#like yeah we can put her in gear for manual if we want to but why would we honestly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

Text

42 Hours (II)

Content: part 2 to an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time!! includes a karaoke bar in Cleveland, Ohio, sharing of motel rooms (oh my god there was only one bed 👁️👁️), and a lesbian wedding in the Catskills

Warnings: language, alcohol, NSFW content, making fun of Nebraska and The Notebook

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 32k

A/N: okay can I just say that I am so glad this is finally done. I have been working on this fic for over a month!!! the entire thing is over 51k in length!!!!!! my word doc is almost 100 pages!!!! this was meant to be a fun story about enemies to lovers stuck on a road trip!!!!! what happened!!!! but thank you guys so much for all the love and support and interest in this story <3 I was really nervous about splitting it up (which looking back was a good choice because again. it’s so long.) but you all showed so much love for the story and the characters!!!! I’d like to give a special shout out to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and miss alex @darthstyles for proof reading, and miss andrea again for this pretty header image!! if you’re looking for any good reads after this, I highly recommend checking out their masterlists!! and as always, if you like this fic, please like it AND reblog it!! and shoot me a message about it!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by ALL content creators, and is the main motivation for us to create more for you all to enjoy!!

{masterlist}

here is everyone’s wedding looks!! and HERE is a lil moodboard of Jo and Laure’s wedding so you can sense the vibes!!

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

It’s almost instantaneous, Y/N notices, how quickly and easily she and Harry fall into a rhythm of friendship. From the moment she wakes up the next morning to a blue sky, the storm long passed, and Harry holding out a cup of black coffee for her, the stress and anxiety of the previous day is gone. There’s no watching herself around Harry, biting her tongue to stop herself from snapping over every small motion he makes as he fidgets in the driver’s seat. There’s no irritation caused by the way he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, or how he asks any question that crosses his mind, speaking out his random chain of thoughts just as often.

The thing that Y/N’s come to realize is that Harry is so much more interesting than she’d ever thought. He’s certainly more interesting than the endless fields of corn that whip by her window as he drives down the interstate. His jokes are dumb, but he says them with such a big grin on his face that she can’t help but laugh. His comments are strange, but Y/N finds herself enjoying the weird words that slip from his mouth without being caught by a filter.

“If we were in a Children of The Corn situation,” Harry begins, raising his voice to be heard over the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel. “Do you think you’d be able to outsmart the cult? Or would you get sacrificed to He Who Walks Behind the Rows?”

Y/N half chokes on the bottle of water she’d just raised to her lips, and coughs the liquid from her lungs as she turns to give Harry an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

“We’re in Nebraska. That’s where it takes place, right?” Harry asks, glancing at Y/N from behind his sunglasses. “There’s, like, a weird child cult, and they kill all the adults in town for the corn harvest, or something, and then this couple on a road trip discovers them, and tries to stop them. Do you think you’d be able to?”

“Do I think I’d be able to stop a child cult? Or would I get sacrificed to their weird corn god? That’s what you’re asking me?” Although she can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of the question, her mind is already appraising the situation Harry’s proposed. “I think I’d be able to stop them. They’re just kids, right? You just can’t be afraid to—you know—” Y/N drags her thumb across her throat, and Harry quirks up an eyebrow at her casual response.

“You’d kill a bunch of kids?”

“If the kids were evil and wanted to kill me? Absolutely.” Y/N leans her head back on the head rest, still keeping her eyes locked on Harry. “Wouldn’t you?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in response. “I don’t know. I’d try to reason with them, I think.”

Y/N extends a finger gun at him, clicking her tongue in sync with the motion. “And that’s why they’d sacrifice you and not me.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head slowly as he turns his attention back to the road. “Lovely. Wouldn’t you try to save me?”

Y/N hums, pretending to think the question over. “That depends on how annoying you’ve been that day.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Y/N, you really are.” Harry laughs more, but stops abruptly as he spots a sign to the right of the road. “Oh! There’s a souvenir shop at the next exit!”

A groan falls from Y/N’s mouth as her head flops back, already sensing defeat. “No, Harry, you don’t need another keychain—”

“You don’t know that! Maybe I could get a corn stalk keychain!”

…

“You know, I could drive for a bit. If you’d like.”

Harry looks up at Y/N with an apprehensive gaze, his nimble fingers halfway through attaching a new silver key chain in the shape of Nebraska to his key ring. “What?”

“You’ve been driving for three days straight.” Y/N leans over the passenger side of the car, resting her arms on the sun-warmed roof. “I could drive. I know how to; I just don’t do it in L.A. because the traffic is annoying. But the interstate is practically empty, so…”

“Uh, no offense, Y/N, but…” Harry opens the drivers door, a small smile curving the corner of his lip. “No one drives Stevie but me. And besides, she’s a stick. Have you ever driven one?”

“Well, no.” Y/N admits, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “But you could show me.”

Harry inhales deeply, glancing around the souvenir shop parking lot. Y/N can tell he’s surveying the area, searching for a reason to say no, but as far as she can tell, there isn’t one. There are no other cars around, and the area is mostly flat, giving her a good space to practice driving in. With a defeated look on his face, Harry exhales sharply and gives a quick nod as he takes a step back from the driver’s side. “Fine. Get in.”

Y/N and Harry swap sides in the car, although Y/N is much more enthusiastic about it than Harry is. From the moment she climbs in and begins adjusting his seat, a pained look comes over Harry’s face, making her roll her eyes.

“Oh, come on. You’re a giant, Harry, I have to adjust things so I can reach the pedals.” Y/N scoffs, reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror. “You can put them all back later.”

“Yeah.” Harry sucks in another breath before pushing his sunglasses up into his chestnut curls. “Okay, so…there’s three pedals on the floor. The right one is gas, the middle is the brake, and the left is the clutch. And then here—” Harry takes Y/N’s right hand and places it over the gear shift. “This is how you shift. There’s six gears, right? And their use depends on the speed you’re going, so you’re going to start with one—” His hand squeezes hers as he shifts the gear shift over and up to the left with ease. “Which is here. Here’s two—” He shifts the gear shift down to the left, and continues to move it as he speaks. “Three. Four. Five. And reverse. Got it?”

“I think so.” Y/N nods, her hand flexing beneath Harry’s large palm. His rings feel cool against her warm skin, and she has to admit, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. “Up left, down left, up middle, down middle, up right, down right. Right?”

“Right.” Harry lifts his hand off hers to point towards her feet, which are sitting on the carpet cover in front of the pedals. “You want to start with your foot pressed firmly on the clutch, the one—yeah. There, to the left. Keep it pressed there. Is it pressed there?”

“Since you first told me to press it, yeah.” Y/N furrows her brow in concentration, which is caused both from learning how to drive manually, and the effort it takes to stop herself from laughing at the nervousness in Harry’s voice. “Now what?”

“Take off the parking brake.” Harry pulls the lever down himself, making sure Y/N is focused on her other movements. “And the car is in neutral, so you can turn the key in the ignition.” He holds out his keys towards her.

Y/N takes the cool metal from his hands, quickly finding the right key for the Impala and slipping it in. The car roars to life, a sound which is now familiar to her ears. “Okay. There.”

“Good.” Harry pauses for a moment before reaching across Y/N’s body and buckling her seatbelt, which she had forgotten in the excitement to drive. “Safety first.” He sits back in the passenger seat, fixing his seatbelt across his own body. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing these.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows and nose wrinkling as she makes a face. “What do I do now?”

“Now…” Harry fidgets with his seatbelt again as he moves forward in the passenger seat, one hand bracing against the dash as he directs her. “Press the clutch and the brake at the same time, like that. Now move the gear shift into first gear.”

Y/N does as he says, pushing the gear shift over and up to the left. It takes much more pressure for her to move it without Harry’s help, she notes, but doesn’t let the effort show on her face. “Then?”

“Take your foot off the brake.” Harry instructs, caution laced through his voice. “And slowly—slowly! —release the clutch as you press down gently on the gas.”

“Okay…” Lifting her left foot first, Y/N does her best to match the motion with her right foot, pressing down at the same pace as she lifts the other. Her movement, however, isn’t as smooth as she wants it to be, and the car lunges forward in a choppy motion.

“Careful!” Harry says loudly, twisting his body to face Y/N as he continues bracing himself. His entire body is tense, his shoulders practically up by his ears as he appraises Y/N. “You have to do it at the same time!”

“Alright, alright—” Y/N tries again, focusing on matching her feet to each other. This time, the movement is smoother, and the car begins to drive forward slowly, moving faster as Y/N presses down more. “Is that—am I doing it?” Y/N asks nervously, navigating herself slowly through the parking lot. “Is that it?”

“That’s it. You’re doing good, yeah.” Harry nods slowly, but Y/N can see the strain in his jaw from the corner of her eye. “Now let’s try…let’s try shifting gears, so you can speed up.”

“Try not to sound so terrified.” Y/N mutters, turning the wheel to guide the car around a lamp post.

Harry ignores her comment. “You’re going to do the same motion, but this time release the gas while pressing down on the clutch. Then move the gear shifter to two, like before, and—”

Before Harry can finish speaking, Y/N attempts to change into second gear. The car lurches again as she releases the gas and presses on the clutch, and the jagged motion only gets worse after she shifts into second.

“Slowly, Y/N—” Agitation is clear in Harry’s voice, and his knuckles turn white as he grips the dash. “Slower!”

Another lunge of the car shifts Y/N to the side, and her foot slips off the clutch completely. With a sickening sound, the car lurches to a stop, despite Y/N’s foot still pressed on the gas. “What—?”

Harry, who’s been wincing throughout the entire ordeal, sucks in a sharp breath. “You stalled her.” He says, shaking his head with a quiet horror.

Y/N tugs on her bottom lip as she glances at him from the corner of her eye, her voice hesitant. “Is…that bad?”

“Is that—?” Harry’s green irises snap to meet hers, wide open and shocked. “Yeah, it’s bad. That’s enough practice for today, I think. I’m driving again.”

Y/N tries to protest. “But—”

“Nope! Out!” Harry shakes his head firmly, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car in one swift motion. “Come on!”

With a defeated sigh, Y/N unbuckles herself, climbing out of the driver’s door that Harry’s just opened for her. “Sorry.” She mumbles, walking around to the passenger’s side and climbing back in.

Harry gives her a small smile, albeit a pained one, as he begins to move his feet over the brake and clutch, shifting the car into neutral. “It’s fine. That was pretty good for a first practice, really. Just…maybe it’s too soon for highway driving.”

Y/N buckles her seatbelt as Harry restarts the engine, and within a few minutes, he has his signal flipped back on to head back to the highway. “You know, mostly I wanted to drive so that I could pick the music.” She says casually, resting her chin in her hand after propping it up against the arm rest. “I’m getting a little tired of The Beatles on repeat.”

Harry laughs, raking his hand through his curls before shifting gears with ease. “Oh really? What would you put on, if you had a choice?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugs, taking a moment to think. “We could listen to a nice sonata, maybe. Oh! Or Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I haven’t listened to it in full in a while.”

A sound of surprise and indignation leaves Harry’s mouth. “Tchaikovsky—? No! No, you can’t listen to classical music on a road trip! You need music that you can scream the lyrics to!”

“Is there a rulebook about what you can and can’t listen to on a road trip?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she poses the sarcastic question. “I wasn’t aware.”

“There’s an unofficial rulebook, yes.” Harry risks a glance over at Y/N, his green eyes alight. “And one of the most important—if not the most important—rules is that any song you listen to has to be able to be sung loudly while driving down a highway. Everyone knows that.”

“My bad.” Y/N says sarcastically, toeing off her shoes to better cross her legs beneath herself. “So, in short, we’re stuck listening to your playlist, huh?”

“Now you get it.” Harry shoots her a cheeky grin, pointing with his free hand. “You can change the song, though. If you’d like.”

“Really?” Y/N reaches down to the small catch all tray between them, where Harry’s phone sits connected to a car charger. She picks it up carefully, raising an eyebrow in question. “May I?”

When Harry nods, Y/N clicks on the screen, which displays the controls to the Spotify playlist currently being projected through the car’s speakers. Unsurprisingly, a Beatles song is moving across the scene, causing Y/N to press the skip button immediately. The next song is by The Killers, called “Spaceman,” and while she likes it, it’s not really something she feels like listening to in the moment. She hits skip again, passing over “Night Moves,” “Piano Man,” and “Seven Wonders,” (the last skip earning a sound of protest from Harry) before a familiar album cover pops up on the screen.

“Hold on.” Y/N says, mouth agape as the 1990s Vocoder sound fills the car. “You listen to Cher?”

“Are you kidding?” Harry’s surprised expression matches hers. “Of course! She’s a treasure.” He taps his fingers to the beat of “Believe” while his head bops to the same pattern. “I love this song. It’s a good one.”

Making a sound of agreement, Y/N lets her gaze drift to the window, watching the agriculture fields that whiz by. “Yeah.” She murmurs, losing herself in the beat. “‘No matter how hard I try…you keep pushing me aside’…”

“‘And I can’t break through’…” Harry’s voice joins with hers, louder and surer of himself than hers had been. “‘There’s no talking to you’…”

Y/N’s head turns from the window, locking eyes with Harry for the split second he looks away from the road ahead of them. “‘It’s so sad that you’re leaving…it takes time to believe it’…”

“‘But after all is said and done’…” The grin playing on Harry’s pink lips grows, popping out his dimples as he continues to sing. “‘You’re gonna be the lonely one’…”

With a grin pasted across her own face, so big that her cheeks ache, Y/N joins Harry for the chorus, yelling the lyrics more than singing them. “‘Do you believe in life after love? I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!” Harry’s hand drifts down to the volume dial, turning the music up until the bass thumps through the entire car. Y/N can feel it in her chest like a second heart beat.

“‘Do you believe in life after love?’” Encouraged by each other, Harry and Y/N scream the lyrics even louder on the repeat, straining their necks as much as their vocal cords. “‘I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!”

When Harry’s hand moves again, Y/N thinks that he’s reaching for the dial again, perhaps to turn it down, but then his hand makes a questioning motion, and Y/N realizes that Harry, ever the one for dramatics, is acting out the lines.

“‘What was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you?’” Harry points at Y/N then, an exaggerated look on his face as his whole body moves to the beat. “‘Well I can’t do that! And there’s no turning back’…”

Not wanting to be one upped, Y/N pushes up the sleeve of her sweater, exposing her wrist enough that she can tap on it. “‘I need time to move on’…” A fit of giggles interrupt the next line as she and Harry both raise their arms to flex their muscles. “‘I need a love to feel strong’…” Y/N taps on her temple as she sways her body to the beat the best she can in the car. “‘Because I’ve got time to think it through’…” When she turns to point at Harry, she finds him already pointing at her, once again in sync with her thoughts. “‘And maybe I’m too good for you, oh’!”

They repeat the chorus in the same way as before, screaming the lyrics as loud as they can, pulling dramatic facial expressions and dance moves to match. Halfway through the repeat, Harry attempts to mimic the classic Cher move of pushing hair over the shoulder, and the ridiculous sight is enough to send Y/N into another fit of laughter. She almost misses the entrance for the bridge, but recovers just in time to yell the lyrics in sync with Harry.

Forming fists and dragging her arms towards her dramatically, and Harry doing the same with his free hand, the two of them screw their faces up as they sing passionately. “‘Well I know that I’ll get through this…because I know that I am strong’…” The flexing of arms returns for a moment before being replaced by impassioned pleading hand gestures. “‘I don’t need you anymore…I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore’…”

Although they’d been energetic in the previous choruses, Harry and Y/N give their all for the final chorus, bouncing and yelling and gesturing as much as they can as they drive down the interstate at sixty-five miles per hour. They quiet for a moment as the beat falls out, singing the lyrics at a slightly lower volume, but when the beat returns, they scream the lyrics one final time in unison before the music fades out.

The song changes to “Baby Driver,” and Harry reaches to lower the volume as he and Y/N both struggle to catch their breath. They laugh between pants, hands on chests as they rapidly rise and fall. Y/N lets her head fall back against the back of the seat, shifting her legs so only one rests on the seat beneath her thigh.

“That was a good one.” She admits, pushing her now-sweaty hair out of her face. “I’ll give you that. Cher was a good choice.”

“Do you see what I meant, now?” Harry asks breathlessly, his grin still plastered to his face. “Do you still want to listen to Tchaikovsky?”

In lieu of a reply, Y/N reaches for Harry’s phone again, skipping songs until “Jessie’s Girl” begins to drift through the speakers. “Turn it up again, Harry.”

There’s a twinkle in Harry’s eyes when he does as she says.

…

“I can sleep on the floor.” Harry volunteers, tugging his hand through his stretched out curls as his eyes scan the interior of the motel room. “Make a little bed out of pillows. Then you can have the bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, setting her bag on the small table in front of the room’s mirror. “You can’t sleep on the floor!”

Harry purses his lips. “I’ll take the chair, then. I can stretch out on it—”

“Please, you have limbs like Gumby.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N unzips her bag and pulls out her toiletries. “You can’t sleep comfortably in a chair. We can deal with one bed for one night. It’s not the end of the world.”

Four days ago, Y/N might have considered having to share a bed with Harry the end of the world. If someone had told her about the lack of available motel rooms on the road, Y/N might have never left L.A. And that first night in Utah, she remembers, she would have rather smother Harry in his sleep than share a bed with him. Now, however, they’re in Iowa City, and for all her talk of how much she despised Harry before, she’s found herself quite fond of him in a short period of time.

There’s a list of reasons why that’s happened, she thinks, as she pulls out her charger to plug into the wall. Their forced close proximity in the car and motel rooms probably has something to do with it, as well as Harry being her only company for the last four days. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of it is due to the way Harry looks in the dim motel room light as he flops back on the bed, his red and black striped t-shirt riding up just the slightest bit to expose the fern tattoos lining the bottom of his stomach. The way his jade irises manage to sparkle in the light of the lamp, or how his chipped nail polish still manages to look elegant as his fingers dance along his chest and twist his rings over his knuckles. The way his lips, despite his constant habit of biting them, look so soft and so pink, and how Y/N thinks she could just—

Y/N clears her throat, stopping her thoughts in their tracks. It’s really been too long since she’s been around another human being, she thinks, keeping her back to Harry as she roots through her suitcase for her pajamas. Four days is too long for her to be with the same person, with hardly any alone time, and she’s wondering if she’ll be able to have alone time any time soon when her fingers brush over the familiar smooth silicone surface of her vibrator.

Y/N pauses, pulling her fingers back as if she’s been burned. Right. She’d tossed that in there just before leaving L.A., just in case she needed some stress relief. Glancing back over her shoulder subtly, Y/N sees that Harry has his phone out now, his nimble fingers tapping along the screen as he lays on the bed. Maybe some stress relief is exactly what she needs.

Grabbing the first articles of clothing she can get her hands on, Y/N carefully wraps her vibrator within the fabric, trying to fold it so that it doesn’t look like its hiding a small purple sex toy. Once that’s done to the best of her ability, she grabs her toiletry bag, tucking it under her arm as she quickly makes her way to the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower.” She mutters, closing the door behind her without waiting for Harry’s response.

Although the ritual of stripping from her clothes, starting the shower and adjusting the temperature settings, and relaxing her muscles underneath the (albeit low pressure) stream of water is familiar, it takes Y/N a few minutes to work up the courage to run her hands down the length of her body. She takes her time as her fingers dance over the planes of her breasts, down her stomach, fluttering over her hips before making their way to the crevice where her thighs flow into her core. Taking a deep breath, Y/N begins with just her fingers, running them through her wet folds slowly and carefully.

She allows herself the time to warm herself up, waiting until she can dip her index finger inside her slick entrance and circle its way around her clit before grabbing her vibrator from the shower ledge. She flicks it on to its lowest setting, making sure the electronic buzz is hidden beneath the sound of the shower before gently circling the tip around her clit.

The relief, Y/N finds, is instantaneous. A breathless sigh slips past her lips as she rubs the toy over her folds, delighting in the fluttering sensation it leaves behind. Without breaking contact, Y/N turns the toy up a level, biting her lip to keep from moaning as she presses it back to her clit.

Despite the tension building up in her body as Y/N works herself to an orgasm, this is the most relaxed she’s felt in days. The tension, she finds, is so much sweeter than the anxiety and stress she’s been experiencing throughout the road trip. Although her shoulders tense, it’s different than the knots worked into her muscles from hours in the car. Although her leg feels as though it may cramp from its position perched on the bath tub ledge, the burn is more welcome than the ache of being stuck in one seated position.

If someone were to ask her what crossed her mind when Y/N brought herself over the edge, what thoughts drifted into her head as she gripped the wall of the shower with one hand as her core convulsed in the most delightfully sinful way, Y/N would tell them that it was nothing specific. Strong hands, she’d say, smoothly and knowledgeably caressing her body. A low voice whispering dirty nothings in her ear. A deep breath flowing down her neck as cherry lips and white teeth nipped and kissed down her skin and across her collar bones. Nothing specific. And Y/N would believe it when she’d say it.

But if anyone were to be listening at the exact moment that she thrust the vibrator inside her, panting and whimpering as her index and middle finger worked over her clit and brought her to climax, they’d hear the breathless whisper of a name that Y/N herself didn’t even know she was saying.

The nice thing about getting off in the shower, Y/N thinks, once she’s regained enough function in her head to do so, is that cleanup is a breeze. Within fifteen more minutes, Y/N’s washed her body, shampooed and conditioned her hair, and is climbing out of the shower with the motel towel wrapped tightly around her body. Within another few minutes, she’s towel dried to the best of her ability, and finally realizing that the pajamas she’d grabbed in her quick bid for the washroom happened to be the pink silk set that she’d tucked at the bottom of her suitcase four days ago.

Cheeks burning, Y/N weighs her options. She could wrap the towel around herself, she thinks, and instruct Harry to look away as she snuck back to her suitcase and grabbed the sports bra and boxers she’d been sleeping in for the past few nights. Or…she runs her fingers over the lace trim of the set. These pajamas were quite comfortable, and the silk would feel so nice on her body after multiple nights of scratching motel sheets. And, if she’s being honest with herself, her other pajamas are quite dirty from a new nights of use. Now that her body feels completely relaxed and clean, she’d like to put on something to match.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Y/N does her best to seem casual and calm, still running her towel through her set hair, her clothes and toiletry bag (where she’s hidden her vibrator) tucked under one arm. “The shower’s free.” She says to Harry, barely glancing at him as she returns her items to her bag. “Although the water pressure is pretty shit.”

A low chuckle echoes from Harry’s mouth. “I expect nothing less.” He says, and Y/N thinks she may be in the clear when the laughter stops abruptly.

Biting back a sigh, Y/N straightens her back, knowing that she can’t avoid the conversation forever. “What?” She asks, tossing her towel on the motel room chair.

Harry is sitting up on the bed, his phone still held loosely in his right hand as his left props his body into an upright position. As his eyes scan over Y/N’s body, his tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his lips without Harry being aware he’s doing it. “What—” His voice cracks, and a flush creeps up Harry’s pale neck as he clears his throat. “What are you wearing?”

Y/N begins to comb her fingers through her hair, sectioning it off before she begins to braid. “Pajamas.”

A scoff leaves Harry’s mouth. “No, no, those aren’t pajamas. That’s…lingerie.”

“Yeah, well…I brought them as pajamas.” Y/N mumbles, twisting her hair into the desired pattern before tying it off with the ponytail on her wrist. “Look, I—my other ones are dirty, and I didn’t want to put a sweaty sports bra back on right after showering. But…if it makes you uncomfortable, then I can—”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Harry cuts over her, giving a quick shake of his head. “I just—we’re sharing the bed tonight, so I wasn’t sure—as long as you’re comfortable—”

“I am.” Y/N says quickly, cheeks beginning to burn as the conversation continues. “I’m comfortable.”

“Alright then.” If Harry’s cheeks are any indication, then he’s feeling the same thing Y/N is. “I’m…going to shower, then.”

And that’s how, two hours later, after watching a rerun of When Harry Met Sally, Y/N ends up in bed next to Harry Styles in lingerie that she’d bought to impress her ex-boyfriend.

Harry, to his credit, is doing his best to draw a line between them. His lanky body is practically hanging off the edge of the bed with how far he’s pulled himself from her, his defined back turned towards Y/N. Her own posture mimics his, back turned from Harry, clinging to the edge of the bed in an attempt to respect his personal space. The problem, Y/N thinks, exhaling hard as she shifts under the covers, is that she doesn’t like sleeping on her side like this, and she especially doesn’t like tensing up to make sure her limbs stay in their designated zone. It feels awkward and uncomfortable, and after laying in bed for over an hour, she finally huffs before turning onto her back, her hands settling down over the sheets.

“Harry.” She whispers, twisting her head to the side as she struggles to make out the shape of his body in the dark. “Are you awake?”

The bed creaks as Harry’s body shifts towards her, twisting on his hip to be able to meet Y/N’s eyes. “Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

“Me either.” Y/N rolls over again, propping herself up on her side to face him as he matches the motion. They’re closer now, their faces about six inches away as they rest their heads on their pillows. Y/N can smell the mint of Harry’s toothpaste on his breath. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder as best he can while horizontal. “Dunno.” He mumbles, voice low in the quiet darkness. “Don’t think I’m used to sharing a bed with someone and not…being close to them.”

“Yeah.” Y/N matches the tone of her voice to his, as if speaking quietly and gently will preserve whatever it is hanging between them. “Feels weird.”

Moving his hands from his chest to tuck them under his pillow, Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous look apparent in his eyes even in the darkness. “Would it be okay if I moved closer?” He asks, caution written into every word. “It’s just—staying on the edge isn’t very comfortable.”

Four days ago, Y/N would have shoved him off the bed. Now, however, she finds herself nodding, pulling her top leg into a bent position, her bare knee brushing over Harry’s beneath the sheets. “That’s fine.”

Y/N watches the way Harry’s body visibly relaxes, the tension she didn’t even know he had leaving his body. Trying his best to move without disturbing her, Harry turns over to lay on his toned stomach, and the sheets pull down around his body enough that Y/N can see how his Rolling Stones t-shirt has ridden up his back. Without thinking, Y/N pulls one hand from beneath her pillow and reaches for the sheets, pulling them back around Harry to his mid back.

“Thanks.” His voice is raspy, half muffled by the pillow as he tucks his hands beneath his head, eyes still locked with hers with an intensity that, during daylight hours, would have made her cheeks burn.

But in the safety of the darkness, Y/N simply returns her hand to its previous position, allowing the lack of light to masquerade the concern written onto her face. “You’re welcome.”

…

“I’m not saying The Notebook is a bad movie, I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense!”

Harry gives Y/N an incredulous look as he flips on his turn signal, shifting gears in the car so he can exit the highway and head towards a gas station. “What do you mean, it doesn’t make sense?” He demands, turning the car over the curve of the road. “They’re in love! Noah reads to Ally to help her remember that! What about that doesn’t make sense?”

“Well, the dialogue for one.” Y/N shrugs, tapping her fingers to the beat of “Heroes” that’s drifting through the speakers.

Harry scoffs as he pulls into an empty gas station, slowing the car to a gentle stop in front of a pump. “Give me one example of the dialogue not making sense!”

“‘If you’re a bird, I’m a bird’?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she quotes the movie. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“What do you mean, what does it mean?” Harry demands, shifting the car into neutral and pulling the emergency brake before turning off the ignition. “It’s romantic! It’s talking about—about reincarnation, and past lives—”

“And what about how Noah and Ally first met, huh? She was on a date with someone else! She wasn’t interested in him!” As she rants, Y/N’s volume grows, almost drowning out David Bowie completely. “And then he climbed up a Ferris wheel, demanded that she go out with him, and said that if she didn’t, he was going to kill himself!”

Harry points an accusatory finger at her, his expression fierce. “Don’t! It was romantic—”

Y/N pushes his finger away, holding her stance adamantly. “It was creepy! And don’t even get me started on the arguments, and the lying, and—and she was engaged to someone else! Noah was a homewrecker!”

Harry takes a deep breath, squeezing his keys in his hand as his eyes close for a moment. “I’m going to fill Stevie with petrol.” He says, his tone careful and controlled. “And when I get back, I am going to give you a very long lecture on why you’re wrong.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she grabs Harry’s sunglasses from the cupholder next to her, slipping them onto her face as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Whatever. Go pump the gas, Styles.”

With one last withering look, Harry climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him, turning his attention to the rusted gas pump in the middle of nowhere along the Illinois interstate. Y/N can’t help but laugh at the irritated look on his face, and how he flips her the bird when he catches her laughing. Small giggles still roll through her as she turns her attention to Harry’s phone, choosing a new song as David Bowie slowly begins to fade out. She’s just begun scrolling through her options when her own phone begins to vibrate from where she has it tucked underneath her leg.

Y/N sets Harry’s phone back down on his seat as she grabs her own, her eyes widening when she sees Brant’s name lighting up her screen. She should answer, she thinks, as she hasn’t spoken to him in person since their conversation in Colorado. That conversation seems like a lifetime ago, and Y/N’s thumb hovers over the “accept” icon, her teeth tugging her bottom lip over and over. She should answer. She should. Brant will probably want to discuss work, and find out when she’s coming back so they can plan another dinner, because he always likes to schedule things at least a week in advance. He’ll tell her about his coworkers, what the weather in L.A. has been like (as if it ever changes), and maybe, just maybe, if he has time, he’ll tell her about a new Netflix series he’s just starting to watch. Y/N should answer.

The driver’s side door opens with a creak, and Harry bends down to poke his head inside. “Alright, I’m going to go inside the petrol station and get us some snacks, and then I’m going to explain to you exactly how wrong you are.” He says firmly, mouth pressed into a flat line of determination. His expression falters for just a moment as he sees the conflicted look on Y/N’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Y/N says quickly, pressing “ignore” and tucking her phone back under her leg. “Just go get the snacks while I create my counterargument, alright?”

Harry rolls his eyes, reaching into the car and pulling his sunglasses off Y/N’s face. He slips them over his own eyes, his expression back to its determined look. “Fine. Do you want Cheezies?”

“Uh huh. The crunchy ones!” Y/N reminds him, grabbing his phone from the seat again to continue selecting a new song.

“Right. The crunchy ones.” Harry shoots her a finger gun as he shuts the car door. “You can eat them as I prove you wrong!”

“You wish!” Y/N yells back, the phone call all but forgotten as she watches Harry walk into the gas station.

…

“We should go out tonight.”

Y/N sets her duffel bag on the queen-sized bed situated in the center of the motel room, giving Harry a confused look as she registers his words. “Go out?” She asks, tugging on the zipper of the bag. “Go out where?”

“To a bar.” Harry flops down on the bed next to her bag, leaning back on his elbows as he speaks. “All we’ve done this entire trip is drive, and we’re getting to the Catskills tomorrow. We can have a bit of fun tonight, can’t we?”

Y/N snorts as she rifles through her bag, pulling out her phone charger and favourite book. “It’s a road trip; driving is the point, isn’t it? Besides, what kind of bars are in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Harry shrugs lightly. “We passed a sign for one on our way into town. And we haven’t had dinner yet, so we should go get something to eat anyways. And I haven’t had a pint in forever.”

“I doubt you’ll like the pints from a dive bar in Cleveland, Harry.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plugs her charger into the wall. “I don’t think they’ll be up to your standards.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Harry matches her eye roll with ease before turning his expression into something more endearing. “Please? We don’t have to stay too long if you don’t want to!”

Y/N sighs as she sits down on the bed next to him. “Harry—”

“Just one drink!” Harry pleads, pouting out his bottom lip. “Please? To celebrate not killing each other on this trip?”

In spite of herself, a small laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “The trip’s not over yet, Harry. Don’t count your eggs before they hatch.”

“Y/N…” Harry whines, turning onto his side as he looks up at her. “Come on!”

Y/N tugs her lip between her teeth as she looks down at Harry. It’s true, she thinks, that all they’ve done for the last five days is drive and sleep in motels. Maybe they could use a break before tomorrow’s final day. And they’ve been getting along so well today that Y/N would hate to put a damper on their moods now…

“Fine.” She relents, ignoring how there’s a turning feeling in her stomach when she sees Harry’s green eyes light up. “But just one drink!”

…

“I’ll take another Old Fashioned, please!” Y/N says to the waitress, raising her voice to be heard over the man singing a bad cover of “Take on Me” on the small bar stage. “And—Harry, do you want another?”

Harry bites back a laugh, barely managing to cover it with a cough as the waitress turns to him. “Uh, yes, please.” He smiles charmingly, flashing his eyes to Y/N between his words. “I’ll have another pint.”

With a quick nod, the waitress begins to work her way from their table to the bar, pushing through the crowds of people scattered around the bar.

Y/N leans over to Harry as she twirls her straw through the remnants of ice in her empty glass. “You picked a good bar!” She says loudly, gesturing to the people around them. “Who knew this would be the center of Cleveland’s drinking scene?”

“I did! I have good taste!” Harry replies with a laugh, lifting his pint glass to his lips to drain the remnants. “And here I was, thinking that you’d be whining to go home after the first drink!”

There’s something about the way Harry says “home” that turns Y/N’s stomach. Or maybe it’s the Old Fashioneds, she thinks, as she eyes the three empty glasses sitting in front of her. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe we should go…?”

Harry groans, waving off her suggestion without a second thought. “No! We’re having fun! When was the last time you went out?”

“Uh…” The alcohol makes it hard for Y/N to think back in her memory, but she does her best to focus for a few moments to search for the answer. “I think…a few months ago? Jo came to visit, and we went out for drinks…”

“That’s just sad.” Harry shakes his head, feigning disappointment. Or maybe not feigning it, Y/N thinks, because a deep sigh leaves his lips right after. “You live in L.A., a place with so much culture and so many opportunities, and you don’t take them!”

“I take opportunities just fine!” Y/N defends herself, a pout working its way onto her lips of its own volition. “I’m just busy—”

“You’re always going to be busy!” Harry argues as the waitress approaches them with their drinks. “You—thank you—” He says to her as she hands him his pint and Y/N her Old Fashioned. “You have to take time for yourself, to enjoy things! Or else life is just going to pass you by, and soon you’ll be old and grey in your apartment, with no cool stories to tell!”

Y/N takes the straw from her previous drink and slips it in her new one. “I have stories!” She argues hotly, a flush coming over her face from both the alcohol and the argument. “I have plenty of stories!”

Harry takes a gulp from his pint, wiping away the drop of beer that drips from the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah? Tell me one.”

“Like—” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “Like now! The story of how I had to go on a road trip with a guy I hated to make it to my best friend’s wedding on time!”

“I’m not really a fan of that title, honestly.” Harry purses his lips, his brow furrowing as he sets his pint back down on the table. “How about we call it the story of how you had to go on a road trip with a guy you hated to make it to your best friend’s wedding on time, and along the way, you and the guy actually realized that you got along pretty well, and became friends?”

A small smile plays on Y/N’s lips, and she raises her glass towards Harry. “Sounds like a plan.” She says softly, barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Harry lifts his pint glass and clicks it against her drink.

They both take a sip of their drinks, and when Harry lowers his glass, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye that immediately makes Y/N uneasy. “I have another idea for a story.” He says, setting his glass down and pointing towards the stage. “How about the story of us singing karaoke at a bar in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Y/N snorts, half folding herself over their table as the snort turns into a full laugh. “Not a chance in hell, Styles!” She says through her laughter, tapping her fingers against the wood table top.

Harry pushes her shoulder, making her sit up again as he tries to convince her. “Come on! We’ve been singing in the car for two days straight! There’s tons of songs we could do—”

“The car is completely different than a stage!” Y/N argues, shaking her head firmly. “No way!”

“What, are you worried about making a fool of yourself?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he gestures around the bar. “Is there anyone you know in the audience? The audience that’s full of people who are pissed out of their minds?”

Biting her lip hard for a moment, Y/N gives a reluctant shake of her head. “No.” She mumbles, looking down. “But I just—I don’t sing karaoke.”

“And you didn’t spend five days in the car with me, either. Until you did, and we had fun.” Harry points a ringed pointer finger at her, and the annoying glint in his eye means he knows he has her trapped. “There is literally no better place to try it than right now, in this bar, where you know no one.”

Y/N glances around the bar, appraising her surroundings. She knows Harry has a point; besides himself, she knows not a single soul in the building. They’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, and she won’t ever find herself in this bar—or, honestly, Cleveland, Ohio—again. If there was ever a time to try karaoke, it would be now.

And hasn’t this trip been full of trying new things? New foods, new conversations, new ways of thinking…Y/N finds herself locking eyes with Harry, losing herself in his intense gaze. Y/N’s not sure what’s swirling around in his irises, whether it’s alcohol or something else entirely, but it’s intoxicating.

Y/N lets out a harsh exhale, pulling the straw out of her drink and downing it entirely in one swift motion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she slams the glass back on the table before looking back at Harry to find a new grin pasted across his pink lips.

“Alright.” Y/N slips off her stool, stumbling for just a moment until Harry catches her elbow. “You go pick the song.” She says, pointing towards the DJ near the stage. “I-I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

Harry nods, catching his lip between his teeth as his hand squeezes her arm. “Are you alright? You stumbled there—”

“I’m fine! Perfect, actually.” Y/N assures him, pulling away and walking towards the washroom. She calls over her shoulder to him as she does. “Go pick the song! I’ll be back in a moment!”

When Y/N reaches the washroom, she’s surprised to find it empty, and she’s even more surprised when she catches her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Is that really her? She wonders, propping herself up on the counter as she leans closer to examine herself. Her skin is flushed from the alcohol, all across her cheeks and neck, and it only gets warmer as the heat of the bar finally hits her. Y/N undoes the top few buttons of her plaid shirt, exposing her chest to the air. Cocking her head to the side, Y/N studies herself for a moment before undoing the rest of the buttons and rolling up the sleeves to wear the shirt like a cardigan, leaving her bralette exposed. It’s a different look than anything she’s ever done, but…she likes it, she realizes, as her eyes scan over her reflection. She likes this. Being somewhere that no one knows her, somewhere filled with people that won’t judge her for drinking too much, somewhere that she doesn’t have to worry about stories getting back to her work. Y/N likes the wild look in her eyes, the breathlessness stirring inside her, the plumpness of her lips from the ice of her drinks. When she looks at herself, she sees a different person. Someone she doesn’t recognize. Someone who seems to know what they want.

Her phone vibrating in her back pocket pulls her from her thoughts, and it takes Y/N a moment for her intoxicated self to manage to pull it out. When she sees Brant’s name flashing on the screen, she only hesitates for one second before hitting decline. That one second of hesitation, however, is all it takes to make her contemplate herself in the mirror again, second guessing what she sees. She tucks her phone away before washing her hands, and splashes a little bit of cold water on her cheeks to help cool herself down. Giving herself one last look over, Y/N buttons the few bottom buttons of her shirt back together, tying it into a neat knot to cover her stomach. Even if no one here knows her…she can’t get too wild. She still has to be who she is.

After exiting the bathroom, Y/N returns to the table, expecting Harry to be waiting there for her. All she finds, however, is his jacket tossed over the back of his chair, and his now empty pint glass sitting on the table. Y/N turns in a small circle, wondering where he is in the crowd when she hears his slightly slurred voice magnified over the speakers.

“Y/N. Up here, love, c’mon.”

Y/N turns towards the stage, her eyes wide as she realizes Harry has a microphone in one hand and has the other hand wrapped around the microphone stand. His smile is practically glowing underneath the stage lights, and his eyes seem to be doing the same. He releases the mic stand to run a hand through his hair before beckoning her forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Cleveland, this—” Harry points towards Y/N, and she almost swears that every person in the bar turns towards her. “This is my very good friend Y/N. And five days ago, she hated my guts!” The crowd boos, and Y/N stares at Harry with incredulous eyes. What is he doing?

“No, no, don’t boo, it’s alright. I hated her guts too.” Harry says with a shrug, leaning against the mic stand again. “But everything’s alright now! We’re getting along, she’s stopped being such a control freak, and she even said she would let me pick a song for us to sing tonight, isn’t that nice?”

The crowd cheers as Y/N walks towards the stage, stopping just before it to stare up at Harry as he continues his drunken monologue. If she was sober, she’d probably pull him down from the stage, grab the front of his patterned button down shirt, and drag him back to their table. But the alcohol running through her system is making her bold, and with her head swimming in the amber liquid she’d been consuming, all she can do is laugh and stumble her way to the stairs to the stage.

Someone wearing a t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it helps her up the stairs, handing her a microphone once she makes it onto the stage. Harry, realizing she’s where she needs to be now, motions to the DJ behind her, and a familiar beat that Y/N can’t place begins to play.

“Harry—” Y/N speaks without raising the microphone to her lips. “What song—?”

“Don’t worry, you know it.” Harry assures her, his eyes flickering over her appearance quickly. “You look great. Just go with it!”

There’s really no choice but to go with it, she thinks, because within a moment, Harry has a simpering smile on his face as he lifts the microphone to his lips, his body turned towards the audience but his eyes flickering to you.

“‘I wasn’t jealous before we met…now every man I see is a potential threat’.” He sings in a confident voice, and Y/N watches the split second it takes for the crowd to realize he’s actually good. And it’s not just his voice, she thinks. It’s his demeanor. The part of Harry’s personality that had first irritated her, the part that lives for a spotlight, the part that can draw someone in with a snap of a finger…that part shines on a stage.

In contrast, all Y/N can do is stare with a shocked expression painted across her face as Harry continues to serenade the crowd. He makes eye contact with specific people as he croons the next lines, his hand confidently wrapped around the microphone “‘And I’m possessive, it isn’t nice…you’ve heard me say that smoking is my only voice’.”

It’s then that Harry’s attention turns back to Y/N, his eyelids hooded, half hiding his emerald eyes as he saunters back towards her. It’s like a switch has flipped in his head, because Y/N is certain that he’s never looked at her in this way before. “‘But now it isn’t true…now everything is new’…” The closer Harry gets to her, the less Y/N can breathe. By the time he’s a foot away from her, she feels like her breaths are stuttering in her chest, giving barely enough oxygen to her body to keep her going.

Harry, it seems, is unaware of the affect he’s having on her. His long limbs are loose and free as he continues to move closer, the smirk on his face intertwined with something deeper that Y/N’s drunken mind can’t quite put her finger on. “‘And all I’ve learned, has overturned…I beg of you’…”

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and sweat that emanates from Harry as he gets close enough to press his forehead to hers reminds Y/N exactly where she is, and what she’s supposed to be doing. Just managing to bring the microphone to her lips in time, Y/N shoves Harry on his shoulder, pushing him away enough that she can walk past him and distance herself. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion’…” She sings, glancing at him over her shoulder as she moves away. Harry watches her with darkened eyes, a hungry look on his face as Y/N begins to sway her hips to the music. It’s fun, she realizes, being on stage like this, and playing the part with Harry as she sets down a challenge. “‘Lay all your love on me’.”

The crowd cheers as Harry begins to take measured steps towards Y/N again, looking like the cat who wants to catch the canary. Y/N, ever the competitive player, refuses to give in so easily, and quickly extends a hand to two people sitting in front of the stage. They give her support as she slides down from the platform, working her way through the tables without so much as a glance behind herself at Harry, who she knows is following her.

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck…a little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck’.” Y/N finally turns around, pausing her walk to see Harry hopping down from the stage. She points at him slowly, giving a small shake of her head as she sings the next line. “‘I still don’t know what you’ve done to me…a grownup woman should never fall so easily’…”

Harry’s smirk only grows, and he runs a hand haphazardly through his sweaty curls. He’s enjoying playing the part too, and Y/N can tell by the way he allows her to cross the seating area, so that they’re walking parallel to each other towards the bar. He’s not chasing her down. He’s taking his time, knowing that he’ll get her in the end.

“‘I feel a kind of fear…when I don’t have you near’…” Y/N pauses at a table of two men and a woman, leaning down between the latter two. She only takes her eyes off Harry for a moment to give a questioning look to the man, who gives her a smile of permission. Y/N runs her fingers across his shoulder and down his arm, but keeps her eyes glued to Harry the entire time. “‘Unsatisfied, I skip my pride…I beg you dear’…”

When he sees Y/N’s fingers trace down the collar of someone else, Harry’s brow furrows in jealousy, his jade eyes shifting even darker than they were before. He keeps pace with Y/N as she begins to move again, but there’s an air of tension in his saunter that wasn’t there a moment ago. When he sings, it sounds like half plea, half demand. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry rounds a table of people before beginning to close the distance between him and Y/N, each of them now standing in front of the bar. With the tension between them now palpable, the crowd is moving out of their way discreetly, watching as the two approach each other. Harry licks his red lips before singing the next line. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion…lay all your love on me’.”

Y/N releases her bottom lip from between her teeth, running her fingers over the finished wood of the bar before pulling herself to sit atop it. She crosses her legs carefully before leaning her weight on one hand, giving a small shrug, knowing that Harry’s eyes are glued to her every motion as the bartender pours him a shot. “‘I’ve had a few little love affairs…they didn’t last very long and they’ve been pretty scarce’…”

Harry’s lips wrap around the shot glass, throwing it back just in time to sing the next line as tequila drips from the corner of his mouth. The drop of alcohol runs down his chin to trace the muscles of his neck, and as Harry pulls himself to sit next to Y/N on the bar, the only thing she wants to do is lean forward and lick the liquor from his skin.

“‘I used to think I was sensible’…” Harry passes a newly poured shot to Y/N, meaning for her to take it from him, and he nearly stutters over his next line as Y/N wraps her hand around his own, guiding him to guide the shot to her mouth. There’s a sharp intake of air into the microphone before Harry can sing again, and Y/N smirks at the small victory as she wipes her mouth doing her best to hide how the bitter taste of the tequila affects her. “‘It makes the truth even more incomprehensible’.”

Y/N brings her microphone to her mouth again to sing the next verse with Harry, their eyes locked together as they lean forward into each other. Despite the cheering of the crowd, Y/N can’t help but feel as though she and Harry are the only two in the bar, as if this—very public—performance were small and intimate and just between them.

“‘Because everything is new’…” Harry grips the knot in Y/N’s plaid shirt, easily pulling it undone with one hand. His eyes break away from hers for only a moment to canvas over her newly exposed midriff and lace bralette before snapping back to her gaze with a renewed vigor. He keeps the tails of the shirt clutched within his strong hand as he begins to lean back on the bar, pulling Y/N down with him.

“‘And everything is you’…” Y/N almost falls over before she catches herself, bracing one hand beside Harry’s head on the bar to support her weight as he lays down fully. She can feel how tightly he’s gripping her shirt by how the hem of it is pressing into her skin, and the pressure of the fabric cues another kind of pressure to begin to curl inside her stomach. When she sucks in a breath, she can taste tequila and Harry’s cologne on her tongue, and she struggles to bite back a whine while Harry wraps her shirt tighter around his hand.

“‘And all I’ve learned has overturned’…” Harry releases the wrinkled fabric of her shirt, his now freed hand trading the cloth for the skin of her exposed waist. The coolness of his rings against her flushed skin makes Y/N’s breath stutter, and she curls her body over him more in response. The taste of Harry’s touch has sparked a need to be closer, as well as a new fluttering in her core, and judging by the way Harry keeps licking his lips, he knows it.

Refusing to be the only one affected by their close proximity, Y/N moves her supporting hand from the bar to Harry’s hair, tugging on it harshly as Harry opens his mouth to sing the next line. As Y/N sings “‘I beg of you’…” with a pleading glance, Harry grunts deep in his throat, just managing to pull the microphone away from his lips so that Y/N is the only one to hear it.

Although getting a reaction out of Harry was her goal, actually hearing that reaction is another story entirely. Heat rushes to Y/N’s face as Harry grips her waist tighter, pressing her thighs and hips to his own as he guides the two of them to the beat of the music. The cheering and wolf whistles from the crowd are the only thing that keep Y/N grounded and in the moment, reminding her that—despite how it feels—there are people watching the two of them.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry grinds his hip against Y/N’s once more, moving them in a steady and consistent pace. Y/N repositions her body in return, spreading her legs so she can straddle Harry’s hips more easily. She knows, though, that she needs to start pulling back. She has to do something to get away from him, to break the trance that his touch has her in, before she does something she’ll regret.

“‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Y/N slowly sits back up, letting go of Harry’s hair in order to trail her free hand down his chest. Although she knows that she’s supposed to be distancing herself from him, she can’t resist digging her nails in just the slightest bit, delighting in the hiss that leaves his mouth. “‘Lay all your love on me’…”

Harry sits up slowly as the key changes, his eyes glued to Y/N’s lips as she sings a line by herself, her voice growing ever so slightly fainter every time Harry tugs on his red lips with his teeth, soothing the mark with his tongue a moment after. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’…”

Now that they’re both sitting upright, Harry grips their bodies and turns them so that their legs once again dangle off the bar. Y/N can feel the blood rushing from her head as she drapes her arm over Harry’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering as Harry digs his fingertips into her waist. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Harry’s pupils are so blown that his irises practically look black. His chest is heaving with every breath, his exposed skin flushed and sweaty. His curls are a mess from Y/N tangling her fingers in them. If Y/N didn’t know any better, she’d say Harry looks freshly fucked, and then she wonders if she looks the same. By the way Harry’s looking at her, she thinks it’s safe to say that she does.

“‘Lay all your love on me’.” They finish together, hungry eyes locked with each other while the wolf whistles and clapping gets louder as the final notes of the song trail off. This is where they should break apart, Y/N thinks, her chest moving rapidly with every ragged breath she takes. This is where she should climb off Harry’s lap, climb down from the bar, return the microphones to the DJ, and gather her things and go. This is the end of whatever the hell just happened during that song. This is where she says “Harry, we have to be up early tomorrow to drive, so we should go back to the motel.”

To her credit, Y/N tries. She swallows hard, her mouth as dry as it’s ever been, and sucks in another breath, almost whimpering at the taste of his cologne in the back of her throat. Don’t, she tells herself. She needs to say what she needs to say. Their game is done. It’s over.

“Harry—” She begins, and that’s all she manages to say before Harry is kissing her.

Her body reacts before her mind does, but between the overwhelming sensations all around her and the copious amounts of liquor that her brain is swimming in, Y/N can only register every third movement. The microphone falling from her hand onto the bar as she tangles her fingers back in Harry’s curls, twisting and pulling and receiving the most delightful gasps from him in return. Harry’s teeth catching her bottom lip, just barely tugging on the tender flesh. Ringed hands keeping a firm grip on Y/N’s sides as Harry helps her down from the bar, his lips still pressed firmly against her own. The lingering taste of tequila on Harry’s skin as Y/N kisses down his jaw, unable to completely pull away as Harry struggles to settle their tab with the bartender.

She’s never felt like this before; Y/N didn’t even know it could feel like this. She didn’t know that she could feel an ache so deep inside her, both painful and pleasurable at the same time, and be so completely aware that the only cure for it is the touch of another person. Y/N had been convinced that this rush was something that was fiction, made up by steamy romance novels to entice lonely housewives to dive beneath their pages. And yet here she is, stumbling out of a bar in Cleveland, Ohio, with Harry Styles, someone that she swore up and down that she hated five days ago. Here she is with Harry’s jacket draped over her heated shoulders, his hands slipped underneath, rubbing at her exposed skin as he guides her back to the motel. Here she is with his lips connected to her neck the moment their motel room door is closed, his fingers fumbling with the locks on the door as he refuses to pull away from her.

Yes, Y/N thinks, as she grinds her hips against Harry’s, relishing in the strangled moan that he breathes into her mouth: it’s never felt like this.

“Y/N—” Each pant of her name from his lips sounds like a song. “Fuck, Y/N—” Harry pulls back from her just enough to suck in a full breath, the first in what feels like hours. “I—we—”

“Shut up.” Y/N uses her grip on his hair to pull his head back, trailing open mouthed kisses over his jugular. “Just shut up, Harry, I need—I just need—”

“Need what?” Harry demands, eyes dark as he pushes himself away from her. An involuntary whine at the loss of contact escapes from Y/N’s throat, and Harry has to steel himself again before he can continue. “What do you need?” He asks, struggling to keep his voice controlled. “You—you have to tell me, so that—I need you to be clear.”

Y/N licks over her swollen lips, eyes blown wide with lust as she stares up at Harry, struggling to find the words. “I need…” She swallows once more, inhaling sharply as he grips her shoulders to steady her. “I need you, Harry. Just fuck me. I-I need you to—”

Before she can finish her request, Harry has scooped her up into his arms, tossing her on the creaking motel bed as if she were a rag doll. A gasp of shock leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she’s barely managed to sit up before Harry is caging his body over hers, forcing her back down as he kisses her hard.

Y/N’s hands go straight to the hem of his shirt, tugging roughly on the fabric, shoving it up Harry’s body before he gets the clue to half sit up and pull it off himself. After that, it’s a rush to remove clothes, each of them blindly pulling off shirts and bras and pants. Everything is rushed, and that’s what Y/N wants. She doesn’t want time to lay down and explore, and allow herself space to second guess her decision. All she wants is Harry to do something about the ache in her core, to fill her up so completely that she’ll be feeling him for days. It’s that need that makes Y/N tug on his hair to get his attention as he begins to kiss her thighs.

“No.” She shakes her head haphazardly, and the room spins slightly when she finishes the motion. “No, I just—I just need you to fuck me. I’m ready, Harry—”

“But—” His teeth tug roughly on his bottom lip, mimicking Y/N’s actions from moments ago. “I want to taste—”

“Please, Harry.” Y/N whines, throwing her head back on the motel pillow. “It’s been so long since I’ve been full…please…”

The lewd admission catches Harry off guard. “Fucking hell—” He spits out, his hands tugging on his hair as he sits up. “Yeah, I—okay.” He closes his eyes for a moment to steady himself, the struggle to have a coherent thought clear on his face. “Okay, I need…”

Harry’s eyes begin to search the room, and the moment they settle on his bag in the corner, he rushes towards it. Y/N watches the muscles in his back shift beneath his smooth skin as he unzips the bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a tiny foil square. He tucks the package between his teeth as his hands fumble with his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it off to toss to the floor. He undoes his button and fly as he climbs back onto the bed, doing his best to waste no time as he situates himself between Y/N’s still spread legs.

“Y’look so hot like this, y’know that?” He can’t stop himself from muttering the words as he pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock. Y/N stares hungrily at how swollen he is, only half listening to Harry’s words as she watches his hand stroke himself, the other lifting the condom package to his teeth. He tears the foil open, spitting the little tag from his mouth as he removes the condom from the foil. That foil is soon tossed to the ground before Harry gives himself one last stroke, quickly but carefully rolling the condom down the length of his shaft.

Placing his hands on either knee, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs even wider, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of her bare core. “You’re dripping.” Harry says in a low voice, and before Y/N can reply with anything, he runs a ringed finger over her folds and slips it into his mouth.

“Ah—!” Y/N gasps at the unexpected sensation, the minimal contact enough to send her reeling. Harry grins at the response, loving how the pleasure from the small action is clearly written across her face.

“Sorry.” He says with a small shrug, lining himself up with her entrance. “Just wanted a little taste, tha’s all. Couldn’t resist.” Harry drags the tip of his cock along Y/N’s slick core, a look of concentration overtaking his features. “I’ll go slow—”

A sound of protest leaves Y/N’s mouth. “No. Go fast. I need it, Harry, please—” Her plea is cut off by Harry thrusting inside her with one sharp movement, and then Y/N stops talking completely.

There’s a slight feeling of pain, as she wasn’t lying when she said it’s been a while since she’s been with someone, but underneath that pain, pleasure is quickly building as Harry begins to snap his hips towards hers, finding a rhythm within a few thrusts. Y/N knows immediately that Harry is probably one of the largest men—if not the largest man—she’s ever been with, but that’s exactly what she needs right now. The moment he filled her for the first time, there was a feeling of completeness that she’s been missing in her life for a long time. She needed this, she thinks. She needed to be stretched, to be filled, to be fucked, and Harry is the only one that could have fulfilled those needs this well. She’s convinced of it.

It’s far from the most romantic sex Y/N’s ever had; it’s all teeth clacking, biting, scratching, tugging, and growling. And she knows that she should be concerned about how Harry’s teeth biting down on her shoulder is going to leave marks, especially when she has to wear a bridesmaid dress in less than 48 hours. But all of that is exactly what she needs. She doesn’t want Harry to whisper how much he loves her, how close he feels to her, how happy he is to be with her. She doesn’t want to hear him say anything, except—

“Feel so fucking good around my cock.” He growls, his fingertips digging deeper into the flesh of her hips. “So bloody tight, Y/N…”

A sharp gasp tumbles out of Y/N’s throat as Harry swivels his hips, finding the exact spot she needs him the most. “Oh God, Harry, I—” Y/N scratches her nails down his back, surely leaving a trail of angry red marks in her place, as her other hand twists the sheets within her grip. “Fuck, right there, right there, right there—”

“Feels good, yeah? You like it?” Harry manages to bring a hand to her hair, tangling it within her locks and pulling hard. “Tell me.” His voice is so much lower than she’s ever heard it, his accent so much thicker, and the combination sends Y/N’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Tell me how much you love my cock, and—fuck—how much you love me fucking you.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, a strangled whine echoing from the back of her throat as the head of Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot again. “I-I love it, Harry, I—your cock fills me so well—don’t stop, please don’t stop—!”

Using her moans as fuel, Harry begins to thrust faster, tugging on Y/N’s hair one last time before grasping her hips between his hands to gain more control. If his flushed skin and the sweat covering his entire body is any indication, Y/N can tell that Harry is just as close as she is. Her breathing quickens just as the sound of the bed creaking does, and she brings one hand down to her clit to rub fast circles, desperate to reach her release.

“Harry—” She gasps for what seems the millionth time that night, her body shuddering as she pushes closer and closer to the edge. “I’m so fucking close, Harry, please—”

The growl that falls from Harry’s mouth almost doesn’t sound like him. It’s deeper, more animalistic, and so unlike the careful and slow voice that she’s gotten used to over the last five days. Releasing one hand from her hip, he pushes her hand out of the way, replacing her fingers with his own to rub circles over her clit. “Cum for me, Y/N. I know you need it, baby, so just—” Harry groans as her walls squeeze his length. “Just cum.”

The command combined with his motions is all it takes to push Y/N over the edge. A breathless gasp falls from her open mouth, and she screws her eyes shut as pleasure courses through her body. It’s so much more intense than anything she’s felt before, so much more pleasurable, so much more dizzying, and just so much more. Small whimpers and Harry’s name are the only things she can think to say as her orgasm makes her movements stutter before falling limply back onto the bed.

“Fuck—” Harry moans roughly as he kisses her one more time, his mouth falling open against hers as her orgasm triggers his own. Although the rhythm of his thrusts stutters, they don’t completely stop, and he continues to slam his hips against her own as he rides out his orgasm. “That’s it, baby—squeeze me tight—” Harry pants into Y/N’s mouth, barely registering anything he’s saying, let alone the pet name that’s begun to fall from his lips. “Christ…”

Things become a blur after that. After Harry pulls out, all Y/N can focus on is how empty she feels without his thick cock filling her to the brim, and she doesn’t even realize that he’s gotten off the bed until he returns, his weight causing the whole bed frame to creak once more. With both of them so sweaty, Harry only pulls the top sheet over their panting bodies, pressing his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck as his eyes close.

Neither of them says anything, and for multiple reasons. What exactly is there to say? And, more pressing, what exactly is Y/N capable of saying right now? There are no words running through her mind. All she can do is think in terms of physical contact and needs, and those two things tell her everything she knows in this moment. She knows that Harry is in just his boxers now because she can’t feel the rough fabric of his pants against her bare skin. She knows that she needs his hands on her, cupping her breasts the way he is. She knows that if he were to move away from her, she’d go chasing after him. She knows that she’s completely worn out—completely fucked out, really—and above all else, she knows that whatever needs to be discussed between them can be discussed the next morning.

Harry, however, seems to have a different approach. His face still pressed into her neck, he mumbles something against her sweat soaked skin, low and deep and completely inaudible. Y/N feels an open mouthed kiss pressed to her neck, and then hears another mumble, this one even quieter than the last.

“Hm?” Y/N barely manages to hum the syllable in her exhaustion.

There’s no response, no repeat of the quiet phrases, and it takes Y/N a few minutes of feeling Harry’s breathing even out to realize that he’s fallen asleep. If she were sober and had the mental capacity to examine things, Y/N would wonder what it was that Harry whispered into her skin. But her brain is swimming in exhaustion and endorphins and tequila, and the only thing she can do is close her eyes and allow her breathing to sync up with the rise and fall of Harry’s chest.

…

The first thing Y/N registers the next morning is the shrill ringing of her cell phone, which somehow made its way to the bedside table in her drunken fervour the night before. The second thing she registers is the pounding of her head, like she can feel each pump of blood to her brain, and the uncomfortably dry feeling in her mouth, as if it’s been stuffed full of cotton. The third thing Y/N registers is—

“Christ.” Harry groans into her neck, his voice raspy from sleep and laced with irritation. “God, who is calling right now?”

Right. The third thing she registers, probably the most complicated of all, Y/N thinks, is just how much of Harry’s taut and tattooed bare skin is pressed against her own. His strong arms are thrown over her waist, clutching her tight to his chest. In the back of her mind, she’s vaguely aware of the chain of Harry’s cross pressing into her breast, probably leaving a small red indentation along with the other marks he left on her last night.

Last night.

Y/N lets out a small whine as the previous evening comes rushing back to her. It’s a blur of alcohol, ABBA, and Harry. Harry is everywhere, in every blurred picture her hungover brain can conjure. Laughing at her from across the table. Smirking at her on stage. Staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes as he pulled her down on top of him on the bar, grinding his hips into hers. Kissing her. Kissing her multiple times. Coming back to their room with his hands leaving scorching imprints over every inch of her. And now, him laying next to her, clutching the two of them together like they’ve always done this. Like it’s natural.

The phone rings again, louder than the last time, and Harry curses under his breath, the short exhale of air leaving goosebumps along Y/N’s neck. He lifts his head just barely as he reaches across Y/N’s body, grabbing her phone from the bedside table and not bothering to check the caller ID as he answers.

“Hello?” He says, the rasp of sleep still clear his voice. Within three seconds, Harry’s entire body tenses against Y/N, his arm constricting around her waist enough to shift her on the bed.

Y/N lifts her head up when she feels the change, finally opening her eyes just enough to read the change in Harry’s body language. What she finds are dark and stormy green eyes, a swollen red mouth pressed into a thin line, and a deep crease between his furrowed brow, all of it such a contrast from the hazy memories of him the night before.

“I—yeah, she’s right here.” Harry mutters, his eyes snapping to Y/N’s face for just a moment. “I’ll—oh. Yeah, no, the trip’s been…good. Yeah. Not too much traffic.” His arm moves off her waist as he pulls away from her, rolling onto his back as the bed creaks beneath them. With his newly freed hand, Harry covers his eyes, rubbing them for a moment as the irritation on his face grows. “Yeah, it was nice of me to give her a ride. Yeah.” He sucks in a breath. “Well, she’s—she’s awake now. Here. I’ll let you two talk.”

Y/N props herself up on one elbow, careful to keep the sheet pressed to her chest so that she’s not exposed. She knows that Harry’s already seen everything, touched everything, and kissed everything, but the sudden change in his demeanor is telling her that she needs to be guarded, even if she has no idea what caused it.

Harry holds out her phone for her, his face stony as Y/N slowly accepts it. “Harry—?” She begins, but he just gives a rough jerk of his head, and offers no other explanation.

Eyes still glued to Harry’s face, Y/N brings the phone to her ear, clearing the sleep from her voice. “Hello?”

“Hi.” The familiar cadence of Brant’s voice crackles through the phone speaker, an indication of how far away he is from her. “It’s good to finally hear your voice; I haven’t been able to catch you the last few days.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Harry as her body goes cold, pressing the sheet tighter to her chest. “Brant.” She whispers his name unintentionally; her body won’t allow her to say it any louder. “Hi.”

At the sound of Brant’s voice leaving her lips, Harry throws the covers off of himself, jerkily pulling himself off of the low motel room bed. He snatches his jeans off the floor, and doesn’t give Y/N another glance as he walks to the small bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

“Hi.” Brant says again, completely unaware of what’s happening on the other end of the telephone line. “I’ve missed you. Where are you now?”

“Uh, Cleveland.” Y/N says weakly, stumbling her way out of the bed to her duffel bag. She grabs a new bra and t-shirt, along with her comfiest pair of pants. Without Harry beside her, she’s freezing. “Today’s our last day of driving.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Brant replies easily. “The wedding is tomorrow, then?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N’s eyes flicker to the bathroom as the sound of the shower starting travels through the wood of the door. “And tonight is the rehearsal dinner.”

Brant makes a sound of acknowledgement on the other end of the phone. “That’ll be nice! Do you know if you’re flying back?”

“Uh—” Y/N pauses her movements, her pants half pulled up her legs. That, honestly, is a good question, and one which seems as though the answer is changing with every passing moment. “I guess I’ll call the airline and…see if I can fly back. Maybe the storms will have passed.”

“You must have driven through them, right? In Utah, or wherever they were?” Brant asks curiously. “Did they seem that bad? Honestly, I’ve always found thunder to be relaxing. I think most people do.”

Y/N tugs her t-shirt over her head with one hand, accidentally bumping her chin as she does so. The motion causes her to bite down on her tongue, and she lets out a curse under her breath, not even bothering to correct Brant. It doesn’t matter, she thinks. He probably wouldn’t remember. “Yeah. Relaxing.”

The sound of the shower turning off catches her attention, distracting her from what Brant says next. “I—sorry—” She mutters in a distracted tone, raking her fingers through her sleep and sex mussed hair. “What was that?”

“I said let me know when you’re on your way back from New York, so I’ll make us a dinner reservation.” Brant repeats himself without suspicion of Y/N’s distracted tone. “We just got some new files at work that I think you’ll be very interested in.”

The bathroom door creaks open, and Harry emerges from the cloud of shower steam. He’s dressed in just his pants, his marked chest still damp from the shower. Although he catches Y/N’s eye for a moment, he quickly looks away, rubbing his towel through his wet curls as he turns to search for a shirt. The red marks of Y/N’s nails are prominent on his otherwise unmarked back.

“Dinner?” Y/N repeats slowly, chewing on her cuticle as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Are you—you still want to get dinner?”

“Of course. I enjoy our weekly dinners, don’t you?” Brant asks, confusion finally slipping into his voice. “I’ve missed them.”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat, rubbing her thumb absentmindedly over her bottom lip. “Okay. Yeah. Dinner. I’ll, um, I’ll let you know when I book a flight home.”

“Sounds wonderful. Well, I’ll let you get on the road. Let me know when you’re available.” Brant’s voice already sounds more and more distant. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Y/N replies lamely, letting her phone drop to the crumpled bed sheets.

There’s a rustling behind her, the sound of a belt clicking, of the zipper on a duffel bag being pulled shut. Y/N waits for a moment, to give Harry the chance to say something to her, but nothing comes. Finally, she twists around on the bed, her nerves running on high.

Harry is completely dressed now, a black t-shirt covering his previously bare chest, and he’s tied his familiar green bandana into his damp chestnut locks. His sunglasses are hanging on the neck of his shirt, but even without them covering his emerald eyes, Y/N can’t decipher anything that’s swirling within them.

“That—that was Brant.” She says finally, scratching a nail over the palm of her hand.

Harry jerks his head in a nod as he shoulders his duffel bag. “Yeah. I heard.” Tapping his fingers against the leather strap, he finally spares a glance at Y/N. “He wants to take you to dinner, huh?”

Running her teeth along her bottom lip, Y/N takes a moment before she replies. “Harry, I—”

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters, taking long strides to the door and unlocking it with a harsh turn of his hand. “Just hurry up, yeah? I want to get on the road soon, so we’re not late to the rehearsal dinner.”

When he slams the door behind him, Y/N breaks.

…

And just like that, it’s like they’re back at square one.

It really feels like the first day all over again, Y/N thinks, in every sense of the sentiment. From the way she and Harry sit in silence, each avoiding the other’s gaze, to how every single one of Harry’s movements is filled with a tight and tense irritation. Even the sound of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” is familiar, echoing through the speakers of the car like a soundtrack to an old memory.

After four hours, the silence is finally getting to her. She can’t stop shifting in her seat, her muscles seizing from hours on end in the same position—although, frankly, her soreness may partially be a result of her and Harry’s activities from the night before—and with every short and hard breath Harry sighs, Y/N gets more and more antsy.

“Harry.” She says finally, risking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift, both grips tight enough to stretch his skin over the bones of his knuckles until it goes white. At the sound of Y/N’s voice, his jaw flexes, but he shows no other evidence that he heard her.

A frustrated sigh falls past Y/N’s lips. “Harry.” She says again, firmer this time. “Are you going to ignore me all the way to the Catskills?”

Realizing that he can’t feign deafness, Harry lets his shoulders lift once and drop down again in a quick motion. “’M not ignoring you.” He mutters, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

“We’re not talking. At all.” Y/N taps her fingers against her knee, just slightly off the beat of the music. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened?”

“Why?” Harry asks, his voice flatter than she’s ever heard it. “What’s there to talk about?”

Y/N twists her body in her seat, her seat belt nearly cutting into her throat with how quickly she moves. “What the hell do you mean, what’s there to talk about? There’s plenty! Last night—”

Harry cuts over her with a sharp tone, still refusing to look away from the road. “Last night we got drunk, and we made a mistake.” His grip tightens even more on the gear shift as he moves it to accelerate the car. “And it shouldn’t have happened.”

It takes a few moment for the words to register in her brain, and Y/N blinks slowly as the process unfolds. “You think it was a mistake?” She tries to ask the question as nonchalantly as possible.

“I do.” Harry nods tightly, and while Y/N thinks that she can detect something else underneath his tone, his dark sunglasses hide the truth of his thoughts from her. “We got caught up with trying to—to pretend we’re not who we are. But we know who we are.”

If Y/N’s brain couldn’t process Harry’s words a moment ago, it’s working in overdrive now as she draws a million different conclusions from the conversation. What the fuck does “we know who we are” mean? Wasn’t the whole point of this trip—the long lesson they’d learned together—that both of them were different than the other had thought? Hadn’t Harry proved to her, over and over, how he was so much more considerate and empathetic than she’d previously imagined? Hadn’t she shown him that she wasn’t the Ice Queen he thought she was, wasn’t as controlling, wasn’t as perfect? Hadn’t that been a good thing? Hadn’t they bonded at roadside fruit stands, small souvenir shacks, ghost town gas stations, and dingy motel rooms?

But maybe…maybe she had imagined all of that, because the way that Harry is actively avoiding her gaze is telling her that he isn’t thinking the same thing. Everything from his body language, to his tone of voice, to his attitude, is telling her that he’s just as stubborn and closed off as he was when they first met. He hasn’t changed. If he had, he wouldn’t be refusing to do something as simple as look at her.

Still, something about the interaction doesn’t sit right with Y/N. Although she turns to face the windshield again, she keeps Harry in the corner of her gaze. “Is this…” She swallows hard. “Does this have something to do with Brant calling?”

A harsh snort is all the response she gets. “Christ, no. Trust me, nothing that prick can do has that much of an affect on me.” Even from behind his sunglasses, Y/N can tell that Harry is rolling his eyes. “Although I suppose it is a reminder of where you belong.”

A flash of irritation rips up Y/N’s spine. “A reminder of what?” She repeats, eyes narrowing.

“You heard me, Y/N, don’t make me say it again.” Harry taps a finger to the song, perfectly on the beat. They’re out of sync, Y/N realizes. Had they ever been in sync?

No, she decides. They hadn’t. She’d just been fooling herself. Being in the car for five days with only Harry for company had deluded her, but soon she’d be with Jo, and a million other people, and when she’s not in stuck in Harry’s car, smelling Harry’s cologne, listening to Harry’s music, she’ll have a clear head. She’ll be able to think straight.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses her arms firmly over her chest, leaning her head against the cool glass of the passenger window. A sign welcoming them to the state of New York whizzes past. “I won’t make you say it again. You don’t have to say anything.”

…

“So? What do you think?”

Y/N steps over the threshold of the cozy cabin, analyzing every little detail of the room as quickly as she can. The interior seems to be one open concept room, cleverly split up with small architectural dividers. The living room and kitchen flowed into each other smoothly, with a kitchen island dividing the space. To the left of the living room is a small reading nook, holding a comfortable looking wicker swing chair and a half-size bookshelf that seems to be well stocked. Separating the reading nook from the rest of the cabin is the staircase, which Y/N presumes leads up to the master bedroom and bathroom that’s lofted above on the halved second floor. Between the wall of windows giving a beautiful view of the forest, the fire quietly cracking in the living room, and the potted plants scattered around the cabin, Y/N has to admit that she thinks she could live in this space for the rest of her life.

“It’s beautiful, Jo.” She finally replies, setting down her suitcase and duffel bag as she continues to look around. She walks to the living room first, brushing her fingers over the cable knit blanket that’s draped over the back of the comfortable looking couch. “Is this for you and Laure?”

“Nope. It’s for me and you.” Jo replies, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. She pulls out a bottle of rosé, motioning over her shoulder to the cupboard. “Grab a couple wine glasses, would you?”

Y/N crosses to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards until she finds the glasses. Setting them down on the island, she gives Jo a confused look. “Me and you?”

Jo gives her a familiar grin as she uncorks the wine, and the sight of it lights a warm fire in Y/N’s chest. It feels like home. “It’s tradition for the bride not to see the bride before the wedding, isn’t it? So after the rehearsal dinner, Laure and I will say goodbye until the ceremony tomorrow, and you and I—” She fills Y/N’s glass liberally. “Will have one last night of single girl fun. And then you can have the cabin to yourself tomorrow night, because I will be on my honeymoon, and, hopefully, getting laid.”

Y/N smiles back at her as she lifts her glass, clinking it against Jo’s. “Sounds like a plan.” After taking a long sip, Y/N leans her elbows on the counter, propping her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow. Married!”

“Yeah, well, that’s old news.” Jo waves her hand as she lowers her wine glass from her lips, her inquisitive eyes alight with mischief. “I’d rather know how the trip with Harry was. Are you two finally getting along? The last time I called, you actually sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

Y/N pauses with her wine glass half lifted to her lips. Part of her wants to tell Jo everything, because she always tells Jo everything. It feels wrong to have a secret from her. But then again, she’s never had a reason to have a secret before. Right now, however…the last thing Jo and Laure need the night before their wedding—three hours before the rehearsal dinner—is to be stressed because the maid of honour and the best man had a drunken one night stand in Cleveland, Ohio.

“I wouldn’t say we’re getting along.” Y/N says diplomatically, taking a sip of wine between her words. “We’re…a bit better, I suppose. But we’re not that close.”

“Really?” When Jo raises an eyebrow, Y/N almost swears that she can detect a hint of disappointment in her voice. “But Harry said—”

“He said what?” Y/N asks quickly, the diplomatic tone disappearing immediately.

Jo tugs on her bottom lip as she gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know. I overheard him and Laure talking last night, but I couldn’t really make much of it out. It sounded like you two were at a bar.”

The new information makes Y/N pause. Harry had called Laure while they were at the bar last night. Harry had felt the need to call Laure while they were at the bar last night. What had been so urgent, so pressing, that he needed to speak to her right then and there?

“A bar, yeah.” Y/N finally replies after a moment. “It was alright. We just had a couple drinks to relax from being in the car.”

“Just drinks? That’s all? Nothing else?”

Y/N clears her throat, gulping down the rest of her wine before answering. “That’s it. Nothing else.”

…

“Here you go, Miss Bride.” Y/N grins at Jo as she tops off her mimosa, fixing the tie of her pink silk robe as she settles back down in her chair. “Something to relax you, yeah?”

Jo glances up at Y/N, her pen pausing over the page of her notebook. She’s careful when she moves her head, so as not to disturb the hairstylist that’s carefully curling her hair, but still manages to meet Y/N’s eye. “I’m relaxed.” She argues, but takes a sip of the drink nonetheless. “I just love mimosas. You can’t blame me for that.”

Y/N gives a slight shrug as she brushes a strand of her own carefully styled hair over her shoulder. Jo, being Jo, had insisted on sleeping in as much as she could that morning, so when the hair and makeup lady had arrived two hours ago, Y/N had been the first one to get made over. Which, honestly, she quite enjoyed, but the real feat would be remaining picture perfect until the ceremony, which is still two hours away.

“Will you do something for me?” Jo asks suddenly, her pen still scratching over her notebook. She finishes signing her name with a messy signature, waiting until the hairdresser has paused her movements to rip the page from the notebook and fold it up. She quickly writes Laure’s name on the front and extends the note to Y/N. “Will you bring this to Laure?”

Although Y/N accepts the note from her automatically, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her voice. “This isn’t an explanation of why you’re leaving her at the altar, is it?”

Jo flips Y/N off with an elegantly painted fingernail. “No, you jerk. We agreed to write letters to each other right before the wedding. As a little keepsake.”

A sudden lump develops in Y/N’s throat as she turns the note over in her hands, her mind flickering back to the last time she’d read something Jo wrote for Laure. How Harry’s voice had sounded reciting Laure’s words for Jo. “You two are sickeningly sweet, you know that?” Y/N finishes her mimosa before standing up, tightening her robe once again. “I’ll take it to her now. Where’s her cabin?”

“Just down the path towards the resort. Take a left when you reach the arrow sign.” Jo instructs her, setting her notebook down beside her before relaxing back into her chair. Her eyes close as the hairdresser continues styling her hair. “You’ll find it.”

Y/N nods, slipping on her scuffed up Vans before dashing outside. When the slight chill in the morning air hits her, she pulls her silk dressing gown around her tighter, and debates whether or not she should grab a proper jacket. She decides against it, however, and ignores the goosebumps popping up on her bare legs as she begins to walk down the path Jo mentioned.

It’s a quiet and calm morning, and Y/N can hear birds chirping and flittering through the pine trees around them. The trees themselves add a wonderful scent to the air, in addition to the faint smell that indicates it may rain later. Glancing up, Y/N can see that the sky is overcast, giving another indication of future weather patterns. A small sigh escapes her. A storm would be just the thing that’s needed today, she thinks wryly.

When Y/N reaches the arrow sign, which points towards the lake, the main resort building, and the cabins, she takes a sharp left. And practically slams into Harry’s chest.

On instinct, Harry’s strong hands grip her arms, steadying her as she stumbles back from him. Y/N’s eyes widen as she registers who she almost walked into, and she can tell Harry is just realizing it’s her. His grip on her tightens for just a moment before it releases, and he takes a step back from her, creating space between their bodies.

“Sorry.” Y/N says after a moment, clearing her throat. “I was just—”

“Yeah.” Harry holds up his hand, and for the first time Y/N realizes that he’s holding a note identical to hers. “You’re on messenger duty too, huh?”

Biting her lip, Y/N nods slowly, holding up her own note. “Mhmm.”

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and Y/N doesn’t miss how Harry’s green irises pause during his scan of her bare legs. Crossing her ankles together, Y/N lets her eyes wander too, admiring for a moment how Harry’s grey sweatpants cling to his hips. But only for a moment.

“Well, here.” Y/N pushes the note towards him, taking the note that he trades her in return. “How’s Laure doing?”

Harry gives a half shrug, turning Jo’s note over and over in his fingers. “Pretty decent, except she won’t eat anything. Says she’s too nervous.”

Y/N cracks a small smile at the image of Laure, someone who is usually so self assured and confident, being too nervous about anything. “Tell her she can’t have a drink until she eats. That’s how I got some toast into Jo.”

“I’ll do that.” Harry says with a terse nod.

A beat of silence falls between the two of them, the only sounds audible being the chirping of birds and the wind in the trees. The latter sends a shiver through Y/N, and she wraps her arms around herself to rub her bare skin, trying to find a bit of warmth in the shade of the forest.

A crease appears between Harry’s brow as he registers the motion, and he quickly shrugs off his own jacket. Before Y/N can refuse, he’s draping the fabric around her shoulders, careful not to touch any bare skin.

Although Y/N fixes the drape of the jacket, her mouth opens to protest. “Harry—”

“I should go. I have to give this to Laure, and get her to eat something.” Harry’s voice is gruff as he takes a step back. “I suppose I’ll…see you at the wedding?”

Y/N nods slowly, her fingers still grazing over the hem of the jacket. “Yeah.” She should say more, she thinks. She should voice her anger, or her hurt, or whatever the hell it is that’s curdling like a hot ball of lead inside her stomach, but she can’t think of the words. “Yeah, I—” I’m sorry. I miss you. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could do things over. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

…

“Uh, hello. Can everyone hear me?”

Y/N watches with expectant eyes as Harry leans forward over the podium, his pink lips brushing against the microphone for just a moment before he takes a step back. He looks so different than the last time she’d seen him with a microphone, she thinks. He’s dressed so much more formally, in a striking emerald suit that matches the colour palette of the wedding, along with Y/N’s dress. His cheeks are flushed from champagne, his eyes bright, but there’s a hint of nerves under his thick accent.

Harry raises his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat quietly as he unfolds a piece of paper and smooths it on the podium. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harry Styles. I have had the honour of being Laure’s best man today, as well as her best friend since we were teenagers.” Harry pauses his speech to smile at Laure, the fondness for the bride apparent in his eyes. “We’ve been through a lot together—I’ve watched her go through a lot, too—and she’s always come out on the other side better than ever. An example of this is when she made the decision—after living in England her whole life, never leaving, living in the same small brownstone for eighteen years—to move to America for university.”

Y/N lifts her champagne to her lips, taking a small sip while keeping her eyes glued to Harry. The more he talks, the more relaxed he appears, as he naturally falls into the role of a performer again. Out of the corner of her eye, she can practically see him charming every woman in the room, and it takes all her concentration not to roll her eyes.

“She’d made the decision a bit impulsively, and—in true Laure fashion—stuck to it like the stubborn person she is.” Harry laughs lightly, shaking his head at the memory as Jo nods in agreement beside Y/N. “She was so certain that moving was what she wanted, so determined to do it—and then the night before her flight, she showed up at my house in tears, talking about how she couldn’t possibly go through with the move. She couldn’t leave behind everything she’d known.” Glancing down at his notes for a moment, Harry takes a deep breath before continuing. “It freaked me out a bit, I won’t lie. To see someone who’s usually so sure of themselves question such a big decision. But I assured her that everything would be fine, that moving forward was always scary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do. Life always pushes us forward, whether we’re ready for it or not. So Laure left, and a month later, I decided to go visit her in America, expecting to find her incredibly homesick, in tears, a mess.” A small smile begins to play at the corner of Harry’s lip. “Instead, I arrived to find her adjusted, happy, and about to go on a date with a girl she had met named Jo.”

A laugh ripples through the wedding guests, and Y/N can’t help but smile in spite of herself.

“And I, uh…I was at a loss for words that day.” Harry’s eyes flicker to the head table, settling on the two brides with a happy smile, and yet…something in his eyes looks flatter, like he’s trapped in a deep thought. “I thought I was going to visit my friend, and comfort her, and instead I found her on a date, completely fine. She didn’t need me to comfort her. She was—and still is—so incredibly resilient. She always has been.”

Harry’s eyes travel again, but this time, they settle on Y/N. She shifts in her seat as he looks her over, his eyes phasing emotions again while his tongue swipes over his lips quickly. “So anyways—” Harry quickly looks away when he catches Y/N’s eye, turning his attention back to the audience of wedding guests. “I suppose I’m the one to thank for this marriage, because if I hadn’t pushed Laure to come to America, she would never have met Jo.” An easygoing smile pulls at his pink lips as the crowd laughs lightly. “And now, Laure…you’re at that same place again. A new beginning. Except this time, you’re not alone. You managed to find something that most of us…” Harry hesitates again. “Most of us spend our entire lives searching for, and when we find it, we manage to f—screw it up.” His eyes flicker to Laure’s grandmother when he catches the curse word, and Y/N hides a small laugh behind her champagne glass. “But you didn’t. You and Jo…you’re lucky. You figured out what you wanted, and you didn’t let anything—fear, anxiety, or your…your own pride—” Harry swallows hard, his eyes flickering to Y/N once more, and the glance makes her skin burn beneath her dress. “—stop you. You’re both an inspiration to all of us. I love you two. To Jo and Laure!”

Y/N murmurs the toast with the rest of the crowd, raising her glass of champagne and draining it as her head spins with Harry’s words. A waiter walks by and quickly refills the glass, grazing by Harry as he makes his way back to his seat on Laure’s right side. Y/N barely gives herself a moment to catch his unreadable emerald eyes before she stands, carefully picking up the hem of her dress as she walks to the podium. It’s her turn now.

Stepping up to the microphone, Y/N clears her throat, resting her free hand against the wood to steady herself. “Thank you, Harry, that was…lovely.” Y/N begins, allowing herself one more stolen look at him. His brow is furrowed, hands folded together over the cream tablecloth as his eyes focus on her.

“My name is Y/N, and I’m the maid of honour. Jo and I have been best friends since the first day of kindergarten, when she punched a boy in the nose for me, which, funnily enough, wasn’t the last time she’d have to do that.” A laugh rolls through the room, and Y/N gives an endeared look to Jo’s sheepish grin before turning to face the wedding guests again. “I’ve had the good fortune of having her on my side from day one, and…I know just how lucky that makes me. There’s so many times where I’d…I wouldn’t have been able to handle what life threw at me if I didn’t have Jo with me. She’s kind, and compassionate, and fiery, and just…the very best person I know. And if you know her, then I’m sure you’d agree.”

Y/N takes a moment to breathe, her parched tongue swiping quickly over her lips. “I’ve, um, I’ve never been a perfect person. I’ve never been very good at…articulating what I feel, or—or making a hard choice. I’ve always followed a safer path, out of…fear, I suppose.” Not for the first time since she began talking, Y/N’s eyes travel to Harry. He still has the same stoic expression over his features, but his eyes…she can tell he’s hanging on every word she’s saying, and is analyzing every syllable.

“But Jo has never done that.” Y/N continues, shaking her gaze from Harry to settle on her best friend. “Even when she’s been afraid, she’s pushed forward, usually dragging me along with her. And it’s a good thing she has, because I wouldn’t have half the stories I have now if not for her.” Y/N cracks a smile. “But she just—when Jo loves you, you know it. She never hesitates to tell anyone. She never worries about it being too much. She has the biggest heart, and if you’re lucky—really lucky—she’ll keep you inside it. And I used to worry about her, because in my mind, that was dangerous. Being so open was so terrifying to me, I was certain that it would backfire for Jo. And then she met Laure.”

Although it’s a struggle, Y/N manages to train her eyes on Laure without letting them travel to Harry. “Laure and Jo may seem different on the surface, but they both share giant hearts. And their differences balance each other out so perfectly. You two—I never really believed in soul mates until I saw the two of you together.” Y/N admits, biting down hard on her lip when she catches Harry shifting in his chair from the corner of her eye. “But the way you two know each other, and speak to each other, and love each other…anyone who sees it can’t help but know that you’re meant for each other. That you’ve been meant for each other since the beginning of time. Every choice you made, every path you took—all of it led you two to each other, because that’s what was destined to happen. You—” Y/N’s voice catches in her throat, and she takes a moment to compose herself before speaking again. “You’re going to be happy together, because you were meant to be. It’s as simple as that.”

Y/N knows that she can’t say anything else without beginning to unravel, so she simply raises her champagne glass in the air, deciding it’s best to leave it at that. “To Jo and Laure.”

Above the echoes of the wedding guests, Y/N can hear Harry’s unmistakable voice.

…

“‘She’s like the wind…through my tree’…”

With her champagne glass raised to her lips, Y/N pensively watches as Jo and Laure turn to the music in each other’s arms, holding one another close as the voice of Patrick Swayze drifts through the speakers. When the pair had originally told Y/N that they wanted to dance to a song from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack for their first dance, Y/N had laughed at the choice. Now, however, as she watches Laure brush back a strand of hair from Jo’s face, her lips drifting down to whisper something in her new wife’s ear, Y/N has to admit that the song is the perfect choice for them.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

Y/N recognizes Harry’s voice, not needing to turn her head away from the couple on the dance floor to know that he’s moved from his chair three seats down. Although the feeling of his warm breath on her neck is enough to make her shudder, as well as bring back memories of the nights they spent together, Y/N does her best to keep herself composed.

“They do.” She agrees after a moment, setting her fluted glass down on the table. She keeps her fingers around the base, gently gliding them over the smooth crystal absentmindedly as she finally turns her head just enough to catch a sight of Harry.

He’s moved himself to Jo’s chair, with one hand braced against the table and one hand lightly settled on the back of Y/N’s seat. He removed his suit jacket after his speech, but his waist coat is still buttoned properly, despite the sleeves of his dress shirt now being rolled to his elbows, exposing his tattoos. His face is just as pensive as it’s been all day, but there’s some sort of change that Y/N can’t quite put a finger on. There’s less of a guard in his emerald eyes, she thinks, before turning her attention back to the dance floor.

“Do you…” Harry licks his lips once, swiping a hand through his carefully styled curls before brushing over the back of his neck. “Would you like to dance? With me?”

Y/N’s movements against the crystal flute pause. That question was the last thing she expected him to ask. “I…” Clearing her throat, she keeps her eyes focused on the swaying of Jo and Laure. “I don’t know.”

A vibration on the back of Y/N’s chair lets her know that Harry’s tapping his fingers against it, the pattern familiar after watching him play the same rhythm on the steering wheel for five days. “You don’t have to, so—don’t feel like you have to say yes. But I just…I don’t know. I thought it would be nice.”

Yes, Y/N thinks wistfully, pursing her lips slightly at the nervous tone in Harry’s voice. It would be nice. To be wrapped in his arms again, his body close enough that she can feel the pounding of his heart beneath his formal clothing. To feel his calloused hands within her own again, and resting on her waist, pulling her closer to himself with every passing moment…

“It…” Y/N glances down for a moment, fixing a crease in her dress with careful attentiveness. “It would be nice, yeah. Until we try ripping each other’s throats out in the middle of the wedding.”

The joke is only half a joke, and Harry’s laugh is only half in amusement. “I didn’t really plan on that.”

“Well, it seems that things we don’t plan on keep happening, so…” As the music begins to fade out, Y/N finally turns her head to look at Harry straight on. “That’s not really a reassuring statement.”

A flicker of irritation flits through Harry’s eyes, a sight that’s become familiar in all her years of knowing him. “It was a simple question, Y/N. Do you want to dance or not?”

As Y/N’s own irritation escalates, she knows that she should say no. The best thing for her to do right now would be to distance herself from Harry, to get some space to clear her head, and to keep herself from making a scene. Whatever there is to talk about—if there even is something they need to talk about—can be done at a later date, preferably not in the middle of a wedding. And yet—

“Fine.” Y/N finished off her champagne glass, setting it back down on the table gingerly as a new song begins to drift through the speakers. “Let’s go.”

Harry stands from his seat first, extending a hand to Y/N to help her up. Although she’s wary, she takes it, the sensation of his cool rings against her own fingers growing more and more familiar with each moment she spends touching them.

A few more couples have joined Jo and Laure on the dance floor now, and Y/N and Harry fit right in as he leads her to the center, keeping her hand held firmly in his own as his free hand finds her waist. Y/N rests her own hand on his shoulder, gripping his sturdy frame carefully.

“‘Is love so fragile…and the heart so hollow’…”

The song, Y/N realizes, doing her best to focus on anything but the way Harry’s gaze is locked onto her with a frightening intensity, is one that she’s heard a few times over their road trip together. The beat of the song is as familiar as a memory as the two of them sway to it, their motions careful and controlled.

“‘You’re saying I’m fragile; I try not to be…I search only for something I can’t see’…”

Harry’s hand on her waist, Y/N can’t help but notice, is so much more unsure than it was a few nights ago, when he pulled her close on top of the bar. When he guided her movements in a way that was so much more frenzied than he’s doing now, and in a way that she misses. She’s missed it, that breathless feeling. The feeling of not knowing what’s coming next, and being enthralled by the unknown of it all.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today…give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirking up ever so slightly lets Y/N know that he’s listening just as intently to the lyrics as she is, and has the same events and memories floating through his head. His hand begins to get braver, tightening his grasp on her as his hand begins to rub gently over her hip.

“Harry…” His name slips from Y/N’s lips involuntarily as she meets his jade eyes in question. From the corner of her eye, she can see Laure and Jo watching the two of them as they dance, whispering into each other’s ears like girls gossiping in a school hallway. “What—?”

“Sh.” The sound is soft as it falls past Harry’s red lips, the crease between his brow slackening slightly as he sighs. “Just…don’t speak. Not right now.”

“‘You in the moonlight…with your sleepy eyes…could you ever love a man like me’…”

The request is easy enough, but Y/N can’t make herself listen to it as she cocks her head to the side, the furrow of her own brow matching Harry’s. “Why?”

“‘And you were right…when I walked into your house…I knew I’d never want to leave’…”

The breath that Harry sucks in is mostly taken through his teeth, his lips pursing immediately after as he contemplates his answer. “I just want to…remember this moment. Properly remember it, before tonight ends, and we…”

“‘Sometimes I’m a strong man…sometimes cold and scared’…”

“…We go our separate ways.” Harry finally finishes, his eyes shifting to the floor as he pulls Y/N even closer to his chest. Her elbow is completely bent to her body as her fingers drift further from his shoulder, moving closer to where the slope of his neck begins.

Although the explanation makes sense, the thought of going a separate way from Harry catches Y/N’s breath in her throat, so much so that she can barely choke out a reply. “Okay.” She manages, the lump in her throat growing with every passing second.

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Eyes drifting closed of their own accord, Y/N leans her head forward, settling her cheek into the curve of Harry’s shoulder. The smell of his cologne lingers in the fabric of his emerald waistcoat, intoxicating her further with every breath she takes.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Something warm and soft presses against the top of Y/N’s head, and she knows that it’s Harry’s own cheek resting against her. A gentle sigh falls from his mouth, and Y/N feels every moment of it, from the rise and fall of his chest against hers to the breath of air that blows slowly from his lips. She memorizes the motions, something for her to play in her head again later when she’s alone on a plane back to L.A., where her regular life is waiting for her. Where Brant is waiting for her.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

Y/N quickly lifts a finger to her eye, wiping away the moisture that’s pooling on her lash line before returning her grip to Harry’s shoulder. “If I said…” She hesitates, taking the time to choose her words carefully. She needs to choose them carefully. “If I said that I loved every moment of the road trip…would you believe me?”

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Harry squeezes her hand in his own, his entire body tightening in response to her words, and for a moment, Y/N fears that she’s overstepped. An apology is already forming in her mouth, about to spill from her tongue, when Harry’s response cuts her off, his voice hesitant and anxious and so quiet that she almost can’t make out the words.

“If I said that I loved every moment I’ve ever spent with you, and not just these last five days, would you believe me?”

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Y/N’s eyes snap open, her head quickly lifting from Harry’s shoulder to look at him with wide and astonished eyes. Although the struggle is written clearly upon his face, he doesn’t shy his eyes away from hers, and instead holds her gaze as the voice of Stevie Nicks continues to croon over the speakers.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

As the music fades out, another song begins to fade in, increasing the tempo and causing the other couples around them to break apart and mill around the dance floor. Only Y/N and Harry stay pressed together, stuck in a bubble of all their own, frozen in a moment of change, and unable to move forward or back in the same way they once had.

Over the fabric of her dress, Y/N can feel Harry’s thumb brushing against her hip, sending electrifying pulses throughout her body. A loose curl has fallen from his styled hair into the path of his eyes, dusting over his eyelashes lightly as he blinks. Did she believe him, she wonders? Could she believe him?

“Can we…” Her mouth is dry when she tries to respond, and she licks her lips quickly, noticing how Harry’s eyes flicker to follow the motion. “Can we discuss this after the wedding? I just—I don’t want to take attention away from Jo and Laure—”

“Yeah.” Harry nods roughly, his hand squeezing hers one last time before he slowly drops it, stepping back from her with great care. Y/N has to bite her tongue to stop herself from whining in protest.

“Yeah.” Harry repeats the word as he fixes his hair, his eyes drifting from hers. “We can discuss it later.”

…

Later, after Jo and Laure cut the cake, after each of them danced with their parents; later, after the staff members began to clear the plates from every table, after everyone waved goodbye to Jo and Laure as their car drove off to the honeymoon cottage snuggled further up the mountain side; later, after guests began to depart in their own cars; later, after Harry snagged a bottle of merlot from the kitchen, after Y/N slipped off her heels during the walk back to her cabin, the feeling of the ground beneath her feet oddly comforting; later, after Y/N opened the door, allowing Harry to step in first before following…

Later is each of them standing in the kitchen, still in their formal clothes, more disheveled than they were at the start of the day, as Y/N opens the cupboard and reaches for the two largest wine glasses she can find.

“Here.” She sets them down on the counter, allowing Harry to fill them to the brim with the crimson liquid. He pushes a nearly full glass towards her before taking the other in his hand, each of them bringing the glasses to their lips for a long drink.

Harry is nervous, and Y/N can tell. She’s gotten a bit better at reading him over their journey together, and she can see the anxiety that’s running through him in his body language. However, although the tapping of his fingers, the rubbing of his lips, and the crease between his brow is a major indication, she knows the real reason she’s aware of Harry’s nerves is because she’s hyper aware of her own.

“You, uh—” Harry clears his throat quietly, the action half reflex, half habit. “You looked really pretty today. Beautiful, actually.”

A light flush heats Y/N’s cheeks, both from the wine and his compliment. “Thank you.” She murmurs, glancing down at her forest coloured dress. “I’m just glad the dress survived the car.”

A chuckle falls from Harry’s lips as he lifts his wine glass again. “Yeah. A real miracle, huh?”

Y/N taps her fingers anxiously against the kitchen island, the coolness of the countertop a nice contrast to her heated skin. “Well, considering all the things that didn’t survive…” She trails off, watching as Harry’s face falls when the meaning of her words washes over him.

Still, Harry steels his shoulders, resolve painting itself over his pained features. “You mean us, yeah?” His tone is blunt and to the point. “After we…?”

“I just—what the fuck was that, Harry?” Y/N asks, her voice every bit as exasperated and exhausted as she feels. “I thought we—and then you—and now, saying you—you’ve always…?”

“I know I’ve been—I know I fucked up.” Harry drops his head, shame clear in his voice as he twists a ring around one of his fingers. “I know that, Y/N. I’m so sorry—”

“I’m just so confused, Harry. Really, I—” The words spill out of her now, faster than they ever have. “I know we were drunk when we fucked, but I…I liked it. And the next morning felt so good, and so right, and then Brant called, and it was like…a switch flipped inside you. And you called us a mistake. So I just—I don’t understand how you could say that less than forty-eight hours ago, and then tell me you’ve always loved being around me tonight.”

Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips once before he inhales slowly, collecting and preparing himself for the conversation. “I’m sorry.” He says lowly, his accent thicker with remorse. “I didn’t want to—I felt like it was a mistake, but not because of anything you did. It was because I knew that I had feelings for you, and I knew that you didn’t have feelings for me.”

The admission of his feelings was clear in his speech before he actually spoke the words, but the verbal acknowledgement of them still leaves an ache in Y/N’s chest as she refutes the statement. “You didn’t know that!” She says hotly, her hand tightening around her glass with every breath. “You wouldn’t let us talk about it, so how could you know?”

“Because Brant called!” While Harry’s voice doesn’t raise in volume, it does in intensity. “Brant called, and asked you to dinner, and you said yes!”

“What, did you want me to break things off with him right then and there? Over the phone?” Y/N demands, an incredulous look on her face as she appraises Harry. “I’m not a bitch, Harry. That would be heartless, and I’m not—I don’t want to hurt anyone. And maybe, maybe, it would be different if I felt anything for Brant, anything that was even a fraction of what I’ve felt for you, the good and the bad, but I don’t!”

Y/N’s words hang heavy in the air between them, flickering through the room like the dim light of the light fixture above them. There’s just enough light, however, that she can watch as her words roll over Harry, sinking into every pore of his body until all the defiance rolls out of him.

“What—” His voice cracks with emotion, and he takes a moment to compose himself before he tries again. “What do you feel for me?”

Turning her eyes down to her wine, she raises the glass to her lips, draining more than half of it in one swift motion. When she speaks again, her voice is slick with the liquor. “What does it matter?” She asks softly. “If you couldn’t believe it enough to not try to push me away the moment I let myself be vulnerable?”

“It wasn’t—your vulnerability wasn’t apparent to me.” Harry lifts the wine bottle automatically, refilling Y/N’s glass with merlot. “It was mine that scared me. Brant called, and you spoke to him, and I felt like—it was like that first date all over again, when you gave your attention to that guy from your class. I felt…” Staring into his own wine, Harry mulls over his words as if the liquor can reveal the perfect thing to say. “I felt like a jealous teenager again, like a proper idiot. And I—you’ve always been so much more put together than me, and refined, and steady, and Brant clearly fits into your world neatly, so I—”

“Stop fucking doing that.” Y/N’s voice is as sharp as ice, as harsh as frostbite. “How many times can we prove to each other that we’re more than our projections of the last seven years? How many times until it sticks?”

Harry studies Y/N’s face, his emerald eyes scanning over every slope and curve of her expression before he replies. “I didn’t think you felt anything for me. I’m still not…sure…”

“Harry, I feel—I feel everything with you.” Y/N’s voice drops to a hushed whisper, as if what she’s admitting is top secret. “I feel like I can be myself. I can be as stupid or serious as I need to be, and you’ll just…accept it. The only person I’ve ever felt that with before is Jo. No one else. And it—it’s terrifying, but good, and then you pushed me away again, and that fucking hurt. You have the ability to hurt me now, and the moment you got it, you did.”

“I didn’t know.” Harry mumbles the words, rubbing his hand over his flushed cheeks slowly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. If I’d known—”

“But you didn’t even ask. You can’t do that, okay?” When Y/N looks up at him, she can see the vulnerability on her face reflected in Harry’s eyes. “Please. I don’t care if you get jealous, or angry, or—or anything else that’s as irritating as I know you can be—” A soft snort echoes from Harry. “Just be honest with me. Tell me. Ask me.”

“What about…” Harry reaches across the kitchen island, taking Y/N’s hand in his own and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “What I said to you earlier? I told you how I felt. And I asked what you feel for me. Can you be honest with me about that?”

“I can.” Y/N says carefully, pursing her lips for a moment. “I…I’m not sure if I’m ready to say something as…decisive as you do. I’ve never really—I know that I feel…more intensely for you than I ever have for anyone else. I just don’t know…how intense, or…I can’t describe it.”

“Maybe I can help.” Harry tugs gently on Y/N’s arm, bringing her around the kitchen island to his side of the room. With his hand still holding hers, he leads her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her with him. He’s mindful of the skirt of her dress, fixing it carefully so that it doesn’t get caught beneath her. “To me, love is…wanting to be near the other person. Do you want to be near me?”

Y/N nods softly. “I do.” She whispers into the darkness, the cabin quiet save for their breathing and the chirping of crickets outside.

“And what about…” Harry lifts a hand to caress her face, his calloused fingers gentle against her warm skin as he brushes over her cheekbone. “This? Do you like being touched by me?”

Y/N’s skin burns beneath his touch. “I do. A lot, actually.”

“And even when we were arguing…when we weren’t speaking to each other, and wouldn’t look at each other…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, the motion staining his lips an even darker pink than they were before. “Did you want me as badly as I wanted you?”

Harry’s other hand begins to rub Y/N’s thigh over her dress, still heating her skin even with the layers of fabric preventing actual contact. Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the sensation. “Yes.” She breathes, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “I did. I still do.”

“Obviously, I…I’d like it if you could know exactly how you feel, but…” Harry shrugs slightly, his hand drifting down to rest on the side of Y/N’s neck. “I know that it’s different for you. You’re not used to it. You don’t have to put a label on it, yeah? I just want you to be comfortable with me. As long as you’re mine, you can take as long as you need to express how you feel.”

Relief spreads through Y/N’s body at Harry’s words. The freedom to take her time, to feel like she doesn’t need to have all the answers right away, is something that none of her past partners have ever offered her, and a familiar sensation begins to curl itself around Y/N’s core as Harry caresses her neck. “Yours?” She repeats slowly, her senses feeling like they’re processing through molasses. “Am I yours?”

“I’d like you to be.” The corner of Harry’s pink lip pulls up, but there’s an air of anxiety in his words. “Are you?”

The fabric of her dress swishes beneath Y/N as she pulls herself into Harry’s, managing to settle one knee of either side of him beneath the layers of tulle. “I am.” She murmurs, her hands wrapping themselves around his sturdy shoulders. Their noses bump together as she moves closer, breath mingling in the small space between their lips. “I’ll be yours.”

Harry’s breath washes over her as he sighs gently, the fragrance of merlot and champagne settling on the back of her tongue. “Laure and Jo will be happy.”

A small laugh, mostly an exhale of breath more than anything else, sounds from Y/N as she twists the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck between her fingers. “Mmm. Probably because they won’t have to break up any more fights.”

“No, no, we’ll still fight. It keeps things interesting.” Harry’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, his nose brushing over Y/N’s once more as he tilts his head to the side. “We’ll just have a lot more fun when we make up with each other.”

Harry’s fingers find the bare expanse of Y/N’s back between the straps of her dress, gliding his fingertips over her warm skin. The sensation of his cool touch against her sends a shiver up her spine, and she twists herself closer to him in return, but keeps the inch gap between their lips. There’s an anticipation between them, but also a stubbornness. A refusal to be the first one to break.

“A lot more fun?” Y/N questions, massaging the tips of her fingers into Harry’s scalp. She lets her painted nails scratch along him gently, just enough to make his eyelids flutter at the sensation. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I could tell you…” Harry purrs his words, pressing his head back into the palm of her hand. “Or I could show you. It’s up to you.”

His words offer Y/N a choice. Will she continue to push him? Or will she give in?

When her hands retreat from his hair, Harry whines quietly, his half lidded eyes staring up at her in confusion. Y/N braces herself against his shoulders as she carefully removes herself from his lap, picking up the fabric of her dress with one hand while grabbing the half empty bottle of wine with the other.

Harry watches as she takes a step backwards, her eyes glued to his as she appraises him. As comfortable—and as attractive—as he looks on the couch with his emerald slack covered legs spread, sleeves half rolled up, chest heaving from their close contact, Y/N needs him somewhere else.

Harry’s tongue glides slowly over his parted lips as Y/N raises the bottle of wine to her mouth, taking a small sip before turning on her heel and walking to the staircase that leads up to the master bedroom of the cabin. She only gets two steps up the stairs before she feels Harry’s hot breath on the back of her neck, his back and arms bracing against her as she climbs slowly. With one hand still holding her dress out of her way, Y/N steps over the summit of the stairs, not waiting for Harry before she makes her way to the bedroom.

The bedroom itself has been tidied by the hotel staff since Y/N last saw it, and she’s never been more thankful for it; she and Jo had left it in a mess in their efforts to get ready that morning. Instead, the staff have perfectly made the bed, complete with all the decorative pillows that Y/N had tossed onto the floor the night before, set fresh candles on the night tables and dresser, and left carefully rolled white towels on the edge of the bed.

A pair of tattooed arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, and a smile lights up her face as she falls back into Harry’s strong chest. “Your room is lovely. Much nicer than those motels.” He rasps in her ear, teeth just barely grazing her lobe as he speaks. “Do you have a lighter for the candles?”

“You want to light candles?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she drops her dress from her hand in order to trail her fingers over Harry’s wrist. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Pressing a light kiss to her neck, Harry shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He murmurs. “We were so rushed last time. I want to enjoy tonight.”

A smile creeps over Y/N’s face as she carefully unlaces Harry’s hands from her waist. “The lighter is in the bedside table, on the left.”

As Harry turns his attention to searching through the drawer, Y/N sets the wine down on the dresser, appraising her reflection in the mirror propped on top of it. She begins to unpin the hair that had been carefully styled that morning, her hair only a fraction as put together as it had been. Setting the pins down on the wood surface in front of her, she takes her time taking off her earrings and bracelets, her eyes following Harry’s movements in the mirror.

The broad expanse of his back is still covered by his green waistcoat, rumpled as it stretches over the slope of his body. With each movement, a new flicker of candlelight begins to glow in front of him, illuminating the silhouette of his body with soft flickers of orange and yellow.

“You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” The question slips from Y/N’s lips before she’s turned around completely to watch Harry’s actions without the aid of the mirror. “You like this sort of thing—the candles, the cabin in the forest, coming from a wedding…”

Harry’s body shakes as a laugh rolls through him, his side profile barely visible as he turns to light another candle next to the bed. “I suppose I am, yeah. Are you not?”

Y/N gives half a shrug, tucking her now loose hair behind her ears as best she can. “I don’t know. I’ve never really considered myself one…never saw the point in grand gestures. They’re not very realistic.”

“They don’t have to be realistic. That’s why it’s a grand gesture.” Harry says easily, sauntering towards her with a dimpled grin on his face. He reaches carefully behind Y/N, his thumb flicking the lighter to spark as he tilts the candle towards the flame. “And I’d hardly call candles a grand gesture. Haven’t you ever been properly romanced?”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplates the question. “Not…really? I mean, there’s been a few things, but nothing…I don’t know. We were always busy—”

“You can always make time for someone if you want to.” Harry sets the lit candle back down on the dresser, repeating the motion with two more before setting the lighter down as well. “Hasn’t Brant ever—well, I know he hasn’t, actually—” A snort leaves Harry’s mouth as he begins to run his hands over Y/N’s bare shoulders, massaging the skin gently. “Haven’t any of your exes asked you what you wanted, or…done something spontaneous for you, like a surprise gift, or trip, or…?”

Harry trails off as he registers the expression on Y/N’s face, and feels the tensing of her shoulders beneath his hands. “Um, not really.” She says, doing her best to keep her tone light. “We were always very…scheduled. A surprise trip wasn’t really feasible.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth tugs down into a frown, his hands continuing to work over the knots in Y/N’s shoulders as he turns her around. He presses himself behind her, moving her hair to one side of her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her spine. “The more we speak, the more I see why you’re so guarded, love.” He murmurs, his tone carefully controlled. “You don’t need to be like that with me. If you’re…afraid of what I’ll think, or…you know I tease you, but you’re always fine with me. We can be serious—”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, glancing at Harry over the curve of her own shoulder as she rests one hand over his own. “I don’t want to be serious. I’m so sick of being serious.” She maneuvers Harry’s hand to her back as she speaks, guiding his fingers until they find the zipper of her dress. “I like that you tease me, and aren’t afraid to irritate me, and how you care enough to listen to what I say…”

The sound of her zipper slowly being tugged down pricks Y/N’s ears, and she watches Harry’s movement in the mirror. There’s a clear look of concentration painted onto his expression as he helps remove her dress, but the moment he catches her eye, he locks into her gaze. As he finishes pulling down the zipper, he keeps his emerald eyes glued to hers in the reflective surface, his stare becoming more and more hypnotic with every passing second.

“So what you’re saying is…” Harry’s lips brush against her ear as he leans closer to her, pressing a sensual kiss right over her pulse point. “You want me to romance you, but still annoy the shit out of you?”

Although it’s breathless, the sound that leaves Y/N’s mouth is unmistakably a laugh as Harry begins to trail kisses down her neck, slipping the strap of her dress down her shoulder. “Yes. It’s oddly endearing.”

“Oddly endearing is my middle name.” Harry’s laugh matches hers as his hands continue their task of removing her clothing. Once Y/N’s straps are free of her shoulders, Harry helps her step out of the hunter green dress, carefully maneuvering the full skirt to the corner chair without creasing it.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty dress, now would—” Harry freezes mid sentence as he turns back around, his mouth falling slack as if seeing Y/N for the first time.

Despite having been naked and underneath his body less than forty eight hours ago, Y/N crosses her arms over her body. The black teddy bodysuit she’d purchased to wear under her bridesmaid dress had, at the time of purchase, been more for practicality than anything. The underwire of the strapless bra supported by the corseted middle was comfortable enough to keep her properly situated in her dress without a wardrobe malfunction, as well as serving as a barrier between Y/N’s sensitive skin and the stitched seams of the gown. It’s not until this moment, with Harry staring at her with a hungry stupor in his eyes, does Y/N realize how racy the undergarment is.

“What?” She says after a moment, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “I—it’s not like you haven’t seen me before.”

The nerves woven into her tone are enough to snap Harry from his thoughts. “This is…different.” He approaches her again, his steps slow and measured as he lays a hand on her lace covered side. “I was pissed last time I had you…didn’t get to properly take in the sight of you…” Harry scratches his nails over one of the mesh panels, his jade eyes darkening another shade once more.

“I didn’t get to enjoy you, either. And yet you’re still fully clothed.” Y/N begins to fiddle with the buttons of Harry’s emerald waistcoat, working them open one by one as she forces herself to steady her breathing. “That’s not very fair, is it?”

“I suppose it’s not. Not fair at all.” Harry allows her to pull his waistcoat from his body, and it’s not until Y/N reaches the third button of his button down shirt that she realizes how much he’s enjoying her undressing him.

Every breath that Harry takes is ragged and shallow, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself controlled as Y/N’s fingers trail down the exposed skin of his chest. The sight of Harry’s throat tightening as her nails scrape his skin is too much for her to resist, and she quickly attaches her lips to the base of his neck as she pulls the now unbuttoned shirt from his body.

Swiping her tongue over the new mark at the base of his throat, Y/N manages to pull a moan from Harry, and her lips pull back into a small smile against his hot skin at the sound. “You sound really nice when you do that.” She murmurs, her hand trailing down to his belt as she speaks.

She can feel Harry swallow again, and when he replies, his voice is as low as she’s ever heard it. “Then you’ll have to make me do it more, won’t you, pet?” His eyes are blown darker with lust as he grips Y/N’s hips tight, pressing the pads of his fingers into her flesh. “Are you going to give me moans that are just as pretty? Or am I going to have to pull them from your stubborn little mouth?”

Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest at his dominant tone, her mouth falling open in a gasp against Harry’s collar bones. She can feel the vibrations of his laugh in her lips, the tingle not unlike the burning she feels in her core, and Harry’s hand travels from her hips to her chin as the burning increases.

“Cat got your tongue, hm?” Harry grips Y/N’s chin between his thumb and forefinger as she fumbles with his belt, the action clumsier without her looking at her movements. “Don’t get all shy now, m’love. It’s just me. We’ve been here before.”

Pulling his belt from his dress pants, Y/N tosses it to the side, her fingers resting on the warm skin of Harry’s abdomen. “I know. It just feels different now, that’s all. After everything we said, and…” Her eyes are unable to hold his as she drifts off, and she drops her gaze to his swallow tattoos as her cheeks redden.

A gentle tap on her chin brings her eyes back to meet Harry’s intense gaze. “I know it feels different, but that’s not bad.” Harry’s voice softens as his thumb begins to stroke over her skin, the motion slow and gentle. “It can be really good, actually. I told you, I can properly enjoy you now. If you’ll let me, that is. It’s up to you.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip as she reaches behind her back. Her fingers quickly find the laces at the back of the garment, and she pulls the tie undone slowly, making sure to keep her eyes locked with Harry’s the entire time. “I want that. I want you, Harry. I want…all of you.”

She barely has her laces undone before Harry is grasping at her hips, pulling her body tight against his again for another desperate kiss. His lips glide between hers smoothly, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle before he lets his teeth nip at her bottom lip, tugging at the flesh in a hungry way. With her lingerie hanging loosely off her body, Harry easily yanks the material down her body, fully exposing Y/N’s breasts and stomach.

The sight of her exposed skin is enough to grab Harry’s attention from the removal of clothing, and he leaves the lace bodysuit hanging at her hips as his kisses begin to travel down her jaw, her neck, her collar bones, to her breasts. A breathless gasp falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s open mouthed kisses become wetter and longer, until his hot mouth is wrapped around her stiff nipple.

“Harry—” Y/N tangles a hand in his already ruined curls, yanking hard at his hair as his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin. “God, be careful—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry murmurs the phrase against her breast, barely pulling his mouth off enough to speak. His eyes, although half lidded with lust, flicker up to her with a playful look. “Y’really want me to be careful, pet? Or do you want me to devour you?”

His words send another flood of heat to her core, and it takes all of Y/N’s focus to keep herself standing upright. “Shut up.” She mutters, voice pitched higher than normal as she tugs on Harry’s hair again, half in need and half to solicit a groan from him.

The groan he emits, however, just adds more sensation to his teasing as the sound causes a vibration against her nipple, and Y/N barely manages to pull Harry away from her before her knees buckle.

Harry, however, wastes no time, and it’s only the moment after Y/N pulls him off of her that he’s kissing her again, teeth clacking against teeth as he backs her up towards the bed. When the back of her legs hits the mattress, Y/N stumbles back, but Harry catches her in time to lower her gently to the bed.

There’s an unmistakable tenderness in the movement, and the action catches Y/N right in the throat. “Thought you weren’t being careful?” Despite her ribbing tone, Y/N’s voice is breathless as she settles back into the soft sheets. “Isn’t that what you just said, pet?”

A growl rips from the back of Harry’s throat as he cages himself over her shaking body, his mouth already reattached to her chest to leave a fresh trail of bruises from her sternum to her abdomen. “You’re such a bloody minx, y’know that?”

Although she opens her mouth to reply, the only sound that leaves Y/N’s lips is a gasp as Harry quickly lifts her hips to pull her teddy completely off, tossing it to the side without so much as a glance. He leaves one last bite on her lower abdomen, just hard enough to leave an imprint of his mouth, before soothing the mark with a wet swipe of his tongue over the red skin.

“Knees up, minx.” Harry’s accent is thick, dripping from his voice like honey as his hands rub her lower calves, helping to push them up on the bed until Y/N’s legs are bent and spread open in a position he likes. The way that Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips tells Y/N of his intentions right away, and she braces herself on her elbows on the bed before pulling back.

Harry, who had been leaving open mouthed kisses along Y/N’s knees, makes a disgruntled sound at the loss of contact. “Where do y’think you’re going?” He asks in frustration, pulling himself onto the bed and crawling after her. Gripping one of her ankles, he spreads her open again, resuming the path his mouth had been making to her core a moment ago. “Trying to get away from me?”

A breathless laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “More like trying to get comfortable. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone…” Despite Harry’s position between her legs, Y/N can’t bring herself to say the words.

“Had someone what? Eat your cunt?” Harry asks crudely, raising an eyebrow as he kisses her inner thigh. His hot breath rolls over her core, causing Y/N to sigh as she relaxes back into the sheets. “That’s a tragedy, love. Especially when you taste so sweet. I remember from a few nights ago…I just barely got a taste when we…”

She should know better, Y/N thinks. She should know, now that she knows Harry well enough, that something like this is coming, especially since it’s exactly what he did last time he was between her legs. Still, when his ringed index finger runs quickly between her folds, becoming coated in her wetness just for Harry to pop it into his mouth like a satisfied and smug ass, Y/N half jumps off the bed.

“Sensitive, are you?” Harry laughs around his finger, taking great care to lick off every bit of her wetness. “Just as sensitive as you are sweet.”

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, doing her best to give him a scathing look. “You could’ve warned me, you—”

Her complaint is cut off abruptly by Harry licking over her slit with the flat of his tongue, collecting every drop of arousal before suctioning his lips over her clit. “What was that?” He mutters between his actions, flicking his tongue over Y/N’s clit as she grasps the sheets between her fingers. “I didn’t quite catch it, love.”

Falling back onto the pillows, Y/N allows her eyes to close for just a moment as she twists the cotton sheets between her hands. “Shut—shut up.” She moans, one hand releasing the sheets to latch onto Harry’s curls. She tugs harshly, and the moan he releases sends shivers from her core into her spine.

Although Harry laughs against her, his smirk detectable against her folds as his tongue continues to work over her, a silence falls between them as he continues to eat her out. It shouldn’t be surprising, she manages to think as she tugs on his curly locks, that Harry is giving her the best oral she’s ever received. Everything he does to her, from irritating her, making her laugh, to pleasuring her, is so intense that it only makes sense.

Harry’s tongue dips inside Y/N’s entrance, proving that thought to be true for what seems to be the millionth time that night. Y/N can’t help but writhe on the sheets now, her body unable to contain the pleasure that’s building inside her core like never before.

When a gasping whine echoes from Y/N, a sound she’s never even heard herself make before, one of Harry’s hands moves from its position on her thigh, where he’s been holding her open so he can continue to work. It travels up her leg to her pelvis, pressing flat on her lower abdomen and keeping her hips secure to the bed.

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you, pet?” Harry’s mouth is red, coated with her wetness when he glances at her. He begins to rub circles on her abdomen, both soothing her and creating an ache deep inside her that she knows can only be satisfied by his cock. “You’re going to be a good girl and cum on my mouth, yeah?”

Y/N whimpers in response, barely managing to keep her eyes open as she nods desperately. “I-I need—your fingers, or—”

“No, no, pet, you don’t need that.” Harry assures her between long licks over her clit. “I’ll fill you later, but you’re going to cum from my mouth. I know you can do it, love. I know you can.”

“I—” Harry’s hand pressed to her abdomen is the only thing keeping Y/N from rutting her hips into the air in desperation. “Please, Harry, I—”

“You can do it.” Breath hot against her entrance, Harry dips his tongue within her again, moving it in and out slowly as his nose brushes against her sensitive bundle of nerves. “You—fuck—you’re so ready, Y/N, I know you can do it…just relax, pet…let go…”

Let go. The command is so simple, and yet, isn’t that all Y/N’s ever wanted? Isn’t that exactly what Harry has managed to allow her to do this entire trip? No sooner does the thought cross her mind that Harry’s teeth graze over her clit, tweaking it ever so gently before pressing the flat of his tongue against it once more. He gives a harsh suck, mouthing something she can’t understand, and then Y/N is tugging on his chestnut curls with a renewed desperation as she falls over the brink of pleasure.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…” His name is the only thing Y/N can repeat as she orgasms, her head falling back against the pillows while the waves of her pleasure wash over her.

Harry untangles her hand from the sheets, weaving his fingers through her own to give her something solid to hold onto as she loses herself in the sensations. Although he keeps his mouth pressed to her, his actions are gentler, just licking the wetness that drips from her entrance as she rides out her orgasm.

It takes a few moment for the pleasure to recede enough that Y/N can become aware of her surroundings again. Chest heaving, she lolls her head to the side, her hand falling from Harry’s curls and onto the crumpled sheets.

Harry finally pulls away from her then, pulling himself from between her legs to the side of Y/N’s shaking body. He licks his wet lips, savouring the last drops of her arousal before pressing softer kisses to her stomach, her sternum, her collar bones, until he reaches her lips.

“You alright, love?” Harry asks, voice quiet in the hum of the night as he settles beside her. He brushes a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead, and the motion is so gentle that Y/N almost tears up. “Just take some deep breaths.”

“I—” Y/N sucks in another breath as Harry wraps an arm around her stomach. “I’m alright. Just…trying to catch my breath.” She laughs nervously as her cheeks redden in a post-orgasm haze. “You’re, uh, you’re really good at that.”

Harry’s laugh is much more amused than hers. “Thank you. I quite enjoy it, so it would be rather sad if I wasn’t good at it.”

“That’s true.” Y/N hums, rolling her head onto Harry’s shoulder. He rubs small circles on her waist, and the action gives her something to focus on as she evens her breathing.

Harry sighs in satisfaction. “You know, if you had shagged Brant, I doubt his cunnilingus skills would have been as good as mine.” He says thoughtfully, as if he’s been pondering the idea for a while.

Y/N groans, bracing her hand against is muscled chest to shove him away. “Do not mention Brant while I’m lying next to you naked! Christ, I shouldn’t have to say that!”

Harry laughs as he readjusts himself, pulling his body over hers while his lips work against her neck. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring him up again, I swear.”

Huffing slightly, Y/N settles herself back into the sheets. “Good.”

“But for the record—”

“If you keep speaking, I’m not giving you a blowjob.” Y/N warns, shooting Harry a warning glance. “Are you prepared to give that up?”

The speed at which Harry’s face falls is almost comical. His brow creases as his ruby lips pull down into a pout, his arms keeping himself suspended above Y/N as he relents. “Alright, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I’ll stop.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes focus on Harry’s shining green irises. “Good, because I really want to blow you.”

The crude admission catches Harry by surprise, his eyebrows jumping up in shock as he rolls to the side. Propping himself up on his elbow, he rakes a hand through his messy curls as he answers with a measured tone. “You do?”

Y/N nods slowly, pushing herself up to sit on her knees as one of her hands begins to trace over the muscles of Harry’s chest. “I do. Like you said…I didn’t get to last time. And I bet you taste good.”

Harry sucks in a breath through his teeth as he gives a sharp nod. “Yeah. Okay. If you want to—”

“I do.” Y/N presses on Harry’s chest to push him back again, but this time she does it carefully, settling him back into the sheets like he did for her. Moving so that she’s on her knees beside him, she gives him a quick kiss, only letting herself enjoy his slightly chapped lips against hers for a moment before she directs her attention to the bulge in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Y/N trails a finger over the line of hair leading to the waistband, feeling the muscles of Harry’s abdomen contract under her finger. “Sensitive, huh?” She asks quietly, mimicking what he had said to her before earlier.

Harry inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Yeah. So don’t tease me.”

“I’m not. I’m just…warming you up.” Y/N continues the motion for a moment before her fingers drift to the elastic of his boxers. She dips a finger beneath it, continuing to tease his abdomen before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his clothed bulge.

Harry’s hips jerk in reaction, his mouth falling open as he spits out a curse. “Bloody hell…”

“Feel good?” Y/N only lifts her mouth enough so that the soft murmur can be heard. She can feel Harry’s cock twitching as her lips move over it, and the thought that she’s turning him on enough for him to twitch in his boxers sends a flood of heat between her thighs.

“Feels really good, yeah.” Harry’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the effort it takes to keep his voice controlled is apparent on his face. “Keep going.”

Y/N hums in response, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulling them down his legs as Harry lifts his hips. She waits until his boxers are completely removed to turn her attention back to his cock, and the sight of it makes her mouth water.

It’s just as big as she remembers, with a slight curve along the length leading to the red and leaking head. Y/N can practically see the heat radiating off of it, she thinks, and when she wraps her hand around the base, her suspicions are confirmed.

The weak groan that falls from Harry’s cherry red lips is the only thing that keeps Y/N from getting completely distracted by admiring him. She pumps him slowly a few times, and his length throbs in her hand as more blood floods to his pelvis. Licking her lips once, Y/N leans down and gives a small kitten lick to the leaking tip, collecting the precum on her tongue.

A garbled moan sounds from Harry’s chest, and Y/N watches from the corner of her eye as one hand tucks into his own curls before the other gathers her hair within his fist. Although he’s holding her, he doesn’t force her down, or try to guide her motions. He wants to see what she’s going to do of her own accord.

Y/N takes her time, licking slowly from the head of Harry’s cock to one of the pulsing veins that runs down his shaft. She traces the line with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the sounds that the action pulls from Harry before taking the head of his cock between her lips. Mindful of her teeth, she sucks slowly, pushing herself further and further down his length until her nose is just touching his pelvis.

“That’s it, minx.” Harry moans his words, his voice breathless and strained as he cards his fingers through her hair. His flushed chest is rising and falling prominently as Harry takes deep breath after deep breath. “Doing so well, aren’t you?”

The praise sends a wave of delight through Y/N, and she begins to bob her head faster, working what she can’t fit into her mouth with her hand. Harry, she learns, is extremely vocal during sex, which isn’t exactly surprising now that she knows him better. Still, his moans and whimpers are all the encouragement Y/N needs to keep her pace, slowing down only to tease him. And she loves to tease him.

“Fuck—” A groan rips from Harry’s chest as Y/N slows her motions again, trailing her tongue up his length before focusing on his tip with great interest. “C’mon, darling, don’t be mean to me. I wasn’t mean to you.”

“I’m just enjoying myself, Harry.” Y/N says innocently, batting her eyes at him as she kisses the head of his cock. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?”

The question is simple enough, but the sinful context makes Harry buck his hips into her hand. “Y’know I do, pet, but you’re torturing me…”

Y/N lifts her mouth from his length with a quiet pop as her strokes slow down. “Am I?”

“Fucking hell—” Another moan forces its way through Harry’s clenched teeth. “You won’t be laughing when I’m fucking you at the same pace you’re teasing me right now.”

Y/N’s movements stutter for the first time since she began. “What?”

“Didn’t think of that, did you, minx? Thought you could tease me, and I wouldn’t get you back?” Although Harry’s words are domineering, he pants through them, throwing his head back against the pillow. “That—Christ—That’s not how it works.”

Speeding up her stroking of his length, Y/N leans over Harry’s body, sponging a kiss just at the corner of his lips. “You don’t mean that, Harry. You need to fuck me just as badly as I need it.”

“You need it, do you?” Harry’s eyes snap open, lust completely clouding the jade green of his irises. “How badly? Tell me.”

Y/N kisses him once more, pulling back the moment his tongue tries to pull her in for more. She returns her mouth to the tip of his cock, letting her tongue flick over his slit before sucking on him again. “So badly, Harry. I’ve never felt as full as I did with you in me…”

“Oh fuck…” Harry’s words slip into drawn out moans as he tugs on his own hair, his hips stuttering up into her hand again. “Stop.”

The sudden command makes Y/N pause, and she pulls her mouth off of Harry’s length to stare up at him with wide eyes. “What?” Her hand pauses its motions, but stays wrapped loosely around his base. “Is—is everything okay? Did I hurt you?”

The concern and fear in Y/N’s voice is enough to snap Harry out whatever headspace he had been slipping into. “No, pet, you didn’t hurt me. I just need to be inside your tight cunt. Can’t stand another moment without it, if I’m honest.”

The twitch of his cock in her hands confirms his words, and Y/N gives one last lick to its biggest vein before releasing him. She keeps her mouth in use, however, by sponging kisses up Harry’s already marked chest, stopping only once she reaches his lips.

The kiss they share is passionate, with a rhythm finally established between the two of them as Harry slots his plump lips neatly between hers. There’s no awkward turning of their heads, trying to find a way to slip a tongue into a mouth, and no teeth clicking together. Already, each of them knows the best way to fit together, as if they were meant to all along.

“How do you—” Harry mutters the words against Y/N’s lips, his breath flowing into her own panting mouth with every gasp. “How do you want me, love?”

Y/N takes a moment to think, but only a moment. “On top. I like…” Her cheeks flush with even more heat. “I like feeling you over me. And holding your hands…”

Harry raises a surprised brow at the confession she spills into his mouth. “My hands?”

Forehead still pressed against his, Y/N nods, picking up one of his hands and lacing his ringed fingers through her own. “Mhmm. They’re strong, and…and they fit in mine so nicely.” Y/N glances at Harry through her lashes, shy despite having his cock in her mouth less than a minute ago. It’s the intimacy, she realizes. A sexual act is nothing new to her, but putting emotion behind it…

“They do fit together well, don’t they?” Harry agrees, squeezing her hand as he leans forward, pressing puckered lips to her forehead. “Alright, then. Lie down for me.”

After Harry grabs a condom from Y/N’s bag and rolls it on, it takes a moment for the two of them to get positioned comfortably. Y/N leans back on the rumpled sheets, fixing one of the pillows behind her head with Harry’s help. Once he knows that she’s comfortable, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs again, situating himself between them with his arms propped up on either side of her body.

Although it’s the same position as the last time they had sex, Y/N can’t help but feel like it’s entirely different in every single aspect. While the drunken need that she felt for Harry had been exciting, and while he had satisfied her incredibly, there’s something different about knowing that she has feelings for the man who’s so interested in pleasuring her, and that he has feelings for her in return.

Harry moves one hand to his length, rubbing the tip of it between Y/N’s soaked folds as his other hand grasps her own. “Are you ready?” He murmurs, his lips hovering just over her own.

Y/N nods quickly, squeezing his hand tightly. “Please, H. I need it.”

The first thrust into her is slow. Painstakingly slow. Y/N knows that she should be appreciative of the restrain Harry has, and that she needs a moment to adjust to his size, but the way he stretches her makes her feel so complete that she can’t help but whine for more.

“Faster, Harry.” She pants, squeezing her eyes shut as he continues to enter her slick entrance. “I…”

“Sh, love. Just spreading you open first, yeah?” The effort to control himself shows through the strain in his voice, but Harry still manages to sponge a quick kiss over her lips. “Besides…I warned you, didn’t I? Said I’d tease you if you teased me…”

Y/N whines loudly as Harry finally bottoms out, his hips pressing flush to hers and bringing a kind of euphoric fullness that she’s never felt before. “Oh God…” She drags out her speech, her eyes barely managing to flutter open in time to catch the look on Harry’s face as he feels her walls squeeze him.

His brows are drawn together, an all too familiar crease appearing between them. It’s a look of concentration, but the pull of his mouth and the quiet pants leaving it tell Y/N that it’s so much more than that. His pupils are blown out, dilated so much that she can barely see the green that she loves so much, and every few moments, Harry’s eyelids flutter, times perfectly with the contraction of Y/N’s pussy around his length.

“Move, Harry.” Y/N begs, grasping his free hand and squeezing it along with his other hand. “Please.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, and he begins to thrust in and out of her slowly, letting her adjust to each pace before gradually increasing his movements. “Like that, pet?” He asks, voice low and thick with pleasure. “Is that what you wanted?”

A whine is all the answer he gets, as Y/N is so far gone past the point of being able to reply with a coherent sentence. The only thing she can think of is how good it feels to have Harry fill her. How the feeling of his cock inside her is simultaneously too much for her, the most content she’s ever felt, and not enough to satisfy the ache deep within her. Every one of her senses is consumed with Harry—the touch of his skin to hers, at her pelvis, over her abdomen, his hands squeezing hers with desperation as he thrusts inside of her repeatedly. The scent of his cologne mingled with his sweat, so hot and all consuming that the air feels thick with it. The taste of that scent on the back of her tongue, along with his Merlot flavoured kisses that linger in her mouth. The sight of him caged over her, his sweaty curls and flushed skin being all that she can see. The sound of his moans, hot and low in her ear.

Everything is Harry. Had there every been a time where it wasn’t?

When Harry pulls his hands from Y/N’s, a small whimper stumbles out of her mouth, growing louder when his thrusts begin to slow and the ball of tension in her core begins to uncoil. “What—?” She begins, the question still half formed on her tongue when Harry moves his grip to her knees.

In one swift motion, Harry has her left knee over his shoulder, quickly repeating the movement with her right leg as he sponges stuttered kisses over the newly available skin. “Need to be deeper.” He mutters, pressing a wet and breathless kiss to Y/N’s lips before sitting up for more leverage. Weaving his fingers back through hers, Harry begins to thrust again, the head of his cock rubbing against new areas with every motion.

And oh. It’s like an entirely new feeling. The moans and whimpers are leaving Y/N’s mouth in a steady stream now, with any ability she had to filter her volume gone the moment Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot.

“Fuck, Harry, right there, baby—” Y/N releases one of his hands to throw her arm around his shoulder, digging her nails into the muscled skin as the words of pleasure slip past her lips. “That’s it, that’s so fucking good—”

“Yeah?” Harry grunts, bracing himself against the bed so that he can increase the speed of his movements. “You like how my cock fills you?”

Y/N nods desperately, the movement stuttered as she shakes from both her pleasure and the force of Harry driving his hips into her own. “Yeah, I—fuck, you’re going to make me cum…”

Harry’s face twists in concentration as he removes his braced hand from the bed and trails it down Y/N’s body, pausing just enough so that he can tweak her nipple as he passes by. He continues on until he reaches his destination, and settles his large thumb over her clit to rub fast and concise circles on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh—” Y/N’s back arches off the bed as her nails dig into the skin of Harry’s shoulder, as well as the back of his hand. She barely manages to pant through her whimpered words. “Fuck, I’m going to cum—”

“Please, baby.” Harry pleads with her, his expression desperate as he stipples more kisses to Y/N’s knees, the only inches of skin that he can get his mouth on as he drives himself harder into her. “Need you to cum for me, I—fuck, minx, I need it more than you know.”

A sharp gasp falls from Y/N’s slick mouth as Harry hits her G-spot again, and the sharp repeated motion combined with his stimulation of her clit is enough to send her barrelling headfirst over the edge. A desperate sound leaves her mouth, half moan, half whine, as the coil in Y/N’s core snaps, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of her body.

The reaction is almost instantaneous. As her body shakes with pleasure, abdomen contracting and releasing over and over, Y/N feels Harry’s hips begin to stutter, his movement growing sloppier as the constriction of her core works Harry to an orgasm.

“Y/N—that’s it, pet, just—yes—” Harry’s words are more coherent than hers, but still just form a string of half put together phrases as he presses himself deep inside her, his eyes snapping shut as he spills inside the condom. A choked sound works its way out of his throat, pulling from deep within his chest, and the pads of his rough fingers dig into her thighs as he grounds himself throughout his orgasm.

Y/N’s shuddering climax finishes before Harry’s does, and all she can do is collapse back in the sheets, enjoying the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her one last time before he pulls out slowly to clean himself and throw away the condom. An involuntary whine, quiet but audible, falls from her lips at the empty feeling that’s left behind, but it’s soon satiated after Harry returns to the bed, wrapping his shaking arms around her and pulling her tight into his chest.

His chest, like her own, is soaked in sweat, covered in dark bruises, and heaving from the aftermath of the orgasm he’s just finished, but it’s the only place Y/N wants to be. She presses her ear into his skin, his racing heartbeat thumping beneath her head, and she focuses on the pounding pattern as she attempts to catch her breath.

Harry speaks first, clearing his throat before his wrecked voice fills her senses. “That was…that was so fucking good. I was worried that it wouldn’t be as good as the last time, because we were more sober, but…”

“It was better, yeah. I know.” Y/N agrees, her voice filled with exhaustion and contentment as she kisses over a purple bruise forming on Harry’s collar bone. “I think…I think knowing how we feel made it better.”

“I agree.” Harry’s hands move over her back, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns onto her sweaty skin. “Passionate sex with someone you care for with candles lit…all after the wedding of your best friend…was that romantic enough for you?” There’s a teasing edge to his voice, just barely audible beneath the rasp.

A tired smile lifts the corners of Y/N’s swollen lips. “I suppose so. But it’s not hard to be, in comparison to others…”

“Well, from now on, you’re going to be comparing to me, yeah?” Harry shifts his arms around her, tightening his grip before reaching for the crumpled sheet to pull it over their bodies. “This’ll be the marker, I suppose. And I’ll have to work on raising the bar with everything I do for you.”

“What about what I’ll do for you?” Y/N just barely manages to raise her head off Harry’s chest enough to look at him. “This is a two way street, you know. I have to romance you, too.”

“Mm. True.” Harry hums as he resumes tracing patterns on Y/N’s skin. “How about you stop making fun of my taste in romantic movies? I’d like to watch The Notebook without you poking fun at it. If you’re laughing at all the emotional scenes, it makes me feel pathetic when I cry at them.”

Y/N laughs quietly as she rakes her fingers through Harry’s sweaty curls. “That’s asking too much from me. How about…I can still make fun of your taste in romantic movies, but I’ll hold you and comfort you when you cry at the really dumb scenes?”

An exhausted snort rolls through Harry’s chest, but there’s a degree of tenderness hidden in the sound. “I suppose that’s the best offer I’ll get, isn’t it?”

“You suppose right.” Y/N sighs contently, her eyes drifting shut as she settles herself into Harry’s chest. The feeling of the subtle rise and fall of his muscles is enough to soothe her to sleep, and she’s just settling in for what she thinks may be the best sleep of her life when her head suddenly drops as Harry abruptly pulls away from her.

“Harry—” Y/N’s eyes snap open as she pulls herself into an upright position, any feeling of calm that she had a moment ago gone out the window. “What the fuck?”

A sheepish Harry smiles at her from the dresser. “We left the candles lit, love.” He says, blowing out the three lit candles on the wooden surface before walking to one of the bedside tables, where four more candles are lit. “It’s not safe.”

“No, you know what’s no safe? Jerking your girlfriend from her sleep when she’s exhausted, and has to be up early tomorrow.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she flops back into the pillows.

Harry blows out the last candle before sliding back into the bed. “Would you rather I let the cabin burn down? That wouldn’t be very romantic of me, now would it?”

Turning over on her side, Y/N faces the wall away from Harry. “You’re an asshole.”

“Don’t be mean.” Harry’s pout is tangible in the press of his lips to her bare shoulder. “We were having a moment!”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry laughs as he wraps his arms around Y/N, pulling her to spoon into his chest. “Just go to sleep. You’ll be less grumpy in the morning.”

“Fuck off.” Y/N mutters, but she allows herself to be held against Harry as his breathing once again soothes her to sleep.

…

“Are you sure I can’t drive?”

Harry laughs as he shuts the loaded trunk of the Impala, the sound echoing off the trees around them and scaring a few birds that had settled in the branches. “After that disaster in Nebraska? No way.”

“Did you let her drive Stevie?” Laure asks, shock woven through her voice as her eyes flicker between Y/N and Harry. “Really?”

“No, I let her try to drive Stevie. And then she stalled her, and lost all driving privileges forever.” Harry replies with a snort, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders as his keys jangle in his hands. “So I’ll be driving the forty-two hours back to L.A.”

Y/N crosses her arms with an irritated sigh. “Whatever. Don’t complain to me when you get stiff from being in one position for eight hours a day.”

As Harry rounds the back of the car, he shoots Y/N a smug grin, walking up behind her to wrap his warm arms around her waist. “But you’ll give me massages, won’t you, baby? I’d really appreciate them…”

“Okay, this is still weird for me.” Jo says slowly, shaking her head as her eyes flicker between their intertwined pose and Laure, who looks equally as bemused. “A week ago, we had to practically beg Harry to drive you, Y/N, and now you’re…?”

“It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Harry asks, resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “No woman could last five days with me while resisting the Styles charm…”

Y/N shrugs his chin off her shoulder with a snort. “Right.” She scoffs as she unravels his hands from her waist. “The Styles charm. We’ll pretend that’s a thing.”

Harry pouts as Y/N pulls away from him, his arms still outreached and trailing after her. “It is a thing!”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N walks over to Jo, wrapping her arms around the girl tightly as the crisp morning air sends a shiver down her spine. “Congratulations, Jo. Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Although Jo hugs her back with a smile, there’s something lingering under the sweet expression. “Thank you.” She speaks in her normal tone, but waits until her lips are right by Y/N’s ear to lower her voice. “The moment you arrive back in L.A., I expect a three hour phone call explaining how all of this happened. Is that understood?”

“You’re so demanding. I would have thought you’d be more mature now that you’re married.” Y/N laughs as she pulls out of the hug, turning to Laure and giving her a tight squeeze before walking to the car. She leans against the cool metal of the passenger side as Harry rounds around to the driver’s side, having said his goodbyes right after she did.

“I’m serious! The last time we talked about Harry, you threatened to cut off his—”

Laure takes Jo’s hand, squeezing it hard as she bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, darling, that’s enough. Just be thankful they’re not arguing anymore, yeah? Maybe we’ll finally be able to have a wine night that doesn’t end with someone flipping a charcuterie board.”

The memory of Laure and Jo’s four year anniversary party brings a sheepish smile to Y/N’s face, and she watches as the realization hits Jo, who gives a satisfied nod to Laure before the latter presses her lips to her cheek.

Harry, however, is less amused, and shoots a questioning glance at Y/N over the hood of the car. “Wait, when did you threaten to cut something of mine off?”

“Oh, it was just a joke, Harry.” Y/N waves off his concern as she opens the passenger door with a click. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, as long as you don’t piss me off too much.”

“Right.” Harry says slowly, climbing inside the car as Y/N does the same. “I’ll do my best.”

Harry starts the car with an easy and practiced motion, shifting it into reverse and pulling away from the mountainside resort as the two of them give one last wave to Jo and Laure through the passenger window. Once they’re back on the winding mountain road, Y/N grabs Harry’s phone from its usual spot in his cup holder, scrolling through his music library with interest.

“What do you feel like listening to?” She asks curiously, her eyes scanning over the now familiar titles indecisively. “Something fast? Something mellow?”

Harry shifts the car into second gear before grabbing Y/N’s free hand, brushing his pink lips over the back of her knuckles in a gentle motion. “I don’t really care.” He says with a shrug, winding his fingers through her own before lowering their hands between their seats. “Anything you want.”

The comment of free reign causes Y/N’s eyes to widen in disbelief. “Really?” She asks incredulously, and when Harry gives a confirming nod, she quickly settles on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” leaning back in her seat as the familiar guitar riff fills the car.

From the corner of her eye, she watches Harry’s nose wrinkle as his eyebrows crease beneath his sunglasses. “Actually, I changed my mind.” He says lowly, swiping his thumb over her knuckles in a motion of apology. “Not this song.”

Y/N lets out a groan as she presses her head back into the head rest. “For fuck’s sake, H—”

“I’m not feeling it! It just doesn’t suit this time of day, or this scenery—”

“We have forty-two hours left in this trip, and you’re already pissing me off. Do you want something to get cut off?” Yanking her hand from his own, she grabs his phone again and opens it with a harsh sigh. “Okay, what do you want to listen to?”

“I told you.” Harry taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he risks a glance at her, gauging if the irritation in her voice matches the irritation on her face. “Whatever you want to listen to.”

Y/N allows herself a quiet snort, but makes no other comment on the contradictory statement. “Fine.” She says shortly, scrolling through his songs for another moment before clicking on “Strangers”. “How’s that?”

Harry raises his now empty hand defensively before finding her own again, squeezing it gently. “Good, love. It’s good.”

“Good.” Y/N gives a short sigh of relief, settling back into her seat again as a new guitar riff begins to sound through the car speakers.

The first verse of the song has barely finished when Harry clears his throat thickly, the corner of his lip just barely twitching up. “You know, actually—”

“Stop the car.”

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hintofelation99 · 3 years ago

Text

Jason: What the fuck Cass?! Did fill my helmet with corn syrup again??

Cass just shrugs and glares at Jason.

Jason: What the fuck! How fucking dare you?! I’ll-

Cass: What? Attack me in Titans Tower? Slit my throat?

Jason: It was one time! And Tim forgave me!

Cass is about to attack Jason when Bruce puts a hand on her shoulder.

Bruce: Cassandra, I understand that you’re upset with Jason but that doesn’t mean that you can ruin Jason’s gear. Jason, stop upsetting Cassandra.

Jason: IT WAS ONE TIME!

Cass pouts and glares at Jason.

Cass: No!

Bruce: Fine, you’re both benched and on data transfer for the next two weeks. We found some paper records that need to be decoded and manually entered into the bat computer. That should give you plenty of bonding time.

Cass and Jason glare at him looking completely offended. Both stomp out of the cave.

-> That Night During Patrol <-

Jason: Hey Cass, can you-

Cass gives him the middle finger

-> The Next Nighty <-

Jason sneezes

Cass: Shh!

Jason: What?! I just-

Cass: SHHH!

Jason glares and Cass gives him the middle finger.

-> The Next Night <-

Cass: Two face file.

Jason, rolling his eyes: Here. You’re welcome.

Cass gives him the middle finger.

-> The Next Night <-

Jason chuckles. Cass glares at him.

Jason: I, uh, I just found the file about Batman’s first encounter with the Condiment King. Apparently he, uh, he slipped in mustard and fractured his wrist.

Cass accidentally giggles. Then immediately stops and pretends nothing happened. Jason counts it as a victory.

-> The Next Night <-

Jason sneezes

Cass: Bless you.

Jason: Thanks.

-> The Next Night <-

Jason: I am sorry about what happened with Tim. We talked about and the Lazarus Pit and shit, and now we’re working on it. We’ve even started cooking dinner together like once a week.

Cass: Good. Little brother deserves love.

Jason: I understand that you’re upset and probably don’t trust me. I really am trying to change, trying to be better. But, I get that it’s hard to believe and if I make you uncomfortable I can, I can stay away for a bit. I don’t want you to feel like that in your home.

Cass sighs.

Cass: Stay. Still mad, but this is your home too. Sorry about syrup.

Jason: Thanks Cass, and honestly the syrup was sorta funny.

Cass: Very funny.

Jason laughs: Fine, very funny.

Cass messes up Jason’s hair and continues filing.

-> 3 Nights Later <-

Jason: Hey Cass, wanna have dinner with me and Tim next week?

Cass: Yes, please.

-> The Next Night <-

Jason: Ya know, the only problem with us getting along now is that Bruce will be a smug asshole about it.

Cass: Not if we prank Bruce.

Jason: Oh?

Cass: Syrup in cowl?

Jason: Hell yeah!

-> 2 Nights and 8 Pranks Later <-

Bruce: Fine! You’re both off record keeping duty and back in the field. No please stop getting along and please stop stop with the pranks.

Jason: Counter offer! We’re back in the field and off record duty. BUT. We keep getting along and reduce our prank output by 25%

Bruce: 75%

Jason: 50%, final offer.

Bruce: …Fine

Jason and Cass high-five.

#sibling bonding #Cass is just v overprotective of Tim #batfam #batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #red hood #incorrect batfamily quotes #cassandra cain #black bat #batgirl #mypost

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rebelwrites · 3 years ago

Text

OPERATION: Find The Kids!

Bravo Team x Reader

A/N okay so I saw a TikTok yesterday and this gave me the idea for the chaotic fic you are about to read. Seven tier one navy seals looking after four kids. What could go wrong? So I give you nearly 2k words of utter chaos. Trying to keep track of what 11 people are doing is stressful 😂

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

SEAL Team Masterlist

This Months Writing

Sipping on your coffee, you ran your hand over your face as you try to finish off the paperwork from the last deployment. You tried to get this done in your home office but it was no good when your house was used as base when the boys were home. Or as Metal kept putting it “the home of Bravo” but it did make your life easier meaning you didn’t have to worry about finding a sitter at short notice as you had at least one of the boys crashing at yours for whatever reason.

And at the moment it was a godsend, especially as you were looking after your Brother’s triplets whilst he was going through the divorce. But having four kids under the age of 7 in the house was chaos, but you lived around big kids all the time so you could just about cope.

“Guys, someone has to take the boss some coffee,” Clay said, as he placed the plate of toast in the middle of the kitchen table. “And to swipe the walkies.”

Everyone fell silent. That silent you could hear a pin drop.

“Oh hell no,” Sonny said, breaking the silence. “You know how she gets when she’s doing the reports. And it was your idea Blondielocks, so you should do it.”

“No way,” Clay exclaimed, “I value my life thank you. “

“Guys let’s settle this like adults,” Metal said, with a serious look on his face. “Rock, paper, scissors. We go around the group and do it as a knock out style thing and whoever is left standing has to take the boss some coffee and swipe the walkies.”

So that's how it was decided that Sonny was the one to go into the lion's den, armed with coffee and breakfast to hopefully make things go smoothly.

“Quinn, I see you.” You said not looking away from your screen.

“How the fuck?” He muttered, “I swear you have eyes in the back of your head.”

“You have to when you look after children,” you laughed, “now I’m busy so what do you want?”

“We know you left without breakfast so I thought I’d bring you some,” he shrugged, placing the food and coffee on the table.

“I don’t buy it,” you said, raising your brow at him. “You are up to something.”

“Nope, just bringing the boss coffee.” He grinned, he had already swiped the walkies and needed to get out of here. “You have a good day, and don’t worry about anything, we have it all under control.”

“That’s what makes me worry Quinn,” you glared. “Just don’t burn my house down and don’t lose a child. That’s all I ask.”

“Hard copy, boss.” He nodded before leaving the room.

“Mission success boys,” Sonny shouted walking back into the house, “Oh and final words from the boss were don't set the house on fire and don’t lose a child but she had no idea I swiped the walkies.”

“Well then, time to gear up boys,” Jase said, slapping his legs as he stood up. “Kids have requested we wear our camo bottoms so hurry up we head out at 0900.”

Twenty minutes had passed and everyone was gathered in the living room.

“Right, let's just run through this one more time,” Clay said looking at the list on his phone.

“First aid kit”

“Check”

“Snacks”

“Check”

“Drinks”

“Check”

“Sun cream”

“Check”

“Kids dressed”

“Check”

“All walkies on the same station”

“Check”

“Well boys I think we are ready,” Trent nodded, “So Brock has Cerb and Pepper, I’ve got the bag, so the rest of you get to keep an eye on the kids.”

Your daughter, Riley instantly clung onto Clay like a koala bear, your nephew Joey gravitated to Metal, Sonny scooped up your niece, Amber and Ray took your other Niece, Lola.

“Let’s hit the park,” Jase nodded, leading everyone out the house.

“What could go wrong,” Sonny laughed. “It’s not like we are gonna lose any of them. There’s four of them and seven of us.”

“Don’t say that, you idiot,” Metal said, hitting Sonny around the back of the head. “Don't jinx things, now If things go south it’s your fault.”

“Anyone got have eyes on HVT one?” Jase asked down the walkie, as he scanned the park.

“HVT one is south moving toward the tyre swing,” Metal replied, “I’ve lost eyes on HVT two.”

“I’ve got eyes on HVT two, she is in need of refilling. Lure her back to base Three,” Clay said, as he squinted from the sun.

“Copy six,” Sonny called, as he calmly headed for Amber, who thought this was the best game in the world as her Uncle Sonny chased her. “HVT two inbound,”

“My eyes are peeled,” Jase laughed, as he spotted Amber running towards him.

“For the love of god don’t forget the suncream.” Ray responded.

“Copy that,” Jase said, routing around the bag for supplies. He literally only took his eyes off her for two seconds but by the time he looked up she was gone. “All call signs I have lost eyes on HVT two. I repeat I have lost eyes on HVT two.”

“I don’t have HVT three or four,” Brock sighed “They just vanished.”

“Is HVT one still at the tyre swing?” Ray asked.

“Fuck, she’s gone to.” Metal cursed.

“Guys we fucked up, boss is gonna kill us if we don’t come home with a full head count.” Ray breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Three you know this is your fault,” Metal growled.

“How is it my fault?” Sonny snapped. “You're the one meant to be watching HVT One.”

“You jinxed things, idiot,” Metal huffed, “Told you this would happen.”

“Guys, stop fighting,” Jase sighed, “Look just everyone reconvene at base and we put a plan together, they can’t have gone far.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you knew Sonny was up to something when he came in this morning but the big idiot forgot to pick up all the walkies meaning you could hear everything.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you messed with the station trying to get a clearer sound. You wanted to see how this would play out, they all sounded pretty panicked but they should be. One of the rules was they could do whatever, go wherever but just don’t lose anyone.

“You okay Y/L/N?” Eric asked coming into the briefing room with some fresh coffee.

“Define okay when the boys are looking after the tribe today, Sonny managed to swipe the walkies and now somehow they have managed to lose all four kids at the park,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well at least they had the sense to get the walkies I suppose,” Eric laughed, “you know they will have a full head count by the end of the day, they won’t leave until they do.”

“I know,” you laughed, “but I’m gonna get them back.”

“How the fuck have we managed to lose four kids,” Clay said running his hand over his face. “I don’t get it,”

“Because children like to fucking run off,” Jase snapped. “Look, we don’t need to go into how it happened, it happened. Let’s just work the problem and get these kids back before we all get brutally killed. Operation find the kids is a go.”

“Riley likes water right?” Trent asked.

“Yeah, she’s a proper water baby, why do you ask?” Clay questioned.

“She might have gone towards the lake.” Trent nodded.

“Right, Clay and Brock head to the lake and try to get Riley. We all know you are her favourite Uncle Clay so she might actually come back to you.” Ray said, making a call. “We divide and conquer boys.”

“Copy,” Brock and Clay nodded, before running off in the direction of the lake.

“What about Joey?” Trent asked.

“The woods definitely,” Jase nodded.

“I’m on it,” Metal nodded before disappearing.

“Okay so that leaves Amber and Lola.” Jase said.

“Fuck I have no idea,” Ray sighed. “They are both so quiet.”

“We are just gonna have to split up.” Sonny said, “we will find them.”

Two hours had passed and everyone apart from Brock and Clay were back at base. Three out of the four kids had been located and now sitting on the grass with Metal eatting some cookies.

“I’m gonna need a medic,” Clay said, his voice full of panic and cry’s could be heard in the background.

“How far out are you?” Jase replied.

“About 5 mikes,” Brock replied.

Clay looked down at Riley in his arms, she was screaming and the tears kept coming.

“Hey Riley-roo, it’s okay, Uncle Clay has got you. You are gonna be okay.” Clay cooed trying to calm down his god daughter.

“What’s the sitrep?” Trent asked.

“Not sure if it’s a broken wrist or just a sprain. She fell pretty hard on it whilst running.” Clay sighed down the walkie. “It’s official boys, we are dead meat when the boss gets home.”

The house was quiet when you got home, far too quiet. The only sound was the hum from the TV but even that was on low volume. Quickly glancing in the kitchen you rolled your eyes at the state of it. It looked like a bomb had gone off. There were plates and mugs everywhere along with McDonald’s discarded wrappers.

Quietly you walked into the living room to see all the kids awake and all the boys fast asleep on the sofas. Riley was tucked under Clay’s arms, Joey was laying across Metal and Brock, Amber was sat in between Jase’s legs and Lola was tucked under Ray’s arms.

“Mummy” Riley grinned as she saw you. “Look what I got,” she giggled, waving her casted wrist in the air.

“What happened baby?” You asked, crouching down to her level.

“I tripped and broke my wrist.” She pouted, “But Uncle Clay took me to the hospital.”

“Well it looks like you all wore your Uncles out today,” you laughed, “but just cover your ears for me kiddos.”

Once they all covered their ears with their hands, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Wake up you lazy shits!” You shouted, startling them all awake. “Did we have a good day?” You asked playing dumb.

“Yeah it was amazing,” Jase nodded. “We went to the park.”

“So you did lose any of the kids?” You asked, placing your hand on your hip.

“Nope,” Clay said, with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Well can someone explain this?” You said, pressing play on the recording.

The whole room fell quiet as they heard the conversation playback from early.

“So wanna change your answer boys?” You glared. “I only have two rules and you fucking broke one of them. And my daughter has a bloody broken arm!”

“Sorry, boss.” Sonny mumbled, not making eye contact.

“You better be you idiots,” you laughed, “At least you came home with a full head count. Now Clay move, you are in my seat.”

Once Clay had moved, you settled down in your spot.

“Oh and another thing, I’ve had a long ass day typing up all the incident reports from J-Bad, I swear your band list gets longer each deployment,” you laughed, “but I’m not happy about the state of my kitchen so you can all get in there and sort it out.”

“Yes, boss.” They all said, making you smirk. Not many people could make Bravo team sulk off with their tail between their legs but you could and it always made you laugh.

“And someone make me a bloody coffee, because I am not moving off this sofa for the rest of the night”

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @thelovelyleo23 @innerpaperexpertcloud

#seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine #seal team oneshot

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

tozier • stanley uris

(stan x tozier!reader smut)

requested: okay so once regular requests open, here’s my idea. so the reader and richie are siblings and they absolutely hate each other and to get under his sisters skin, he fucks her best friend. so in sheer anger she decides to fuck all of his

warnings: semi-public sex, oral (fem receiving), stan teasing the reader a lot, some dirty talk? i think thats it. also a tiiiiny bit of exhibitionism i guess at the end. very unedited

part 6 of the tozier series [ i ii iii iv v ]

(losers and reader are 20+ and in college in this)

4.1k words

♡

the door opened and closed downstairs as you towel dry your hair, the fog of the scorching shower you'd just endured fogging your mirrors. you frown as you wipe a line through the mirror and your eyes stare back at you for a split moment before the fog reclaims the image and you sigh.

pulling yourself together, you unlock the door and start to walk towards your room on the other side of the house. as you pad towards your room, a throat clears and you jump a bit, eyes landing on stan from where he stands at the bottom of the stairs. he's grinning, "hey, y/n." he says gently, eyes staying on your face. your face goes warm, "hi, stan. um - richie's- i don't know where richie is," you start, looking around.

richie rounds the corner as if he's been summoned, brushing his teeth as he itches his side. you hiss, "stan's here. why didn't you tell me he was coming over?"

it's quiet enough that the boy down the stairs can't hear you and richie narrows his eyes with a smirk.

"calm down, it's just stan. he's the only one here for dinner tonight. the others won't be here 'till sometime after. why d'you ask?" he asks, his mouth covered in spit and toothpaste. you wrinkle your nose at his poor hygiene but gesture to your frame, wet and covered with only your towel.

richie fixes you with an eye roll, "believe me, nobody is interested in you like that. especially stan. you're just self obsessed, y/n, it's embarrassing for you. not everyone wants to fuck you. i'm pretty sure nobody does." he says with a slight glare. "just because you're into my best friend doesn't mean he's into you."

you shove richie immediately, your eyes catching a glimpse of light brown curls as they zip around the balcony, disappearing. you wish he hadn't heard that. “fuck you, richie. why do you try to embarrass me? i hate you.”

a moment later, your mom is calling your names. "richie, y/n! stan's here for dinner!"

you're furious and the look you send richie as you turn to escape to your room burns through his skull. you're flustered as you get ready for dinner, pulling on your clothes with bright red cheeks. your mind goes to the party you'd all gone to the other week - the night that you and bill had hooked up.

you can't believe you've almost done it. you've slept with five of richie's best friends, and he doesn't even know yet. the boy downstairs comes to your mind and you sigh, thinking back to when he'd teased you at the party, when you'd sat on his lap to the quarry the other day, when he'd slid his foot against your leg under the table the the other night while you were all eating....

the butterflies in your stomach won't go away. plus, it's stan - and for some reason that seems different than the rest of them....

you find your way to the dining room, eyes meeting stan's. he grins from where he's sat, playing with the bottle of beer in front of him, your father having offered him a modelo. "hi, y/n." he says in greeting, giving you a smirk. you smile back, "hi, stan."

"that skirt looks great." he says, "kind of too bad you changed."

and you clear your throat just as your dad and richie walk into the room, hands full of plates of food. you're red, hoping they hadn't heard. what the hell has gotten into stan?

after that, dinner went by without much issue besides you and richie getting into a fight until your father forced you two to calm down.

now, the losers are over and bev is insisting someone go get ice cream from the store so you can all watch a movie with sundaes. "stan the man, you should go." mike says with a grin, causing stan to flip him off with a bored face. your eyes catch on his hands and you can't help but let your mind wander...

"why?" stan asks. eddie shrugs, "you do drive the fastest."

the others laugh and you smile at the ground a bit in amusement. "fine. i get to pick the flavors, though."

the protests from the others echo in the room and you roll your eyes, "just promise to get vanilla?" you ask, and stan looks at you. "what, you're a vanilla girl?" he asks. the others are buzzing in the background about their favorite flavors, but the intense look on stan's face makes you grin. "n-no, promise i'm not a vanilla girl." you say, lifting a brow. he's smirking full-on. "i just know eddie is." you add, and stan laughs. his smile gives you butterflies and eddie nods, "uh, yeah, it's objectively the best flavor, because then you can-"

he's ranting now, and stan shakes his head with an eye roll as he stands up and flips his keys around his fingers. "i'll be back quick."

"why don't you take your little girlfriend with you?" richie teases, gesturing to you. you throw him a glare. "fuck off, richie. y/n, get over here." stan says, nodding his head and gesturing for you to follow him out the door. it's so quickly that stan agrees to have you come along that some of the others share a look, making your stomach burn. he gives one more pissed off look to richie before he leaves the room, and so you awkwardly follow him out to richie's car.

it's a quick drive to the store. finally, you’re back in richie's car with several different ice creams in your hands. you and stan mostly joke the whole time, until you slide into his car again and fall into a moment of silence.

"it's always been funny to see richie say all this bullshit about you in front of me." stan breaks the silence, and you look at him in surprise. he shrugs, eyes still on the road. "not funny that he's an asshole, but it's just amusing. that he thinks i'm not attracted to you."

your stomach drops just as fast as your jaw does at stan's words. "oh, y-you..." you try to act casual. "what?" you ask then, trying to understand what he means. he laughs a bit, jaw tilting back and glinting in the afternoon light. "c'mon, y/n. look at yourself." is all he says, shaking his head as his eyes drag up your figure before returning to the road.

you stare at him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your thighs clenching.

"i know you like me, remember? since what, fifth grade?" he says with a cheeky grin, eyebrows lifting in a tease. you let out a breath, the butterflies thumping in your chest. "god, stan. that's not funny."

"why?" he asks, his voice deep as he sets the car towards your house again, the ice cream at your feet. "that joke is so old." you whisper, looking at stan. he raises his brows, "is it?"

"yes." you say firmly, but you feel your resolve breaking. he hums, shaking his head but not speaking.

it's quiet besides the song playing on the radio quietly - every little bit hurts by brenda holloway - and you pretend not to feel your heart flutter in affection as you hear stan sing along under his breath.

he's driving with one hand on the wheel, one down on the shift. "you know, you don't need to have your hand there. this isn't a manual." you say, changing the subject and gesturing to his stray hand.

he laughs and it ignites something very deep inside of you. "i'm so used to shifting gears. force of habit, i guess."

"richie's an idiot, he can't even drive manual." you say, shaking your head.

"yeah, but sometimes there's benefits to richie being incapable of driving anything but automatic." he says, his hand falling softly to hold onto your bare thigh. you grip the side of the car door tighter, unable to take his teasing anymore.

stan's pulling into your driveway, and so you turn to him. "why are you teasing me? did someone tell you something?" you ask. what if one of the losers squealed and told him that you fucked them all? he sighs, putting the car in park and looking at your eyes.

"what? i'm not joking around. you just look so hot in that skirt." he admits with a light laugh and red cheeks.”if i’m making you uncomfortable, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to at all, i just really want you.”

it’s honest and bold, just the way stan usually is, and you swallow thickly. he really wants you? "prove it, then." you say, eyes locking with his, his hand squeezing your bare thigh.

two minutes later, you're laying down in the backseat as it’s parked in your driveway, stan on top of you sucking the skin on your neck.

“you want to do this right now? even though we could get caught?” you say breathlessly, hands tangled in his hair. "when else?" he says, staring at your lips. your stomach drops a bit, but you don't let it bother you too much as you have stan between your legs in the backseat.

"then let's go, uris." you say, pulling him down by the neck in desperation. he smirks into the kiss, kissing you so deeply you see stars.

"you think it'd be hot if i fuck you in his car, huh?" he whispers quietly in your ear. your eyes roll back as his fingers rub tight, teasing circles over your core, a fire slowly being lit. you only whimper a bit, biting your lip. "y-yes. we don't have time, th-though-" you gasp then, as he slips a finger into you.

he still watches you intently, listening as if nothing was abnormal as he pumps his finger, curling it and making you whimper as you try to spit out your words. it makes you turn bright red. "the ice cream- it'll melt, they'll know." you say through a moan, eyes shutting as he pumps his finger in and out of you teasingly.

"richie says it...t-tastes different after-" you moan, "-after it's been too melted."

"he's full of shit." stan pulls back, finger still teasing you. your chest raises and falls quickly, feeling flustered and desperate. stan smirks, "plus, i want to taste you first."

your throat gets dry. "p-please." you say, cheeks feeling hot with need. the windows are starting to fog up in the car he's parked on your driveway as he slowly slides the underwear down from your legs, kissing the skin as he goes. you're breathing shakily and then he's bringing his eyes up to you before lifting up your skirt and bringing his head under, your eyes rolling back to stare up at the lights in the back of the car that richie and bev had strung up one night.

you gasp in pleasure as you feel stan's tongue dart out and lick a bold, flat stripe up your heat. "fuck," you whisper, your hands moving from gripping the seat you've laid on to pulling up your skirt to lace your fingers through his hair. he swirls his tongue around your clit and you tense, the feeling of pleasure unlike anything you've felt before.

you wonder if it's because you could get caught by richie at any moment, or because it's in richie's car, or just because it's stan.

his hands snake up to hold your waist as he starts to move his tongue, holding you down so you can’t buck your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin that's revealed between your top and your skirt.

“stan.” you whimper, back arching and yelping as he slips a finger inside you. he hums around your clit and your toes curl, gasping and whining as he pumps into you and curls his finger. his name falls from your lips like a prayer and you can almost feel his smirk against you as his tongue starts to work circles.

his hand still presses against you as you buck your hips, your legs wrapping over his shoulders. he pulls away slightly, lips glistening as he smirks up at you. “you're perfect, y/n.” he mutters, making you moan, legs squeezing around his head. he smirks at you, finger coming up to rub at your clit slowly as he brings his tongue to thrust into you.

you squeeze his hair lightly as you whimper, the feeling euphoric as your toes curl. his name falls from your lips every few seconds as he ruthlessly eats you out, the coil in your stomach about to release. “stan, please, i’m gonna cum.” you mutter, eyes closed and chest rising and falling.

“not yet.” he says, jaw set as he pulls back, meeting your eyes. you whimper at the loss of stimulation, looking at him in shock. his hand comes up to grip your jaw softly, and he kisses you sweetly. "i want you to forget about everything and everyone besides me." he whispers against your lips.

chills run down your spine - does he know about the others? there's no way stan knows.

you nod, biting your lip as you watch him move back down between your legs, this time slipping two fingers into you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. "how's that feel?" he mutters, and you feel like you're on fire. "fuck- stan, so good. feels s'good." you mutter. he hums, sinking back down to suck and toy with your clit, fingers curling expertly and making your stomach tense as you try not to cum.

"stan, please, please, please-" you start to beg, arm coming to your forehead as you shake. he hums against your clit and you moan loudly - loud enough that if someone were passing by the car they'd certainly know - and clench around his fingers. "no need to beg, y/n." he says cockily, eyes glinting with pride. "cum for me."

you're shaking and moaning his name as you finally hit your high, the best orgasm you think you've ever had. your breathing stutters as he laps you up with his tongue gently, other hand soothing your hair. your eyes are pressed shut as you clench through your high. "fuck, stan." you whimper.

he's pulling himself to sit up and bringing his fingers to his mouth to clean them off, looking at you with an almost questioning look. it makes you feel like putty.

"i think you need to get eaten out more often, babylove." is all he says before he opens the door, adjusting his pants, slipping your underwear into his pocket, and grabbing the ice cream. "or at least by someone who knows what they're doing."

you're speechless as you gather yourself, smoothing your hair and sliding from the back of the car on shaky legs. stan turns to walk towards the front door but you shove him quickly against the hood, kissing him deeply. you taste yourself faintly on his soft lips, and his free hand comes to grip you, squeezing your ass as he kisses you back. you pull back, "give me my underwear." you order. he shrugs, "you’ll be fine without them, won't you tozier?"

your jaw drops. "it's like you want richie to find out." you say, giving him a slight glare despite the intense butterflies in your gut. he grins at you, pecking your nose. "so what if he does? doesn't change the fact that i'd do it again."

and then he's pulling you by the hand gently towards the house and you're stumbling behind him with red cheeks and jello legs.

jesus christ, that just happened.

"goddamn, what made you take so long?" richie mutters as you and stan walk back into the room, stan’s hand leaving the small of your back after pinching your ass slightly. you clear your throat. "the self check out line was so long." you respond.

"whatever. i'm hungry. where's the ice cream?" richie asks, the others in the room all looking at you. stan moves to sit next to bill on the couch.

"it's in the freezer. it softened up on the way back." stan says, seemingly disinterested. his passiveness makes your throat dry. why was that so hot?

"it's a three minute drive." richie says, sitting back down. you follow suit, sitting on the floor and grabbing a blanket, wary of the fact that you're sitting with 7 people who, if looking, might catch that you're not wearing your underwear. that stan has your underwear.

"okay. guess we just hit a road bump." stan says, picking his nails. bev snorts at that, and ben's grinning. you huff a laugh, too. it's funny when stan's rude to richie.

"bet y/n's just happy she got to spend time with you. she was probably drooling over you the whole time, huh?" he says as if you're not there.

"richie, what's your problem?" you spit. he looks at you, "so defensive." he laughs. bev rolls her eyes, "you're the one who's always teasing her, richie. ease up."

"what, are you two girlfriends now?" richie says, still on his cocky attitude. you glare.

"no, we're not. but we did fuck." bev says casually, staring at richie with a serious look. richie rolls his eyes, "okay, don't joke about fucking my sister. off-limits."

"what?!" you yelp, standing up quickly, adjusting your skirt with a red face. thank god it's not too short. stan smirks as he sees you adjust your skirt, but all richie's friends are staring at him and you. "you have to be kidding, richie. you are such a fucking hypocrite."

he rolls his eyes, "cecily and you aren't even that close anymore!" he defends. "yes, because of you!" you yell. “it’s too late, anyways. i think we’re even.” you add with a grin.

“just get over it. and stop trying to say you fucked my friend, it sounds desperate. as if any of them would settle for you." richie snarls, smirking as if he's proud of what he'd said.

it makes you smirk, shaking your head. if only he knew.

"richie, i don't think she's joking." ben speaks up. everyone's eyes turn to ben, and your heart pounds as you bite your lip. you look at each of the others quickly - ben's gnawing on his lip and looking at richie uncertainly, mike is staring at the ground in thought, eddie's staring at his lap with an amused smirk, bev is smirking between the two boys with her eyebrows raised, and bill is looking at ben with a small look of realization.

your eyes land on stan, who's staring back at you intently, a suggestive look on his face as he tugs a small part of your underwear from his front pocket as he thumbs it with his finger. you send him an intent look back, trying to beg him not to do it.

when you look at richie, he's shocked, mouth agape. "what?" richie says quietly.

"you fucked my best friend. it was only fair." you say with a shrug, smiling at him. he looks like he might punch you.

you stifle a laugh, trying to keep a straight face but failing. richie looks furious as he walks up to you, the two of you standing in the middle of the make-shift circle the losers formed in the living room. he’s breathing heavy, face red. you don't think he’s ever looked so furious in his whole life.

"which one?" he says through a clenched jaw, looking quickly over each of their faces, all of them smirking back slightly. you can’t help your own smirk or the shrug.

"all of them."

part VII coming soon

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @melinda-weasley @ruefulposts

#stanley uris smut #stanley uris x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #richie tozier x reader

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startanewdream · 3 years ago

Text

Hyacinth

Summary: Sirius takes some time to fill his godfather duties — teaching Harry how to ride a motorbike.

Part of Eyes Glistening (Jily Lives AU). It ties with Hope, but you don't need to read it first to enjoy this moment between Harry and Sirius.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The street is quiet, a summer afternoon in which everyone must have decided it’s too hot to stay outside, but Sirius doesn’t breathe easily until he opens the small gate and then he is finally inside the Potter’s estate, safe under their love protection, though its days are almost over. He tries not to let this thought dismay him.

He walks towards the house, but he pauses, his attention diverted. Despite the heat, Harry is standing still near the broom shed, watching the sky thoughtfully, his hands inside the pocket of his jeans.

Alone and brooding, never a good sign.

He sighs, moving direction towards his godson. He has seen that quiet stubborn resolution on Harry’s face ever since he met him after Dumbledore’s funeral; it was a soldier’s face, a soldier with a duty that was hinted by Harry’s secret meetings with Dumbledore—the most secretive man Sirius had ever known—, and from all Sirius knows about Harry and James, that didn’t bid well.

He had a feeling Harry would leave. He was sure that James would hate it.

Sirius walks quietly, stopping a few steps behind Harry.

‘So, how it went?’

Harry jumps under the sound of his voice, turning around. Sirius holds back a frown; Harry shouldn’t be caught so off guard—he may be safe at the moment, but soon, in the real world, he will need better reactions and not trust anyone. This thought doesn’t comfort him.

‘What?’

‘You finally told James, didn’t you?’

Harry squints, uncomfortable. ‘Dad said anything you?’

‘No, I just needed to come by—I still have a few repairs to do in my motorbike.’

‘Oh.’ Harry’s gaze strays to the broom shed. ‘Don’t mind me.’

Sirius watches him for a few seconds before nodding. It’s still hot and he had planned to do this later, but he has a feeling that now it might be the best time—and he knows that pushing Harry to talk before he is ready never works. So he goes to take his motorbike, opting to work in the open instead of the broom shed. Harry hasn’t moved when he comes back, as Sirius imagined he wouldn’t, so Sirius just kneels to check the engine, careful to let the toolbox closer to Harry.

‘Pass me a screwdriver, will you?’ he asks Harry, not taking his gaze off the engine.

It’s been a while since he rode his motorbike, Sirius notes shamefully, so he needs to check if all the electrical parts of the motor are okay. It’s a tiresome job that he could ask a real mechanic to do, but he enjoys the manual work anyway, and Harry seems to relax some of his tension as he watches Sirius working, helping him whenever Sirius asks him—things that Sirius could do alone, but he understands that Harry likes to feel helpful.

‘I am leaving,’ Harry says quietly at some point, and Sirius takes care to not let any emotion show in his face.

‘I thought so,’ he says. All those meetings with Dumbledore seemed too much as some sort of passing the torch, though Sirius doubts that Dumbledore had planned for things to go sour so quickly. ‘When?’

‘As soon as I am of age.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Harry is watching him, and Sirius knows he is just looking for some sort of disapproval—though he doesn’t know what Harry would do if he found it. That boy is Lily’s son too much not to be stubborn and he would go anyway. Well, Harry does like to suffer.

‘Dad is mad at me. I think… I think I’m letting him down somehow.’

And there is it, the reason why Harry was staring sadly at the sky, brooding under the sun as if it could atone for his sins somehow. He sees the apprehension in his godson’s green eyes, and Sirius is suddenly aware—though he shouldn’t be surprised—how apart from his eyes, Harry looks a lot like James.

‘You never disappoint James,’ Sirius tells him reasonably. ‘He is just too worried. You know him.’

‘I feel like… like if I leave him, he won’t ever understand. He’ll hate me for doing it.’

‘Hating you for doing the right thing? That can’t be.’

‘You didn’t see him. He said… he said if I cared, I wouldn’t leave anyone.’

‘Do you?’ Sirius asks softly. ‘Do you care?’

Harry looks at his house with a heavy sigh. ‘Too much.’

‘Then he will understand. You’ll be of age, Harry, and you’ve been making decisions—good even if questionable some times—for some time now.’

‘I just want… I want it over.’

‘That’s all we want.’ Sirius pauses for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re the only one who can do this?’

Harry doesn’t hesitate this time. ‘It has to be me. But I won’t be alone.’

‘Ron and Hermione?’ Sirius guesses, smiling a little when Harry nods. He is a firm believer that with friends by his side, Harry can do anything. ‘Ginny?’

Harry sighs. ‘No, we—I broke up with her.’

‘What?’ Sirius asks, confused, but the desolation in Harry’s face is enough to show him all he needs to do about this news. ‘For her own good?’

Harry kicks a stone in the ground, his head lowered. ‘I couldn’t put her in danger and… being near me is a hazard. It’s enough I’m already putting you and Mum and Dad in so much trouble—’

‘You know we would still be even if you didn’t exist, right? In fact, we joined the Order about two years before you were even born, kid.’

Harry shrugs, clearly not agreeing with him. Sirius rolls his eyes; Harry enjoys saving people too much not to feel guilty for anything that happens, even when is only remotely connected to it.

‘If you wanna blame someone, blame Voldemort, not you,’ Sirius says, and he stands up to finish a few protective spells on the motorbike.

As he casts them, blue light shining from his wand, it occurs to Sirius that Harry will need a quick course on Defensive Spells. He already knows quite a few, always having a knack for them, and Sirius is familiar with how much Harry loves his Expelliarmus—he supposes that a wandless enemy doesn’t provide much danger—, but Harry will need to improve his list if he is to be safe during whatever he will be doing.

He thinks of a few books he has at home that helped him in his early years of the Auror training, and he is sure that he can ask Moony to come and help them with training.

Away from James’ eyes, that’s it. Sirius enjoys not being hexed by his best friend.

But Harry’s birthday is still a few weeks away and, right now, Sirius doesn’t want to give Harry homework.

‘Why are you fixing your motorbike?’ Harry asks.

‘I got the feeling it might be useful. The Order has been discussing how to get you safely away from here, you know.’ Harry frowns heavily, so Sirius rushes to add in a teasing voice: ‘I thought of suggesting to hide you inside the trunk and be done with it. Death Eaters would never guess.’

Harry laughs. ‘I don’t think I’d fit.’

‘No, we’d need to transform you into something. Too bad you never felt an attraction to turn into an animagus, if you were a hedgehog it would be easier.’

‘Why a hedgehog?’

‘They are cute. And your hair does make you look like one.’

‘Hey!’ Harry’s indignation is cut by the grin on his lips. He runs his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminds Sirius of James more than ever. ‘It’s my charm.’

‘Oh, I’d have my doubts, but then Lily did marry and procreate with your father, so what do I know?’ Sirius tosses a helmet to Harry. ‘Here, put it on.’

‘To hide my hair?’

‘No, silly, because you need a helmet to ride.’

‘Ride?’

There is a bewildered expression on Harry’s face. Sirius smiles, more certain than ever of his idea. ‘Yeah, I've never taught you how to ride a motorbike, have I? Lousy godfather I am.’

‘You’re not,’ Harry says at once, distracted. He puts on the helmet. ‘Why didn’t you ever teach me before?’

‘Lily deemed too unsafe—a little hypocrite if you ask me, brooms are much more dangerous’

Harry doesn’t look as if he agrees on that one—that boy was way too influenced by James about brooms—but he seems excited enough.

‘Now what?’

‘Now pay attention. If you fall, your mother is gonna kill me.’

Harry looks amused with Sirius' concern.

Sirius shows him how to operate the motorbike, telling him to be careful with the brake and the acceleration and to not mix the gear shifter with them. Then he helps Harry get on the bike.

‘By the left side,’ he guides, and Harry looks somehow younger as he sits on the motorbike. Sirius had a sudden vision of himself holding a Harry who wasn’t even two yet as they flew through the night.

Merlin, the time has flown. Near seventeen already and ready to kick Voldemort's arse.

‘Keep your feet on the ground to get used to. Good?’ Harry nods. ‘Okay, now try to feel the clutch.’ After several minutes, in which Sirius makes Harry repeat over and over how every part works, he picks his key. ‘I’ll start the engine now, okay?’

Harry acquiesces; his eyes are shining, overjoyed. Sirius makes sure the bike is into neutral, then indicates the “start” button for Harry.

‘Slowly let the clutch out—keep your feet on the ground, it will give you more support.’

Harry nods once more, concentrated, his attention focused on releasing the clutch—and then his grip slips and the motorbike yanks forward too quickly. Sirius jumps to hold them.

‘Hey, hey, it happens!’ he says. Harry looks only sheepishly, not very much concerned for his health. Of course not, Sirius thinks. The boy is ready to face Voldemort, what’s a bike? ‘You stalled the engine because you let it go too fast. Try again.’

He does; this time his hand leaves the clutch in the right timing, and the motorbike wrenches him forward. Harry lets out a laugh—one of those carefree sounds that Sirius has been hearing less and less lately—at the same time as Sirius turns into a dog to chase him.

The Potter estate is vast, an enormous field that goes into the woods, and it takes several minutes until Harry finally steps on the brake, having made a huge round back to the broom shed. Sirius is glad and relieved to realize Harry remembered to use the brake over the throttle.

Sirius is out of breath—age comes with problems, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud—when he helps Harry down the kickstand so he can get off the bike. Harry immediately crashes into the ground, laying over the grass with a relaxed expression as he takes out his helmet.

‘This was so much fun!’ he admits. ‘Can I fly next time?’

‘One step at a time, kid. When you are good on the ground, we’ll try for the skies.’

‘Spoilsport,’ Harry complains without any real malice in his voice. ‘Thanks, Sirius.’

‘No problem, kid.’ Sirius sits next to him. ‘Just wanted to share Hyacinth with you.’

He lifts his eyebrows. ‘Hyacinth? Your bike has a name?’

‘All the good rides should have one. Don’t mock Hyacinth.’

Harry shakes his head, amusement all over his face as he closes his eyes. He puts his arms around his head for support, so Sirius does his godfather duty once more. He turns into Padfoot, laying next to Harry to offer him a good fluffy pillow.

#Sirius and Harry #Sirius Lives #Jily Lives AU #godfather/godson moment #I have no knowledge of bikes #so please assume that Sirius taught him off-screen #I wrote this as a comfort to me and I hope it gives you some too

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thecandywrites · 2 years ago

Text

Jewel Of The North Chapter 13

I know, I know. Another Hot Minute for this story. But to be fair, my life is this.

But this has been sitting in my drafts for...way too long. And I've actually had this as the first part of the last part of the story..which was 27 pages and that was just way too much to try to cram it all in. So I'm breaking it up. Yes. Those are pictures of plane crashes. Yes. Noah crashes his plane, with Zara and the kids on board. Yes. I'm evil. And A Dramatic Bitch. But I promise, it really brings everyone together and if they can get through this, and the other Murphy's Law level of 'everything that can go wrong goes wrong', they can get through anything by relying on each other and working as a family and a team.

Enjoy!

Jewel Of The North

Chapter 13

“That went well, for once.” You teased Noah as you all drove back to his house, all the kids still riding in the back, talking and enjoying the scenery as Sakura was pointing out who lived where along the way.

“Yeah, because Alorna wasn’t there.” Noah laughed as he had you under his arm as you happily helped put the truck into gear for him since it was a manual gear shift. So he could keep his arm around you.

The official documents laid in a folder next to you. The folder contained not just certificates from all the clans that contained “shares” of tribal lands to you, but also to both of your children as “recompense” for them believing the lies Doug and Alorna told about you. Especially since once it was investigated and their claims had proved false. Justice was served. In the form of Doug and Alorna in jail, awaiting trial. And you and every member of your immediate family, both present and soon to be future- having their due recompense. It also contained official apology letters from each clan and invitations to attend every summer solstice event from now on. Which you had accepted with grace from Noah’s parents as well as Neena’s.

“Exactly. And John was much better. And the kids, the poor things, they act like it’s no big deal to have their mom in jail.” You mused.

“It’s not the first time Alorna has been in jail in their lives, and I’ll bet it won’t be the last either. But it is the first time that no one has enough money to bail her out. Which is nice, that means that our peace gets to last at least a little while.” Noah grinned.

“Yeah, the peace was nice but I still feel bad for her kids though.” You murmured.

“Well there is not much we can do about her kids, but it serves Alorna right for defaming and maligning you.” Noah insisted.

“Plus, Ellie and John have had an affair going on for months now. And now that Alorna is in jail and officially moved out and is staying out this time, John and Alorna are finally getting a divorce. That means that Ellie and her kids got to move in with John and they’re happy and the kids get along. So that worked out.” Noah informed you.

“Yeah, it was still weird seeing John though.” You muttered since John was just a little excessive in his apologies and trash talking his ex wife.

“Yeah it was, I think we’re better off by not getting too close to him.” Noah reassured you.

“Agreed, nothing against Ellie and their kids, just...until John isn’t weird, let’s give them a wide berth.” You readily agreed.

“So you gotta work tomorrow?” You asked him, changing the subject.

“Yes I do, it’s gonna be a long day tomorrow too.” Noah admitted.

“Well I think you’ll have plenty of help if you want it.” You mused.

“Nah, you guys need your rest, sleep in tomorrow, finish getting adjusted to the time change and then the day after should be a light day work wise, let them ease into it.” Noah suggested.

“Many hands make the workload light.” You reminded him.

“And plus if you have extra hands tomorrow to make the workload light, tomorrow and the day after that, that means that we could, potentially, get some work done early and possibly go fishing some more after work tomorrow. And if you want the kids to get a good taste of just how hard you work and how much is involved, don’t you want their snap shot on your life to be you on your busiest days with the heaviest loads? Don’t you want to impress upon them how much of a real job and real work it is?” You tempted him.

“True, and there are about three to four varieties of salmon that are running.” Noah admitted.

“So is that a yes?” You prodded.

“It’s a yes.” Noah readily agreed before he took his arm off your shoulders to open the window behind your head.

“Hey.” Noah called back to them.

“Yeah.” they all answered.

“Who wants to go to work with me tomorrow?” Noah asked.

“I do!” Both of your kids eagerly accepted.

“Well that settles it then doesn’t it.” You beamed.

“It does.” Noah nodded before he pulled into his driveway as the kids raced upstairs to get ready for bed so they could get some sleep to wake up early enough to go to work while you went ahead and got in the fridge and got a broaster out out and began tossing some moose meat, vegetables, broth and spices in to cook overnight so that you would have at least lunch ready for tomorrow as Noah came in and put his keys on the hook and simply came over to the kitchen and leaned against the door way, smiling serenely, watching you doing something so simple yet complex yet humbly domestic. He had forgotten how beautiful you could be in these candid moments. Just doing something simple and to some it could be described as mundane. But to him. It was such a beautiful sight. Just you, being a mother, making food for your family, humming to yourself as you did it and moving about in this kitchen as if it were your own, because it was.

“What?” You asked when you looked up and saw him watching you intently.

“Gods you’re just so beautiful Zara. I almost forgot just how breathtaking you could be. You are where you’re meant to be, in this moment and all I can think of is...how humble this setting is for a jewel like you.” Noah murmured.

“Aww, thanks, and likewise. But what I’m worried about is you seeing the setting I usually set myself in and think of yourself as not being good enough to settle in it too. Because nothing could be farther than the truth. I want you to feel just as comfortable there as you do here.” You professed.

“Well I doubt that’s going to be a problem. Even though John kept on insisting that it’s “a mansion”. But from what you’ve shown me, it’s just a house, granted a big one. But a house all the same. I wouldn’t consider it a mansion unless you keep like a full time housekeeper and a butler and a personal chef and all that.” Noah waived off which got you to chuckle in amusement.

“Well I don’t have a butler. And I love to cook for myself and my family too much to have a personal chef. But I do have a maid service that comes about once a week to help out just to keep things from descending into complete chaos. To do things like vacuum, scrub toilets and dust. And do a few loads of dishes and laundry and make sure any or all the food in my pantry doesn’t expire before we can eat it. Or make sure that nothing grows mold or anything in the fridge. And I do have a landscaping outfit come out and take care of the landscaping for the house and the business, because that’s a tax write off for the business too. And I do have a hay field that I pay a farmer to run for me and bale it up and put in my barn for me for the horses and stuff because I’m too busy with work to do it myself. But that’s it, otherwise we manage everything else just fine.” You explained.

“Nice. Honestly I think if more people could afford that kind of help, I know they would get it in a heartbeat. And there is nothing wrong with getting help when you need it.” Noah insisted which made your eyebrows raise in surprise and start laughing.

“Can I get you a mirror so you can say that to yourself?” You gently teased as he opened his mouth to argue but his argument died on his tongue and instead playfully narrowed his eyes at you as he scrunched up his face and laughed with you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, haha, I get it, "big strong tough guy doesn’t ask for help" is preaching to you, the one who actually took the initiative and not only asked but got the help she needed.” Noah readily admitted, seeing the irony.

“And you said it yourself, that there was nothing wrong with asking for help. And because you said it, I get to hold you to it.” You insisted as you finished up and put your spices away and cleaned up after yourself and made sure that the broaster was actually on so it would cook overnight.

“Well as a matter of fact, I do need help.” Noah insisted as he came over and roped you into his embrace.

“With what? Taking your clothes off?” You guessed with a licentious grin.

“How did you guess?” Noah teased you.

“Just had a feeling. Also that’s a pretty big hint.” You teased back as you rubbed your pelvis into his to feel his hard cock press between you before you pulled out from his embrace and took him by the hand and led him upstairs. Then you put the kids to bed, Skylar and Sakura sleeping in the same bed. With Zane taking an air mattress on the floor. You gave them all kids melatonin gummies before you went to bed with Noah. Replacing the last memory you had together in this bed with a new one, and a much more pleasant one at that.

The next morning, Noah and yourself got up extra early and you put the cooked down contents of the broaster into to go containers and lunch boxes for everyone and set the broaster pan in the sink to soak in soapy water for the day.

Then Noah and yourself then got your family up and went over with all the kids how to pack proper overnight bags for the plane that were also emergency go bags and a emergency prepardness kits and bushcraft kits all in one huge backpack that had special flotation packs on them so that if you needed to jump out of the plane and parachute down into the water, the flotation devices would both keep the packs and the kids from sinking and would be a flotation device to help them swim to shore while everything in the kits would be safe from getting wet, or catching fire.

When you had told Noah, you liked to be prepared, he did not think you would take this to quite this extreme but everything in these things was extremely practical. And the fact that you got him and yourself the same things too. It would ensure that even if you all got seperated, they could find each other and especially if you were straded somewhere, you would all be ok until you could get rescued.

You had already packed a whole crate of things just for this occasion. Each child had everything that they needed to actually be stranded for a couple of days for up to a week, and could in theory, be alone by themselves and still be ok and defend themselves. Sakura was already used to the concept of an Arctic Tundra Survival Kit and bushcrafting. And your children were already familiar with the concept of go-bags in case of emergencies. Like tornadoes or other natural disasters and were happy that they basically had another go bag just for Noah’s plane and the Arctic Tundra. But these go bags were bigger and had a lot more to them because being stranded in the Arctic Tundra had its own challenges and you had made sure that you and they could be prepared for anything and everything. You made sure that each bag had enough supplies that even if it was winter, everyone would stay warm, safe, well fed, clean and cared for, for at least a week.

Then you all left and found good places for your go bags in the plane. Noah had already put extra parachutes for everyone in the plane. And he walked them through how to put them on and how to work them as well. And then he went through what to do in case of a crash landing. He showed everyone how to get the emergency doors open. Where the fire extinguishers were. Where the satellite radio was. Even though their bags already had special two way radios in them too so they could always stay in touch. And the satellite phone. And in the case of a crash landing, to put their go bags on backwards on their chests to put the parachutes on their backs. Then you all did a safety drill so that everyone felt safe and confident in their own individual abilities to stay safe on the plane.

Then he got everyone situated before you had Zane take his turn first in the cockpit and started your day for flying with Noah. To your delight, it was in fact a very busy day. All the kids and yourself took turns in the co-pilot seat and “flying” the plane for a few minutes each time. The whole plane felt like a constant conveyer belt of goods getting loaded and unloaded and then reloaded again several times over.

Sheshna, the owner of High Jacks was super happy and excited to see you again for breakfast since she was your first drop off spot and especially to meet your kids. She was happy to get a free extra long back and shoulder rub in exchange for breakfast on the house for your whole family. Your kids devoured the crab omelets and thought the berry pancakes were the best they had ever had in their lives. Zane sweet talked Sheshna into the recipes for the pancakes and the omeltes so he could make it at home. Which Sheshna, for once, agreed to in exchange for a couple of recipes from Zane which he was happy to barter for, as Zane was happy to write down the recipes that he knew by heart.

“So, ‘just the pilot’ huh?” Sheshna teased Noah after she hugged everyone goodbye and Noah was holding the door open for all of you which got him to laugh and blush.

“Turns out she was in the market for more than a pilot.” Noah tried to shrug off but his smile was bright and happy and bashful as always.

“Uh- huh, I expect to see them as regulars from now on.” Sheshna wagged her finger at him.

“You will.” Noah vowed before he gave her a hug and left himself before you went to the same Tavern for dinner and thankfully once they saw that you came in with your family and learned that Noah had snagged you himself, thankfully you didn’t get over a dozen drinks sent to the table this time. But that didn’t save Noah from some good natured teasing and jeering that he still bagged the prettiest daughter of the Arctic Tundra, again.

The kids did surprisingly well, all day long. They got along beautifully. Just like they had ever since they had first met face and face and they all worked together as a team with Noah and yourself. By the time all of you made it home, he gave them each a hundred dollars as you all staggered into the house, tired and exhausted but well fed and happy.

“What’s this for?” Skylar asked.

“You guys worked really hard, it’s only fair that you get paid too.” Noah answered.

“Yes!” Skylar, Zane and Sakura all cheered before Skylar and Zane put their money in their wallets before Sakura went and put her money in her piggy bank before they took turns getting showers, playing rock paper scissors to see who should go first, just like they had been doing this whole trip. After they were done getting showers, they all practically crashed into bed, barely getting the covers up and over themselves before their tired little bodies succumbed to sleep. No melatonin gummies or bedtime stories needed.

You quickly cleaned the broaster pan and then repeated your previous process, putting elk roasts in the broaster instead of moose this time. You changed up the spices but still added plenty of beef stock and other vegetables and put the lunch containers in the dishwasher to wash overnight as Noah did his paperwork and things for his business at the table.

“So how are things looking?” You asked Noah after you finished with the broaster and quickly wiped off the counter before you joined him at the table.

“Really good.” Noah answered as he diligently and honestly recorded each and every cent he made which only impressed you that he was still so honest and forthcoming. Even with his money. Which was a personality trait you highly admired because it bled through to every other area of his life.

“In the black?” You hoped.

“Very much so.” Noah smiled with a chuckle. “All thanks to you Babe.” He added before he leaned over to kiss you sweetly before he got back to going through his paperwork as you helped him sort the money by check and cash and Noah even had a special sack that he kept all of the gold that he got paid in along with a scale to weigh it all.

“That’s a lot of gold.” You noted as you picked it up and realized it was small but very heavy.

“Thanks. After I got back the first time, I got a ton of loads out to gold mining operations both on the sea and in the interior and they just outright paid me in gold. Granted the gold price was really low that week and those operations pay based on the average price of gold in a week. So I got a lot of it all of a sudden and it replenished the reserves I usually always like to keep on hand for emergencies.” Noah answered.

“That’s smart.” You praised.

“I do that too. But it’s with gift certificates. During the High Holidays, I can make 20-30 grand just selling gift certificates in a single month. And then when Valentine's Day and Mother’s Day rolls around, all of them get turned back in. So, while I make a killing during the High Holidays. I don’t let myself spend any of it and when the gift certificates get cashed in, then I pay myself for what they’re worth.” You revealed.

“Yeah but at least your gift certificates are always worth the same amount of money. Because the price of gold is always changing, it means that the value of what you have stowed away fluctuates by hundreds, possibly thousands of dollars, based on how much you have.” Noah groused.

“I take it, the last time you had to use it up, the price was low.” You ventured.

“That is correct.” Noah admitted.

“Was it for Neena’s funeral?” You asked as he nodded.

“Talk about adding insult to injury.” You muttered as he nodded again before you reached out and stroked his arm comfortingly.

“Well hopefully that won’t happen again.” You offered softly.

“It better not.” Noah insisted which made you snort a laugh. “Going through that once was already one too many times.” Noah added.

“I’ll bet.” You offered as you thought back to what you felt like when you lost Andy as you couldn’t help but shake your head a little, as Noah gave you a thoughtful look.

“Why are you shaking your head?” Noah asked.

“I'm remembering the advice I gave myself. To not look at the past with rose colored glasses." You answered with a bittersweet smile.

"How so?" Noah asked.

"I’m just remembering the flurry of emotions I felt the day Andy died. I woke up that morning so irritated with Andy. Because it felt like we just kept having the same arguments over and over and over again. He was bitching at me about how emotionally needy I was that I felt I needed the cats for emotional support. I was mad at him for not fulfilling those needs for me himself. And I was mad that no matter what I had tried to do over the thirteen years we were married to get him to just be nice to me. That’s all I wanted from him. I could do with less money in the bank account and having to clip a hundred coupons to save a few dollars for the food budget. All I wanted was kindness. All he wanted was obedience." You recalled as Noah frowned deeply at that. He still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of any man who would not treat you like the goddess you were.

"I remember how he was irritated with me because he took my lack of vigilance with cleaning the house as a sign I didn’t love him, and not seeing the truth, that was always overwhelmed by it all, I had two little kids who constantly destroyed everyting I tried to clean. Even now, there is always laundry to do. Always dishes to do. Always something. And while he occassionally helped out to do a load or laundry, he acted like he was owed all kinds of praise and sexual favors for doing the bare minimum while demanding that I do everything without so much as a thank you." You remembered as even now there was a bitter resentment in your tone.

"And the fact that I had cats that he had allergies to- didn’t help. His mother outright apologized to him in front of me that 'she was so sorry that I didn’t love him enough to get rid of the cats' and that 'if I was “a good wife” or “an easily contented one”, I wouldn’t need them to begin with'. And it was all my strength to tell her off that she fucked up rasing her sons so much that they couldn’t even show or express love and affection unless it was in the form of an insult.” You recounted as Noah frowned even more darkly. Because if Andy had been alive, he would have wanted to knock his lights out.

“She didn’t grow up with animals did she?” Noah asked.

“No she did not. And neither did Andy. Andy’s grandparents had a farm nearby and that was enough. Meanwhile before I married Andy. I didn’t sleep at night unless I had Kelly and Duchess sleeping with me.” You recalled, remembering your beloved dog Kelly and your cat Duchess.

“And then Kelly died of liver cancer the year before I met him and Duchess died of brain cancer a year after I married him. I brought Duchess with me into that marriage. And the only reason Andy liked Duchess is because she left him the hell alone. And looking back, I should have seen that as a sign. Animals are usually pretty good at reading people." You recounted.

"But at the time, all Olga would tell me about Andy when she met him was that 'if I married him, he would provide a large comfortable home and modestly comfortable and moderately lavish lifestyle and give me a beautiful family, despite his homely looks. He would protect me from harm from others and that he would give me everything I wanted, but would struggle to give me what I needed'. I was too young and stupid at the time to realize that my wants and needs were not the same things. And while he gave me a decent house to turn into a home for him. And he earned enough that I didn’t have to work. Granted I was always encouraged to work just so we had more income after Sky got into elementary school. He gave me protection, financial stability, and the basics- food, clothing, shelter. But the man had no idea how to sympathize with me other than saying “you’re family is crazy”. He had no idea how to care for my emotional and spiritual needs other than to hand me the sacred sculptures of the gods to hang on the wall and go “here, pray.” or “here’s a cat, let the cat give you the love you so desperately need”.” You recounted in the same condescending tone Andy always used as Noah just frowned deeper and darker the more you talked.

“He had no idea how to make love to me. Because all of his sex education came from porn. Because while he was a virgin when me married me. His ideas of sex and my ideas of sex were very, very different. And every time I tried to talk to anyone about it, all the advice his mother would give me is “don’t give him anything to get on you about”. Meaning, 'if you just keep the house perfectly spotless, your face painted with “natural” makeup so that it looked like you weren’t wearing any makeup at all. And that you were just naturally beautiful all the time'. Which is what his mother did. 'And if you never have an idea or an opinion that clashes with your husband and you’re always an obedient and submissive wife, and never blow the budget and can actually either save your husband money or make him money, you’ll never have any problems'. You know, the way housewives were expected to be like in the 1950's.” You recalled.

“And what I struggled with, was once he was dead, and once I literally had to have my parents, my inlaws, my adopted grandparents hold my hand through the whole process of getting his funeral arranged, getting his life insurance money and all that and invested. And once I realized that the world hadn’t ended and that I could actually do it all on my own. Which was something Andy always taunted me that I wouldn’t know what to do without him “handling everything”. That once I proved to myself that I could actually do it and could do it well. I felt guilty that I was so relieved he was dead and that I was free of him. And I had to put on this ‘sad widow’ act to his parents and family. Because to them, especially his mother, both of her sons were her little Prince Charmings. And just these ‘amazing catches of men’. Which wasn’t true at all.” You remembered as Noah stopped his paperwork to hold your hand in both of his and just listened attentively.

“Don’t feel guilty about losing Andy. Honestly, with everything you’ve told me about him, the universe did you a favor in killing him off for you so that you didn’t have to go through divorcing him. And may all the gods forbid- but if I ever even hint at acting like that or saying anything like that. You have my permission to tell me I'm acting like him and that should be enough for me to knock it off.” Noah comforted you.

“Will do. But I want you to promise me something.” You prompted as you fully turned towards him.

“What?” He asked.

“If I, for some reason, can’t make you happy or can’t love you the way you want to be loved and need to be loved, please tell me. But also, if after you tell me and I can’t compromise or find a way to make it work so that we’re both happy and we’re both getting what we need and want from each other, tell me and we can either get divorced or separated or whatever we need to be. I don’t want to spend another 13 years in resigned demoralized discomfit. And I don’t want you to suffer the same or feel that just because I currently have wealth, that you should put up with whatever bullshit I would throw at you. Or my kids would throw at you. I never want to flirt with your breaking point, or mine. If we have any arguments or fights about anything, I would really only like to have them once. And then for the problems to be equitably resolved the first time. I know that while we both have our own culture and traditions and backgrounds. And I know there are some that we don’t see eye to eye on- on both sides. But I don’t want those to be the hairline fractures that end up being cavernous cravasses between us. Could you do that for me? Promise me that you’ll tell me if you’re not happy?” You pleaded tiredly.

“Only if you’ll promise me the same thing.” Noah offered.

“Deal.” You nodded.

“Any hairline fractures right now? Are there any needs, wants or desires that you have right now that I’m not fulfilling?” Noah asked.

“Only my need to sleep beside you tonight, hopefully soon. It’s been a long hard day.” You smiled happily but tiredly.

“Yes Ma’am. All the paperwork is done. Let's get quick showers and get to bed.” He offered as he let go of your hands to close up his account book and put all of the payments away in the proper bank deposit envelopes.

“What about you? Is there anything…” You began to ask.

“Nope. Not a single thing. I’m still getting used to being this happy in every aspect of my life.” He cut you off which made you softly laugh.

“Good, me too.” You beamed back. Happy and relieved he felt the same way you did in that respect as he had you go up the stairs first as he made sure the house was locked up and all the lights got turned off before he quickly caught up with you and pinched your butt as you climbed the stairs which got you to softly squeal and laugh and hasten your pace.

“Damn your butt is too cute not to pinch.” Noah praised.

“Likewise.” You giggled before you had a quickie in the shower, because even though you both were tired, you weren’t going to turn down any opportunity you had to finally get made love to- right, and neither was he.

The next day however, after Noah flew all the loads he needed to and was on his way to fly all of you to a good place where the salmon were running, there was the unmistakable smell of an electrical fire in the cockpit. You smelled it first as it smelled like it was coming from right under your seat and you instantly smacked Noah on the arm to get his attention.

“Noah! There’s a fire! You need to land!” You yelled just as Noah’s instruments started going off and going berserk before you grabbed your bag that was between your feet and the money envelope just as smoke came up from your floor boards and tried to unbuckle to get out of there but the smoke was coming from right between you and Noah and the rest of the plane. Noah did his best to get on the radio and send off a mayday signal while he did his best to land in a nearby lake.

Which of course scared and freaked out the kids, who were thankfully buckled and once landed you threw your bags and stuff back through the curtain of smoke and bolted from the cockpit because where your feet were, was smoking and getting extremely hot. It melted the soles and toes of your sneakers which you hastily kicked off to keep your toes from burning any more as smoke started to fill the cockpit.

Skylar, Sakura and Zane were all screaming and freaking out and unbuckling and grabbing their gobags and parachutes and running towards the tail of the plane to get away from the smoke and trying to remember in their panic- what to do and how to do it.

Noah landed roughly into the water which caused all of you to fall down, as you all reached and held onto each other as you made sure you fell so that the kids landed on top of you so that they wouldn’t get hurt. Then you and the kids were scrambling to get to your feet as you were more concerned about getting all three kids to the safety of the back of the plane. All while Noah tried to turn everything off and and grabbed the fire extinguisher and put out the fire as much as he could. You were still working on getting a door open to get the smoke out of the inside of the plane.

Just as you managed to kick the door open and got all three kids to lay down on the floor and stick their heads out to keep from inhaling any more smoke, along with yourself as all of you were coughing horribly from the smoke. Then Noah finally got the electrical fire under control but was inhaling a lot more smoke and started coughing up quite a bit. As you could hear him more than see him as you worried he was still standing but braced against the galley as he coughed and coughed and coughed before he fell to his hands and knees and you could see just how red the whites of his eyes were as he could hardly breathe he was coughing so hard.

You yelled for Zane to help you drag Noah back from the cockpit since he was already on his hands and knees as the smoke gathered at the ceiling of the plane. Zane and yourself managed to crawl to Noah and then help get him to the door where he could breathe fresh air as smoke billowed out of the door of the plane as you and Zane then went to the back of the plane and got the second door open so that the interior of the plane wouldn’t fill with smoke as you got Skylar, Sakura and Zane to climb out of the plane and sit on the special pontoons which were the plane’s water landing gear before you went back to Noah who was still coughing.

"Noah! What do I do?" You asked as you fought to keep your head and wits about you.

"Kids!" He coughed.

"They're outside, on the landing gear so they don't inhale any more smoke. They’re ok. What else do I do?!" You demanded worriedly, praying he hadn’t breathed in too much smoke.

"Radio!" Noah kept coughing.

"OK." You nodded as you went back to the cockpit but everything was fried and nothing was functional. But then, right as you heard Noah hurl from coughing so bad. Which got the kids to start getting sick before they all threw up in the water. All the kids were wailing as you got the satellite phone, since that wasn’t damaged and called Noah’s dad Ukluk.

But Ukluk was leading a group of hunters and wasn’t in his plane and therefore couldn’t hear the phone ringing. So you put the phone next to Noah and got the rest of the emergency bags down as the last of the smoke finally left the plane before you noticed the plane was starting to sink towards the other set of pontoons since the other side’s pontoons had been punctured and were now taking in water causing the plane to tilt in the opposite direction which made the kids all scream as they clung to the other pontoon and landing gear so they wouldn’t fall into the water as the pontoon suddenly raised out of the water.

Thankfully there wasn’t any cargo in the plane itself to shift, other than you. But since you were barefoot, ignoring the burns on your feet and the plane leaning to the other side forced to you to body slam into the other side of the plane as things in the cupboards fell out and fell on you as you yelled in pain and started cussing. But you still managed to climb your way to the kids and helped them climb up and get back into the plane’s fuselage and got all of them to at least get their emergency packs out and set aside the parachutes since they didn’t need those. Noah was using the phone and called every number he could think of before he got in touch with Tim Baker, who was a semi retired pilot as you did your best to hush and calm the kids so that Noah could talk on the phone.

“Where do you think you are?” Tim asked as Noah did his best to try to remember exactly where he had touched down at as Tim promised to get in touch with Noah’s family and the other pilots to come and help before Noah managed to get over to you.

“Ok, who’s hurt?” Noah asked as he took his first aid kit that had already fallen from the cupboard and landed near you.

“Mom.” All the kids answered.

“Where?” Noah asked you.

“I burnt the bottoms of my feet from the fire. It melted my shoes and singed my socks.” You answered as Noah got some burn cream out as all the kids did their best to put the cream on your feet and bandage them up, Zane having the most experience with foot injuries as he took the lead in bandaging your feet.

“You’re really good at this.” Noah noted.

“I’m in ballet, where dancers routinely injure their feet on purpose. Of course I’m good at it. I’ve had lots of practice on myself and the other dancers.” Zane cracked a grin through his tears but happily accepted the pat on the back from Noah all the same as he carefully bandaged your feet.

“Ok, who else is hurt?” Noah asked.

“You are, you inhaled the most smoke. There’s an inhaler in my first aid kit as well as all the kids, that will help with that.” You answered as Zane went through his own first aid kit and handed Noah the inhaler as Noah happily took it and took a few puffs from it which helped to alleviate some of it.

“Who else?” You asked as you looked to the kids.

“My tummy hurts.” Sakura whined as she nuzzled into your side tightly.

“Well you threw up. First, get in your bag and change out of all the clothes that all the puke got on.” You suggested before all the kids got their packs and went to the back of the tilted plane and used the cold room to get changed before they came back, changed and now wearing their coats and warmer clothes from their packs. While they had been gone, you peeled off your own clothes that had gotten the kids’ puke on them. Noah helped you get changed into clean clothes yourself before Noah got your own coats from your own packs and put them on now that the doors were open and the chill in the air was making the whole plane cold.

“Are you sure you’re ok otherwise?” Noah asked worriedly.

“Yeah, my feet will heal. What I’m worried about is your lungs, are you ok otherwise?” You asked him worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m just so sorry this happened in the first place. I knew I should have replaced all the wiring last year and not just the worst of it. Now I have to replace all the wiring and all the electronics if the plane is even salvageable.” Noah lamented as he sat down next to you and held his head in his hands.

“Guys I am so sorry this happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was one of the worst case scenarios. The last thing I wanted was to give you guys another traumatic experience. I wanted you guys to trust me not to hurt you guys or allow you guys to get hurt, and I failed and I’m so sorry.” Noah apologized profusely to you and your kids through his own tears before Noah was surprised when all of you formed one big family hug.

“It’s ok Dad, accidents happen. You at least did your best to prepare us. And at least we knew what to do. And at least we had our emergency packs and parachutes even though we didn’t need the parachutes. We’re just happy you’re not hurt any worse than you are. You saved us by having us land in the water instead of in the trees which would have ripped the plane to shreds with us in it. And seeing as how it’s just half of one of the pontoon's that’s flooded, that means that we’re not sinking completely. It’s salvageable. And while I know you were really looking forward to remodeling the houses, the plane takes priority. And if it’s not salvageable, we can get a new plane. I don’t know if you know this but mom is loaded, and she can buy you a fleet of planes if you let her.” Skylar soothed as she wiped the tears from his eyes and clung to one side of him as Sakura was in the other which made all of you start laughing despite the circumstances.

“Yeah, but your mom shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes or shortcomings.” Noah gently argued.

“Hey, we’re a family now. We stick together and take care of each other and when one of us falls, the rest of us pick them up. This time it’s your turn, who knows who will get the next one.” Zane offered. “But not it!”

“Not it!” The rest of you echoed which got another round of laughter. Which got Noah to stop crying and the fact that he was crying, spoke volumes about how sensitive and kind hearted he was which your kids adored seeing.

"Hey, what doesn't kill you, gives you a dark sense of humor and potentially self destructive coping mechanisms." Skylar teased which got some more soft chuckles from everyone.

“Noah, I know this plane is like another baby to you. However, in the big picture, it’s just a plane. Planes are replaceable, you, me and the kids are not. And from where I’m sitting, we’re ok. Sure we are going to need a lot more therapy because surviving a plane crash is traumatic. At least we were prepared. At least we all had emergency kits and medical kits in those emergency kits. At least none of us broke a limb, or worse, or got a concussion or died. We are all alive and besides some cuts, bruises and burns, and some smoke inhalation, we’ll be ok. You were able to contact at least someone. That means help is on the way." You comforted Noah.

"It’s like being stranded on the highway with a broken down car, but bigger and more complicated because it’s a plane, on a lake, in the middle of nowhere. But it could be so much worse. I’m grateful it’s not worse. I think if we can weather this just like we weathered the storms at sea, we’ll be ok. We have each other, and we have enough food and water to last us at least five to seven days, if not ten. I doubt it’ll take three to five days for someone to find us and rescue us. In fact I would guess it’ll be more like three to five hours, probably several hours at the most. And then we’ll all be safe back at home.” You reminded him as you got into your own pack and pulled out boots and gingerly put on socks and then put on boots over your burned, and bandaged feet to protect them.

“What’s this in your pocket dad?” Skylar asked as something was bulging from his pocket.

“That’s your mom’s engagement ring. Once we landed, I was going to propose to her but now…” Noah began, feeling like now was the worst time to do such a thing.

“Well now is a good as time as any Dad. If we just survived horrible storms on the cruise ship and a plane crash, do it now before anything else can happen.” Zane encouraged him with a laugh that got all of you to laugh.

“Are you sure? I feel like right now is the worst possible…”

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” All three kids chanted.

“It’s the best time. For the love of all the gods, just propose to me before anything else happens.” You encouraged him with a laugh before Skylar and Sakura got off as the girls kneeled at his feet before Noah knelt next to you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do this before everything went to shit today. But would you marry me Zara?” Noah asked as he fished the engagement ring box out of his pocket and presented it to you.

“Yes I will.” You happily agreed as you gave him your left hand so he could slip the engagement ring onto your finger. Then you kissed him and giggled when your kids all ‘awwed’ in response.

“I love you.” You urged him.

“I love you too, and I love you, and I love you, and I love you.” Noah said as he went around to all the kids and hugged them, giving Sakura and Skylar fatherly, affectionate kisses on the cheeks as Zane and his sisters giggled and laughed and hugged him back.

“We’re a family, families stick together and work together.” Skylar insisted brightly.

“So how do we work together- to get out of this?” Zane asked Noah, without a hint of judgement, but rather resolve and determination which was immediately mirrored in the girls and yourself.

“Well the smoke is out of the plane. And we still have some light left. Let’s see what we can do. Maybe by a miracle, we can pin point at least what wires need fixing and hopefully not all the electronics are fried. At least we’ll start to know how big of a problem we’re looking at.” Noah answered.

“Ok kids, you heard Dad. Put on your gloves guys, just in case it’s still hot, we don’t want your hands getting burned. And then you should put on your head lamps and let’s light the lanterns so we can see what we’re doing better in here. Just in case the light fades before we’re rescued.” You suggested before you got out a notepad and a pen and handed them to Noah before he got up and went and got his onboard tool kits and opened them up.

And thanks to Skylar’s smaller size and more aptitude and skill with tools, she was able to get in the foot well and use the screwdrivers and such to unscrew the metal panels and get them out of the way with the help of her forehead light to light up what she was looking at. And her own smaller sized work gloves to keep her hands safe meant she could literally grab screws and panels with ease..

“You know, I never thought the last few years on my grandpa’s construction sites, my uncle’s construction sites and my other uncle’s mechanic shops would be paying off in an airplane cockpit in the Arctic Tundra.” Skylar practically giggled as she happily unscrewed everything she could find and was yanking things out with her work gloved hands and handed it back to Noah who was putting the burned wire into a trash bag which got everyone to laugh again while Sakura stayed with you, cuddled and huddled with you under a blanket to keep you warm and safe.

“And who would have thought Zane’s ballet training would do the same for Mom’s injuries? Because Mom is right, a plane is just a plane, all of you are irreplaceable. Especially Mom who pushed through her own pain to make sure all of us were safe and out of danger. Because Zane knew exactly what and how to heal Mom’s feet.” Noah praised which got Zane and yourself to both smile proudly and blush bashfully at the praise.

“Thanks Dad.” Zane offered as you were in a similar state, seated by the tool kits and pulling out all the different tools needed as Noah was orchestrating the efforts before the satellite phone rang and it was Noah’s dad Ukluk.

“Hey Dad,” Noah answered as he grabbed the now barred corroded wires with his own gloved hands and once a trashbag was full, handed it off to Zane to put in the back of the plane and get a new trashbag from the roll.

“Are you ok? I heard the plane caught fire and you crashed.” Ukluk asked as he hastily was packing up his own little plane with supplies as the rest of the family was near frantic at the news.

“Yeah, we’re all ok. The wiring in the copilot seat failed, corroded and caught fire. It burned the bottom of Zara’s feet. But she got out of the cockpit before it burned her feet off and got all the kids out of harm’s way and kicked the doors open to let the smoke out. And after I used the fire extinguisher, she and Zane pulled me out of the cockpit and at an open door so I didn’t inhale too much smoke. We’re banged up a bit, and the left pontoon got punctured on some trees and is taking on a little bit of water so we’re sitting on…” Noah said as he estimated about where he was and what his last heading had been before the instruments had gone haywire before the crash.

“...but thank the gods Zara likes to be prepared. All of us had our go emergency preparedness go bags and first aid kits and all kinds of things. Zane patched Zara up. Skylar is in the cockpit tearing this apart like a beast. And Sakura is keeping Zara warm. It’s a testament to how good of a mom she is and how great the kids are because after the initial scare of the crash, we’re all tackling this thing together.” Noah praised to his dad with a proud smile.

“Oh thank the gods.” Ukluk breathed in relief as did everyone else who stopped to overhear the conversation.

True to your own prediction it only took a few more hours before Ukluk and Nago both flew their own personal planes to the lake and landed and taxied over to you before they got out their inflatable rafts and went over to where you were.

“Ok, who is hurt the worst?” Ukluk asked.

“Zara.” Noah answered.

“Noah.” You answered at the same time.

“I burned my feet, but he inhaled a bunch of smoke from the fire.” You clarified as you continued to hand off tools to Noah who then handed them to Skylar who was still knee deep in plane parts. And despite the crash, was loving every minute of pulling this plane apart. She estimated that she would have even more fun putting it back together, once they somehow got the plane back home. Wherever and whenever that would be.

“But does anyone need to go to the hospital?” Ukluk asked.

“Nah, I’m good.” You shook your head no.

“Noah?” You asked as he shook his head no.

“Nope, I’m good. That inhaler did the trick, I’ve used it a few times and after coughing up a punch of sludge, my lungs feel fine. I’m good. Embarrassed by the catastrophic failure and mentally kicking my ass for not replacing all the wiring instead of just the pilot’s side of wiring when I had the chance.” Noah confessed with an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

“Well, hindsight is 20/20 and poverty charges interest.” Zane noted as he sat next to Noah, helping him bag up burned up wiring and other components while also handing off tools from you to Noah to Skylar as she needed them. And then taking the burnt wiring from Skylar to Noah to inspect and then bag up again.

“How do you mean?” Nago asked Zane.

“Well, if you don’t have the money to go to the doctor to get a cough looked at, or take a sick day when you have a cold or the flu. You’ll have no choice but to be down and down for a long time when you have to be admitted to the hospital for when the flu turns into pneumonia. Or if you don’t have money to go to the dentist to get a cavity filled when you notice a little sensitivity, well it’s going to be a lot more expensive when the whole tooth gets lost. And you’ll need a crown and a root canal later. Not having the money to take care of little problems in the present- just because they aren’t dire urgent needs in the present. It leads to problems being ignored until they do turn into dire urgent needs and by that point they’re so bad that they always end up costing you way more later than not spending any money on them in the present. Because by the time you get to it later, the problem is always much bigger and much worse, thus it charges interest. And at rates that check advance places would be ashamed of.” Zane explained.

“We’ve all seen it. For me, I’ve seen it when a small leak leads to whole sections of pipes bursting when it freezes in the winter. When a slow drain leads to a massive clog and the whole plumbing system backs up into the house. When a small termite problem is actually gigantic and the only thing holding the floor up is a three floor joists that are only partially compromised and the subfloor. Or that dark spot under linoleum is actually hiding a gigantic black mold spot that is eating it’s way underneath an entire bathroom floor. And the mold eats the subfloor. so now the whole bathroom has to be replaced. Or not clearing out your dryer vents regularly and the build up of lint in the vent catches the house on fire.” Skylar continued to give examples.

"I've seen it in clients who have no health insurance, or who ignore an ache or a strain in in a muscle, and then the muscle tendon tears and they have to have surgery. Or diabetics, not watching their insulin or diet, and then lose a foot or so much more. Or not fully resting after an injury because they need to go back to work to earn money and they end up re-injuring themselves and doing it so much worse than initially." You supplied.

“Noah, the way you described it to me when we talked about it, was you had a choice. Your choice was to replace all the wiring or just the pilot’s side and feed yourself and Sakura for the winter. But that you couldn’t afford to do both. For any parent, that’s a no brainer decision.” You comforted Noah.

“And I thought that I would have this winter in the Great Lakes to fix it before it did this to me. But I figured and guessed wrong.” Noah confessed.

“So now we just need to figure out how bad this problem is. See if the plane is salvageable. And if it is, great, we’ll figure it out. If not, it sucks but last I checked planes are replaceable, even as special and sentimental as this plane is to you. But people are not. And when we get back to civilization, we can go plane shopping if we want to or need to. And then we can all get some good ol’ fashioned therapy for surviving a plane crash. Which as awful as it was, could have been a lot worse. I’m just grateful it’s not worse. We are all walking away from this wreck.” You added with a reassuring smile to Noah.

“Granted, I will be doing so very gingerly, but I’ll be walking away just the same.” You teased which got everyone to laugh.

“My guess is because he was switching the controls from pilot’s side to copilot’s side so we could all have opportunities to fly the plane for a few minutes in the air- is what taxed the already delicate wiring. But, woulda, coulda, shoulda.” Skylar noted with a shrug as she pulled out more and more things that she saw were damaged before she found the piece that started the blaze in the first place.

“Ok Dad, I think this is what caused it. All the flames and burnt things are all centered around this.” Skylar said as she unscrewed it and untangled it and heaved it up and handed it to Noah.

“And that would be the…” Noah rattled off exactly what it was with a heavy sigh.

“And you’re exactly right Sky. Because this is basically the switch to give the control of the plane from the left to the right.” Noah praised as Skylar and everyone else nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, you kind of need one of those to fly the plane Noah.” Nago lightly teased his older brother.

“Yeah,” Noah sighed as he looked it over.

“So do you want me to pull everything around it out too since it’s all damaged and burnt to hell?” Skylar asked.

“Yes please. Get everything that you can reach and safely lift- that’s burned and damaged- out.” Noah said as he wrote down what the piece was and then continued to list off all the pieces that he would need to replace what had been damaged by the fire and stuff.

Skylar, rather gleefully began unscrewing everything and in quick order, had gotten everything else that even had a hint of fire damage- out which impressed Nago and Ukluk very much that she was a natural.

“Ok, I got everything that looked burnt or damaged- out.” Skylar announced as she handed back the last of the melted wires and burnt pieces to Noah for inspection before Noah took notes of what it used to be and then put it in the bag that Zane was holding before he handed you back all of the tools to put away.

“So? What’s the damage?” You asked Noah before Noah rattled off what had been burned and what would need to be replaced and what it would take to get the plane just functional enough to fly it out of there and fly it to the closest hanger and did some quick math and the answer was in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

“And how much is the plane worth?” You asked.

“Much less.” Noah admitted.

“And how much would a plane this size cost brand new?” You asked him.

“About a few to several hundred thousand dollars more than all the cost of repairing it.” Noah answered honestly.

“Ok, so how much is this plane worth to you? What is it’s sentimental value? Because you and I both know that certain sentimental things have value that can’t necessarily be quantified by a dollar amount. So is it worth it to you, to try to fix it? Or would it be better for you to try to get this thing to a junkyard? Because I doubt you can leave it here because it’s a risk to the pristine environment. Would you rather turn it into your insurance and collect any insurance you have on the plane?” You questioned as Noah thought it over but didn’t give you an answer because honestly, he had the bare minimum as far as insurance went.

“Tell you what, let’s sleep on it. It’s been a long day, hell a long and hard week. Let’s just get out of here, get home, sleep on it, try to price out our options and see where we are then. And if we have to get you a new plane to at least try to finish out the season for your customers, we will. We made it this far and we’ve gotten through this much, and we agreed that we’re in this together. So let’s figure it out together and get through it together.” You encouraged as you could see Noah was still in a state of being overwhelmed by how much it was going to be to fix his plane.

“Good idea.” Noah nodded in agreement as your family did rock paper scissors to see how you all were going to be split up between Nago’s plane Ukluk’s plane to fly it back home. Which cracked Nago and Ukluk up. Then Ukluck and Nago got you and your kid’s to their planes then helped Noah lock up his plane before they injected styrofoam into the partially sunk pontoon so the plane wouldn’t sink into the water until they could come back to it later.

“You got one hell of a good woman and mother.” Nago praised his big brother in the boat as Nago, Noah and Ukluk were in the same inflatable boat going around the plane and noting what damages the exterior of the plane sustained.

“Thanks,” Noah smiled appreciatively despite the circumstances.

“Like even if she didn’t have a penny to her name. The fact that she handled that so well. And the fact that her kids were right there helping and understanding the situation without judgment. And instead of crying in a corner, they were right there willing to help and work together and solve a problem. That, in all fairness, shouldn’t have been their problem to solve. But because you all are just one cohesive unit, meant that one’s problems could be helped and solved by everyone pitching in. It sings the highest praises about Zara as a woman and a mother and a lot about her kids. The fact that they knew that shit happens, and that ‘poverty charges interest’. Which is one hell of a lesson and a principle. They all gave multiple examples of it too- it says that they’re really great kids too and have already learned so many life lessons, even for as young as they are. I think you’re going to be just fine Noah. With a woman like that by your side and kids like that in your family, you can’t go wrong.” Ukluk consoled his son.

“Thank you. Please tell Zara that too. I got really lucky. Even in the unluckiest of circumstances. If it wasn’t for Zara's boderline obsession with always being prepared for worst case scenerios. And having those emergency disaster preparedness packs for each and every single one of us. We would have been screwed. If wasn't for Zane’s ballet history and working with feet professionally, he knew exactly how to heal and patch up his mom’s feet and help heal her best. And he kept very calm and he kept the girls safe. Because the moment there was smoke, he was grabbing both of them and getting their packs and on towards the back of the plane where it was safest. And because he was calm the girls were calm. Sakura thankfully listened and obeyed Zane and was trying to get Zara and me to safety too. Skylar, I feel like she was born with a screwdriver in one hand and a hammer in the other. She was amazing in that cockpit tearing stuff out. And even though she’s never seen, much less worked on a plane’s systems- because of her uncle being a mechanic, she still figured stuff out on the fly. literally and figuratively. And because of her small size and nimble fingers, even in thick work gloves and the only light coming from her own head lamp, she did more work in just a few hours than most could in a day or two.” Noah readily admitted, rather proudly.

“Well, tonight, just rest. You’ve done more than enough work for today, we can pick it back up later.” Ukluk suggested before they got into their planes, deflated their inflatable rafts and then loaded up and flew home. Ukluk made a point to repeat his previous praise to you as he flew you and Noah back while Nago got all the kids, which you really, deeply appreciated.

Once you got back home, Noah helped you get in the house since you had to walk on your heels since your toes were very tender to walk on since they were already blistering from the burns. Then Noah made a very late dinner as the kids pitched in and helped make it with him as you sat on the couch with your feet propped up by pillows. Once dinner was done, all of you went to bed, tired and exhausted.

Noah had to carry you up the stairs, which you didn’t mind one bit. Despite your aches and pains and cuts, scrapes and bruises. All of you were just happy that all of you made it back safe and as sound as possible. And that none of you were hurt worse than you already were. Then all five of you got into your bed with Noah and yourself so that you could all cuddle together. Just like you had done on the cruise ship as the kids slept in the middle while you and Noah happily framed your little family in as you reached across your children to hold each other’s hand.

“We have one hell of a family.” You praised to Noah tiredly as Sakura was cuddled up with your chest and used your arm as her pillow. And Zane was spooning Sakura while Skylar was nestled into Noah’s chest and sleeping so happily and contentedly in her Daddy’s arms.

“Yeah we do. Goodnight Babe. I love you.” Noah murmured tiredly.

“Love you too. Goodnight Love.” You cooed sleepily back before Noah and yourself fell asleep too.

#Jewel Of The North #modern orc love story #Arctic Tundra #Alaska #orc love story #Alaskan Bush Pilot x LMT #Orc style #orc blended family

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kindahoping4forever · 4 years ago

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Wanna Know That Body Like It’s Mine // Calum Hood

@cal-puddies and I once again cannot thank you all enough for clowning with us during another Hoe Hours weekend! If you haven’t yet, be sure and check out Cass’s Cal fic from yesterday (I Love The Sound, I Love The Taste) and my Ash fic (Fight So Dirty) that kicked off the event. (In addition to the bonus Cal blurb - What’s Mine Is Yours - we couldn’t help but co-write because again, we’re clowns.)

We’ve been hyped on this piece for a while - it was requested by an anon (and specifically requested we co-write, which warmed our hearts) about a month ago and while there were stops and starts, we’ve basically been working on it ever since (I swear Cass had sent me a shared doc within seconds of me sharing the request lol). We can’t wait to hear what you think so please blow up both of our inboxes!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Cal. So much smut but an equal amount of feelings. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, oral and manual stimulation of both a male and a female, semi-public sexual encounter, sex toys, rimming, pegging.

Word Count: 11,384

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist // Hoe Hours Masterlist

Crystal: Taglist // Ko-Fi Cass: Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let us know what you think!

————-

“Hey babe!” Calum calls out, letting himself in to your apartment.

He’s greeted by a fit of giggles followed by an apologetic “Sorry, Cal, we’re almost done.”

“That’s OK, pretty girl, I’m early.” He walks by the living room, offering a quick ‘hey’ to you and the friend you’re visiting with and then helps himself to your kitchen. He gets himself some water and finds something to munch on, leaning against the counter and absentmindedly scrolls his phone while he waits.

He respects your privacy so he does his best to tune out what he can hear of your conversation but he can’t help the way his ears perk up when he hears your friend use the term “pegging.” He can’t hear much beyond that and he makes a note to ask you about it later.

She leaves shortly after and you pop your head into the kitchen on your way to change into your date night outfit. “Ready in 10,” you announce.

“No rush, baby, take all the time you need,” he reassures you, still scrolling his phone.

You sidle up next to him. “Of course you say that, you’re in here spoiling your dinner,” you tease, dipping your hand into the box of crackers he’d selected and shoveling a few into your mouth.

He takes a breath to defend himself but is stopped when you slide a few crackers into his open mouth; he chuckles and presses a crummy kiss to your lips and swats at you as you leave the room.

Date night is a success: you and Calum treat yourselves to a great dinner and even greater sex. You’re cuddling in bed afterwards, talking about whatever comes to mind. There’s a brief lull in the conversation and then he asks you how your afternoon visit went.

“Oh, it was entertaining as always, you know she’s always got a story,” you laugh.

“Sounded like, you girls were really getting into it when I showed up,” he teases, kissing the top of your head as you lay on his chest. He waits a beat then continues, “Did I overhear something about pegging? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was digging through the fridge and that’s the type of thing that kinda grabs the attention.”

You nod and smile against his skin. “Yeah, she was saying they’d been talking about it for a while and then he whisked her away on this big trip for her birthday last month, surprised her with all the gear and they finally did it.”

His curiosity is piqued so after about 30 seconds, when it seems like you’re not going to continue the conversation, he boldly presses, “And?”

Unfazed, you reply, “And? They loved it. Said it made her feel powerful, he came harder than she’d ever seen. Super hot, brought them closer together, all that stuff.”

“Huh,” Calum comments noncommittally. There’s another short hanging silence and then he asks, “You ever thought about that?”

“Pegging? Um... you know, it’s not really something that’s crossed my mind.” You kinda shrug and turn your head up to look at his face. “Is it something you want me to think about?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” he ponders out loud. “I don’t think I’d be opposed... I mean, you let me do that to you.”

“Well, it was a lot of work to get me to be able to take you that way,” you remind him.

“And I think it was worth it. And you don’t seem to complain about it,” he playfully argues.

You smirk at him, “There’s nothing to complain about. I do like it, that’s why we keep doing it.”

“You make valid points,” he grins. He watches you yawn and then kisses your nose. “Get some sleep, love.”

The subject doesn’t come up again over the next few days and you think nothing of it when you receive a text from Cal asking if you want to visit the sex shop. You both enjoy incorporating toys into your sex regularly and you hadn’t treated yourselves in a while, so you respond that it’s a great idea.

You walk hand in hand into the shop and then Cal kisses your cheek and you break off to look at different things. You browse for a while and then decide to find him and see if he had anything particular in mind for this trip.

You find him in front of the wall of strap ons, harnesses and dildos and he’s looking more than a little wide-eyed.

“Hey handsome, what’d you find?” You ask, curiously peering in the direction of his eyeline.

He leans in and admits in a low voice, “After our talk the other night... I just keep thinking about it.”

“Oh... OK,” you reply, rubbing his back gently. You’re a bit surprised but immediately supportive. “So... what are we looking for?” You gesture towards the wall.

You watch as he opens his mouth a couple times to answer and then he just shuts it and walks forward, looking closer at different toys. You can immediately sense he’s overwhelmed by the choices.

You link your arm in his and press a peck to his shoulder. “I know it looks like a lot but you’ve helped me pick out toys before so you’re not totally in the dark here,” you point out. “It would just be... you know, for you this time.”

“I think that’s the intimidating part,” he comments, chewing his lip. “I don’t want to pick wrong and not enjoy it and mess up something that’s supposed to be fun for us.”

You rub his arm tenderly. “Cal, we’re talking about us, we always have fun trying things. So you don’t need to worry about that,” you say firmly, hoping your confidence will provide comfort to him. “If you want to do this, the important thing is that you’re comfortable and figuring out what you want is the first step.”

He nods and scans the wall again, taking a deep breath. “The flesh colored ones are a lot,” he says quietly. “We should get a fun color.” You smile agreeably.

“I’m not ready for balls. Just a cock,” he states, almost under his breath. You bite your lip in amusement, not wanting to discourage him.

“This is good, bubba, you’re narrowing it down,” you encourage him.

An employee sets up a ladder to the left of you to get a toy down for another couple and you see Calum’s eyes repeatedly darting over there; you’re not sure if it’s out of embarrassment at his uncertainty or curiosity in what they’ve selected.

You give him another couple minutes but he’s gone quiet and you decide to step in. “Maybe it would help if we went home and talked about it? You can look at some of my toys, feel the different textures… we can look online and filter things down?” You gently suggest. “This was a good start but it might be easier to make a decision without the pressure of being in a store.”

He exhales, you assume in relief, and puts his arm around you. “Sounds good, baby,” he agrees. You expect him to lead you out of the store but instead he walks you over to the furthest corner of the intimidating wall. “Wanted to show you this, thought it suited you for some reason.”

He points at a box containing a chic-looking red and black harness; it’s a similar style to lingerie he’s picked out for you before, with fancy lacing details over the hips and ass. Of course even when planning a sexual encounter that he’s requested, he would think of you first. You grin at him. “I love it, we should get it,” you declare.

“Yeah?” He beams excitedly, picking up the box. “It caught my eye and I couldn’t get the thought of you in it out of my mind. It says it’s adjustable for most toys and it’s crotchless.” He winks at the last part and you giggle, taking the box from him and heading to the counter.

You leave the store on a high and Cal seems really into it for a few days; next time he’s over at yours, he even asks to have a look at your toys. He feels them, wanting to understand the weight and the girth.

“I have to applaud you,” he comments, sitting on your bed, studying your collection.

“For what, bub?” You casually reply, laying on the bed, watching him.

His eyes widen as he gestures at the various shapes and sizes in front of him. “You take all of this so well… and I think about you taking my cock and… holy shit, babe, that’s not easy.”

“Well… thank you, baby,” you chuckle. “But also, we probably won’t use anything similar to your cock for you just yet,” you wink.

And then it’s forgotten. Days pass without Calum bringing it up and you don’t feel like you should, since it’s something he instigated and you don’t want to make him feel pressured.

“It’s totally fine if you’ve changed your mind on the pegging thing,” you casually say one night, sitting on the kitchen counter while he loads the dishwasher. “I just want to make sure you’re not avoiding talking to me about it because you’re afraid to.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at you. “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about it,” he shrugs.

“I think it’d be fucking hot, Cal, but we’re not doing it for me,” you explain. “I’m not the one who needs to make the decision here. But for the record, if you want it, I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Well then,” he smirks. “I’m about done here. Let’s go look for some toys.”

Moments later, you’re on the couch; you sit on Cal’s lap and his computer sits on yours. You pull up a couple different sites and start filtering.

“OK, so what do you think about firmness?” He gives you a questioning look in response. You smile softly. “OK so my pink one and the like, kind of clear one? Those were super soft right?” He nods. “So we’re gonna want something firmer than that. But we probably don’t want anything too hard either.”

“Right, so like a medium then?” He reaches around you to reach the touchpad, scrolling the page. “Which of these do you use?”

“Mmm, don’t have toys for my ass.” You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock through his shorts. “Only this guy and the plugs we bought.”

“Someone’s frisky,” he comments, eyes turning back to the screen.

You filter the pages, pointing out a few options, clicking across a few different sites but still haven’t removed your hand from his crotch. He lets out a loud breath through his nose. “You OK baby?” You ask sweetly.

“Yeah, I’m great. Got a pretty girl on my lap, just barely giving me a hand job through my shorts, looking at cocks to fuck me with,” he shrugs. “All while we’re sat in the living room; just a normal day.”

“Oh, if the location is an issue, we can take this to the bedroom,” you offer with a laugh.

Calum shakes his head. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You turn and look him directly in the eye. “Well, I know one way you could find out for sure,” you lilt, spreading your legs a little.

“You act like I won’t,” he teases. He sticks his hand down the front of your shorts, slicking his fingers through your folds. He pulls his hand out and lifts his fingers to his mouth. “Yeah… we’re gonna wrap this up in the bedroom,” he announces.

He leads you to the bedroom and sits up on the bed, gesturing for you to sit up against him. You fit yourself in between his legs and pull the computer into your lap. “Let’s finish this up,” you murmur, looking back at him.

He agrees and you go back to searching, though every so often you shift your hips just so to hear him gasp. He points out some choices that he likes and you go find your soft tape measure to make sure he understands the girth of the cocks he’s picking. You instruct him to measure a few of your toys but “for reference” he pulls out his own cock to measure and that gets him distracted.

You see him stroking himself out of the corner of your eye but you try to stay focused on your search, opening a few more tabs to show him. You hear the familiar hiss that means he must’ve just thumbed over the head of his cock in a very particular way and you finally have to look up at him.

“What is this, hands on research?” You joke, taking a deep breath to steady yourself at the sight.

Cal grins, closing the laptop and setting it aside. He grabs your hips to bring you face to face with him. “Think that’s enough for today,” he says deeply, nipping at your neck. “I need you.”

“I mean, it seemed like you were doing OK on your own,” you breathe as you reach for his hard cock, lightly running your fingers up the shaft.

Suddenly his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you don’t quite recognize. Melting into the kiss, your hands race his as you rid each other of your clothing and within moments you’re sitting in his lap, positioned above him, teasing his cock with your wetness.

He’s torn between wanting to whine at your teasing and wanting to tease you for being just as affected by the situation as he was so he splits the difference and moans as he grabs your hips and thrusts up into you.

You start to ride Calum at a fairly steady pace but he’s clearly determined to get you both off and get you both off fast; his hands are seemingly glued to your hips and he bounces you up and down on his cock, meeting your every movement with his own.

Neither of you say anything, letting your noises speak for you. He only lets go of you when he sees you biting your lip as you try to find the right friction; he moves one hand to grab your ass and the other he slips between your legs to find your clit.

It only takes a couple minutes from there for you both to finish in a flurry of noises. He keeps you in his lap for a moment, as you both come down. “See, pegging is already doing wonders for our sex life,” he quietly jokes, kissing your face.

The next day, you come over after work; you let yourself in and find Calum on the bed, with the websites already pulled up for you to browse together.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he announces as you sit next to him.

“Thinking’s good,” you chirp, kissing his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know we didn’t find exactly what I wanted but we were only looking in the dildo section, since we already bought you that badass harness you’re gonna look so hot in,” he excitedly rambles. “SO, out of curiosity, I clicked on some of their kits and I think they could work for us.”

He clicks through a number of tabs on his browser, searching for what he wants to show you and explaining his findings to you. You’re honestly impressed by the amount of research he’s done on his own; it makes you feel good to know he’s decided to take an active role in this process, it lets you know he’s serious about it. It also makes you irredeemably horny to know he’s been sitting here alone, spending what looks like a considerable amount of time contemplating what the perfect kind of cock is for you to fuck him with. You press your legs together and try to listen to what he’s saying.

“...It comes with different sizes so that gives us some leeway on that decision - they’re all cute colors, no balls. And it says they all have the flared base so we can use our harness instead of the one it comes with,” he reports, scrolling through the website’s pictures for you to see.

He’s right; the set he’s found ticks basically every box on your shopping list. You can see why it would catch his eye: it’s equal parts arousing and unintimidating, made for a beginner like him. “Cal, this looks great,” you enthuse, reaching over to add the set to your cart. “You’re better at this than even I am, I don’t think I’ve ever picked out a toy this fast.”

“I don’t know about that,” he preens a little at your praise. “I just clicked around and once I saw this one, I started picturing you with it and… I think it’s a good choice.” His voice catches slightly and he clears it, pointing to the moderately sized royal blue dildo.

Again, your entire body feels charged thinking about Calum thinking about you, wanting you like this. You begin pressing wet kisses along his jaw and he chuckles at your eagerness. “Got a couple other things I think we should shop for, pretty girl,” he smirks, seeing you pout in his periphery.

“Oh? Let me see,” you reply, moving to snatch the computer away from him. You giggle as Cal anticipates your move and sits it beside him on the bed so he can continue searching. You sit up on your knees and continue mouthing at his jaw, neck and ears, your hands lightly moving over his chest. You take note of the way his sweatpants are beginning to tent.

“Baby,” he breathes. “I wanna show you this set of plugs… might be a good idea… we didn’t go right into having you take my cock… worked up to it.” His breathing increases every few words and you know you’ve got him when you thumb over his hardened nipple through his shirt and he shudders.

You shake your hand under his shirt to give more direct attention to his nipples while sucking on his neck. “Yeah, Cal... plugs... sounds great,” you murmur.

“What’s got you so needy today, my love?” He chuckles, grabbing the back of your head for a proper kiss.

“Something about you taking such an interest here, making an effort to get it right... I appreciate it," you mumble against his lips before pulling him in for an even deeper kiss.

“Well. Something about you taking that kind of control... seeing you strapped up and wanting me that way...” He groans. “C’mere, darlin.”

He pulls you back onto his lap; you make out hungrily and it's just as intense as the day before but not as frantic. After a few moments, your shirts are discarded and you start slightly grinding in his lap. Cal grips tight onto your hips, pulling you down a little harder.

“Have you ever experimented before?” You ask, pulling your face away from his to gauge the answer.

Getting him to share isn't always easy so you don't expect him to answer so breezily. "Always wondered what it'd be like, dipped a finger back there a couple times but never really pushed in," he shrugs. "Felt kind of silly doing it myself. And I couldn’t ever imagine someone doing it for me until now." He smiles softly, eyes shining.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. “Should we give it a go then?” You quirk an eyebrow, smiling as well. You feel him tense for a second and you thread your fingers in his hair. “I mean, we should start trying at some point, but we can take it slow,” you explain. He stays quiet and you reassure him, “We don’t have to do this yet if you’re not ready.”

He studies your face for a second and breathes deep. "I want to… think I’m just kind of wrapping my head around it," he admits, furrowing his brow.

You melt at his conflicted expression and kiss him tenderly. "Hey, you don't have to worry, we're in this together, you know?" He nods firmly at your encouragement. "Good... luckily I know by now how to get you to relax," you tease as you kiss down his chest, palming him through his sweatpants.

He lets out a breath through his nose. “Baby.” He’s grinning, you can hear it even with your eyes closed.

You let his cock spring free and you softly kiss the tip before pulling his pants all the way off.

“You trust me, baby boy?” You ask, tugging at the band of his pants.

Cal lifts his hips. “Of course,” he offers without hesitation.

“OK. I’m gonna try something, alright?” You warn, coming back up to pay special attention to his cock.

You hear him murmur his consent as you lick up and down the sides of him and then sink your mouth down, bobbing just enough to get him nice and covered in spit. You pull off and check his face, which is watching you, fascinated; he raises his eyebrows in anticipation for what's to come, given your announcement.

You wrap your hand around his length, slowly tugging it as you mouth his balls. You gently rub your hand up and down the back of his thigh before pushing it up and very gently kissing your way down further. You gently lick over his puckered hole and wait to see how he reacts.

You hear a sharp intake of breath which you expect, what you don't expect is the way he slightly scoots his ass down closer to you. You move your tongue against his opening again, this time adding a couple swirling motions, which earn you some low groans.

You grin to yourself and repeat the action. He wraps his hand around the back of his leg, lifting it for you so you can focus your attention where he really wants it. Calum may be ready for this after all.

There’s a whimper that escapes his lips that lets you know he’s enjoying this more than he was letting on. “Tongue,” is all he says. “So good...”

You let go of his cock and slide both hands up the back of his thighs, pushing them closer to his chest.

“So pretty, babe,” you coo. He’s had you like this many times before and you can see why he likes it, the vulnerability it forces you to share. “Touch your cock,” you direct, going back to tend to his hole.

He seems entranced by the way you're making him feel, a seemingly never-ending gravelly whine pouring from his throat. After a few more flicks of your tongue, you pull back and notice his hands remain clenched at his sides.

"Cal, baby," you lightly tap his thigh. "Stroke yourself for me, handsome, I know you need it."

Calum breaks out of his daze at the sound of your voice and pulls his cock away from his stomach, where it's been laying there leaking.

You go back to work and he wraps a hand around himself; he manages two or three tugs before he lets out a guttural moan and immediately drops his cock again. "Babe... touching feels too good... don't wanna cum yet, want you to keep going," he pants.

“Oh... I’ve got a needy baby boy, huh?” You tease. You let go of his thigh and reach for his abandoned cock, lightly teasing your fingertips over it while you lap at his entrance.

You feel him relax a bit so you start to tease the tip of your tongue inside him, partly for him but mostly so you can hear his neediest whines yet.

Cal whimpers as you cup his balls and run your finger lightly on the underside of his shaft. You can see the precum pooling on his stomach.

He’s mumbling with that rasp that his voice gets only when he's feeling truly wrecked. You place a few sloppy wet kisses to that space between his hole and his balls and he shouts as his whole body jumps.

You pull back to admire him in his debauched state and the cry that leaves his lips confirms what bad shape he’s in. He lets out a breathy, “Baby, why?” followed by a begging, “Please don’t stop.”

“Just wasn’t sure if you were enjoying it,” you tease, diving back in with more enthusiasm and determination than before.

You keep one hand lightly massaging his base and it only takes a few more licks over his opening for you to feel him twitch in your grasp and to hear him groaning. His orgasm is absolutely obscene; his cock spurts rope after rope of cum over his torso, as he whines desperately, still pushing his body closer to you, urging you to keep going.

You give him what he wants and keep flicking your tongue against him over and over with the occasional dip inside until you feel him start to settle down. You move your kisses to his thighs and look up at him again.

"Cal?" You check on him.

His eyes are still screwed shut, his hand now tight around his cock, squeezing the last few drops of cum from his tip. “I’m good baby... so fuckin’ good,” he sighs. His other hand reaches out to you and his body relaxes completely. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so wrecked and it makes you want to do this for him even more.

You take his hand and grasp it tightly, coming up to gently stroke his lightly sweat-covered face with your other hand. "Did so good for me, bub, holy shit," you compliment him. "So hot seeing you like that, I could definitely get used to this."

He kisses your hand and then looks down at his cum covered body. “I think I could too,” he laughs euphorically.

The weekend comes and Cal lets himself into your place, as he always does; Duke comes scampering in too.

“Hi love!” You greet the dog, leaning over to pet him.

Cal grins, watching you with Duke.

“Hiya, other love.” You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your toes to kiss him. “Listen… I went ahead and bought those toys you showed me,” you say nonchalantly as you pull away.

“Oh? Good... I forgot,” he says sheepishly.

“Look, I haven’t been dating you for this long not to assume you wouldn’t remember after we got high and you buried your face in between my thighs like I was your last meal,” you tease, tapping his shoulder.

“And I’d do it again,” he smirks. “Especially... like… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about your tongue every day we did that.”

“Oh? Enjoyable for you, handsome?” You chuckle.

“I mean, judging by the amount of cum you cleaned off my stomach, I'd have to say yes,” he says with wide eyes, pulling you back in to him.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re back in the bedroom. Your panties stay on but Calum is completely naked, on his back and holding his thighs up for you again. His breathing is heavy and he’s whimpering as your tongue dances over his hole.

You pull back and peer over at him. “Cal… do you wanna try something?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby, anything you want,” he rushes out.

“Babe, this is about you,” you point out patiently.

“I know… you’re right… I want it, I want it.” It’s almost panicked the way he’s whining.

You run your hands along the sides of his thighs soothingly. You reach over for the small bottle of lube you’d tucked under one of your pillows just in case and coat your fingers with it. You wrap your hand around his cock and slowly touch him, knowing he might need the distraction and then you gently tease a finger against his hole, swirling it, causing him to gasp. You wait until he relaxes and then you squeeze his shaft as you slowly start to push your finger in.

Cal lets out a breathy “Oh” like you’ve never heard and you press a kiss to his leg as you push in a little further. You continue slowly like this for a minute until his breath sputters and you feel him tightening around your finger. You pause and start to pull back but then he emits a deep “Keep going” that you can’t disagree with.

You push your finger in slowly past the resistance and then gently start moving around, looking for that one spot; you’ve done your research so you would know what to expect and what you were looking for.

He practically pries your hand off his cock. “Can’t,” he whines, desperate.

“OK, handsome,” you murmur. You kiss along his thighs and wrap your free hand around one. You work your finger a bit more, watching his body react. When he starts moving back against you, you ask, “Want another?”

“Mmm hmm,” he nods frantically, eyes closed.

You slick a bit more lube onto your second finger and start to work it in as well. “Doing so good for me, baby,” you sigh. You didn’t realize how worked up you had gotten until you hear how breathy your voice comes out. “This is so fucking hot, Cal.”

“Oh god, baby,” he cries, voice straining as your two digits move inside him. You look up at him and he’s looking right back; it’s one of the more intense moments you two have shared. He drops his head to the pillows and you watch his back arch and a slew of curse words spill from his lips. “Right. There,” he huffs.

You gently bite his thigh. “Want to see you cum for me, baby,” you coo, confident in your movements. Almost immediately, his sounds become even breathier and whinier and you see his hand fly to grasp his cock as the cum starts spurting. “There you go, baby boy,” you praise as he desperately bucks his hips. “So good, handsome.”

You pull your fingers out and Calum lays panting for a while, dazed. You press a kiss to each of his knees and move to start cleaning up. His eyes are shut but he feels you moving around the room and he reaches out to touch your arm. “I love you, baby,” he quietly rasps.

The next morning, Cal gets up just after dawn to take Duke out and never returns to bed. You find him at your kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal and writing in his journal.

“Morning, bub,” you yawn, kissing the top of his head as you pass by to make yourself some breakfast. "I was thinking if it's nice out, we might take Duke to the park today?"

He gets up and takes his bowl to the sink. “Oh, uh… I was actually thinking I’d head out pretty soon,” he says apologetically. “I’ve been busy so the house is kind of a mess… there’s actually a lot I should take care of.”

“Oh. OK, yeah,” you shrug. You’re slightly surprised, you thought you were spending the day together but it’s not unlike Cal for him to put vital tasks until the last minute. “Maybe next week.”

The next few days follow a similar pattern. You ask Calum if he wants to grab dinner, he already has plans. He’s “swamped” and has to postpone your movie night. There’s still a “Good morning, pretty girl” text waiting for you when you wake up every day and a “Good night, my love” text that chimes every night when you’re brushing your teeth so you’re not too worried but you can tell something is off.

You get an email that your toy order has shipped and you send a screenshot to Cal, accompanied by the eggplant and dripping emojis. It takes him a while to reply, which is typical, but when he finally does, all you get back is “lol.” You frown. You don’t know how you expected him to respond but it was definitely not “lol.”

Your understanding of the situation starts becoming a bit clearer when you scroll up through your text thread and see that every time you’ve brought up your recent encounters, he’s either changed the subject or given an extremely short, vague response. You exhale slowly. You’re going to have to talk to him.

A hike is the least confrontational activity you can think to suggest and he agrees to meet you at your usual spot with Duke later that afternoon. They find you in the parking lot and you kneel down to show the small dog some love before you give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek.

As you’d hoped, you basically have the trail to yourselves; you walk for a bit, chatting easily about everyday things. You stop for a quick break and you decide to take a deep breath and go for it. “Kinda wanted to talk to you about something, bubba,” you start, hoping you don’t sound as uneasy as you feel.

Cal sits on a nearby bench and scoops Duke up to sit beside him. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, brow furrowed, dark eyes squinting in that way he does when he’s really concentrating on what you’re saying.

You sit next to them; you want to look him in the eyes but you’re weirdly nervous so you focus on petting the sweet dog who is also patiently waiting for you to make your case. “I feel like… and I could be totally wrong and please tell me if I am… but I feel like maybe you’ve been avoiding seeing me after you know… the last night we spent together,” you try to put it as delicately as possible. “And it’s fine if you didn’t like it and it’s fine if you want to stop trying the things we’ve been trying but… I need you to talk to me about it, Cal. I shouldn’t have to guess here and I’m feeling really shut out.”

He’s quiet for a minute but you know he’s going to take his time weighing his words and making sure he expresses himself clearly. Finally he quietly says, “You’re right.”

There’s another pause and you hope to ease his mind by cracking, “That’s a good start, babe, but I’m gonna need a little more.”

Calum shakes his head fondly, waits a beat, then lets it all out, both slow and rushed as only he can. “I guess I just didn’t expect… I don’t know, baby, we’ve been together a while and we’ve done a lot of shit but that’s the closest to you I’ve ever felt. Which is good like… I want that. But I just felt really… exposed?” He stares off down the trail for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve just never felt need like that before and I don’t think I was prepared for how it would feel to let you see me like that.”

It takes a minute for him to feel like he can meet your eyes and you can’t help but think it’s for the best, as yours are brimming with tears. You feel so deeply for him in this moment and the love you have for him overwhelms you.

“Baby,” you whisper, reaching your hand over the bench to squeeze his shoulder. “That’s a lot. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me? You didn’t have to deal with all that alone.”

“A bit hard to be open with someone about being embarrassed you were open with them,” he points out with a shrug.

“But Cal, that’s just it! There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, you know there’s no judgement between us, especially in bed,” you firmly insist. “And if you are feeling weird about anything, I need to know. The only way we can continue this is if you talk to me, babe, that’s just the way it’s gotta be.”

Calum nods quietly and sits Duke on his lap so he can pull you closer, placing his arm around you. You rest your head on his shoulder and say, “You have to trust me with this, bub. I’m not gonna feel comfortable doing this unless I know you can communicate with me. How can I be sure you’ll tell me if something doesn’t feel right physically if you feel awkward even telling me that your feelings are off, baby?”

He squeezes your arm. “I can do that,” he promises. “I also think I was a little afraid to make you feel bad about it. I really did like it. And I could tell you did too. It was just the after I had trouble processing.”

You lift your head up and gently turn his face to look at you. “I’ll make you a deal,” you state. “I can definitely step up my aftercare game for you. But for me, Cal, I need once and for all you to understand that this isn’t about me. I know it goes against your instincts and I love that about you but we’re doing this for your pleasure and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Deal. Although… I’m still gonna give you one hell of an orgasm when you do this for me… there’s no talking me out of that,” he smirks, lightening the mood.

You text him later that week to let him know the toys have arrived and his face immediately flashes on your screen.

“Should we get out of town?” He asks.

“We can do whatever you think is gonna be most comfortable for you, bubba,” you affirm. “I figured you’d want to do it at your place because it’s familiar territory and it’s going to be such an unfamiliar experience…”

“I know I agreed that technically this is for me but... I still feel like it’s about us…” He thinks out loud. “I dunno, part of me wants to take you away on this big romantic adventure so we can be alone together. No outside world, just our bubble.”

“I love you, baby. Whatever you want,” you say softly.

And so it’s settled. The next afternoon Calum is waiting for you on your couch when you get home from your half-day at work. He’s already packed a bag for you and he’s raring to go.

You head into your room to change and decide to check what he packed for you. You unzip the bag and to your surprise, it appears he’s thought of just about everything, including his favorite lingerie for you. The harness, the dildo set and the plugs are all accounted for and he’d even remembered your travel bag from the bathroom. You smile at his effort and head back out to him.

“Great pack job, baby, I’m all set!” You toss the bag by the door excitedly.

He grabs your hand as you walk to the door and for some reason it goes straight to your core; you’re not travelling far but you realize the drive is about to feel that much longer.

You haven’t been in the car very long when Cal starts noticing how touchy you’re being with him and about halfway through the trip, he decides to ask. “What’s with you, baby?” He asks, playfully nudging your knee.

“Nothing,” you tease. “I’m just excited! Time alone together? This is rare.”

He glances over at you and gives you a look. “You sure that’s it? Because the way you’re squeezing your thighs tells me you're excited in another way.”

“Honestly, Cal... I’d give anything to ride your face right about now,” you boldly admit and give a cheeky grin when you see his face twitch at your words.

He groans, “The absolute death of me.” Shaking his head, he quietly commands, “Undo your shorts.” You do him one better and push your shorts to the floor.

“Can’t get my mouth right now, but I’m sure my fingers will do,” he mumbles as he very quickly pushes your panties out of the way and slicks his fingers through your folds. “Oh... pretty girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers away to suck them into his mouth. You turn your body toward him, resting your back against the door and pulling one leg into the seat with you.

Cal steals a glance and his thumb presses to your clit, causing you to moan.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, you naughty girl,” he teases, nudging his pointer finger inside you. “Is this how you’re gonna be all weekend?”

“Probably,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Good,” he responds smugly. “I knew getting away would be the right choice.”

He pushes two fingers in and you grip the seat, letting out a little noise of approval. “Please, Cal!”

He knows he can’t take his eyes off the road no matter how badly he wants to look at you, so he turns down the radio so he can listen to your moans and let his imagination fill in the rest. You resituate and tilt your hips up toward him more. “Rub your clit, baby… want you to cum for me,” he growls.

You bite your lip and do as you’re asked. You moan loudly as he pushes in a third finger and his eyes somehow remain on the road. You let out a little gasp.

Calum can’t help but steal a glance. “Mmm, my pretty girl’s pretty pussy,” he licks his lips. “You’re so close, baby, I feel you squeezin’ my fingers.”

You grab onto his wrist with your free hand as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. Your head lulls back against the window and he makes quick work of finishing you. “Yes, baby, so hot when you cum for me,” he praises.

He withdraws his fingers once you stop throbbing around them and he lifts his index finger to your lips for you to suck clean; he goes on to suck the other two.

You sit, still exposed to him, catching your breath and you eye his hard on. “Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” he warns, keeping focused on the road. “I can practically read your mind and you’re basically salivating.”

“Can’t help it if I wanna suck you off…” You say breathily, hand dancing up his thigh. “You just made me cum… makes me wanna make you cum… you knew what to expect.”

“And now I expect you to keep your hands to yourself till we get there. Just a little bit further baby,” he promises.

You huffingly adjust your clothes and see him smirking out of the corner of your eye. But he’s right and it’s not long before you’ve made it to the hotel and checked into your room. The energy between you is wild; comfortable but nervous, familiar yet unknown. You find things to do to busy yourself, knowing it’d be ridiculous for you to immediately jump into bed. Cal connects his phone to the room’s sound system to play some music, hoping to ease the tension as you both unpack

The music helps and you go from humming along to the music to singing to being goofily spun around the room by him within minutes. After a few songs, the only bag left unopened is the one containing all your toys and you stare at it for a beat.

He notices your hesitation and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s leave it for now, baby.” He nuzzles into your neck. “Sitting in the car all that time got me craving a hot shower, come join me.”

The shower (and inevitable shower sex) helps you both relax and when you’re back in the bedroom getting dressed afterwards, you bound over to the bag left on the bed.

“This is silly. Why am I nervous now that we’re here? Do you feel nervous?” You babble as you sit on the bed, unzipping the bag and dumping it out next to you.

Cal smiles to himself and sits down next to you. He soothingly rubs a hand over your back and with the other he picks up one of the dildos, examining it. “Nah, I’m quite looking forward to getting to know our new friends,” he says lightly. He sits it down and leans in closer to you. “It’s gonna be so good, darlin’. Can’t wait for you to fill me up,” he rasps.

You suck in a breath and capture his lips in an eager kiss that’s somehow both comforting and thrilling. “I don’t know if that qualifies as a pep talk but thanks, bub,” you laugh against his skin.

The rest of the day seems to fly by; you and Calum decide over drinks that it’d probably be best to ease into things and just try out the plugs for your first night. He insists on eating you out before you even think about touching him and by the time he makes you cum, he’s whining against you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting but the plug experience goes off without a hitch. You think to yourself that you’ll never tire of seeing him spread himself for you, never tire of hearing the new type of moans he’s been letting out since you started this journey.

It doesn’t take Cal very long to get used to the smallest plug in the set and you’re surprised when he asks you if you’ll switch to the next size up. He must’ve noticed your reaction because he tells you that the past few times he’s jerked off, he’s also fingered himself, thinking about your upcoming plans. That admission leaves you throbbing and Cal has to get you off again before either of you turn in for the night.

The next morning, you awaken to the feeling of light kisses being pressed along the back of your neck and Cal pressing himself his hardening cock into your backside, warm hands rubbing over your thighs. “Morning, pretty girl,” he says with a crack, his voice not as awake as the rest of him. “Think it’s time, baby.”

It takes a few seconds for his meaning to land. “OH,” you turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Is it? Like right now? First thing in the morning?”

“Don’t wanna wait any longer, want you now,” he murmurs, kissing over your face.

You indulge him for a second before pulling back and asking, "What time even is it? It feels early."

Calum hovers over you, nibbling at your ear. "Doesn't matter, babe. Sun's out, it's a beautiful day and it's fuckin' time," he enthuses.

There's a beat as his words register with the both of you and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a snort. He grins at you. "I meant that like for emphasis, like ‘It's fuckin’ time' not like I'm calling sex Fuckin’ Time," he laughs loudly, shoulders shaking the further he gets into his defense.

You cackle, tears running out of your eyes. You tease, "What does it say about me that I still want you after hearing that come out of your mouth?"

He shakes his head, breath coming out in wheezes. "You must really have it bad for me, I guess," he shrugs, eyes sparkling.

"Something like that," you giggle, drawing him in for a kiss. You nip at his mouth as you pull away. "Now, let's get what we need, baby. It's Fuckin' Time."

He hops in the shower while you evaluate the lingerie he packed for you and decide what he'd like best. You get out your gear and think to yourself how glad you are that you watched a video online about how to properly fit the harness for your body; you're so excited you're not sure you'd be able to figure it out on your own otherwise.

By the time Calum's out of the shower, you're admiring your reflection in the mirror above the dresser; you could always count on him to pick out underwear that both accentuated the things he loves most about you and made you feel great. Your hand wraps around the synthetic cock jutting proudly from your crotch; you give it a light squeeze and marvel at how the silicone is such a familiar feeling but feeling the weight of it attached to you, seeing it as part of you, knowing what you're about to do with it? All new feelings, equally jarring and thrilling.

You hear a sharp intake of breath behind you and turn to see Cal, clad only in his grey sweatpants. He walks over, eyes never wavering from you and takes your hand to spin you around so he can fully appreciate you. He lets out a soft whistle. “Gorgeous,” he praises, eyes travelling over you and landing on the royal blue dildo he chose. “A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

He pulls you in to kiss you and you giggle against his lips as you feel him shifting, trying to find a comfortable place to situate your protruding appendage. “Is this what you have to deal with with me, baby? Jesus,” he laughs at the awkward dance.

You shrug. “I’d say it’s worth it,” you say flirtatiously as you reach down to palm him, raising an eyebrow when you feel him soft.

He runs a hand over the back of his neck like he does when he gets bashful. “I, uh, might’ve pre-gamed a little in the shower. I wanted to be sure I could make this last,” he discloses.

You smile and peck his lips. “Good boy,” you coo.

Cal steps back and eyes you for a second. “You’re feelin’ yourself, aren’t you, baby?” He grins at you.

You bite your lip and turn back to your reflection and you find yourself wrapping a hand around the dildo once again. “Actually, I kind of am,” you state with a nod.

He kisses your shoulder. “I’m feelin’ you too... now let me get you off so we can get to Fuckin’ Time,” he jokes.

You giggle as he leads you to the bed. "Always such a way with words," you tease.

Calum attempts to lay you down with him but you hold a hand up, signaling you need a moment. You reach over to the bedside table, where you’d ended up unpacking your toys, and come back up with lube and the plug he liked the night before.

“We should probably start with prepping you, handsome,” you suggest gently.

He nods in agreement and lifts up to strip off his sweatpants. He holds his knees for you, like he’s done so many times now, and waits to feel the chill of the lube against his entrance. He gasps sharply when he feels your tongue briefly brush against him instead.

“Sorry, baby boy, couldn’t help myself,” you chuckle, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. He ends up taking the plug with even less resistance than the previous session and he beams as the praise flows from your lips.

You lay beside him and sigh as he moves above you, kissing along your neck and the tops of your breasts, murmuring about how pretty they look in the bra he picked out. You expect him to make his way in between your legs but he pulls back before he makes it there. "Think I'm gonna need you on my face, love."

You let out an excited hum as Cal gets situated next to you and squeal as he grabs you and pulls you over to straddle his face. “I knew you’d look incredible in this, baby,” he murmurs, nibbling your thigh, fingers tracing over the lace of the harness before teasing over your wetness, thanks to the crotchless center. “And anything with this type of access is A+ in my book.”

"Well, you're a man with exquisite taste," you compliment playfully.

You gasp as he licks a fat stripe up your center. "Mmm, talk about exquisite taste, darlin’,” he laughs huskily.

The lighthearted moment is short-lived as he quickly gets down to business licking you. His tongue dances along your folds, occasionally dipping inside your entrance teasingly. It always takes you a minute to feel comfortable grinding on his face but once you start rocking your hips, you're unable to stop and he grips your thighs to steady you.

“Slow down, baby, I’ve never let you down,” he murmurs. He presses up on your thighs to make room for him to push two fingers inside you.

“God, Calum.” You moan, looking down at him, tangling your fingers in his hair. “So fucking good.”

He withdraws his fingers in favor of licking up into you and you feel your eyes widen as you watch him reach up to grab the dildo and begin stroking it. You groan loudly, feeling yourself become even more turned on than you thought possible as you watch his hand move over the silicone as his mouth pleasures your pussy.

"Like how my cock feels in your hand, baby? Do you like jerking me off?" You tease, arousal emboldening you. "If it feels this good to you now, just think how much better it's gonna feel inside you."

Cal grunts into you and you swear you could cum just from that sound alone. His hand works quickly over the toy as he wraps his other around your thigh, pulling you down on his face. With his nose lightly nudging your clit, you can’t help yourself and start grinding on his face again.

“Get it, baby,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you in me.”

He sucks your clit in between his lips and your legs shake around his face. He releases it in favor of flicking his tongue and then lifts you up a bit, kissing along your lips as he catches his breath.

"Somethin' about seeing you like this," he breathes. "I don't know, pretty girl, it's already more than I dreamt of."

You murmur in response and he brings you back down onto his mouth. "Now I need you to cum for me."

You grip tightly into his hair, encouraging his skilled tongue to finish you off. “Oh fuuuuuuuck,” you moan loudly, leaning forward into the headboard as you cum. Cal takes his time licking around you, letting you enjoy the come down.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, lifting you off his face. You land next to him and he sits up, immediately pulling you into a sloppy kiss. “Need you,” he states plainly, reaching for the lube and placing it in your hand. “Please, I can’t wait,” he urges.

You let out a loud breath, pleased by his eagerness. You start slicking the lube over your strap-on; Cal hurriedly lays back down on the bed; his chest rises and falls rapidly, you can tell he's both excited and nervous and you recognize that the look on his face is the one he makes when he's trying desperately not to touch himself.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, hoping to calm him a bit. "Do you feel ready for me, baby?" You move down his body and lightly run your fingertips over his cock, playing with the precum that's sliding down the shaft as you check on the plug that's been filling him. "You take this one so well, Cal. Think you're nice and open for me."

He lets out a shaky breath, reaching to hold onto your hips for a second. “Baby,” he says quietly as you gently pull at the plug, pulling it to the widest part and letting it slide back into him.

“I’m serious, Cal, wish you could see how well you take it,” you praise, watching in amazement. “You gonna be this good for my cock? I know you want to, don’t you, baby boy?” You tease, digging your nails into his thigh.

He whimpers slightly and you watch as he attempts to collect himself, cock already twitching with anticipation, leaking onto his stomach. "Pretty girl, I'm gonna need that pretty cock in me as soon as you can, don't think I can wait much longer," he rasps

“Oh, I think you could,” you tease. “But I won’t make you.” You pull the plug out, gently squeezing his balls in your other hand. “The idea of you letting me have you like this is so hot...” You trail off as he shudders underneath you; you assume it’s from the coolness of the lube you’re rubbing over him but you suspect it partly has to do with your words as well.

You grab your cock and line yourself up, pushing the tip against his hole. “OK, Cal, remember to talk to me,” you whisper, rubbing your hands reassuringly on his thighs. You make eye contact with him as you start to push into him at an achingly slow pace, watching his face, making sure everything’s OK.

You see him puff out his cheeks and exhale slowly a couple times, trying to decipher how he feels about your intrusion. You slowly continue until you meet that resistance and you pause before going any further. "Relax, baby," you soothe. "We’ll go as slow as you need, I promise."

You start to pull out slightly and his eyes widen as he involuntarily lets out a loud moan. You halt your movements again and wait. "That was actually a good sound," he chuckles, squeezing your hand on his thigh. "It's just. Feels fuller than before. But good. Just different." He rambles, sorting through his racing thoughts.

You squeeze his hand back and smile at him. He breathes deep. "We can keep going, just slow like this," he nods to himself. "And maybe some more lube?"

“Of course, Cal, yes, this is perfect,” you enthuse. “Tell me what you want, just like we talked about. That’s what’s gonna make this good for both of us.” You encourage excitedly, working more lube onto your toy.

You feel like kissing him; you think he wants it, maybe even needs it. But you know you can’t lean in to do so, you’d push in too quickly, so you settle for kissing his knee.

He squeezes your hand again, “A little further, love,” he requests.

You do as he asks and you see him wince briefly so you back up. This decision is met with a whimper. “No, baby, in. I’m good, I promise,” he states firmly.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and reach to play with his cock a little, hoping to give him both some relief and some distraction. He licks his lips and relaxes into your touch, allowing you to inch the toy in a bit more. "Doing so good, Cal," you comment softly.

You watch his chest breathe in and out, timing it with the slight rocking of your hips to help you enter him more and more. Calum wraps his hand around yours, helping you stroke your hand over him.

“Oh fuck.” He moans, squeezing your hand around his cock. “Like that,” he pants.

Your tactic works and he gets so caught up in the feeling of your joint efforts jerking him off that he doesn't notice you've finally worked the dildo inside him entirely. "God, Cal," you groan at the realization. "How does it feel knowing I'm buried inside you, baby?"

He shudders at your words. “Buried?” He asks, making sure he heard right. He feels you pressed all the way against him and groans. “Oh my god, baby… fuck.” He gently tugs on you, pulling you down to him. “I’m so happy we’re doing this,” he murmurs, kissing you.

You move back to a kneeling position and gently pull your hips back; when you slowly push forward again, his mouth drops completely open and the only thing that comes out are little breathy sounds.

You feel yourself throbbing again, this is already much more intense than you anticipated. Calum's eyes are squeezed shut but you're confident if they were open, they would be glassy. "Baby boy," you warmly coo, slowly rocking your hips. "Let me see you stroke your cock, handsome."

His eyes open and he blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on you working above him. Your words finally register and his hand travels down, wrapping around his cock. "Feels so good," he murmurs, fighting the urge to speed up his hand. "Want more, baby, please give me more."

You slightly pick up the pace and mild discomfort flashes across his face but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure. You lean in and press kisses across his chest, covering the tattoos there.

“Mmm, more baby…” Calum pants, squeezing the head of his cock. “Can you... please… faster?”

You oblige and he lets out a loud whimper quickly followed by a guttural moan when you accidentally change the direction your hips hit.

“Right there... right there, GOD, right fucking there,” he chants, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing you to help you find that spot again.

His moans go straight to your core and you feel arousal start to drip down your thighs. You can't believe how hot it is seeing him like this, witnessing him give himself over to you like this and let his guard down, telling you what he needs from you. "Makes me feel so good to give you what you want, baby," you admit in a whinier tone than you intend. "Just want my cock to please you like yours pleases me."

“It’s fucking perfect,” he chokes out.

The two of you manage to find that magic spot again and your hips hit it relentlessly once you do. Calum is breathing heavier than you’ve ever heard before and when you tease a finger down his precum soaked shaft, he yelps. “You wanna cum for me, baby boy?”

"Don’t want this to end," he confesses, voice faltering in that way you know means he's at the point of no return. "You're just fucking me so good, baby." His voice catches at the end of his sentence and he groans deep and loud as his cock starts to twitch; his hand flies towards it as the pulsing intensifies, cum shooting out in wild, strong spurts along his torso, some reaching as high as his chest tattoos. His moans seem to go on forever, as does his orgasm; you continue to drive your hips into him through it, marveling at the intensity of his release as he pumps the last drops out.

He grabs your hips when it becomes too much and you slowly pull back and out of him. “Holy fuck, baby.” He breathes in disbelief. “You... you fucked me good.”

You grin and move beside him, fingers dragging through the cum covering his chest; you lean forward to lick at the ropes decorating his tattoos and he threads his fingers in your hair, gazing at you adoringly. “How're you?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“I loved it. But… honestly, I’m dripping, Cal,” you confess, sitting back up. “I knew that was going to be intense but like… fuck.”

He notices the sheen of wetness on your thighs and reaches out, arm heavy with exhaustion, to caress your leg. "What can we do for you, love? Anything you want, you deserve it."

You lean down to kiss him. "I feel like your mouth is making promises the rest of you can't keep, baby boy." You chuckle against his lips. "I have an idea but first help me out of this harness, I wanna be naked with you."

He helps you out of both the harness and your bra and then pulls you against his body. You put one of your legs between his and start to rock your hips against it, looking up at him for another kiss.

He nibbles at your lips before kissing them, sighing into your mouth as he feels your wetness spread on his leg. "Tell me what you need, love, want you to feel as good as I do right now."

You bite your lip and shift yourself off him, leaning over to the bedside table. "At first I thought it might've been a mistake that you packed my plug along with the set we got for you," you start, retrieving the toy and reaching for the lube. "But now I'm thinking you may be the smartest man alive."

Cal smiles broadly as he watches you slick it up and then reach behind you and start spreading some lube around your tight hole. "I know you, baby, thought you might get jealous seeing me stretched out like that," he teases.

“You do know me,” you affirm with a smirk. “Help me?” You ask, handing him the lubed plug.

He grins cheekily at you and captures you in another kiss as he works the plug in; he pushes it in a bit and then pulls it back out, making sure you feel all the stretch he knows you love.

You groan at the sensation and Cal plays with you a little more, enjoying your sounds and the way your hips are moving. "Babyyyy..." you whine and he relents, pushing the plug inside you fully and giving your ass a light tap.

"You want something else, darlin'?" He asks sweetly, reaching towards the drawer again. "Brought your vibe too. Or we've got the other dildos from my set we didn't need."

“So thoughtful, such a gentleman,” you tease, gesturing towards your small bullet vibrator. He clicks it on and starts teasing it against your clit.

You bite your lip and groan. “You’ve earned this, baby,” he declares, watching intently as you take the toy from him and start moving it on yourself.

You got so worked up from fucking him that it only takes a few minutes before you're close. "Gonna cum," you announce to no one in particular.

Calum watches as you hold the vibe against your clit waiting to fall over the edge. He moves his hand from your chest, where he'd been gently playing with your nipples, down between your thighs and plunges two fingers inside you, moving them carefully so as not to upset the position of the vibe.

“Fuck, Cal,” you moan, hips bucking against the vibe, pussy clenching around his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, encouraging you to ride his fingers and switching out the vibe on your clit for his thumb when he can tell it’s become too much.

He withdraws his fingers from you and licks them clean as you flop face down onto the bed next to him. He chuckles and runs his other hand through your hair and down your back as you come down. “You can’t possibly be more worn out than I am, pretty girl.”

You shift your head to face him. “I don’t know, baby… having you like that… kind of the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or done in my life,” you tease, eyes and voice dreamy with exhaustion.

“Well… letting you have me like that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done or seen, so I guess it’s a draw,” he responds, kissing your face as he gently removes the plug from your ass.

You curl into each other and it’s quiet for a few moments as you both take in what you just experienced. “Thank you for asking me to do this for you,” you breathe, breaking the silence. “It feels good to know you trust me like this.”

Calum kisses the top of your head. “Can’t think of a thing I wouldn’t trust you with, darlin’,” he says thoughtfully. “I love you.”

You murmur, “Love you too, baby boy.” You peck his chest and sit up, pulling on his arm. “Let’s get cleaned up and then it’s Fuckin’ Nap Time.”

He lets out of a huff of a laugh, allowing you to pull him out of bed with you. “I’m never gonna live down Fuckin’ Time, am I?”

“Think you’re just gonna have to embrace that one, bub, I’m not letting it go,” you giggle as you pull him towards the shower. “But don’t worry, I can guarantee you’re gonna be hearing that phrase a lot this weekend, you’ll have time to embrace it.”

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

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