the taunting man. Hesitantly, he reached out and curled his fingers around the soft fabric before snatching it from the desk and shoving it messily into his bag. 

           “Gotta be more careful. I would hate to see you lose something important to you cause you’re stuck in your head.”

            The hidden message in his comment certainly didn’t fly over Megumi’s head. If anything, it confirmed his suspicions that Gojo was a lot more aware of what was going on than he let on. He wondered if it was simply due to the perceptiveness that his technique allowed him, or if he and Zumi had spoken about what had been transpiring. With a soft nod of his head, Fushiguro turned to leave the now tense office. 

            His predictions had been correct, dodging blows, running till his lungs burned, honing in on his craft— it helped get his mind off of Zumi. It felt good actually, being able to help Itadori out and be useful to someone. Yes, this is what Megumi was accustomed to; like clockwork, he would wear himself down, pushing forward to assure those around him would live to see another day. It gave him meaning, purpose.

            Still, as the fight came to a close all too fast, the lingering adrenaline wasn’t enough to keep the dam in his mind from snapping. It flooded back to him instantaneously, his longing and regret. Could he continue like this? Chasing the high of a greater purpose to avoid the dull void that came with forgetting the simple pleasures of joy, intimacy, selfishness?

The repressed thoughts swirled in his tired mind as Shoko bandaged his wrist, which had fallen victim to a shard of broken glass that had shattered under the pressure of one of Itadori’s punches mid-fight. He hadn’t noticed the deep cut until they’d gotten back to the car, and his blood began to stain the seats. It was as if his body had forgotten to remind itself that it was hurting until he saw the wound himself. 

Gojo’s words rang obnoxiously in his mind as he stared at his ceiling that night. He’d never felt so stupid. She was right there-- just a message away, maybe an apology away, but his cowardice stopped him each time. The sensei was right though, losing Zumi at the hands of his own fears was the last thing he wanted. 

Tugging his phone out from under his pillow, he held it up pensively to his face. The date that flashed on his home screen made him frown. It would be borderline insulting to text her now, more than a week later, without so much as an apology. The thumb that had been hovering over his keyboard fell, and his eyes drifted. The bandage on his wrist had spots of crimson beginning to peek out. It wasn’t his bleeding out that caught his attention though. No, it was rather that the bloodied bandage was the only thing on his wrist. Dropping his phone against his chest, he reached his opposite hand out to feel the empty space, as if his eyes were simply deceiving him. They weren’t though, and the bracelet Zumi had crafted for him was gone. 

Megumi sat up in his bed, frantic hands feeling around his body as if it would make the thing magically appear. Since the day she’d gracefully tied it around his wrist, he’d never taken it off. With it gone, likely ripped off when the shard of glass had dug into the skin around his wrist, and with nothing but the lingering memories of their friendship satiating his thoughts of her, it all felt too final for him. Was the world trying to tell him something-- give him a sign that she really was slipping away from him just as Gojo had inferred? 

Making a firm decision for the first time in over a week, Megumi ripped the sheets off of himself, prepared to salvage what he’d so carelessly stomped upon. 

____________

           Zumi was typically a night owl, finding the quiet tranquility of midnight as comforting as a warm blanket. She’d spend hours awake, reading, reorganizing things around her room as a record spun quietly on her player, filling the air around her with peaceful, soul entrapping music. These past few days though, she couldn’t help but feel more tired than usual. The girl attributed it to the mental gymnastics she’d been performing trying to wrap her head around her sudden loss of friendship. 

           So, when her phone began incessantly buzzing between her mattress and her pillow, she was understandably irritated. Shoving her hand under the pillow to silence it without checking who could possibly be trying to reach her at such an hour, she allowed the safety of sleep to pull her back in. Again, only seconds later, the offending noise had her jolting awake. Whining desperately, she pulled her phone out and cracked one eye open to check the caller ID. 

             Megumi

           Her heart plummeted into her stomach. It felt as though her breathing had become manual, and if she forgot to gulp in some air she’d simply pass out where she laid. Glancing at the time, she noted it was almost three in the morning. With a trembling thumb, she accepted the call.

            “Zumi?” Megumi breathed out before she had a chance to give a proper greeting. He knew she was there though, listening to her soft breaths that, even over the phone, he could tell were coming out faster than usual. The girl noted that his voice sounded hushed. “I’m outside.”

             There was silence on the other line, and Megumi had to check to make sure she hadn’t hung up on him. Honestly, she almost didn’t believe him. Why would he have come all the way over here without warning after a week and a half of silence? She had to see it for herself. 

            Without bothering to end the call, she dropped her phone onto her mess of sheets and silently made her way to the door. Knowing her brother was sleeping in the next room over, she tried with everything in her to open the front door quietly enough that it wouldn’t alarm him. Sure enough, right at her front door, was Megumi Fushiguro. He almost appeared just as shocked to see her, as if he wasn’t the one that popped up unannounced. His expression gave little else away. Zumi’s though, told him everything. 

            Her defined brows were pulled together, forming a harsh line just above her nose. The hand that lingered on the door frame had its nails dug into the wall, as if holding back from swinging at him. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth, an obvious frown wreaking havoc on her usually soft features. Above all else though, in her eyes swam pain— betrayal. She didn’t speak, wanting to know what he would possibly conjure up to justify his late night drop in. 

              “My bracelet broke.” He stated simply, as if it could explain his unexpected presence appropriately. Confused, her eyes drifted down to his wrist, where stark white gauze took the place of the navy bracelet she had woven just for him. He felt small, so insignificant in that hallway suddenly, and he looked down, not feeling worthy enough to even look at her. “I need— I need a new one.”          

              He never knows the right things to say.

             Satoru’s words rang in her mind, and her gaze softened on the vulnerable boy before her. With a soft sigh, she reached out to wrap her hand around his uninjured wrist and pulled him into the apartment. 

             That’s how Megumi found himself sitting across from her, his legs criss-crossed on her plush comforter as her fingers wove delicately through fresh, navy thread. His arms hung limply in his lap, almost defeated in their stance. She wasn’t looking at him, her soft gaze focused on the work in front of her, but she could feel his eyes on her. There was a candle burning on her nightstand that casted a soft glow over her face. As her posture straightened out, alerting him that she was finished, he didn’t bother making it seem like he wasn’t staring. There was a hesitance in the way she glanced up at him, but she reached for his hand anyway to tie the new bracelet around his wrist. 

             “Thank you.” Megumi muttered quietly, but it sounded so loud in contrast to the pin-drop silence of her bedroom. The tips of her fingers grazed against his bandaged wrist and across his palm. It was clear on her face— she wanted to ask him what happened. He’d never heard her so quiet. Abandoning her curiosity, she began to retract her hand before he clung desperately onto it. “Wait.”

            Faster than she could process, he pulled her by the hand, sending her crashing against him. A heaviness settled over her chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, too embarrassed to allow them to fall in front of him. It had been too long now that her arms hung loosely at her sides, and just like that night on the balcony, he squeezed her shoulders as if to tell her he was there. Sighing shakily, she brought her arms up to loop under his. It was a sign of acceptance, of forgiveness. 

            “I’m sorry, Azumi.” 

            They remained that way for a while, holding onto each other as if to pour out all the tension that had risen between them for the past week and a half. Neither of them were sure who had begun to lay them back against her bed, still warm from where she had been sleeping just minutes ago. She watched him as she pulled the covers over herself, the way he laid tentatively on the opposite side of the bed, his gaze never once leaving her. There was a respectable amount of space between them, but she was still able to reach out and run her fingers through his hair. His eyes quickly closed at the sensation. It spread a wave of tranquility down his spine, weaving throughout his taut muscles until he felt he may become one with the mattress below him. He hummed quietly.

               “Megumi.” Zumi spoke for the first time that night. His eyes fluttered open at the sound. Her hand had stopped its ministrations on his head, settling gently on the side of his neck. “If you ever do that to me again, I won’t open the door next time.”

            The soft conviction in her tone had him nodding almost automatically. He brought his own hand up to rest against hers on his neck, weaving his fingers around her delicate palm.  

           “I know.” He stated simply. 

           With that solemn promise, she closed her eyes as well. Where their relationship stood was still lost on both of them. For the meantime though, with the sound of the other’s breathing softly evening out beside them, hands clutched firmly together as if to root themselves to one another after the lengthy separation, they didn’t need all the answers yet. They just wanted to relish in the other’s presence, so simply, for just a while longer.

[reputationbarbie]

update

okay so yall know i've been gone for a while dealing with health issues right so let me give y'all a rundown of the situation.

changed my username so all my links messed up

began trying to fix it ^^ some of the links still might not work, so sorry.

created a discord server with my best friend for writing and reading (psttt... i post my chapters there before here for beta readers) , join us :)

started crafting a new frat boy harry x oc fic that is a tandem read with all-american bitch.

5 pages into the current chapter i'm writing of sweetest pie but it's extremely sad. i'm trying to figure out if i want to play this SJM style and juxtapose sadness with smut or not...

trying to decide whether or not to put ginny and joel on hold while I do all american bitch / frat boy harry fics. no offense to the ginny and joel lovers but they're boring compared to the action I've got planned for the other two couples.

probably going to finish out the requests in my inbox and get them up by the new year

That's all i've got for now. Love you all.

[daaydreamy]

Just anything with Leo, loooove them together

after a long day of work

summary: stress instantly leaves harry’s body once he comes home.

warnings: coarse language, smut, threesome/polyamorous relationship, protected sex, oral (f receiving)

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader x male!oc

•••

Leo brought a hand up and grasped the tie that was still around Harry’s neck, pulling on it lightly as if it were a leash, his other hand gripping his thigh with his arm wrapped around it. All that Leo and Y/N managed to take off of his body were his shoes, pants, and underwear. He was still wearing the white button-up he wore to work that was completely unbuttoned, with his black tie still keeping it on him. Harry still even had his socks on, one of his ankles resting against Leo’s shoulder.

As soon as Harry came in through the front door, he was needy. He was stressed out, starting to feel a headache coming on, until he felt hands wandering his body and kisses against his lips, then it all melted away. Now he was moaning and whining in their bed, cheeks burning and thighs trembling ever so slightly.

But his noises were soon muffled when Y/N swung one of her thighs over Harry’s head, her knees digging into the soft mattress, soft moans now starting to slip past her lips when Harry eagerly started licking into her, wrapping his arms around her thighs so she couldn’t pull away. He was moaning against her, digging his nails into her soft thighs.

Leo couldn’t help but lean in to press his lips against Y/N’s, moaning wantonly into her mouth. They kissed for a while, slowly and teasingly, licking into each other’s mouths and stopping ever so often to just pant and groan. Leo pulled away after a little while and looked down at where his cock fucked in and out of Harry, cursing under his breath, before he spread the precum that had been drooling from the tip of Harry’s cock down, slowly putting his hand around him.

“Fuck.” Harry had pulled off of Y/N to whine, back arching up and making her chuckle. She moved off of his face and leaned down, licking over the seam of his lips to open them up, tasting herself on his mouth. “You’re so needy, aren’t you, baby? We’ll take care of you.” She murmured.

a/n: and by “take care” she means they’ll fuck him until he’s a pathetic little mess :(

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-loveshs, @gorlsinmultifandoms

[multifandom-03]

Like Romeo and Juliet

Word Count: 5270 | Pair: Draco Malfoy x OC | Genre: Angst, sad/bittersweet ending

Warning: Mentions of suicide, pregnancy loss, major characters death

Summary: Their love was forbidden, and a bittersweet ending they had...

A/N: You might have seen this special one-shot either on Wattpad or Inkitt website - I wrote this when I was young, and this was most readers' favourite. So if you see this familiar one-shot - yes, I was the one who wrote it hehe. I'm not going to say my username from Wattpad cuz not gonna lie...I'm a bit shy and embarrassed about what I wrote when I was young haha. But this specific one-shot has a special place in my heart and I wanted to share it here on the Tumblr site~

"Their lives were taken away, just like that dreadful story: Romeo and Juliet." - Lord Voldemort

In the beginning, he was a Slytherin, and she was a Gryffindor. His house hated hers, hers hating his. The houses were sworn enemies, and if either one spoke to the other, there would be chaos. But they wanted to communicate with each other. Their friends and family told them not to, but they did.

And a sad fate they met.

It was during their Fourth Year at the Yule Ball did they met for the very first time.

They had never seen one another during their time at Hogwarts, so they were amazed and curious when they saw one another for the first time.

Draco Malfoy was loitering around the buffet of the bowl, trying to hide from his date who happened to be Pansy Parkinson. He thought having Pansy as a date would be fine; oh how wrong he was…

He was bored. And he hated the attention Harry Potter was getting. Just because he was The Boy Who Lived and got chosen by that stupid goblet…

Coming up with a decision, he went to make his leave back to the Common Room when he saw her. The most beautiful, breathtaking girl he had ever seen.

She was across the hall from him, watching everyone with a small smile on her gorgeous face. She was wearing a beautiful light blue dress with white patterned lace from her shoulders and chest area, her dress was designed corset style for her abdomen but the dress fell loosely, almost like it had a mind of its own and was floating simply around her. (Draco was terrible with describing what she was wearing, too gobsmacked at the sight of someone so gorgeous and elegant.)

Even from such a distance, he can see her eyes shining brightly against the lights, her raven dark hair twisted into an elegant bun with ringlets surrounding her oval-like face. Maybe to some people, she wasn't the prettiest in Hogwarts, but for Draco?

He knew that she was the one.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, their eyes connected. Grey eyes connected with warm, chocolate brown eyes. It felt like their souls were being connected - like love at first sight.

Simultaneously, they started to make their way to one another. Both yearned to talk and know one another.

Draco merely pushed and shoved his way through, the girl politely excusing people as she shuffled by. They were just a metre away from one another, hands outstretched to touch when they were both taken away at the same time; Draco was pulled away by Pansy and the girl was pulled away by Hermione Granger. Despite the sudden change, they saw who dragged whom, and they knew what they were about to have...it was forbidden.

For she was a Gryffindor, he a Slytherin.

✨✨✨

Days went by when they saw each other again. It was during a weekend when Draco saw her sitting alone at the Black Lake, reading. When no one was looking, he hurriedly made his way over to her. "Hello," he greeted from behind her.

Said girl gasped in surprise, slamming her reading book shut with a snap. She stood up and turned around, ready to yell at whoever was disturbing her reading time only for her mouth to drop open at the sight of the boy. He gave her a shy smile - something uncommon on the boy's face.

"H-Hello," she stuttered out after a few seconds of silence and just gawking at him.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he introduced, holding a hand out to her.

"Vivienne Moore," she lightly took his hand. And without losing any eye contact, he bent slightly to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles. Her breath hitched at the intimacy of a simple greeting. "You're a Slytherin," she blurted out.

"And you're a Gryffindor," he acknowledged without any malice. "Nice to have that out of the way."

"But, people will find it strange," she murmured.

"Some might find it a truce between our houses," he gave a cheeky smirk.

"Some might find it as betrayal," she looked away from him, pulling her hand away from him.

"You're thinking about the Golden Trio," Draco realised. "That's right, you're friends with Granger."

"They're really nice when you get to know them," she insisted.

"And it's the same with me," he added, "I'm not as cruel as they say, Vivienne."

"I didn't think that at all," she whispered shyly, still not looking into his eyes. They went silent for a few more seconds.

"You looked very beautiful at the Yule Ball," Draco broke the silence. "Took my breath away, really."

"You looked very handsome that night," she quipped back, a blush coating her cheeks. If you looked closely enough, you could see Draco was starting to get pink tainting his pale cheeks as well. "What are we doing?"

"Getting to know each other," he shrugged innocently. "Maybe even fall in love." Why was he acting like this? He never acted sappy and romantic for someone. What was she doing to him?

"It's forbidden," she shook her head.

"Unless we're not caught," he could see he was going to lose her soon from her worries; he was not going to let fear get in the way of their potential love. "Come on, we don't have to tell anyone," he insisted, "It's just between us two. You're telling me you didn't feel the connection that night? That this was all a big hoax?"

"No!" she said automatically. "It was not a hoax, I felt it too." Draco sighed in relief. So he wasn't the only one that felt it. "Alright," she caved in, "But no one can know."

"No one," Draco agreed, a genuine smile crossing his face.

After that day, every evening before curfew the two would meet up in the Room of Requirement - something Vivienne showed him as top secret. There, they got to know one another without any distractions or worries and where they began to fall more in love with each other.

✨✨✨

It lasted until the Fifth Year.

When Dumbledore's Army was created.

Like a loyal Gryffindor, Vivienne attended the lessons - thus, having less quality time with Draco. The more she kept postponing their meetups, the more suspicious Draco got. It wouldn't be a surprise if she was part of the secret army, he thought one day.

But strangely, it still surprised him.

When they knocked down the wall to the Room of Requirement, Draco saw Vivienne near the front, standing in front of a little girl protectively. When they connected eyes across the room, Vivienne could see the hurt and worried look in his eyes, and he could see the look of guilt in hers. And Umbridge saw their small interaction.

"Ah, I see," her high-pitched voice drawled out in the tense room. "You didn't expect to see your secret lover here."

"Secret lover?" Vivienne's eyes went from guilt to betrayal. "You told her?"

"You and Malfoy?" Ron Weasley exclaimed in disbelief. "You're pulling our leg, aren't ya?"

"I'm sorry," Draco murmured. "I thought you were in trouble or something -"

"Well, you thought wrong," Vivienne blinked away her tears. After the small interaction, Umbridge's small army went into action. They grabbed as many Dumbledore's Army people as possible, even Vivienne - though she didn't put up much of a fight. What was worse, none of her friends looked in her direction, thinking that Vivienne had betrayed them.

Nothing was going well.

✨✨✨

Sixth Year came, and it was still the same; getting rejected by her peers and being isolated. At least Draco could tell his house to stop and never mention it. But Vivienne couldn’t. She was stuck all alone. Even though they found out the true culprit who ratted them out, they still chose to ignore Vivienne.

It didn’t help that she was an orphan as well, making her feel lonelier than ever.

Draco tried talking to her, to reconcile, to no avail. She avoided him at all costs. She was not the only one feeling depressed, though, Draco was suffering too. It was all his fault that they were in this situation; he foolishly told Umbridge about his troubles, how she always seemed to have a busy schedule. He foolishly thought that not only was she part of Dumbledore’s Army, but he also had the fear that she would grow tired of him and meet someone else. Oh, how wrong the latter was - the look of hurt and betrayal on her face will forever be imprinted in his mind.

He looked down at the cursed Dark Mark on his arm, grimacing at the sight. He shoved his sleeve down harshly so he didn’t have to look at it any more. That didn’t mean he could feel it, though.

With a heavy heart, he went back to the cabinet he was to fix when suddenly he just collapsed to the floor and cried his heart out. Sounds cowardly, I know. Not only did he lose the love of his life, but he also became something he didn’t want to be and was assigned to bring Death Eaters in and kill Dumbledore. This year just wasn’t going well for him.

“Draco?” a familiar voice called out to him. Wiping his tears away harshly, he turned around on the floor to see whether his thoughts were true. And it was; Vivienne was standing in front of him.

“Vivienne...” Oh, who knew how long it’s been since they were alone. Memories of their time together attacked his mind, along with the heavy assignment he was given. Without another word, he brought the young woman into his arms and cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I missed you so much, and I need you. I need you so much in my life...”

“Draco? You’re scaring me,” Vivienne pulled away to wipe his tears away gently. “What is the problem? This can’t possibly be just from our situation...”

“I-I...” he stuttered, close to having another panic attack that week. “I can’t tell you. You’ll hate me more.” He buried his face in her neck, oblivious to her eyes softening at his statement.

“I don’t hate you,” she revealed, running her hand through his messy hair. “I’m just a little disappointed, and I kind of needed some alone time is all...” She hugged the broken boy closer to her. “Draco, what’s happening? No more secrets.”

And so he told her everything - what more could he lose? It was best if she stayed away from him after this, she would be safer without him in her life…

“Let me help.” Draco was out of her arms in an instant, eyeing her as if she was crazy.

“No!” he automatically refused. “No way, I am not bringing you into this. You should stay away from me like you’ve been doing this year.”

“I’m not losing you again,” she shook her head stubbornly.

“Please,” he begged her, grabbing her by the shoulders. Shivers ran down his spine at the thought of her coming across danger. “He can’t know about you. It’s bad enough that he’s threatening my family. If he caught sight of you -”

“No,” she glared at him. “I am with you until the end. I love you, Draco.”

I love you

Oh, it’s been a while since he last heard her say those three words to him.

Draco smiled softly at her strong confession, leaning his forehead against hers, his arms circling her waist. “I love you too,” he whispered.

“We can always run away,” she suggested weakly. “Away from him, Hogwarts and their judge-filled gazes...”

"Sorry, love," he said sadly, "He'll always find me. With this mark on me, he'll know where I will go." He pressed his lips against her temple in a delicate kiss. "I'm sorry, all we can do is hope for the best."

"And then what?"

"And then..." He looked at her seriously. "And then we fight back. For our love."

✨✨✨

Hogwarts Battle...

Draco fought with his school, knocking out Death Eaters wherever he went. He was trying to find a specific someone he lost sight of.

As he entered the courtyard, he felt himself freeze up when he saw a scary-looking Death Eater fight against the person he was looking for. "Vivienne..." he breathed out. She was no longer fighting one, but two men, and easily defeated them much to Draco's surprise. Sometimes he forgot she trained for these kinds of situations.

His awe wore off though when he remembered why he was looking for her in the first place. He took her to a secret hideout outside Hogwarts before the battle happened, wanting her to stay safe. However, Vivienne ignored his pleas and joined the battle. The reason why he discerned she was no longer at the hideout was because even amongst the battle, he could recognise her voice anywhere. So he went looking for her.

"Vivienne!" he yelled enraged, marching towards her. He grabbed her arm to turn her to him. "Are you crazy? What are you doing here?"

"I came to help," she lifted her chin bravely. He shook his head, exasperated.

"You're going to get you and the little one killed -" they dodged out of the way in time to avoid a spell that was thrown at them. Vivienne turned to the person who threw the spell at them with her wand raised, only for her arm to fall when she connected her eyes with Ginny Weasley.

"Ginny!" Vivienne looked at her old friend in surprise.

"Traitor!" Ginny spat, "After all this, you're still with them?"

"Ginny, it's not like that -" Draco shoved her to the side with him when Ginny tried to throw another curse at them.

"Love, we have to go," Draco told the sad girl. "We can't change her mind. Let's go back to the hideout." Vivienne sent one last sad look to her ginger friend before the two ran away from the battleground.

As they were getting closer to the exit, Bellatrix appeared in front of them with a snap, grabbing Vivienne from Draco's hold. "No!" Draco yelled, reaching an arm out to grab her back. He reeled away when Bellatrix shoved her wand under Vivienne's chin.

"Sorry, nephew!" the crazy woman sneered. "Dark Lord's orders."

"NO!" Draco screamed, the love of his life disappearing before his eyes again.

✨✨✨

“Draco!” Lucius hissed. Everyone turned to Draco, wondering if he was to join the dark side again now that Harry was gone. Some people saw him helping them, while some still thought he was part of the dark side.

But Draco stood there, refusing to move. It was what Vivienne wanted him to do. Where was she? Where did his Aunt take her to? He had to find her as soon as he could -

“Draco!” his mother called out this time, begging. Although he wasn’t as close to his father, his mother he treasured dearly. His face unwillingly twisted to one of conflict.

“Oh, Drakey!” Bellatrix’s voice emerged. She appeared at Voldemort’s side, holding Vivienne in a headlock. Everyone gasped when they saw her struggle to get out of the crazy woman’s grasp, Draco almost choking on his breath. Despite the circumstances, he was glad to see her still alive. “You wouldn’t leave Vivienne here all alone now, would you?” That brought him to his decision.

“Let her go,” he begged, eyes tearing up. “If you let her go then I will join you.”

“NO!” Vivienne panicked, struggling more.

“Shut up!” Bellatrix hissed, jabbing her wand at her face. “Stupid orphan. Come on Draco, choose wisely!”

“Don’t,” Vivienne mouthed to him, a tear escaping her eye. “Stay there,” she said out loud.

“Vivienne -” Draco took a step forward.

“DON’T!” she screeched out desperately. “YOU DON’T BELONG ON THIS SIDE! YOU’RE NOT LIKE THEM!”

“Enough!” Voldemort hissed, growing impatient. “Kill the orphan!”

“No!” Draco yelled, “I’ll join! I’ll join!” He started making his way to them.

“Draco...” He paused midway at the seriousness in his lover’s tone. She looked him in the eyes with determination. “Don’t.” was all she uttered.

His mind and body were feeling like jelly. He wanted to stay on the good side as the two wanted, but at the same time, he wanted to protect her. Both of them.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him weakly as if hearing his thoughts. “I love you.”

“I-I love you too.” It was the first time they publicly confessed their love for one another.

“So that’s your decision then?” Voldemort mused. “You’d rather do what she says than join me. For her safety. Or your parents.”

Draco didn’t reply. Why was doing the good thing so complicated?

“Very well then,” Voldemort sighed mockingly, pulling out his wand. Draco’s heartbeat started to accelerate from nerves. What was the Dark Lord going to do? “I am very disappointed in you, Draco Malfoy,” Voldemort twirled his wand on his hand as he slowly paced around. “First your Father disappoints me, and then you. For love. Weakness. Disgusting.” He turned his red eyes to Draco with a glare. “You’d risk not only your life but hers and your parents? You’d risk everything for a weak girl like her?”

“She is not weak!” Draco fought back. “She has the biggest heart than anyone I know. She has the heart to love someone like me!”

“Yeah, and betray us!” Ron scoffed. Draco momentarily turned his back on the bad side to glare at Ron so heatedly, that it unnerved them all.

“She didn’t!” Draco defended. “She has done nothing but support you all. You know she never ratted you out to Umbridge! All she has done was be there for me, and love me despite prejudices and my flaws...” He turned back to Voldemort, ignoring the looks of shame on Ron and some people’s faces. “This whole time while people have been isolating her, she has been helping the good side look for reinforcements from around the world. How else do you think some of these wizards from around the world came here to fight?” He threw his arms out towards some foreign wizards who willingly came to fight for justice.

Everyone was surprised when they first came, wondering how people from America, Australia, Japan, China - and so many other countries - came to Hogwarts to help the battle. They simply ignored it, thinking it was the Order or one of the professors who had connections. They never knew they all came from Vivienne who surprisingly had a way with words…

“This whole time you thought Vivienne was some traitor or weak person - well let me tell you, she is not!” He doesn’t know where or why he got this sudden confidence, but he was going to use it. Vivienne went through so much for him, he wanted to help her back. He knew the people’s opinions on her had wounded her, and he wanted to set things straight before it was too late. He loved her. He would do anything for her - even yell in the courtyard in front of everyone including the Dark Lord. “You know what else she did for me? Taught me what was right and wrong, and no way am I joining your side!”

“ENOUGH!” Voldemort yelled, infuriated. He aimed his wand at Draco who lost all confidence and was now a clear target for the wrath of the Dark Lord. “AVADA KEDAVRA-”

“NO!” Vivienne screamed, escaping Bellatrix’s grasp.

To him, everything was in slow motion like the first time they saw each other at the Yule Ball. He watched as Vivienne ran to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, face pressed against his chest, her back to Voldemort. And just like that…

She was hit with the killing curse.

Her limp form slumped against him, Draco catching her immediately before it was too late. “Vivienne?” he called out shakily, his lips wobbling in an attempt trying to hold in his tears.

No response.

“Vivienne?” He shook her lightly, feeling his world shatter. “No...Vivienne!” A second later Draco lifted his head to the sky, releasing a bloodcurdling scream of pure heartbreak.

All this fighting and surviving together…a waste in the end.

“Now you see what happens,” Voldemort hissed, having already expected this scenario. “I will give you this one last chance. Or else your parents will be next.”

Everyone from Hogwarts cried along with Draco at the sight of the fallen girl. Ginny, Hermione, Ron...they all felt guilty for not believing Vivienne and for giving her a hard time. All along she was innocent. And poor Draco…

He sobbed into her hair, his hold on her form tight. She was gone. Right before his eyes. First Dumbledore, then Harry, now Vivienne and…

He rested a gentle hand on her stomach, mourning not for one, but for two people. The child he never got to see grow up…

Near them, Draco spotted an abandoned wand. A plan started to form in his mind…

“Join me, Draco Malfoy, and no harm shall come to you -”

“DRACO, NO!” Narcissa interrupted the Dark Lord for the first time, her face etched out in horror.

Draco had grabbed the fallen wand and placed it underneath his chin, still staring at the love of his life with tears pouring out of his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered to the motionless form. “I’ll see you two, soon.”

“Draco, no!”

“Malfoy!”

“Draco!” Everyone started to scream. Voldemort watched on in shock. This, he did not expect.

They couldn’t get to him; he had cast a silent shield around him and Vivienne before his parents or anyone at Hogwarts could reach them. “Get him!” Narcissa cried to her husband.

“I-I can’t!” Lucius whispered, throwing spell after spell to the invisible shield. “Nothing is working!”

While chaos ensued around the couple, Draco took deep breaths and closed his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered again. “I’ll see you two soon.”

“DRACO!” his parents screamed one last time.

“Avada Kedavra,” he whispered. And just like that…

He was gone.

Everyone was silent, staring in shock at their fallen bodies. Draco Malfoy and Vivienne Moore were dead; Draco’s form was on top of Vivienne like he was protecting her from all dark and evil. One hand laid across her stomach. For their unborn baby.

“How sad,” Voldemort mused with amusement over the cries of many people, “Their lives were taken away, just like that dreadful story: Romeo and Juliet.”

✨✨✨

The battle was over, Voldemort was gone and defeated. Everyone celebrated, but only momentarily. Many lives were gone, especially two people.

They had grabbed their bodies, placing them gently in the middle of the Great Hall on one cot. They made it look like they were just merely sleeping; Vivienne's head resting gently on Draco's chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively - especially in her stomach area. Madam Pomphrey had checked over Vivienne and their suspicions were confirmed. Vivienne was pregnant when she died. It made the whole thing worse; not only did they kill a dear friend, but they also indirectly killed an innocent unborn child. Peace was all the two ever wanted.

Draco's parents stood on one side of the bed, the Golden Trio on the opposite side. They were giving their respects.

Hermione was crying into Ron's chest, heart filled with guilt and heartbreak at the sight before them. Draco's parents were in a similar situation; Narcissa crying into her husband's chest. Lucius stared down at the bodies with an expression of sorrow at the sight of his only son gone.

Looking at them, they never realised how much their situation took a toll on the two teenagers until then. They noticed the sunken eyes, skinniness, the stress lines on their faces...yet despite all that they looked to be in peace.

"No more," Lucius rasped out. Everyone turned to him, even nearby people. "No more of this feud. That's why they're gone. Because of this stupid feud between us."

Harry nodded in agreement. "No more," he acknowledged.

The two were buried alongside Dumbledore as a symbol to everyone; that love was unlimited and powerful, that love conquered all - even at the worst. It was also a symbol of why feuds shouldn't happen.

Draco Malfoy and Vivienne Moore were marked in history by the Wizardry World.

Harry named his third son after Draco, and Hermione and Ron named their third daughter after Vivienne.

There was peace between the Malfoys and the Golden Trio - they would all meet up on the anniversary of their death.

There was peace between Slytherin and Gryffindor for the first time in history.

Draco and Vivienne's story was told worldwide for many years, their story having been written down in diaries the two owned.

Everyone knew the truth in the end.

Vivienne was innocent.

Draco was innocent.

And they were in love.

Like Romeo and Juliet.

Hermione pulled away from the typewriter, blinking away her tears. It was done; she finished writing the story of the star-crossed lovers after 22 years of writing, erasing, writing, editing - until she reached the end. She wanted it to be as real and detailed as possible. It was the least she could do for them.

A knock came on her door, revealing her two best friends - one of them being her husband. They noticed the sad look on her face and the typewriter she sat behind. "It's finished, huh?" Harry mused, the two of them sitting across from her.

"Yeah, it's done," she sighed, closing the two diaries gently and putting them in a safe. "I hope it is as close to the actual memories..."

"I'm sure you did brilliant, Mione," Ron assured her. "They would love it."

"I think it will bring closure to us all," Harry added quietly, "especially to Malfoy's parents."

"After making sure it's correct, the first copy will be sent to them," she announced confidently, gathering the papers and putting them in a safe place on her clean desk. "How are they? It's almost the anniversary..."

"As fine as they can be," Harry sighed, slumping in his chair. "I feel sorry for them all the time. We lost schoolmates when they lost their son...and granddaughter..."

"Poor Vivienne had no one," Ron added miserably. "I can't believe we treated her so harshly..."

"All we can do is move on," Hermione told them shakily. "That's what they would have wanted. That, and the truth which is why I made this book."

"Oh!" Ron perked up at a sudden thought. "There's another reason why we're here!"

"There is?" the Minister of Magic wondered.

"Yup!" the two men nodded.

"It's done," Harry announced. "The painting is done."

✨✨✨

"Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy," Hermione greeted the parents. "It's lovely to see you two again."

"You too," Narcissa said with a weak smile, Lucius giving a small nod.

"I know today is a tough day for all of us," Harry started, "but we hope to help you two get some closure. Which brings us to two gifts."

"Gifts?" Lucius frowned.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. She handed them the wrapped book. "This is the story of Draco and Vivienne - from the first time they saw each other, to..." she trailed off sadly. "Using their diaries, I was able to connect their memories and so I hope through this, you can get some closure and know that despite all this, your son was very happy and in love."

"Thank you," Narcissa sniffed, holding the book to her chest tightly as if it were a newborn. She always wished to be part of Darco’s life when it came to romance, to hear him gush about the lucky girl that caught his heart. She wasn’t able to experience that with her son, but perhaps through this book, she can get a smidge of what her son felt throughout his love life…

"The second gift..." Ron walked to them while levitating a large rectangle-shaped object covered with a cloth. While it was floating in midair, Ron grabbed the cloth and pulled it away to reveal an artwork. An artwork that made them all stifle cries.

It was an artwork with three people; Draco, Vivienne, and their newborn child held gently between the couple. The painting was set in a beautiful field, with the small family sitting on a picnic blanket.

"In their diary," Hermione explained, "Vivienne wrote a dream she had. She had a dream that she was having a beautiful picnic in a field full of flowers and sunshine, and with her was Draco and their newborn baby. Draco gushed about the dream in his diary, and how he hoped it would come true once the battle was over. They knew they were going to have a girl despite the early stages of her pregnancy, and they came up with the name Dariela for their daughter, which means -"

"Beloved," the parents answered. They remember when Draco was a young boy visiting another family’s manor, he came across a book full of baby names - they remembered Draco showing the name Dariela to them, saying how he found it beautiful and hoped to name his daughter that in the future.

"An anonymous painter wanted to create something for us to bring closure," Harry explained to the emotional parents. "With this, we can imagine this as them now, watching us."

"We had a plan of hanging this in Hogwarts," Ron told them, "but at the same time this should go to you since Draco is your son -"

"No," they shook their head.

"You can hang it in Hogwarts," Lucius told them. "It's where it belongs. It’s where…it’s where they met. The beautiful painting doesn’t belong in a dark place like our home."

"Although..." Narcissa hesitated. "If possible...can there be another painting for us to hang? So they can come and go if they wanted..."

"Of course," Hermione nodded quickly. "The painter is working on it already."

"Thank you so much -"

"Hello..." they all gasped when the painting came to life; Draco and Vivienne smiling at them. Narcissa couldn't hold it in and released her sobs.

"Oh, my baby!" she cried. Draco merely smiled at her blissfully. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay, it's not your fault," the Draco painting spoke. It made them all shiver with how realistic he sounded. It's been 22 years since they last heard from them…

"Just know that we are happy, and at peace," Vivienne told them, cradling her baby in her arms happily. "We're always watching from above."

"We forgive you," the two chorused. The living people weren't aware of how much they needed to hear that from their lips until that day.

That was the last time the painting spoke. From then on, it was just the two of them smiling and enjoying their time together, something they never got when they were alive. They would silently greet people in Hogwarts, and sometimes visit Malfoy Manor - but everyone knew that it was quite dangerous to have a moving painting of a passed loved one as it could bring one person to madness and unable to move on.

Nonetheless, after that, it was easier for people to move on, to live their lives knowing that everything was okay now, that the small family - wherever they were - was in a happy place.

They never forgot the star-crossed lovers and made sure everyone knew about them and their story. Their story was passed down from generation to generation, proving again that in the end…

Love was unlimited and powerful, and love conquered all.

The End

[multi-fandom-imagine]

hello there! I literally just found your blog a hour ago and I'm in love!! I love the way you wright and just the energy of your blog overhaul :D but anyway what I can here to ask is just some questions about Husk and the readers Kits. I find them adorable! (I have a oc x cannon ship with Husk and they have kids so this is rlly cute to me) anyway- I'm rambling- so long story short I rlly wanna draw the kits so I was wondering if I could get a description of the kits, like clothes, if they have scruffy fur, fluffy fur and there ages? Just so I can doodle the lill baby's in my style :3

THATS THE SWEETEST THING EVER, ah that makes me so happy 😩. { also i love that your oc and Husk has kids. }

But that's comment makes me do happy

This is what I thought of for their looks.

Harry-

With him being the first born out of the triplets, I can see him looking at lot like Husk. With his fur being jet black with a cream colored splotches across his fur. { 100% has Husk's eyes }, has Husk's wing's. Little boy will wear anything, he doesn't care.

Coltrane-

His fur takes on the hue of your hair color, has no white in him at all. His eyes are two different colors, yours and Husk. Is more fluffier out of the three. He also has Husk's wings, I also imagine he wears little suits like his father did as an Overlord.

Marylin-

Pure white with your eyes, silky fur. She is the smallest being the runt. She is the only one that took on your{ the readers} angle wings.

[kahluamystery97]

Satellite Ch 4 (HS X OC)

CHAPTER FOUR

Grammy Night 2021

"Maggie just walked in." Jeff said, eyeing the door.

Harry turned to see her. She was beautiful. Maggie was always beautiful. She wore her hair back loosely and a simple black dress with some midriff and back baring cutouts. Sparkly heeled sandals. She tightly gripped a clutch. He saw her pull her face into that tight public smile. Dear God she was so painfully thin.

Guests at the party greeted her. The pearly white smile got bigger and tighter. She was so visibly uncomfortable. Maybe not to the world but Harry could see it. He almost regretted inviting her. Was she okay? Was this causing her upset or discomfort?

He crossed the room and everyone around them scattered. He offered her a smile and she relaxed into her genuine Maggie smile. Her hands loosened up around the clutch.

Harry took a chance and leaned in. He kissed her cheek. "Thank you. This means everything to me."

She squeezed his arm. "You deserve it all. Thanks for including me."

He surprised them both when he grabbed her into a hug. He breathed in the clean scent of her hair and kissed her cheek again. He lingered longer than he should but not as long as he wanted. When he pulled back he said the only thing he could think of, "Drink?"

Maggie nodded. She needed a drink. A big vodka to swim in so she wasn't thinking so hard about all of this.

Harry took her hand and led her to the large bar. Just that simple gesture could have melted her. Except now Maggie found it hard to feel much these days. Her work wasn't just acting. Her life felt like an acting job. Just act like everything is ok. For the moment she just tried to be here and to be present.

Harry ordered her vodka with extra lime. Her first sip gave her such a rush that she leaned back into him. Without much thought Harry wrapped an arm around her waist. This is how they used to be. The new normal was they were officially 'just friends'? Maggie was all about control and order. Being with Harry set her on edge. All of that carefully crafted control and order she liked so much was tossed out the window around him. She couldn't trust herself to do what was in her best interest because part of her felt so invested in him. She knew logically she should cut all ties to Harry but there was a piece of her that just couldn't let go. After all that had gone down between them she was still here. What would it take to finally sever things? She was afraid to know the answer. She was afraid of what it might do to her.

"Hello!" An excited British voice called out to Maggie. It was Sarah followed by Mitch.

Maggie's eyes popped open wide seeing Sarah so clearly pregnant. "Oh my God?! What is this baby bump?! How did I miss this while watching you tonight?!" She left Harry's side to hug Sarah.

"Because this guy is out flashing his tits in a leather suit. Who would notice me?" Sarah laughed.

"Hey now." Harry pretended to be offended. Sarah and Maggie hardly gave him a glance once they started talking baby.

Mitch grabbed a drink at the bar next to Harry. "Is she ok?" He whispered and nodded toward Maggie.

Harry could only shrug. He didn't know. He knew in this light she looked gaunt. Not even the makeup could hide that.

"I have to be fed. I'm starving - all the time." Sarah announced.

The words cut through Maggie. Her face flushed. Sarah knew it was a poor choice of words immediately. Maggie clearly had something going on with her.

Mitch saved her from the awkwardness. "C'mon. Let's get that situation handled. Maggie it was really good to see you." He squeezed her arm.

"Congratulations on, on - everything! " Then a giant sip of the cold vodka. She needed a buzz.

When she turned to look at Harry he looked concerned. No. This would not do. This was his night. She tipped her head back and poured the rest of the vodka down her throat. People were dancing. She grabbed his hand.

"Don't be so serious, Styles. Let's have some fun."

They danced. They talked to friends. Maggie went to the ladies room at one point and he lost track of her. It was late and things were quieting down.

Finally he noticed people coming in from the terrace. The door opened and he got a glimpse of her.

Maggie looked out on Downtown Los Angeles. Would she ever stop loving it? Maybe LA was her longest relationship. When she left New York she never looked back. Los Angeles felt like home and a vacation all at once. The sun. The ocean. Her career allowed her to see the world and do amazing things. She was so thankful. Maggie knew she was fucking it all up right now. She knew eventually someone was going to say something. Her body would be addressed. It was always this body. This body was bad at 260 lbs. This body is bad at 101 lbs. What about a boob job? Too muscular. Too skinny. Too tall. Too short. Too young. Too old. Too pretty to take seriously. Too serious for such a pretty girl. She couldn't keep up and she was losing control. All Maggie wanted was some control back in her life.

She dropped her clutch by her feet. She could feel herself leaning a little too far off the terrace rail. It dug uncomfortably into her bony rib cage. You could let it all go, she heard the words in her head. You could tumble head first into Downtown Los Angeles and it would all just be quiet.

She felt strong hands around her waist suddenly.

"What are you doing?" Harry growled, clearly panicked. His face was flushed. She was alarmingly leaning over the rail. So much so that only her tiptoes remained on the ground. He pulled her tight against him and took a few steps back from the edge.

Maggie came back to reality. "I was enjoying the view and I've had a lot to drink. " She brushed it off.

"You have to level with me. You aren't okay. You don't look like you are okay." He searched her eyes for the truth.

"No complicated conversations. You promised me. I'm here because you wanted me to be and you made me a promise." She took a breath and looked away from him.

They were both still and silent for what felt like a long time. Harry picked up her bag and extended his hand to her. Maggie slipped her small, soft hand into his and followed him out.

They said their good nights to the guests remaining. Harry never let go of her. She started walking towards the lobby of the hotel. He gently redirected her to the elevators.

Maggie thought she should protest and insist on leaving. She didn't have the fight in her. Being next to him felt so comfortable. Walking into his room where she could take off her 'Maggie mask' and just be felt so good.

"I'll get drinks and snacks. " He said as he kicked off his shoes and took his jacket off.

Maggie sat back on the large leather sofa. She unbuckled her sandals and pulled her feet under her.

Harry appeared with two vodkas and a cheese plate. Maggie happily took the glass. She was unmoved by the cheese plate. She however grabbed a piece of cheese (swiss - the lowest calorie option) to keep Harry from asking any more questions.

A single cube of cheese. His stomach was in a knot. Didn't her sisters see this? Was anyone helping her? He put his glass down on the coffee table.

Maggie leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulders. She felt him take a breath as if he was going to speak. She turned quickly and put her finger against his perfectly pink lips.

"Please don't. I don't want to overthink it. There is so much unsaid and nothing is going to change tonight. Let's just have this night. You deserve a good night." Maggie pressed her lips against his. They shared a soft kiss. She settled back in against him.

He knew she was right. He just wanted to savor this time with her. Amelia Mason was waiting for him in London. She was sleeping in his bed this very minute. Instead of trying to focus on whatever that was he was here with Maggie. Maybe they would never work or the time would never be right. He was so drawn to Maggie though. Harry wasn't ready to stop trying. She completed tonight for him. He would go back to hating himself for being a shit to Amelia later.

"Can I take you to bed?" 

Maggie nodded her approval. He gently pulled her up off the sofa with him. He planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he turned her around by her waist and steered her into the bedroom.

Once there Maggie made her way out of her dress. Harry discarded his clothes and slipped into the bathroom. When he returned Maggie was in bed. Now dressed in the hotel robe and sleeping soundly. Her hair free from its loose updo sprawled all around her. She was so peaceful. He wanted to be peaceful with her. Harry got under the covers and pulled her in close.

Breathing her in he couldn't help but be sent back into happier times. 

2018

"I get it. I'm not a musician but you're wrong." Maggie rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the bitter red wine she was served.

"I am a musician. Musically, American Girl is more substantive. Can I just run around critiquing movies like I'm a filmmaker?" Mitch narrowed his eyes as he took a swig of beer.

"You sure can but I almost dread hearing it if you won't acknowledge that Here Comes My Girl is superior to American Girl."

Harry stifled a chuckle. He and Sarah bowed out of this fight at least ten minutes prior to this exchange. Maggie and Mitch really liked one another but they really liked antagonizing each other most of all.

"C'mon H. School your lady." Mitch pressed.

"Well I hate to tell you that you're both wrong and Tom Petty's best song is Wildflowers."

"Wait, what? That isn't even the best song on that album. Gorgeous song but wrong answer." Maggie was now shaking her head.

"She's not wrong. " Sarah finally interjects sitting back on the floor on a cushion next to Mitch. She passes him the vape.

"Incredible. Maybe we should call Stevie and ask her." He says with a bit of annoyance in his voice.

"Lame. Name dropper." Maggie swatted his knee from her spot on the floor between them.

"It's You Wreck Me." Sarah replies matter of factly.

Mitch releases the smoke he has been holding. At the very same time Mitch and Maggie blurt, "It's Crawling Back to You."

The two high five. Sarah and Harry roll their eyes and snicker at them.

"Fuck. I'm putting that album on. Want more pizza while I'm up?" Mitch asks the three of them.

"Yes. Bring more pizza out. I'm so high. I am going to eat all of the pizza." Sarah moans falling back on the carpet softly with a giggle.

Maggie had stopped by her favorite wood fired pizza place on the way to Sarah and Mitch's house. It sounded like everyone was on the way to drunk or stoned after a long day at the studio. So she ordered a little bit of everything. She was greeted with a hero's welcome when the trio saw the armfuls of food she had.

Harry nudged Maggie with his knee gently. 'You eat? Want something?"

"I had a big dinner. All good." Maggie was a liar. She had a small salad with a little balsamic vinegar that she ate before she decided to run five miles on her treadmill. She later had a Pepcid chewable for dessert because the balsamic gave her acid reflux after her workout. Reminder. Only plain lettuce and veggies before anything strenuous. She had a movie wardrobe to fit into and late night pizza would not help.

He smiled a big dimpled smile at her. "Ok. We have to make sure you are fueling up while working out for this movie." He let his fingertips gently rub her arm a moment until they were startled by Tom Petty's Wildflowers. Mitch came clumsily crashing back into the room and dropped the brown pizza box onto the coffee table.

Maggie had been hanging with Harry and his friends while they made his sophomore album pretty regularly for the last few weeks. Now Harry was calling them a 'we'. Mitch was referring to her as Harry's lady. They never once discussed what they were or weren't after that day in Harry's pool. Maggie assumed this was still friends with benefits but as the days wore on it felt less casual.

"Can you drive or want me to get an Uber?"

"I can drive."

Harry got up off the floor and offered Maggie a hand. "Ok, tomorrow is another studio day. Going to call it a night."

"Are you ok to drive?" Sarah asked.

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, totally fine."

"Then get out and let me enjoy my Petty." Mitch roared in her direction and then winked. Maggie flipped him off with a smile.

"Night guys. See you tomorrow." Harry said. He led Maggie out with a hand on the small of her back. As they approached her convertible he reached up and stretched. A sliver of belly peeking out from his vintage Beastie Boys shirt. Before she could even have a lewd thought about it Harry had her pressed up against the sports car. "I haven't been able to kiss you all night."

"You were very well behaved."

"I think I deserve a reward." He gently kissed her mouth. His lips tugged at her bottom lip. A deep groan escaped him. "Come home with me?"

"Are you drunk Styles? Am I taking advantage of you if I say yes?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so." He let his fingertips wander up and down her hips. Maggie rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Get in the car."

He flashed his dimples at her as he jogged around the car and got in. 'Gonna let me control the music?"

"I guess just this once." Maggie's rules were her car - her music. She did not want to be forced to listen to an entire Wings album as Harry had done to her last weekend.

'Wildflowers' began to play as she pulled out of Mitch and Sarah's place. When Harry began to harmonize along with Tom Petty it was magic. He reached over and put his warm hand on her thigh. They shared a smile.

Easy. Casual. Maggie reminded herself.

A few weeks later ...

Harry yelled out in frustration. "I can't fucking write. I can't write songs anymore. I lost it." He tossed his journal onto the floor.

Mitch put his guitar down. "I mean that seems pretty fucking dramatic. It's only been a few days."

"Right a few days of nothing. I feel so fucking much and I just can't get it out. And what does come out is absolute, fucking rubbish.”

"You're forcing it man. Let it come." Kid sighed. "This song is sad. Maybe you don't want to write a sad song right now."

"I can't write any songs right now. I think we have established that. Nothing."

"Nah. I think you want to stay on theme. The breakup, the wounds but you aren't feeling that right now."

"Huh?" Harry asked, distracted as he checked his phone.

"Seriously?" Tyler rolled his eyes. "I thought we were device free until 3? How many times did you say that to me?"

"We're breaking soon, right?" He smiled as he typed a message.

"We are. You can't wait ten minutes until you see her though? Man do you have it bad." Tyler stretched out.

"She just wanted me to know she was here." Harry shrugged it off. Tyler, Tom, Mitch and Jeff had been giving him a hard time about his 'friends' status with Maggie. They had been hanging out a lot lately but who could blame him when the conversation was just as good if not better than the mind blowing sex they had been having. Harry truly felt like he was having his cake and eating it too. This was the very best friends with benefits set up he had ever had.

"Suuuure." Jeff rolled his eyes. "Harry just wants to text his girlfriend." Harry shot Jeff a glare.

"I think you've got it bad for this girl. I don't blame you. She is gorgeous and she is cool and totally not the type of girl you are going to be able to keep it casual with." Kid said from the board.

"Maggie is awesome. I agree. I'm just not in the right place after Colette to jump right into another relationship and she doesn't seem to be keen on being tied down either."

"Now that's between the two of you." Tyler smirked.

Suddenly the door to the studio opened. "Hey, hi. Hope I'm not interrupting?" Maggie stood in the doorway. She wore a red and yellow knee length circle skirt, white cropped spaghetti strapped tank. Her blonde locks were pulled back loosely in a clip with some tendrils escaping wildly but perfectly. Maggie's face was bare so her freckles popped on her lightly tanned skin. The strawberry lip oil she always wore kept her pouty lips glistening. Harry had to resist the urge to kiss her in front of everyone.

"Not at all. Just wrapping up." Mitch said. "So is there something waiting outside for us?"

At least once a week Maggie had been surprising the gang at Shangri La with fun little gifts. A mobile barista with a little coffee bar truck. Goat yoga. Massages the week before.

"I did. I hope it is very inspiring and comforting because I heard the rock star is having a bit of a day." She smiled, raising an eyebrow at Harry. He crossed his arms over his chest not moving from his spot on the couch. "You guys go ahead. I'll see if I can't cheer up this guy."

The guys all snickered. Kid mumbled, "I bet she can." Jeff wiggled his eyebrows.

Once they were alone Maggie straddled Harry's lap. "Spill it. What's up?"

"I mean nothing besides the fact that I lost the ability to write music." He huffed.

Maggie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. This was a bit dramatic. "Oh yeah? When did this loss occur? How long are we talking?"

"Few days." He hated to admit it was after the last time he saw her. Maggie had been too busy to make it out to Malibu and he was too busy at the studio to go to her. He missed her and their time together.

"A few days? You big baby."

"Hey don't be mean to me I'm suffering here."

She gave him an exaggerated pouty face of her own. "Ok, ok. How can I help?"

His eyebrows shot up and smiled that wolfish smile he got when was about to be naughty. He puckered his lips and tapped them once with his index finger. Maggie leaned in and placed a soft wet kiss on him.

"Better?" She asked against his mouth.

"Lil mo." Maggie kissed again this time her tongue softly licked into his mouth. Harry's hands traveled down her sides, down the fronts of her thighs and began to creep under the hem of her skirt. Slowly his fingers crept between her thighs into the warm wetness beneath her underwear. She sighed at the first swipe through her folds.

"Here I was going to get on my knees for you. I thought you needed some help getting inspired." She bit into her bottom lip as Harry continued to stroke her.

Harry whispered into the shell of her ear. "Later baby, later. I just need a taste of you."

When Harry and Maggie emerged from the studio thirty minutes later everyone was most definitely talking. For a group of men they certainly acted like a bunch of old women in a small town quilting circle.

"Is this my surprise?" Harry lit up as he saw dogs roaming around the grounds. Each had a handler in a matching shirt with the name of the animal charity Liza and EJ founded.

"Dogs and ice cream." She pointed to the Salt and Straw cart. Harry quickly pinched her bum and gave her a wink. It took all of his self control to not pull her body into his and kiss her strawberry oiled lips.

Casual? Easy? It seemed like it was getting harder every day to keep it that way no matter what either of them said.

A few more weeks later...

"Oh, oh - yes. H, just like that." Maggie cried out in pleasure.

"Like that baby? Right there?" Harry continued to thrust up into her as his fingers worked her swollen bud.

"Ahh - yes, yes, yes." She chanted quietly.

"C'mon love, c'mon." His hips picked up speed. Maggie bounced back harder and faster to meet his movements. A scream ripped from her body as she squeezed and shook around him. Another moment and he toppled over the edge behind her.

Maggie collapsed on top of him. She focused on getting her breathing back to normal. He pushed her hair back off her face as she smiled down at him.

Harry pulled her in for a kiss. She rolled off to his side and threw a leg over him. He stroked her hair.

"Fuck Mags. You're going to put me in traction." He said kissing the top of her head.

"I had to make it good. I'm going to be gone for four days."

Harry and Maggie had been spending even more time together now that she had some down time. He loved having her around the studio and on the fringes of his album recording.

His album started off serious and sad. It was starting to feel lighter, sexier. Maggie was just the muse he needed. While the crew was eating ice cream or playing with puppies or doing goat yoga he was finding a quiet place with Maggie. He couldn't get enough of her.

It wasn't all sex. She was funny and so smart. Just when you thought you knew her she threw a curveball at him. He found himself telling her things he didn't normally talk about. He hated being without her too long.

They weren't even officially dating. Both of them were scared to define it too much. Neither had much luck in relationships and maybe if they kept this casual for a while longer they could work it out.

Now Maggie was leaving for five days. Every year they took their production company staff on a retreat to Palm Springs to thank them but also to work a bit. The trip always sparked creativity. Maggie traditionally loved this trip. She just didn't want to leave Harry to go. It was a strange sensation for her being that she was never really this enamored with a man before. It was probably good for them. They had been hot and heavy for weeks. Plus Harry could probably do a lot more work on the album if they weren't always fucking in a supply closet or bathroom at the studio.

"A week feels too long,"he complained as he kissed her neck.

"Yeah, yeah. First of all it is technically not a full week. Four days. You'll be locked in a studio with all the guys. I'll be back before you notice I'm gone. "

"Only part of that is accurate. I will definitely be locked in a studio. However, I will absolutely notice you are gone."

Maggie caught a glimpse of the bedside clock. Just after 8am. Fuck! "I am going to be late. The girls will be here in like 45 minutes." She jumped out of bed. "I have to get in the shower."

"Do you want company?"

"God help you if you try to get in my shower Harry Styles. My sister will murder us both if I'm late."

"Liza," Harry groaned.

"Yup that one." Maggie disappeared into the bathroom.

Harry got up to make coffee. He knew Liza hated him. Maggie never denied it when he brought it up. She just shrugged it off. Harry could admit it ate at him a bit. He hated being disliked. He had been working with his therapist on that. Thankfully their interactions had been minimal.

Maggie appeared a few minutes later in ripped blue jeans, a cropped white tee and Chanel espadrilles slip ons. Her hair was wavy and held back with an Hermes scarf fashioned as a headband. She rolled her bag behind her.

Harry handed her a travel tumbler. Maggie wrinkled her nose. Her lips curled up into a smile. "You made me coffee?"

"I mean I'm no barista but it was the least I could do."

She took a long sip. Oat milk. No sweetener. She loved that he knew her coffee order. He pulled her in to kiss her. Was it possible he was missing her already? 

A car horn blared from down on the street. "Liza?" He asked.

"I mean who else would beep this early?"

"Let me take your bag down for you."

Maggie locked up behind her. Harry rolled her bag. Liza's large SUV was pulled half into the driveway and half into the street. All the windows were rolled down. Liza and Alex up front. Dayna and Jamie in the 3rd row. Hillary in the second row.

"Good morning ladies." Harry smiled and waved. A chorus of "Hello" carried out the windows. All of them except Liza smiling widely and giggling like school girls.

Harry put the bag in the already open trunk and then slammed the hatch. Liza's eyes watching him in the rear view. He turned to Maggie. Suddenly her eyes went big. "Shit, I have to go back in. I can't go to the desert without sunglasses."

She turned to go back in. "Ooh baby no need. Take these." He pulled her in close and pulled the tortoise Ray-Bans from the top of his head and put them on her face. She pulled them up to the top of her head so she could see him unobstructed.

"Styles to the rescue. Thank you." She got up on her toes to kiss him. He leaned down and pulled up by the backs of her thighs to meet him. He gave her a kiss he hoped would last four days.

The horn honked. "The bus is leaving." Liza shouted. Alex put her head in her hands.

Maggie let a laugh escape. Harry smiled at her. " I think she's warming up to me." They walked hand in hand to the back door. "Have a safe trip. Let me know when you get there." Reluctantly he dropped Maggie's hand but not before giving it a quick kiss. He swatted her behind as she got in the SUV. She yelped.

"Goodbye ladies. Have fun!"

A car full of happily married women, swooned in unison. Well except for Liza of course.

Liza pulled away abruptly and hit the button to roll the windows up. Maggie leaned back. Slid Harry's sunglasses on and sipped her coffee.

She counted the seconds before the interrogation would start. Hillary piped up first, "Spill it. All of it. I want all the sexy details."

Liza barked, " I can probably live without that."

"Too bad you're outvoted." Jamie yelled up to her. Liza could be rough on people but her girlfriends didn't let her get away with anything. She wasn't Boss Lady Liza with them. She was Liza, their best friend since Girl Scouts.

"First of all did he literally just lift you off the ground by your ass to kiss you? Fuck that is hot." Dayna sighed while pretending to smoke a cigarette.

She blushed. "Hmm what can I tell you? He is recording an album. He spends all of his time in the studio right now." Maggie shrugged.

"And the rest of his time in you." Alex cracked herself up. Liza shot her a look and moved to turn on the radio. Alex knocked her hand away.

Maggie had nearly spit her coffee out when Alex said that. "You are a bunch of dirty old birds."

"Listen kid, I've been having sex with the same man since George W. was in office. So you are going to have to give me some fun details. I believe I am entitled." Hillary whined.

"We've been together nearly non stop for like the last, I don't know, a few weeks. Since we met at that shitty Martin Graves party.  The sex is outrageously good. Like my vagina needs this vacation though."

"I actually didn't see that coming. Good looking guys are traditionally not great lays. When you're pretty you don't even have to try. " Dayna said. "Remember that hot pizza delivery guy in college? Cute but such a dud in the sack."

"No Day he was not hot. That was the guy who looked like the lead singer of Color Me Badd, right?" Liza laughed.

"You dated a guy with a neck tattoo so..." Dayna countered.

"No, I slept with a guy who had a neck tattoo. One time. One time I drank too much Mr. Boston and fucked a guy with a neck tattoo. You bitches are going to put it on my tombstone."

Maggie loved all of these ladies so much. High school was terrible for her but Liza and Alex's friends made Maggie their little sister too. She loved their stories and antics. As the company flourished they came out West to learn the business and take part. It was so nice to have everyone here.

"OK so back to actual hot guys. Harry. Oh Harry." Hillary smiled leaning back. "Are we official? Are we serious? It sounds serious. It looks serious. You admit he has practically broken your vagina."

Maggie leaned back too. She touched the frames on her face. She pressed her lips together remembering the feeling of his goodbye kiss.

"Honestly we haven't talked about it at all. I mean I don't think he's seeing anyone else. Not sure when he would have time. I'm not seeing anyone else. I really like being with him. I'm just not ready to label it. Every time I get too excited about something the universe steps in and crushes me. I'm not ready to be crushed yet."

Alex turned around quickly. "Mags, that's not how this works. You deserve to be happy. You work so hard. Being in limbo isn't always fun or healthy though."

Dayna called from the back, "Have the conversation. Lock that good sex down."

"But if he gets a neck tattoo - he's out." Jamie said as she pulled a hard seltzer from a cooler in back.

"Now that is good advice because these bitches will never let you live it down." Liza sighed. "OK road trip music must commence."

Harry made it to the studio on time. Funny enough, he seemed to only ever be the one to do that. He let himself in and puttered around the immaculate kitchen. He opened a can of nitro cold brew coffee and stretched.

The door opened behind him. When he turned he nearly dropped the can in his hands. It wasn't an engineer or Mitch. It was Colette.

When their eyes met she unleashed a big toothy smile at him. He was stunned. For once he didn't have words.

"Surprise 'arry." She said with her lovely French accent.

"Yes, yes it is. What are you doing here?" Harry put the can down.

"Our mutual friends are having an anniversary party and invited me. I thought I would come and drop in and make sure that was OK. Check in on you. "

The mutual friends were Kid/Tom and Jenny. He totally forgot the party was Saturday night. He was sure someone mentioned the model was invited but he had been so caught up in all things Maggie that not much but her stuck in his head.

"Of course it's OK. It's good to see you." And it was. Colette was the sole focus of his previous year. Their tumultuous relationship had shaped a lot of this album. It shaped a lot of why he was having a hard time wanting to make things more defined with Maggie.

Harry leaned in and hugged her. She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. Her hands lingered on his back a minute. She softly scratched at that spot on low on his spine that made him weak in the knees. Harry allowed himself to breathe her in. 

Wasn’t she still dating that trust fund baby? Harry and Colette talked quite frequently via text but he never asked her about him. He never wanted to hear about him. They were 'just friends' because when they broke up he still wanted to keep a piece of her with him. The last few weeks were the first time since they parted he didn't feel compelled to Google her or text first.

"I'm not here to interrupt. I just wanted to see you. Maybe you will be up for dinner later?" She asked.

"That would be nice." Harry heard himself accept before really thinking it over.

Colette leaned in and quickly kissed his mouth. "I'll text you later." Just as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared.

"Was that?" Mitch asked as he entered the kitchen.

"It was."

"And..."

"She wanted to make sure we would be cool at the same party on Saturday night. I

totally forgot she was going."

"Are you bringing Maggie? Is she bringing the dude she is with?"

"Maggie gets home from Palm Springs on Saturday. She wasn't sure she would be up for a party. And I don't speak to Colette about her love life so I have no idea. However she invited me out to dinner tonight so maybe I'll hear more then."

"Dinner? Is that inviting trouble?" Mitch raised an eyebrow.

"Let's hope not."

Maggie got checked into her hotel suite. Everyone was changing into swimwear for a poolside mixer. She was already feeling a little buzz from Jamie's cooler full of fun. She rummaged through her luggage until she found her white string bikini with navy embroidery.

She set her phone up on the wireless charger on the dresser in the bedroom. "Hey siri, FaceTime, H" Maggie pulled her shoes off as she waited to see if he would answer.

"Hello." Harry's beautiful face appeared.

"Hello. I'm here. I'm alive. Charging my phone. Rushing to get changed. How is it going there?" She asked.

"Pretty good. Productive. Finished an entire song. " Harry proudly exclaimed.

"You did? So that makes three in the can, right?"

"It does. So how was the ride out?" He asked.

"Good. Fun. Jamie had a cooler of drinks so if you'll excuse me I'm halfway to white girl wasted." She giggled. "Keep talking to me. I'm gonna step over here and change. I have to get back downstairs."

"You are such a tease." He shouted as he watched her throw her pants in camera view.  Harry gave an exaggerated groan. “Ugh you are such a bad girl.” 

"You only know half of it." She laughed, and she returned to the camera clad in her bikini.

Harry made a wounded sound at her appearance.  "I may not survive four days. You look gorgeous. Come back to LA wearing that immediately. "

"Keep working hard and four days will have come and gone before we know it. Then I'm all yours." She leaned into the camera, blew a kiss and then quickly pulled the triangle of her bikini top over to give Harry a clear view of a nipple.

"Maggie," He growled, "I can be there in two hours."

"Less with the way you drive but don't you dare. Go back to work. I have to finish getting drunk with my friends." She beamed.

"Give me a twirl in that first." He encouraged her. She turned slowly so he could take her in.

"So this meets your approval."

He let out a loud whistle. She blew him another kiss. He blew one back. "Go have fun."

"Go back to work.."

"Miss you." He said seriously. 

Maggie was completely taken by surprise. It has been just a few hours but the truth was she missed him too. So yeah maybe these four days apart was a good idea. Maybe they could get some perspective on what they wanted from one another.

“It was such a perfect night ‘arry.” Colette sighed as she looked up into Harry’s face. ‘I have really missed you.” 

The whiskey was warm in his belly, the breeze from the ocean settled over him. This moment felt like one of his dreams. Colette was back, she looked beautiful, they weren’t fighting. He reached his hand out to her. She took it. 

“It was a really nice night. I’m glad we did this.” 

“Do you want to come up to my room for a drink? I have a lovely view on the balcony.” Her eyelashes fluttered and the waves of her hair lightly rustled up in the breeze making her look ethereal. 

“I’ve probably had enough to drink but I’ll walk you upstairs.” Harry knew he was playing with fire. He needed to keep his mind clear. No more booze. He wasn’t ready to let go of Colette just yet though. The night had gone too well. 

Harry squeezed her hand gently and followed her. 

Maggie had sobered up after having some dinner and a strong espresso. She had to do some script reading tonight before more fun tomorrow. After dinner when she returned to her room she realized she had left her phone behind charging. She was a little disappointed when there were no messages from Harry, Sure they had talked already today, a few times so really she should just be happy. Normally he said goodnight to her though. 

‘Get a grip. You sound like a very intense girlfriend.’ she told herself. Maggie put the script aside and laid back. She turned off the lights and tried to get comfortable in the unfamiliar bed. She tossed and turned for another forty five minutes. 

The phone on the nightstand buzzed to life. 

From Harry : I hope you had the very best day. Good night sweet girl. 

She typed back, ‘Only three more days to go. Good night.’ 

[tessa-liam]

Smoke and Mirrors

9-Hidden in Plain Sight 

Book: The Royal Romance Finale, AU

Series Premise: Hidden in the shadows, poised to challenge the status quo are enemies of the state. The loyalties and honesty of family and friends will be tested. ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer’. 

Smoke and Mirrors Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP ‘LiRi’ 

2nd Pairings: Leo Rys x Amalas, Drake Walker x F!OC Delaney Leigh, Olivia Nevrakis x M!OC Alex Cossoy 

*Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

*Not Beta’d, please excuse all errors 

Rating: M🔞*Series Warnings:  NSFW material, sexual innuendo, adult language/swearing/drinking/gun violence. Not recommended for anyone under 18 years of age. 

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2394 

Chapter Summary: It’s the evening of the Celebration Ball and the big reveal of the Royal twins. Lena is interrogated by Interpol. Liam and Leo discuss a potential threat to the kingdom. 

Smoke and Mirrors

9- Hidden in Plain Sight 

Music Inspiration: Sway, Michael Buble; Claire De Lune, London Symphony Orchestra; Late Night Talking, Harry Styles 

A/N2: My submission for @choicesseptemberchallenge2023, @midnightmelodiz , Day 6 – Dreams, Day dream, “I’m in love with you?” 

A/N1: My submission for @choicesflashfics @jerzwriter Week #49, Prompt 1- “You take my breath away every time I see you.” 

The King’s chamber was illuminated only by the soft light of the full moon where the King and Queen lay together. Riley was fast asleep, her head resting on Liam’s chest, her very pregnant belly snuggled safely against his side. Liam looked over at his sleeping wife, his heart swelling with love for her and their sons. In three short weeks, his family will grow to five; that time coming very quickly now.

Cordonian Royal Palace

He lay awake; sleep eluding him again for another night. Mentally organizing his schedule for the upcoming month, his thoughts eventually returned to that conversation with Drake that they had on the beach the day before. His confession...

‘Watching you with Brooks, all these years... I want that too.’ 

‘Pretending to be happy is pretty damn exhausting.’ 

Sighing, Liam was pleasantly surprised when he heard a soft voice. 

No one else would have caught it, but Liam did. He ‘read between the lines’ of what Drake had said, like he was remembering a bad dream. Did Drake just admit that he still had feelings for his wife? Were those feelings that he had years ago still present and relevant to him? 

“How long have you been awake?” Riley whispered. 

He kissed her forehead and placed his hand on her baby bump. Stroking her belly, he could feel the soft kicks under his palm.

“Not long, love” he murmerred.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam hesitated before answering. 

Riley turning her head to look up at him, “you think too much sometimes.” 

“A conversation that I had. I am not quite sure if it was real or if it was a daydream.” Liam kept his answer opaque on purpose, not wanting to divulge too much detail to her. 

Liam chuckled, “Are you complaining?” 

“Never,” she replied, yawning. “I love you,” she added sleepily. 

His body relaxed, as he closed his eyes, “I love you more.” he murmured, tightening his arm around her protectively. 

Cordonian Palace Ballroom 

The Ballroom was filled with guests awaiting the King’s announcement scheduled for later in the evening. 

Royalty from neighboring kingdoms, nobility, politicians, and ambassadors from allied countries came from long and short distances to partake in the black-tie festivities. Music filled the air as waitstaff circulated amongst the crowd with glasses of wine and flutes of champagne. 

“I’m glad you decided to attend this event with me,” Olivia said smiling at Alex. 

“I must be honest with you, Livvie. I usually attend these functions as the enforcer. I am not used to wearing a ‘monkey suit’,” Alex smirked. He seemed to be comfortable among all the guests, nonetheless. 

Olivia grinned back at her partner, but her smile quickly faded when she spotted Amalas and Leo huddled together on the other side of the dance floor. They appeared to be deep in conversation and were not paying any attention to their surroundings.  

Alex noticed Olivia’s expression change. “Everything okay?” he asked with concern. She nodded, trying to force the smile back onto her lips. 

“I thought that Leo was coming on his own tonight.” 

“Liv, that doesn’t mean that he can't talk to anyone once he gets here,” Alex rebutted. Olivia sighed loudly and continued to watch the couple from afar. 

A waiter approached, carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Alex accepted a small sampling as Olivia continued to study the couple without saying another word. Alex shook his head; he knew what was bothering her.   He also wished, he was mistaken.

As the orchestra began to play the first few notes of the Cordonian national anthem, the press began to gather around the dais waiting for the King to enter the ballroom. 

The King’s guard fell into strategic positions when the herald announced the arrival of the Royal family. 

Liam strode up to the lectern that was atop the dais wearing his full military regalia. Riley, walking with Eleanor, joined him and stood next to his side. Regina and Leo stood close by next to the dais. 

The crowd hushed in anticipation. Clearing his throat once before speaking, Liam began, “Good evening, everyone,” he proclaimed. 

“It is my pleasure and honor to welcome you all here tonight. I know many have been waiting patiently for the queen and I to make an official announcement concerning our ‘additions’ to the Royal family.”  Liam turned to wink at Riley.

The ballroom attendees erupted in whoops and cheers. 

Liam acknowledged his delighted guests with a broad smile and waited a few minutes for the accolades to subside. Continuing with, “thank you, thank you!” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to have my princess here to help me....” Liam turned and beamed, chuckling as Ellie clapped her hands with a peal of laughter as her uncle Leo scooped her up and joined his brother. 

“Well, Ellie, what do you think?” Leo asked, smirking at Liam. 

“Daddy, look.” Ellie exclaimed and pointed to a bevy of blue balloons filled with helium that were being released behind the crowd overtop the dance floor. 

“Everyone, our twin boys, our princes, are expected to arrive at the end of this month.” Liam lifted Riley’s hand tenderly to kiss. 

Riley joined Liam as he took her hands and led her to stand beside him at the lectern.  

Thrilled at the excitement, Liam continued once the audience returned their attention back to him.

Liam waited for the crowd to settle down after the announcement. 

The applause was deafening as everyone celebrated. 

After posing for pictures by the press, Liam led Riley to the dance floor as the orchestra began to play the beginning notes of ‘Clair de Lune’. As they danced, it felt like time stood still; as guests formed a circle around them, Liam kissed Riley’s hand and placed it atop his chest over his heart as they swayed together in time to the music.  

“It must have something to do with the love of my life in my arms,” Liam simpered. 

“How is it, that.... Liam,” as she smoothed down his lapels, “you take my breath away every time I see you.” 

“Always the charmer, Your Majesty." Riley whispered, kissing his lips sweetly. 

*** 

Drake held Delaney close to his chest as they watched the King and Queen move together in the center of the dance floor. 

“They look so perfect together,” Delaney sighed. Her voice was laced with envy. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone special someday.” Drake answered sarcastically. 

Delaney laughed. “That’s so easy for you to say.” Slapping his arm.

Drake grinned, “you'are damn straight, Leigh. When I first met you, I had no idea what my future would hold. You showed me things that I had only dreamed of having with someone. … and I have treasured every minute of your love.”  

 Growling, he leaned over and kissed her fiercely on the lips. Just as Riley and Liam walked past them. Delaney noticed the look on Drake’s face when he locked eyes with Riley. It gave her an uneasy feeling. He seemed to be lost in thought.  

Smiling playfully at him, Delaney asked in jest, “I’m in love with you too?"  

She frowned. “Something wrong?” 

His eyes shifted away from Riley, and he shook his head. 

“No, nothing at all.”  

But he didn’t fool her. Delaney, now was positive that her concerns were justified, stepped back. 

“Good evening, you two.” Riley beamed as she turned towards Delaney and Drake.  

“You two are getting married! Congratulations...I am so happy for you both.” Riley put her arm around her shoulder for a side hug.

“Thank you so much,” Delaney replied, hugging Riley in return. 

“Yes, congratulations you two,” Liam reached over to kiss Delaney’s cheek. 

“I am impressed, Walker.” Riley snickered as she hugged her friend.  

“Wow, settling down and saying goodbye to the bachelor life.” Liam smirked, shaking Drake's hand.

“Who would have thought,” Riley chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah, Brooks, get your shots in now.” Drake responded, not making eye contact. 

Interrogation Room A, Interpol Headquarters, Lyon, France 

Lena sat back on her chair with her hands folded in her lap. She was flanked by two men in dark suits. One of the men was a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair. His name was detective Lefebvre, and he had been assigned by Inspector Ryerson to investigate her case. The other man was the head of Psychiatrics and was assigned to conduct an evaluation of her psychological state by King Liam Rys of Cordonia. 

Across the table, sat Lena’s legal defense attorney, assigned to represent her by the Royal estate of Vallenheim. 

Detective Lefebvre cleared his throat. 

“Miss Runarsdottir, I understand you are familiar with the Cordonian Royal family?” 

Lena nodded. “Yes, I have met King Constantine Rys, my father. My stepmother, Queen Sigrid, raised me when my mother Eleanor Rys was murdered. I know of but never met my brother Liam or my stepbrother Leo.” 

“And what do you know about them?” he asked. 

Lena’s mouth went dry. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare. 

“I don’t have any other information about them,” she lied. 

“Do you mean to tell me that you knew nothing about your brothers even though you were caught outside the buildings they were in this past summer?” 

Lena stared at him unflinching. 

“How did you know where to go?” he asked again. 

“I’m sorry, I can't help you.”  

Lefebvre slammed his fist against the table, making Lena jump in surprise. 

“Don't play with me. You’re either lying or delusional.” 

Lena bit her lip. She sat stoically and kept her emotions hidden. 

“I am not playing around. I have no information.” 

Feeling frustrated, Detective Lefebvre changed his strategy. 

“Miss Runarsdottir, who is Bastien Lykel? 

“Who?” 

“Bastien Lykel,” he repeated. 

Lena’s face paled. “I don’t know anyone named Bastien.” 

“Are you sure?” he pressed. 

“We have CCTV evidence of your conversation with him in the holding cells at the Cordonian Palace.” 

“I-I-” she stammered. 

“You were seen talking to him at least three times before you escaped those holding cells in Cordonia. Is that correct?” 

Again, Lena sat in silence. 

“Choose wisely, Miss Runarsdottir, and answer my questions. What is the nature of your relationship with Bastien Lykel?” 

Lena’s breathing quickened and her hands began to shake. If she told the truth, she was dead.

“Let the records show that Miss Runarsdottir is not cooperative.” 

Cordonian Ballroom 

Leo was speaking to Rashad at the bar when Liam approached after having a debate with an American ambassador. 

“Hey Li, I see you survived your conversation with Smithfield.” Leo smirked as Liam ordered a scotch and shot it back quickly. 

“Barkeep, another round for my brother and I’ll take the same.”  

“Why, thank you Leo.” Liam clapped his back. 

“Where is your beautiful Queen?” 

“Riley is upstairs with Ellie. Being so close to her due date, she needs to be off her feet to rest from tonight’s festivities. She is exhausted.” 

Leo nodded. “Totally understandable, but Li, why are you still down here?” 

“Because I need to talk with you and apologize about the other day.” Liam responded. 

“No apologies needed.  I was being an asshole and you called me out.” Leo grinned. 

“Well, I overreacted. You pressed a nerve when you mentioned father.” 

Leo smirked, “good, because I agree with you and I believe you are ‘right on the money’.  

Liam chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Again, that’s what makes you the better King,” Leo winked 

“I do have information for you." Leo continued. "Amalas gave me an update on Interpol’s case on Lena and Bastien.” 

‘Liam winces slightly at the mention of Lena, but he does not interrupt.’ 

“Lena is being uncooperative when questioned by the detectives. Nice touch, by the way, for assigning a psychiatrist to oversee her testimony.” 

“Well, it’s the least I could do knowing what father did to her, and her future.” 

“’Amalas has uncovered a few suspicious ‘coincidences’, but nothing damning enough’ to help shed light as to what her motives are.” 

“So far, the information that he divulged on the estate of Vallenheim has been verified as true. It was uncovered that he has affiliations with members of the Vallenheim royal guard.” 

“Has there been any progress on Bastien’s involvement?” Liam inquired.

“Director Ryerson has scheduled an official update for Monday morning with me. Apparently, Interpol has uncovered a black ledger. It was 'hidden in plain sight'." 

“Care to join me, Leo?” 

Leo responded, “I will be here.” 

📌 @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @jared2612 @irisk12 @thesvnsins @walkerdrakewalker 📌

[roleplayfinder]

Hi, I'm Sah, 29, She/Her, CST, and looking for an 18+ roleplay partner for long-term plotting and ships!

I play as about 150+ muses and I am looking for anyone who just likes to write with more than one muse and like having multiple threads with various muses.

I am so cool with Canon x OC, Canon x Canon, and OC x OC. I love OCs! I only request that I play the male in the RP, as that's what I'm used to c:

My muse list is located here or (mobile list) here: https://sah1x1smuselist.tumblr.com/ https://sah1x1s.tumblr.com/muselist (if you're mobile)

Here's a general list of fandoms I write in: DC DISNEY MARVEL ROSWELL EUPHORIA STAR WARS SHAMELESS HISTORICAL BLACK SAILS HARRY POTTER SUPERNATURAL THE LAST OF US TRIPLE FRONTIER THE HUNGER GAMES THE VAMPIRE DIARIES VARIOUS VIDEO GAMES A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

As well as fandomless or AUs!

I tend to type novella style, but I don't ask the same in return. Just give me something to work with, and we're gold! I use Tupp, but we don't have to, and I'll gladly make the server!

Honestly, I'm just looking to make some friends 😂

I am looking for someone who can RP frequently, at least 2-4 times a week. I’m somewhat fast at replies and usually get back to my partner ASAP.

Ideally, I'm looking for a long-term RP partner who would be interested in exploring multiple plots, threads, AUs, etc. I am also looking for someone comfortable with NSFW concepts, but optional!

Someone who doesn't mind OOC chatting or doing things like video games!

Interested parties can reach out to me on Discord; my username is justcallmesah, or here on Tumblr!

C:

justcallmesah