#now this morning im dead asleep and my mums screaming for me

[zaiinab]

my baby sister is so ill it’s genuinely scaring me

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (Two)

Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!

CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink… sorry

Part One

It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.

You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.

Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. “You excited, baby?”

Ella’s face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, “Get me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!” It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sister’s constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.

Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your son’s cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.

Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.

Ella was cradled into Simon’s shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.

“Should we talk about this morning?”

You scoffed. “You have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,” you screamed into a hush, “What you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?”

He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. “I don’t want our kids growing up thinking it’s normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.”

The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, “Then you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, it’s just them. They’re all that connects us now.”

You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.

His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.

“Just drop us home.”

Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.

The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. “Dadda! You have dinner?”

“No, sport. Daddy’s gotta go-“

“Yeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.”

You blinked at your own words, Simon’s surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didn’t have to battle the same internal wounds.

“They’re tucked in,” Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.

“Thank you.”

You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.

“I need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, “Everything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You weren’t supposed to get away from me - I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have let you get away from me.”

It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.

But it was you. And you weren’t violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.

Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simon’s fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.

Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.

It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.

Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.

“Let me come home, please.”

Simon’s voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.

Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.

Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.

Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simon’s waist.

With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simon’s strength, and you wouldn’t start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.

He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.

Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.

“Missed these so fucking much,” he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.

Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.

“Missed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.

“Simon - I need more, been so long.”

He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.

“Prettiest fucking pussy,” he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.

He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.

Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.

You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.

“Si- too much - I’m gonna-“

“That’s it baby,” he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.

You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.

“Oh my- fuck - Simon - too much,” you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.

It wasn’t long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simon’s spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.

You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.

“Si - no more -“

“I’m sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.”

His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simon’s abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was “making up for the months lost”.

You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.

You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you weren’t satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.

“Simon - please - I can’t… I need you now,” you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.

“I know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me don’t you?”

You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. “Yes, please,” you cried, “Please Daddy.”

His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.

His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.

Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.

“I know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.”

Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. “Holy fuck,” he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.

The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.

“So fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Haven’t you?”

You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simon’s pace picking up at your dramatic noises.

“Fuck - taking me so well-“ he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.

“All fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,” he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, “my fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.”

You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.

The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.

“Fuck - Simon - oh my God,” your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.

“I can’t pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -“

His hips didn’t falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.”

His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.

“That’s it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.”

He didn’t pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simon’s absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simon’s chest against your back as you fell asleep.

TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru

Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((

[descendantofthesparrow]

Harry Hook x reader – connected – soulmate! AU

Type of soulmate au: hearing the other thoughts

Key:

h/c- hair color

e/c- eye color

h/l- hair length

s/c- skin color

y/n- your name

---(y/n) POV---

soulmates are able to hear the others thoughts, you have been hearing the thoughts of one harry hook since you were a child when you could understand speech and thoughts.

He was the first to make contact, when you were 3 years old

Hello?

Hi! Are you my soulmate?

Yes!! I wasn’t sure yeh would respond, my names harry hook! What's yours?

(y/n), (y/n) Swann.

You both talked constantly day and night, your mother having to teach you to shut off the link between you and Harry so you could get some sleep.

One problem, he's an isle kid, you’re an Auradon kid, royalty to be exact, well…not really royalty, the daughter of the pirate king, Elizabeth swan.

 You were (y/n) Swann-Turner, daughter of Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner. One day Harry had invaded your thoughts, screaming about the fact that hed just heard a story from his uncle smee about the pirate king. Elizabeth Swann, asking you if she was the same as your mother.

When you had told him she was, Harry had squealed in excitement.

Then his thoughts turned fearful, he told you he had to go

Im sorry (y/n) I haveta go, meh dads getting mad, he's scary when he's mad.

It's okay Harry, stay safe.

I'll try

He had shut his link of with you for a while, only opening it once to tell you his dad had forbidden him from talking to you ever again

Im sorry lass, I don’t want to, but he scares me.

I understand, just…just check in once in a while, please?

Yeah

That had been the end of your full conversations for a while. He only reopened the link once a month, just to say he was okay, and then he would close it.

You hated it, falling into a depression, that happened to those whose soulmates closed off their connection.

One day, when you were 15, he opened the link, scaring you slightly as you were studying for the geometry test.

LASSIE

On davy jones heart harry! What the fuck?

Sorry, good news!

Yeah?

Meh dads dead!!!

…

Lassie?

How is that good news?

It means we can talk freely lass!!! He can’t tell me to not talk to yeh!

Oh!!! Yay!!

So…hows it been going for the last seven years?

You both talked all throughout the night and into the morning, happy to be properly speaking to the other for the first time in a long time.

And if that meant you fell asleep during the test that’s okay, you were just happy that you could talk to him again

Your mother had noticed as well, your grades had gone up, you were eating properly again, you had taken an interest in your swordsmanship once more, you were just…happier.

“(y/n)?” you glanced up from your book, telling Harry to pause your conversation for a  moment.

Are yeh sure lass, is it ba-

It's okay Harry, it's just my mum

Okay.

“what's up mum?” you asked, raising your brow at your mother, she seemed…not concerned but curious.

“I've noticed something.”

“yeah?”

“You seem…happier?”

“oh! Yeah, my soulmate reopened the link-“

“oh! Thank goodness, I noticed you became depressed after he shut the link, I was the same way when your father closed it after he became captain of the  Dutchmen…im happy for you sweetie” she walked over to you, leaning down to hug you

“thanks mum” you leaned into your mothers embrace, she kissed your forehead and left the room, closing the door behind you.

Yeh have a good relationship with yeh mom

Yeah im thankful for that

….

Harry?

Sorry was just..thinking

Don’t hurt yourself hooky

Eay!!

One day, the crown prince ben, the son of King Adam and Belle, had announced his first proclamation, that he would be bringing four VKs to Auradon to attend Auradon Prep, to give them a chance at a normal life.

When you heard you immediately told harry.

Harry!!! Guess what!!

Shit! Yeh scared meh,…um…. you're a pirate lord now?!

No, that’s not happening till my mom passes her title to me, but Bens going to bring over four VKs to Auradon!!!!

Holy fuck what!?!?!

Yeah!!! I'll see if I can convince him to bring you over!!!

I really hope you can, I want to see you

Right back at you hooky

Shit Umas calling me I gotta go

Kay, say hi to her for me! Oh! And tell her ill try to get her over too, I want to meet my fellow pirate captain.

Kay, talk teh yeh later lassie

Bye

-----

Ben had already decided on who he would be bringing

Mal, Evie, Carlos, and jay. You furrowed your brows and the first and last name, harry had told you about them

Mal, the girl that had ruined Umas reputation and self-esteem, and Jay, the boy who abandoned Harry when he needed him most.

Harry had nothing against Evie and Carlos, other than the fact that they crewed with Mal.

You had tried to argue against his choice, trying to suggest Harry and Uma, when he voiced that Mal was his soulmate like Harry was yours.

You stopped at that, asking him to at least promise to bring over Harry, Gil, and Uma after the first four are more accustomed to Auradon.

He promised.

----

He forgot his promise. It's been six months since the core four came over, six months since you told harry the bad news, six months of trying to bug ben to remember his promise

But all you got was ‘im busy (y/n)’ ‘I can't right now (y/n)’ ‘I have a date with mal right now (y/n) later’

He kept making excuses, more and more each day, till you weren’t even able to talk to him at all.

One day

Lassie, you'll never guess who I just found~

Something to strangle Chad Charming with?

What?

Nevermind, go on?

The traitor malsie~

Wha? Shes…she and Ben had a fight, she must've cracked and retreated to the isle.

Oh oh oh~ that’s good! Umas gonna love this~!

Good, maybe you guys can get some leverage on ben.

You were interrupted by frantic knocking on your door, getting up, you heard Harry talking animatedly in the background, but you toned the link down, so you could hear him if he called for you, but you could also ignore him if needed.

Opening the door, you saw Evie, looking worried.

“what do you want?”

“Mal’s gone back to the isle.”

You just stared at her for a few moments, before raising your brow in disinterest. “and I care why?”

“because…..you said your soulmates a vk right?”

“Yeah?..”

“You can visit him when we all go to get Mal!”

You paused, if you went with them, you could see Harry, wait we?

“we? Whos we?

“me Carlos, Jay, and Ben”

“Ben? As in King Ben? That’s a stupid move Evie”

“he's the one who has to convince Mal to come back, and he was going to go alone before I insisted that we go”

“and you need me why?”

“because your even more skilled than Jay and Carlos with a sword, and you’re terrifying when you fight. It would be a good idea for you to be Bens bodyguard”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, before hearing Harry's voice, calling your name in confusion

“fine, I’ll go but only to meet my soulmate”

“Okay, meet us at the back of the dorms in an hour!”

You nodded, closing the door, and turning to your room, leaning back on your door.

Hey hooky, guess whos coming to the isle~

----

The isle…was exactly the way Harry described it. Rundown, trash everywhere, the smell of rot filling the air.

It only made your decision to get harry of the isle more strong.

As you arrived at the core four hideout, you told Harry where it was, and to wait at the back ally.

On it lassie, see yeh soon

See you soon harry.

Once Ben had returned from the upstairs loft, he left to the back ally, and you followed him.

“Ben, wait up”

“I can't believe this, I thought, I thought Auradon was enough for Mal I thought-“

“okay beasty boy im going to stop you right there, it wasn’t that Auradon wasn’t enough for her, it was the pressure of having to be this pretty pink perfect princess, and the fact that you never bothered to ask if she was okay or not, you just assumed, now I don’t like Mal, but I could tell she was getting overwhelmed”

“i-I ah!”

A pair of arms grabbed Ben, wrestling his wrists together, and gagging him.

Then you were grabbed.

You yelped, fighting back against the tall male holding you, turning slightly, you saw a tan male, with braids holding his hair back.

“lookie what we got here lads~ a lost king~”

You recognized that voice.

You turned to it, seeing a tall male, red scarlet jacket, fluffy curly black hair, ocean blue eyes lined with kohl, diamond-cut jaw, and..and a hook in his left hand.

‘Harry?’ you thought

The male tensed slightly still taunting Ben but seeming to have another conversation in his head.

Yeah, lass?

Are you in front of Ben at the moment?

Yeah, we just got him, why?

Did you catch anyone else?

Aye, this pretty lass with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes, why?

That’s me you asshole

“fuck” Harry said aloud, glancing at you. Before turning back to Ben, pointing his hook at him.

“take him teh the brigs, and bring her” he pointed at you, a softness in his eyes “to meh courters. I wanna have a little chat wit her”

Harry turned, walking back down the ally, to Evie calling for Ben

-----

Now you sat on Harry's bed, feeling slightly awkward as you waited for him to return from…whatever he was doing.

The door opened, and Harry stepped through, looking…nervous?

You both just stared at each other as he closed the door behind him.

We've talked for years and all of a sudden, we can't do it in real life?

Harry jumped slightly, not expecting you to use the link to talk.

“uh yeah, I guess….. I dinne kay how teh do this.”

“Neither do I” you shrugged, “but we’re soulmates for a reason aren’t we?”

“aye”

So you talked, about what was going to happen, and what was going on tomorrow, and what would happen after.

“because of Bens….forgiving tendencies, I think he'll still let you over, especially if Uma can work her magic.”

Harry nodded, sighing, looking at you through his lashes.

“…lassie?”

You hummed stopping your pacing, looking down at Harry sitting on his bed.

“yeah?”

Harry shuffled his feet, playing with his hook, and biting his lip.

“can…can I kiss yeh?”

You paused, staring at him, he looked up at you, shy and unsure, you bit your lip, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“yes” you whispered, Harry didn’t waste a second, leaning in and passionately pressing his lips to yours.

You moaned in response as he pushed you down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist, you curl your fingers into his hair. He nipped your lip as you pulled his black curled locks

-----

The next morning, you woke up in Harry's arms (completely clothed btw you nastys~ ;p) you groaned as you uncurled yourself from harry, sitting up from the bed, you stretched.

You heard harry sniff as he sat up, laying his head between your shoulder blades.

“wand for the crown today lass”

“mmhh, yeah, let's hope Mal brings it”

----

You had ended up tied with ben, to give the illusion that you weren’t apart of the plan. Ben apologized to you, saying that he was sorry you had never had the chance to meet your soulmate.

You and Harry locked eyes, linking once more

Is beasty boy really that oblivious?

Yep

Wow

Soon Mal showed up, and you had been around the wand enough time to tell it was plastic. You could see the lines where the plastic melded together.

Harry! the wands fake!

What!!!!

Yeah, Carlos must've printed it with his 3d printer

You heard Harry growl as his grip on Ben tightened, but you stopped him from releasing Ben into the shark-infested waters

Harry doesn’t, he's your only way to Auradon now!

…

Harry, please

…fine

Thank you, I just got you, I cant lose you

…

Harry nodded at you, bringing Ben towards him slightly, away from the edge of the plank.

“Harry…bring em over”

Harry grumbled as he gripped Bens jacket collar, leading you with his hook.

He shoved Ben down to his knees, gently pushing you to stand beside him

“cut em lose”

He huffed, “I never get teh have any fun!” he sliced Bens ropes and used his hook to free you.

Go with them lass, yeh don’t belong on the isle, ill be fine

I don’t like it but okay, stay safe.

You tried to rush to the tunnel with the others, but Uma snapped the “wand” and order for the crew to take you down.

Jay tossed you a sword, you caught it effortlessly, twirling it in your palm, and launching into battle, sending the crew's swords flying and swiftly cutting them down.

Harry was cackling in your mind

Holy shit lassie!!! Yer impressive!!

Why thank you~ I learned from the best!

Tell yer dad the teach me!!

Tell him yourself!

Hahaha!

Then the smoke bombs, you glanced at Harry, who was soaking wet and turned your gaze to Uma, nodding at her, she returned it, rage still in her eyes

See you hooky

See ya Swann

You leaped into the car, seeing a particular book in the corner of your eye

Harry

Hm?

Mals spellbook, at the other side of the tunnel

Got ill tell Uma

Good luck

…

Lassie?

Yeah, Harry?

i….

I have strong affections for you too hooky

…thanks.

 ---the end---

[babysuccubus278]

So i remember in like 9th grade i had to write a creative story or something sooo here it is :)

Introduction

Hi my names Willow. This is my story. It all begins in a new neighborhood. In this neighborhood I felt safe. I felt welcome. I thought i could trust everyone. I always got a weird feeling around him but I always pushed it away. People were always right when they would say to ‘Trust your gut Willow, It’s the most credible source’. My mum would love to take me to the neighbors. She was good friends with all of them. What she didn’t know before all of this happened was that she was friends with him.

Chapter 1

This story shall begin when I was fifteen. We moved to this beautiful city. The trees bloomed so well. The house had two floors. My bedroom was on the top floor, it was the very back room. It had drawing my little brother Anthony. He loved to draw cartoons for me. He was very talented when it came to realistic drawing. Well, talented for a six year old. He can cook cause our mum and dad are always busy. My mums name is Susie and my dads is Mike. I loved them very much and listened. I was a star student in my new school. I always helped around the town. I was too young to get a job so I volunteered around. I would read to the little kids and tutor some. They enjoyed being around me. I would also mow other people's lawns. This town felt like home to me.

***

“Wake up Willow, time to go to school!”, My mum always would yell the same thing to wake me up. Banging on my door and coming back five minutes later to say it again ‘cause I would fall asleep. “Ughh, fine mum.” I would groan out dreading to go to school. I hated waking up early just to go to school.It’s so boring there. I mean, yeah I like my friends and I like my classes but it’s just the same old thing everyday. I finally get up and put on my clothes. A pair of black skinny jeans, my nemo shirt, a pastel hoodie and some black checkerboard vans my mum bought me last year. I go out and see mum cooking breakfast. I notice the time is five forty-five. I go and wake up dad, he has a business meeting today. I go in and wake him up.“My little Willow tree!! Good morning lovely!”, He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me onto the bed for cuddles before we all had to leave

***

I miss those times. Being able to hug my dad and mum. Being able to see Anthony’s cute smile on his birthday. I miss my friends. I miss being able to through rocks on the rainy days in the summer. We would always go to the creek and through the pebbles and see which ones skip. I wish I could go back and see them and tell them what happend. They seem so confused of why I’m dead. I mean, Mr. Ainsley was always on the news for stuff. They never listened when I tried to tell them. Mr. Ainsley was their best customer. They loved to deal with him. He would always tip them even though he didn't need to. They never saw anything wrong with him. Our dog did.

Chapter 2

This is the second part of my story. I was super naive when I first met him. I thought he was trustworthy when I met him. He treated me nicely. Always ruffling my hair when I would help him.

***

“Hey Willow! Get over here and meet Mr. Ainsly” My dad yelled at me while I was working on a painting outside. I loved to paint on the canvases my mum bought me at the store. I walked over mumbling something. I got over there and smiled.

“Hello Mr.Ainsly, Im Willow.”, I said forcing a smile and a hand shake wanting to go back to painting my sunflower on the canvas.

“Oh, Willow. I heard alot of good things about you in the newspaper and from your mum.”, He smiles and I smile back feeling creeped out. That statement made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. No one really reads the newspaper. I understand why he would. He does seem to be in his late fifties or early sixties.

***

If only I would’ve listened to my gut. This would've never happened. I watch over my mum and my sunflower canvas to this day. I miss being able to hold that paint brush and brushing that golden yellow onto the cloud whiteness of the canvas while music plays in the background. Of course someone had to take it away.

Chapter 3

The next thing in my story shall be my camera my dad bought me. Now this thing needed film and I had a bunch from me liking how they looked. It was my favorite color, light blue. It had a strip of gold in the center going horizontal.

***

“Woah! Dad this is for me!”, I was so happy when he handed me it. I wanted to scream but mum would’ve got mad so I just hugged him. “Yes my love. All yours”, He chuckled and rubbed my back as I hugged him. He pulled away and grabbed my jacket. “You wanna test it out?”, He asked; he looked more excited than me so I gigged. “Yeah lets go!” I ran outside and got on my bike and took a bunch of pictures within a few hours dad had to go again “Bye sweetheart, you know dad only has so many hours off today” He slightly smiles. It’s obvious he hates his job but he does it to feed the family. Anthony does like to hog food. I wave good-bye. “Bye dad! Thanks for the gift, I love it!”, I yell to him while he pulls out of the driveway in his Orange 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge. Since dad did all the work around the house he normally got the better stuff.

***

I miss that car. I miss riding in the passenger seat with dad to the gas station. I wish stuff was back to normal. I miss mums Jeep too. Being able to go offroad with that thing was the best thing we’ve ever done. Anthony would always stick his hand out the window and mum would yell at us and we’d laugh. I miss those times but he had to take them away. He was so creepy and I didn’t listen to my gut.

Chapter 4

This part of my story is about when I took a picture of him. It never got printed until after I died. I was so happy that my dad got me that light blue camera I took pictures of everything. I would take pictures of the sunset, our backyard, Cooper our dog, Anthony, and sometimes even mum and dad. I didn’t mean to take a picture a picture of him really. It just happened and now I’m grateful I did.

***

“Mum! Dad! Look at me” I giggled and clicked my camera as I rode my bike in the summer afternoon. Mum is trimming the roses while dad is working on his car. He always would grumble bad words when he got hurt and mum would help. That’s what she was doing when I clicked my camera. “Be careful honey! You know we can’t afford a hospital visit. Your dad like to waste money on his car.” Mum explained while she looked over at dad seeming angry. “Susie! I do not waste this house's money!” He yelled back and lifted his head up slightly and hit his head and mumbled a few curse words. I always knew not to curse like dad did. “Whatever Mike. Let her get hurt” My mum stutterd out. She seemed to be hurt that dad yelled at her. This was when I fell off my bike, skinned my knee and accidently took a picture of Mr. Ainsley. I got up and took my bike and went inside. I cleaned off the knee and put a few band-aids on it. “Willow? Are you there sweetheart?”, My dad called throughout the house.“Yes dad, I’m in the bathroom upstairs!”, I yelled back to tell him where I was I finish putting my last band-aid on.

***

Don’t worry, that's all you really needed to know. The next part of my story is the really main point. You would always think as a parent you can trust the neighbors around you with the kids. Apparently not Mr. Ainsley.

Chapter 5

This part of the story was my worst idea I’ve ever had, ever. I got invited to tea with Mr. Ainsley. I would’ve normally said no due to my gut feeling weird about this but mum and dad said it was okay.

***

I bicycle over to Mr. Ainsley’s house. I feel nervous. He’s always is very nightmarishly nice to me. I rode up and parked my bike into his driveway behind his old, rusty, black buick wrangler and knocked on his door. “Mr Ainsley? I’m here!” I yelled. He ran to the door and opened it and ruffled my hair. “Oh hey Willow! The teas not ready yet. You can come in and explore though.” He smiled and held the door open for me. I walked in biting my lip feeling uneasy from the smell. His couch was yellow. It smelled like cigarettes and febreeze. I walk around as he heads to the kitchen. I head up the creaky stairs. I notice as I look down that a board is missing. There was a book. I pick it up and ran outside to put it in my basket and cover it up with my coat. I go back in quickly and ran into Mr. AInsley. “You’re leaving already?” He asked intimidating me.“N-no sir. I just needed to check my bike.” I said gulping “Good. I’d have to do something if you leave.” he grins creepily. A few hours pass, the tea is drank. I am walking around in the basement alone. I feel a presence. Suddenly, my mouth gets coverd and I’m shoved down onto the ground. I don’t remember anything else

***

I wish I could go back in time and just ride my bike home. Sadly I didn't. I feel guilty. This will be the last piece of my story. I never woke up pass this. Now, I am watching over my family Mr. Ainsley. Mr. Ainsley got put away for murder thanks to them finding my body and the book. This is my story of how my neighbor made me leave our new neighborhood, maybe not the way I wanted to.

[monsterloveday]

Your grief is depressing me.

I have no idea how people will feel reading this, but ultimately I want to because  death is such a taboo subject - its avoided so much that I don't think we do ourselves any favours by avoiding it. After all, if you haven't already been through it, you will at some point. (You know what they say, you can never avoid death or taxes).

Although nothing will ever prepare you for it, I do believe we should give lee way for the people who do want to speak out on it, as it was from going through grief myself, I noticed how so many people tried to silence me due to their own fear / awkwardness / attitude towards it - this is not fair nor is it healthy. Its also a really shitty treatment towards grieving people. I feel that it is such a painful subject that we seem to fear the thought of it (and rightly so), but, I feel we do need to speak on it more - whether you have been through it or not.  This isn't to say that death should be spoken of all the time as that of course would be draining, but I do fear there are many ‘unwritten rules’ on this, one example being that you are ‘bringing people down’ or that people wont want to hear it or know what to say and you can understand that and appreciate that to a point.

But really, pretending death doesn't happen or locking those thoughts away probably don't help individuals when a loved one does actually pass away. I feel it is something us humans have to try and learn to be more open about, to not be afraid to bring it up, accept and perhaps educate ourselves on. When dad was having his last days (as horrendous as they were), I almost feel like I can say that the aftermath of death is actually worse (or maybe just as bad), that it is probably worse for the people who witness the death, over the person who is actually dying. People think that even with death ‘Time is a healer’, I even remember thinking to myself that at the year mark point, I would probably be so much better.

How naive I was. Grief has no expiry date. There is no ‘getting over it’. I feel just as bad now as I did then, and I wonder just how long this will be with me, I then fret that I will always carry this, as like I mention before, there is no ‘Light at the end of the tunnel’ with death. That person has gone, that theyre absence is so loud, it is a constant reminder, its massive, dark and noticable, and that the fact they have died will always, always, always be shit and nothing will change that. Im just telling it like it is.  Since then I look at the rest of my family, friends, and even my dog and worry about how bad it will be WHEN (not if) WHEN other loved ones die. That I have to do this again, and again, many more times. It makes me want to vomit. It makes me want to die first to avoid it. It makes me not like life at all. The world has become a very scary place now, how it snatches anyone it wants, and you are left to deal with that, and live a life knowing that that hangs over you all the time, yet you are expected to just ‘carry on’. At the time I remember seeing a gif of a monster hovering over a man walking up the stairs  - he knew it was there, lurking, waiting for the right moment, an extended version of waiting for the axe to fall. This is exactly how I felt. It. is. Awful. I remember being at dads side all day, at every minute looking at him and my heart pounding, checking if he was still breathing, wondering “is he dead?!”. Seeing my once strong dad now with all sorts of shit in his arms, his face, and everywhere else, not even able to open his eyes, the sounds of the machines trying to help him breathe - gah. Fuck that memory. And then going home to an empty house. My sister was with her other half, my brother his, my mum staying with dad (and rightly so). I had to walk past dads room, his belongings became SO noticeable, that even the sight of them scared me. How different this house was now. I was alone in a house that used to be my family home, now it was a house filled with horrors that reminded you of what was about to be taken away, how just a few weeks before he was in this house - not about to die. I remember wondering what I had done to deserve this, to watch my dad slowly die all day and night and have to come home alone. I wanted to be held. I wanted to be held so tight that it knocked me out. I kept all the lights on and I rang my friend who has also lost her dad and stayed on the phone to her until I fell asleep. I never forget friends like that. It was the worst. It was hell - but it wasn't a case of I was owed bad karma, its that life can be cruel, and it can be cruel to ANYONE. Not just me. And that ultimately - death is a part of life. When he died, after 10 long days of waiting for it to happen, I couldn't deal how people looked at me awkwardly, that I was the elephant in the room, that it is said that talking about things will help but yet when you try and open up peoples body language scream “I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO YOU”, the looks on their faces, the silence. Not only that most of the people around me hadn't lost anyone, so they didn't get it, but that my grief was actually making THEM feel awkward or that they didnt really want to speak to me. Some friends didn't even bother to contact me and said “ I didn't think you would want to come out”. It all added to my isolation. To this day I still don't talk to close friends or even my family about it, how death has taken such a massive characteristic from me - expression. Its taken so much of me. And people don't know what to say. That is not an attack or criticism, because its not a popular topic, and people avoid it like the plague. And rightly so, because its depressing. But this is why I wanted to write about it, I feel that if talking of death wasn't so taboo, It would help people for when they are actually going through it, or even in the smallest way, help them accept or prepare for an inevitable death, theres no ‘How To’ on death and for me personally, not having addressed death before - it really kicked my ass (and still is to this day) when it did arrive - after all, everyone goes through it at some point in their lives. Soon people see it as old news’ (especially after the funeral - how ghastly funerals are) and assume you must be ‘better’ now. It really doesn't work like that. Its ongoing. The heart specialist that saw dad through his last days told us himself that life is much harder after the funeral - this made me dread and dread and dread the funeral so much. But he was so right. Every day was so scary, dreadful and just black. It really does feel like you are in a out of body experience, that your mind just cant handle what is going on, so it shuts itself down and blocks things out whichever way it can, for some its denial, shock, its like your in a never ending nightmare and you just want to wake up. Soon after, my sister announced her pregnancy and I freaked.the.hell.out. I couldn't deal with all this massive change in my family in a tiny amount of time, what If I never see her now?, she will have her own family and we will be forgotten?!, that dad just missed it! what if what if what if?!!?. I ate and ate my way through these situations, I couldn't control or be disciplined at such a bad time in my life, the weight piled on and so did the depression - but this decision to eat has made things so much worse - but I still wouldn't have been able to do it any other way. I had a breakdown and that very morning took myself to the doctor. I couldn't deal and I wanted pills to take me out of this, at any cost. I wanted to be drugged at the highest level. Just take it away. Pills. They were not my friend. This in itself will be another blog as I want to stay focused on this topic. But in short, my health went to shit. My confidence was dropping and dropping and dropping. I stopped sculpting, I stopped art, I stopped ukulele, I stopped cooking. I stopped dating. I stopped singing, I stopped trying. My labido completely vanished. I didn't feel like a human anymore, I couldn't give love and I couldn't receive it. I was just a thing with skin. I didn't like boys, boys wouldn't like me - not at this weight and my belly. I hated how I looked, I hated my hair, I hated my whole appearance, I hated my now unfitting clothes, I hated how depressing clothes shopping had become, so I stopped. Everything I once took pleasure in, didn't please me anymore. Not even if I tried. I think I could have done the most amazing things and it still wouldn't budge this thing inside of me, taking over. I was turning into the worst version of me, a version of me I never knew existed. Mornings became a demon.  Im sure theres loads of you that relate to this and know what I mean by this. Id be in bed and suddenly my heart raced and it felt like that feeling you get when your about to do something that scares the shit our of you or makes you so nervous you need to puke, that the tiniest tasks became mountains - “Oh my actual god I have to get out of bed today and face people and do things”?!?!  I was so nervous and scared all the time and didn't know why.

I become so so tired having to work throughout the week, yet hated the weekends because of feeling unproductive or lonely. I felt so tired doing too much but felt like I had to be doing something as soon as I stopped, its like you are in a constant battle with yourself. My life went from grief, to anxiety and depression all in one hit. And I had to try and live with it every single day. Its so hard. And I still have to keep fighting through all this crap that life throws at me, Im still not at the ‘other side’ of all this and when I think I've had my dose of it, it gives me some more. But life does this to everyone and thats why I think its important to not be afraid of being open about feeling shit, because we can be there for each other. Yet we all seem to stay quiet and get annoyed when people express themselves if they are feeling sad, they are given the “you are so negative / moaning label - this isn't the case. I hate that people turn a blind eye because people express their negative emotions, really, what is wrong with that? I think ultimately I want to say to anyone that has lost someone, or is about to, or maybe people that just battle with their inner demons... Its annoying as hell but you have to fight back. And I know its so frustrating to have to fight for things that other people get so freely. Like - just being ok. Know that I am with you. I. Am. With. You. Know that this terror, too shall pass and you will get stronger. You will.

And you'll be surprised by how many people feel the way you do, but we just don't speak of it, so we think its unique to us - its not, we are a massive bunch of humans who suffer but not together!. I learned that life isn't always on my side and admitting that life is hard, we just have to get harder, and we do. I think sometimes we don't realise it though. You don't have to be fearless to be brave, being scared all the time is brave, because you have to force yourself through the fear all the time! I wont ever be the same person I was before my dad died, but maybe I need to stop trying to be, maybe its ok that I will always be a little bit broken. Death is so life changing for the people still remaining, so don't expect to stay the same person. And that is also OK. I would like to hope that at some time, life will be brighter for us once more, I think good and bad times pass by like waves, we cant have one without the other. What a beautiful cunt life is, ay? =p. One difference I have noticed in myself is how much more appreciative I am of small things. Just being with people, taking photos, hearing the birds sing, Knowing that life isn't forever, but its now, and now is all we have. So go get that tattoo, go on that trip you have always wanted too, tell that person how deeply in love with them you are, go and get your life and chase those goals, its scary, but its worth it. We wont be here forever! There is no “Im over it” now, as mentioned before, after losing someone, a gap is there that will never be filled.  But. Although it seems so very unlikely, you will feel love again You will laugh so hard again You will be able to think of that person and a smile come onto your face, instead of a tear and sometimes it will just be tears Sometimes you will miss them so much it hurts Sometimes you will feel lucky you had them in your life Sometimes you will feel cheated that they were taken away. There will be days where you can face things and days where you cant. You will never feel just one way, but you really do learn to live with it, and I promise you, although you will miss them so much - you're going to be OK. You become better at always being sad about it, and it will always be there, but it wont destroy you like it does in the early days / months / years. I was watching a film last night, about a man who died and was saying to his still alive wife beyond the grave, “I still exist”. This filled my heart will sheer comfort - the thought that death doesn't mean they are gone, that they really are still alive - just somewhere else. Dad please be up there, I really want to see your face again! and the hope that I could gives me me such a lift!. And maybe if we try to think, that maybe death isn't the worst thing, because hopefully our loved ones have gone somewhere BETTER! where they are the happiest they could ever be, no suffering, no pain and that they are having a ball up there! its like I've said, I think its worse for the people left behind and maybe if we start accepting that death happens, maybe we wont fight against it so much by knowing that death isn't the end! Im trying to hard to feel this way! Involve only good people in your life, be true to yourself, express yourself no matter how you feel and most importantly... They still exist. Jay

[runwiththieves-blog]

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

It’s when you’re sitting on the couch next to him that you have your ’oh god’ moment where you realize that you’re actually really into him.

Harry hasn’t done anything to provoke this. He’s literally just sitting there, being his angel-like self because he can’t help it, it’s just who he is and you’ve accepted that. He’s beautiful and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. But you can feel it down to your toes when you look over to him and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest because he’s already looking at you, like he knows.

“’S wrong, pet? Not in the mood t'cuddle w'me today?” His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence you had fallen into, and you feel yourself flush down to your chest because this is Harry calling you out for being weird with him. You’re pretty sure there’s supposed to be at least a three month pining window before he starts to notice.

He’s Harry, though — not megastar Harry Styles, or the Harry his fans have dreamed up in their fantasy worlds where he takes them on luxury getaways whenever he has downtime (you guess they have no idea that he would rather watch romantic comedies and drink wine on the comfort of his own couch). To you, he’s the Harry who held your hair back while you threw up the first night you met at one of Nick’s parties. He’s the Harry who then proceeded to make his home, whenever he got to hangout with Nick and the rest of his friends, right beside you. He’s the Harry who insists that you sleep in his bed with him whenever you’ve had a bit too much to drink (and when you haven’t), instead of crashing on the couch (there are a gazillion fully furnished bedrooms in his house, you’d never have to crash on the couch, but you always crawl into bed with him instead of pointing that out). He’s the Harry who sort of just wiggled his way into your life and heart four years ago and forced you to be his best mate, whether you liked it or not, because he liked you.

So of course he notices when something is off with you. He always has, so you’re not entirely sure why you thought he wouldn’t notice when you went dead silent and put three miles between the two of you, when you had just been curled up against him like you always were on nights like this (and nights not like this, just kind of whenever the two of you were in the general vicinity of each other).

“Jus’ getting t'be a bit sleepy, I think. Think ’m gonna call it a night soon,” you say, and then you spare a glance to the clock on the wall, and it’s barely half ten, and Harry knew damn well that you almost never fell asleep before midnight, and if you did you’d wake up at three in the morning unable to get back to sleep.

The lie seems to do it’s job, though, because he doesn’t press you for further explanation, despite the fact that he’s looking at you in a way that lets you know he knows you’re bullshitting him and he’s bound to find out whatever it is that’s clearly bothering you. It almost feels like a challenge, but you know that this isn’t a game, and Harry gaining knowledge of your newest revelation would change everything, and probably not for the better.

It’s when you’re putting your answer into action that he presses further, because you’re grabbing for your keys, instead of announcing that you’re going to sleep with a kiss to his cheek, or wherever you can reach, and heading up the stairs to his bedroom. “Y'not staying?” He questions, and he’s got a pointed look about his face, and he really looks genuinely concerned, because you’ve never not stayed after a night like this. “’M supposed to meet m'mum for brunch,” you say, and you know it’s a lame excuse, because you’ve stayed over at Harry’s and went to work the next day with no problem. It also doesn’t help that he knows there’s no way your mum isn’t in town, because she would have texted him and made dinner plans a week in advance. They were close like that and you momentarily hate them for it.

He’s looking you over from where he sits and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more small or intimidated in your life, and all he’s done is look at you. That’s all he’s done all night, really, and you feel like you’re about to claw your way out of your own skin because of it.

The three month pining window would kill you, probably, so scratch that.

“Has anyone ever told you what an awful liar you are? I mean, I know I haven’t, but that’s because you’ve never lied t'me,” he says, and the words send chills all over you skin, because you’ve been maybe not necessarily caught, but he knows there’s something going on, and you don’t know how to get yourself out of this one.

“I’ll cancel,” you finally tell him, accepting defeat, but not admitting to the lie. The fact that there is nothing to cancel isn’t something either of you bring up, even though you both know it.

“Wanna tell me why you’ve been a mile away fr’m me all night, while we’re at it?” He murmurs, and you just shake your head, setting your keys back down on the coffee table and fitting yourself into Harry’s side. “I just didn’t want t'bother you, s'all. You’ve had people all over you for a month now, w'your album 'nd all. Wanted t'give you your space,” you explain, even though you know he’ll see right through that excuse, too, if he really thinks about it, but it’s not nearly as opaque as the brunch thing.

It’s when he calls her cute and tucks her head under his chin that she knows she’s in the clear, for now at least, and she smiles silently. 

—–

You’re in his dressing room helping him get ready for one of his secret shows when it happens again.

It’s nothing different from what you’re usually doing when you get to go to one of his shows, even did it the last couple of years that One Direction toured. You’ve seen all his bits and helped him cover each and every part of them at some point or another, so seeing him without clothes has never had a very strong effect on you (okay, well it did, because you’re human and you’re not blind to the fact that Harry’s gorgeous, but you did a damn good job of hiding it).

And he’s not even naked now, not really — he’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s got his shirt covering his arms, and you’re standing in front of him buttoning (and smirking up at him when he unbuttons one more of the top buttons, even though you know not to even try to start at the top and fix him up proper) from top to bottom, like you always do. It’s become something you just do, no questions asked and for no real reason, because Harry is perfectly capable of buttoning his own shirt. You just like to do it, you suppose, and he’s never had a complaint.

Your fingertips drag across his lower abdomen by accident, before you’ve finished, though, and you swear you feel like your entire body’s on fire, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“I like this shirt,” you tell him as you drag your hands over the fabric covering his tattooed chest to smooth it out. You don’t even know why you said it, it’s like you were trying to distract him from the much more intimate, in your head at least, touch before, even though he probably didn’t even notice or think anything of it if he did.

“’S the ruffles, innit? Makes all the girls wild f'me,” he says, and you know he’s teasing, but his smirk lets you believe for just a moment that he’s flirting with you.

He’s not. It’s something you decide quite easily for the both of you, because it’s easier to shut your brain down that way than let it wonder if, maybe, possibly, he might be feeling everything that you are. You’re a very humble and grounded person, and ironically enough, you pride yourself in being just that. You wouldn’t dare let yourself believe that Harry Styles would ever have any romantic interest in you.

“’S too bad I only care that this one’s wild about it,” he says, kissing your cheek, but it’s so close to your lips, just barely brushing against the corner of your mouth, that you feel dizzy from more than just his statement.

Well. Maybe that changes things little bit.

Because you’re the only one in the room with him, so it’s not like there’s some other girl lurking in the shadows that you didn’t know about. Also, he almost kissed you. Like, really kissed you. Mouth to mouth. Does he know he almost did that? Does he know that you feel like you’re going to pass out the more you think about it? Also, what does that even mean? Why does he only care that you’re 'wild’ about him? There are so many questions and you feel like you’re going to start screaming any second, so you decide a shot of tequila is the best option right now.

–

You’re standing at the side of stage when you realize there’s no coming back from this.

He’s performing 'Woman’ and you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed anything as provocative as this. He’s really into the song, is the thing, and you’re certain he could tell any girl in the building to drop her panties for him, and they would in a heartbeat. You’ll pretend that you aren’t part of that group.

Until he’s looking to the side of the stage, like he’s looking for someone, and once his gaze finds yours and stays there, you realize it’s you that he was looking for.

And oh. Oh.

You are definitely, undeniably part of the Drop-Your-Panties-For-Harry-Styles group. Very much so, indeed. 

He’s got the microphone stand between his legs and he’s practically grinding against it as he just stares at you — he’s been doing that a lot lately, and that’s another one of the many realizations you’ve had in the past week with Harry.

You swear you nearly pass out when he sings the line ’you flower, you feast,’ with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen before he’s looking back towards the crowd.

And then you have to go. You have to leave and go to his dressing room for the rest of the song, at the very least, because you’re so fucking confused. Where did all of this even come from? Why is he suddenly acting as if he just can’t resist you anymore, like he’s been longing for you this whole time. Was he just lonely? Horny and unwilling to put any effort into finding someone to get his fix with? Was it just a joke? Because the ache in your heart and between your legs was no joke.

You consider leaving the entire establishment when you hear the beginning chords of the last song on the setlist, so that you don’t have to face him afterwards, but instead you find your way back to the side of the stage and watch proudly as your best friend absolutely rips this crowd apart with his talent. You want to cry sometimes because you’re so proud of Harry, you really do. You think you probably will when he heads off on his first headlining tour in a few months. Cry because you’re proud, but also because you’ll be without him for the majority of those three months. The thought tugs at something in your chest, probably your heart, and it makes your eyes sting just for a second, until you’ve pushed the tears off for the moment.

For now, you’re watching on with a smile you just can’t help as he belts out the last few lines of 'Sign of the Times,’ and you want to join in, but you’d die if his microphone were to pick up your awful howling, as well. So, you wait for the end, and then you cheer and scream with the rest of the crowd in front of him. You notice that he spares a glance back at you, and you send him a nod back as you continue your cheering, watching as he practically personally thanks each and every fan in the crowd until the stage has gone dark and the lights in the main establishment have come up, and everyone’s pushing and shoving their way out.

You’re grinning because the star of the whole goddamn show is walking over to you before he is anyone else, and you’re beaming as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You were fucking incredible,” you tell him against his neck, and you take the kiss to the top of your head as an acceptable way to say 'thank you.’

–

It’s when the two of you are back in his dressing room that you feel the tension build again, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you replay his question over and over again: “Where did you go after 'Woman?’”

You want to scream, shout, throw things; not because you’re angry, but because when the hell did Harry get so confrontational? Or was it just something he was doing because you were being noticeably weird with him?You don’t like it at all, despite the fact that you’re always telling him he needs to speak up more. You never meant with you. 

“Had to use the loo,” is the answer you give him, and he cocks an eyebrow at you not a moment after you’ve spoken.

“You feelin’ okay, then? You were gone for four songs after that, and I talk a lot,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that you know he sees right through you, just like he had the other night when you told him you were going to brunch with your mum.

When you don’t say anything for a minute, he presses on, stepping closer to you. “I don’t understand what you’re tryin’ so hard t'hide from me, babe. First the other night, now this — what’s going on?” He questions, and his stare is intense, and it wouldn’t be if were anyone else, but as always, he’s Harry.

“I’m fine, H, just have a lot on m'mind,” you try, feeling absolutely defeated, because try as you might, it really is impossible to lie to Harry, especially when he’s looking at you the way he is. He knows something is up, because you’ve never hidden anything from him. He knew your deepest, darkest secrets three days into your friendship. He knows more about you than any of your exes ever have, and you think that could be part of what scares you so much about him. You feel like if he ever finds out, the chances of you losing him are far greater, and the idea puts a pain in your chest, because what would you ever do without Harry?

You can’t help but miserably stutter and stumble over your words when he asks you who you’ve been thinking about, rather than what, but what catches you even more off guard is him stepping until he’s nearly got you pinned against the wall of his dressing room, and you’re breathing is heavy as you stare up at this beautiful, sweaty boy who just wants to know why you’ve been treating him so differently.

“You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about, 'f that’s any sort of encouragement,” he tells you, and you want to speak, you do — you want to say something, fucking anything, but you’re frozen and your heart is about to beat right out of your chest.

“You don’t mean that,” is what you say, for whatever reason, and you feel awful as soon as you see the way Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his lips form into a tight line, but he’s not moving away from you at all. If it were possible, you feel like you’re drowning in him even more so.

“I — of course I fucking mean it,” he argues, his eyes unmoving from yours. “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that. Have you not noticed that I spend every bit of free time I have with you? You’re the first and last person I talk to every morning and every night, and the first person I run to when I have news, 'r just something to say. You’re the first person out of everyone I know that I run to after I come off stage — of-fucking-course you’re all I think about,” he says, and although his words are nice and make you feel all warm inside, he sounds angry, and that scares you, because Harry’s never been actually angry with you.

“Harry, I — I’m sorry,” you say, and your voice is nearly a whisper and you feel like crying, because he was honest with you, and you all but said you didn’t believe him, and honestly, how could you be such an idiot? You’ve got the most beautiful man in the world standing in front of you, telling you you’re all he thinks about, and you tell him he doesn’t mean it — who does that?

“I really — I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just — it’s kinda’ hard t'believe, innit? That the person you’ve got feelings for has them for you, too?” And you realize there really is no going back after you’ve said that out loud, but hopefully it could fix what’s just happened here if he knows the only reason you said it is because it’s just a tad bit unbelievable.

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front 'f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

–

At least, you thought you were dead because you’re pretty certain Harry’s pillowy soft lips are what Heaven is made out of, and if you were experiencing those, you had to be dead, right?

Except now, he’s got you in the back of a car, and his hand is sliding up your thigh, beneath your skirt, and it’s then, with his lips on yours, that it happens again.

You realize that he’s probably not going to be able to come back from this, either. You don’t know when it happened, or why it seems that you both had the realization that you’re fucking mad about each other at the exact same time (not that it isn’t convenient, it’s just strange), but you’re here with him and it feels like he’s using his mouth to promise a lot more than just a few heated kisses.

You pray that this isn’t just some dare, or an adrenaline thing, because you’d have to be blind or just not paying attention to not see that Harry gets hard each and every time he performs to a crowd. Like, fully erect, you’d noticed, and of course you had always teased him for his evident praise kink (’even the twitter fans know, Harry, it’s not a secret’).

But from the way he’s pulling away to whisper praises in your own ear, about how badly he wants you and all that he wants to do to you, how long he’s wanted to do these things to you, you’re starting to realize that this is very real and you aren’t being fucked with at all.

Well, you will be, hopefully, but in an entirely different sense of the word.

You’ve somehow found your way onto Harry’s lap now, because apparently the silently pining over each other thing did a bang up job of sexually frustrating both of you, so you jumped at the opportunity. If you died in a car accident on the lap of Harry Styles with his tongue down your throat, so be it.

–

It’s only five minutes later when you realize you’ve pulled into the driveway, but it feels like it’s been hours, and your lipstick has gone to hell already, and your shirt is hanging off your shoulders, and so is Harry’s because as it turns out: you’re just as good at unbuttoning his shirts as you are at buttoning them.

Despite your messy states, you both thank the driver as you exit the vehicle, and the rush to get to his front door would be funny to absolutely anyone else, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get into bed with someone. Hell, he could get the door opened, closed, and locked again and take you in the corridor and you wouldn’t care. You don’t need a bed, you need his cock. And then you wonder when your self conscious started talking like a porn star.

“Are you goin’ to laugh a'me 'f I try t'dirty talk you?” He asks, and it’s a ridiculous question, because he has no idea how much you’ve fantasized about being the one he’s whispering filth to. “Absolutely not,” is of course your answer, and it’s breathless and you’ve already let your shirt hit the floor, and you’re dropping your skirt at the bottom of the stairs, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, which are totally cotton and not matching and not sexy at all, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, because he’s pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and is picking you up to carry you up the stairs a second later.

“Take me t'bed, please,” you murmur in his ear, kissing along his jaw with your arms and legs wrapped tight around him. Everything about this is so, so, so urgent and is happening so fast, and you wish you could slow it down, even if only for a second, because it’s all so much, but it’s not enough at the same time. And you kind of want it to be perfect and remember every little thing, as cheesy as that really is.

He’s got you on his bed in no time, though, and you’re practically shaking, because that’s when it happens again. That’s when you realize this is really about to happen. You’re about to fuck your best friend, and the thought should be terrifying, if for no other reason than all that you’re risking in doing so, but you’re smiling up at him as you grasp the nape of his neck and pull him down towards you so that he’s fitting between your legs and his lips are back on yours for the first time since you got out of the car. “Want you,” you whisper against his mouth, and you realize when you press up against him that there’s no foreplay even needed, because you’re already soaked through the fabric of your panties, and you can still feel where he’s been hard since he left the stage tonight.

“’S that — do you want that?” You ask, and it’s sudden and probably sounds ridiculous, considering the situation you’re currently in, but you think it’s an important question to ask. “This, I mean. Me,” you clarify, blinking up at him, and you doubt seriously that he thinks your awkward quirkiness is cute at all right now, no matter how many times he’s implied how adorable you are because of it.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know,” is his answer, and you’re starting to think you’ve heard more insults tonight than compliments, which is weird because you always thought Harry would be the type to tell you that you’re beautiful and kiss every inch of your skin. Turns out, he’s still just as good at picking at you even when he’s got you pinned to his bed and your lips swollen from kissing him so much. “Yes, I want that. This. You,” he says after a moment, and you’re blushing as he repeats your own words back to you in confirmation.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” is the next thing out of your mouth, because apparently filters don’t exist anymore, and he shrugs before shaking his head. “Was hoping t'get my mouth on you first, actually,” he tells you, licking over his lips, and you’d swear it was for dramatic effect, but it was also really ridiculously hot, so you can’t even be mad at him for being a walking cliché.

As much as you want to argue with that, because you want him inside of you now (and you also argue with him about whatever it is he wants to do before you eventually give up and do it), he’s looking at you like he might die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt in the next two minutes. How could you deny him, really? It’d be wrong and unjust. 

Or: you really want his mouth on you, too, but you’re willing to let Harry seem more desperate to please you than you are desperate for him to eat you out, even though you’re certain that’s not the truth by any small means.

You don’t know when he took his pants off or your underwear, you must have missed it, unfortunately, but you’re watching him as he kisses over your thighs, and you feel sort of like you just got to fast forward to the good part. It’s when he licks over you completely and presses harder on the upstroke against your clit that you know that’s what happened.

You don’t know if you moan or if you scream, because you’ve tuned everything that isn’t Harry’s mouth on you and the little noises he makes against you all the way out, and you feel a little bit like you’re floating as he sucks at your clit, and your hands had flown to his hair the second he’d started that.

“Fuck, Harry, please,” you whine, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you know you need more of anything he’s willing to give you. “Taste so good, baby. ’S it feel as good as y'taste?” He murmurs against you, and his voice vibrating against you may be hotter than anything you could possibly think up for him to do to you — and you’ve thought of a lot. All you can do is nod and give his hair a tug, grinding up against his mouth, and you wonder if he notices that you’re practically riding his face while he fucks his tongue into you, licking in and around your entrance, and you could cry from how good he’s making you feel. But also because it’s Harry who is doing this to you.

It’s the Harry who would rather stay in and cuddle with you than go to a party packed with A-listers. It’s Harry, whose preferred method of clearing out a cake batter bowl before putting it in the dishwasher, is the the two of you licking it clean. Harry, who would do anything and everything for you, and never make you feel like it was anything less than what he wanted to do. It’s Harry, and he’s told you a million times how much he loves you, and even if you roll your eyes at the sentiment from time to time, you know he means it, and you always say it back.

“Harry,” you say, looking down to him and the pleasure is almost overwhelming, so it pains you to make him stop, but you just want to be as close to him as humanly possible. He can devour your cunt afterwards, or later, or something. You’ll fit him into your schedule. “I — Harry, up. Come back up here, please,” and your voice is cracking, so you swallow as you look down at him, and you don’t know why you’re near tears, but you definitely are, can feel them welling in your eyes.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” He whispers, holding you by your wrists, his thumbs gliding against the skin soothingly. “Why’re you cryin’, sweetheart? Talk t'me, please,” he murmurs, and he sounds so panicked, and it makes you feel bad because how could he ever think he’s done something wrong? This perfect, wonderful, amazing man hovering over you is clearly unaware of how fantastic he truly is. He’s looking at you with concern in his eyes, and you know he wants to comfort you, especially when you feel the warm tears trickling down your cheeks, because it’s Harry, and he won’t leave your side for hours if he ever catches you crying. Which, you don’t mind so much. But you know he needs his answer now, or he’s going to end up thinking he’s done something wrong, or to hurt you, and it’ll all be over, and you refuse to let that happen.

“No, no, no — ’m fine. Perfect, actually, just — I love you, ’s all,” is what you say, and you give him a watery smile, even when your voice gets a bit quieter and doesn’t sound nearly as rushed there at the end, because you know he knows that, especially now. There’s no way he could ever doubt it, you don’t think. He lets out a throaty laugh as he pushes his hair back where it’s fallen against his forehead, his hands dropping down to yours, holding them tightly as he leans down to kiss you for maybe the hundredth time since you first started about an hour ago, even though it feels like it’s been a lifetime. “I love you, too, you silly girl,” he assures, kissing you once again.

“No, Harry — I mean I really love you,��� you murmur, breaking the kiss for a second just to say that, because you need him to know that it’s not just something you’re saying, or even being said in the same sense as you’ve always told each other. He’s looking at you with an amused expression and shaking his head, but in the fond way that doesn’t hurt your feelings. “That’s what I’ve always meant, Y/N,” he confesses, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, because it really feels like everything suddenly makes sense and all is right in the world, a love song is playing in the distance (and it’s not just in your head, so you must have missed when he turned that on, too), all the dumb things that are said in books and movies are happening to you, and you want to appreciate the moment for what it is, but you’re also going to scream if he doesn’t fuck you into his mattress soon. There’s time for talking later.

“Please, please, please fuck me. Now. Please,” and you don’t realize you’re begging for him until you’re begging for him, and it has you blushing down to your chest. “Haven’t even gotten m'dick out yet, 'nd you’re already beggin’ f'me? Love me that much?” He teases, because of course he does, but you look up at him with a new sort of determination your eyes.

You’ve got your hand on the bulge of his briefs not a second later, working over him through the fabric, and it makes your legs spread instinctively when you feel the patch of wet where the head of his cock is pressed against the fabric. It’s then that you decide you’ve had enough, and you’re doing your damnedest to try and push his boxers down. You eventually give up and he laughs and stands to tug them the rest of the way down, and it almost sounds animated, the way you gasp when you see him bare, hard, and leaking for you.

It’s not that you didn’t know Harry was a monster — he’s woken up with enough morning wood pressed against your ass and your thigh for you to be more than completely aware of just what you’re getting yourself into (or what’s getting into you, actually). But knowing it’s all for you and because of you that he’s this hard is a lot to take in.

“Y'still wan’ me?” The question catches you off guard, but you nod almost too enthusiastically for it to be anything other than embarrassing. “Tell me,” is the next thing he says, and your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion, but your features soften as he lays you back against the bed again and offers more information on what he’s wanting from you exactly. “Tell me how bad you want my cock inside your wet cunt,” he says, and it makes you bite your lip to keep from moaning, just because Harry’s filthy, as it turns out, and your thighs are glistening with how wet you are from it all. “Want it so bad, Harry. Want — wanna’ feel you, please, all of you, every goddamn inch of your cock. Wan’ you t'fuck me until I can’t take anymore,” you whisper, and it seems to have done the trick, because the head of his cock catches on your entrance where he’s sliding between your folds, and you can feel him start to press inside of you.

You really think you could blackout when you feel the whole of him settled snugly inside of you, but it’s not until he starts to move that you have dig your nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back as he fucks back into you. “Fuck me,” you moan, your head tossed back and your hips grinding up against his. It feels so good, is the thing — he’s so big, not just his cock, but everywhere, and he’s got you pinned to the mattress as he drives into you somewhat relentlessly, and he’s stretching you so wonderfully, because he’s thick, too, and it hurts in the best kind of way.

“Wanna’ ride you.” The words leave your lips before you’ve given them permission, but Harry’s smirking at you wickedly, so clearly he’s on board with the idea. You know he is when he’s pulled out of you (and you want to die because of that) and he’s got you on top of himself now and is unhooking your bra. “Feel like I owe your tits a personal apology for not paying attention t'them sooner,” he tells you, and you lean down to kiss his stupid mouth, rocking back over his cock. You tease him like that for a long minute, just grinding against him and feeling him against you, before you’ve decided that you quite miss the feeling of him inside of you.

You start to tell him that, but then it hits you that you’ve got the power now, so you take him into your hand after that, lining him up, and you sink down on him slowly, smiling into the kiss you’re giving him, because you can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve dreamed of this moment exactly. It feels so good to be fucking yourself on Harry’s cock, and you don’t pass up the opportunity to tell him that this time. It makes him groan as he stares up at where you’re properly bouncing on him, and you notice when his eyes drop down to watch where he’s fucking in and out of your pussy, and you swear you feel him twitch inside of you at the sight. “Takin’ me so well,” he praises, and apparently you’ve got a bit of a praise kink, as well, and you throw your head back when you feel him begin to thrust up into you, the head of him nudging against your most sensitive part each time. “Harry, fuck,” you breathe, your fingers curling and nails digging into his chest.

You’re so torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to hear everything he has to say, that you’ve settled for just kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving a lovebite or two in your wake, listening while he tells you how beautiful you are (you were right, he is into that), how good you feel, how you’re going to make him cum, and God — you hadn’t even allowed the reality of that sink in yet. Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you had a goal, something you wanted to accomplish, because all you’ve wanted is to be as close as possible to him this whole time.

Now, however, you really want to make him cum, and you want it inside you (you’re very much on birth control and if you were to get pregnant, having a baby with Harry wouldn’t be the end of the world, and he wouldn’t be the first former member of One Direction to become a father). “Want you t'cum inside me, yeah? Fill me up,” you tell him, and you feel it when his grip on your hips tightens and he helps you fuck yourself over him faster. “Not until you cum on my cock,” he replies, and you clench around him at that, fucking down harder each time. “Need y'to touch me,” you whisper, grabbing for his wrist and guiding his hand towards your clit, “here.”

Your moans get louder the second he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rocking your hips harder, with more determination to get off. “I wanna cum,” you whine, and you want it so bad, now that you’ve remembered that’s part of all of this, that you could cry. You were a bit spoiled when it comes to getting your with Harry, you could say, because his fingers are quick and just right on your little bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight circles and applying just enough pressure. “Know y'wanna cum, baby. Wan’ y'to. Wanna feel y'squeezin’ me,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing over your ear. “Can y'do that f'me, angel? Come for me,” he continues, but his voice is so low and he sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and you can feel his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

And then you’re pretty fucking sure you did, in fact, die this time.

Everything goes black, your lips parted in a silent scream, but not because you’re not trying, but everything feels too fucking good and you can’t even make a sound, aside from the pathetic sobs you’re letting out into his shoulders. You can feel your cunt pulsing around him, your clit throbbing beneath his fingers, and you’re sure he’s drenched with you, but it evens out because you feel him releasing inside you not even a minute later.

This time you moan his name, grinding yourself on his cock while he empties himself inside of you, fucking him through his orgasm, despite how tired and sensitive you are, praising him and thanking him with each and every movement, milking him for all he’s worth as you listen intently to the string of curses and your name falling from his lips.

You feel him dripping down your thighs the moment you slide off of his cock, but you only move to straddle the lower part of his torso, making a mess of his abs, and you can’t begin to explain how little care about that when you lean down to kiss him. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you don’t know why you say it, but it feels like something that needs to be said, because you are thankful for everything that’s just happened.

“I love you,” is his response, a smile tugging the corners of his lips up, and you can’t help but kiss him again. “For how long?” You question, and you’re about to explain what you mean, because you just want to know how long he’s known he loved you, like this, but he answers you with “probably forever” before you can elaborate, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He’s decided to answer the question in the ‘how long are you going to love me’ sense, you realize.

You blink down at him, like you’re surprised, but he’s just wearing his signature smirk and you feel a bit lightheaded. He seems so sure of everything he’s told you in the last day or so, and it’s so scary, but it makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way and how he figured out that you finally realized that you felt this way, too. Was he sitting on the couch beside you, staring at you instead of paying attention to The Great British Bake Off, too?

“How’d you figure out that I was just cranky ‘cos I realized ‘m in love w’you?” Is the next question you ask, and he shrugs, staring up at you and letting his fingertips drifts over your skin. “Jus’ know you, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “‘Nd I remembered how red y’had gotten when y’mum told y’that we’d end up t’gether, ‘nd then y’started tryin’ t’push me away, ‘nd I knew you’d realized she was right. Plus, I did the same bit t’you when I realized. Remember when I’d hardly talk t’ya’ when I was in Jamaica? Wasn’t just ‘cos I needed t’focus on m’album,” he explains, and you laugh, because everything really does make sense now. 

You’re laying down beside him, curled into his side in what has always been your favorite position when you speak again. “I love you, too,“ you nearly whisper, and you’ve got a smile curling your lips, your hand wrapped around his wrist and your other arm slung over his chest where you’re resting your chin to look up at him. “Probably forever.”

[mclennunf]

This Boy - Chapter 24

~Paul's~

I fumbled with the bags in my arms to open my front door, dropping one on the ground. "Bloody hell," I mumbled to myself as I reached down to pick it up. I shoved the door open with my hip and quickly went into the kitchen to put the food away. I put the kettle on and began putting the frozen items away. Something caught my eye, though. I looked into the hall to notice muddy, wet foot prints. I raised an eyebrow. Gin was asleep on the couch, it couldn't have been her. The footprints were too big to be Mike. He knows better than to leave his shoes on in the house anyway. I began to rack my brain, immediately coming to the conclusion that Jim was in my house. I took a deep breath and followed the footprints up the stairs and realized they went into the bathroom. The door was open a little bit and the light was on. I took another deep breath and walked in.

John was floating in a bath full of bloody water. I stopped dead in my tracks, as I stared at him, what I saw changed.

It was John, putting me in the bath, fully clothed. Something that had happened a long time ago. I saw him slapping my face lightly to wake me.

I shook my head and saw John in the tub again. "Fuck," I ran and crouched beside the tub, pulling him up. "Johnny, John, please wake up," I began to lightly slap his face as he had done to me, so long ago. His eyes slowly fluttered open. "Paul," he muttered quietly and weakly. "What happened?! We've got to get you to the hospital," I said as I tried to lift him. He flinched as I wrapped my arms around his back. "Johnny you've gotta tell me what happened," I tried to speak calmly. "J-Jim, me back," John was white as a ghost as he spoke. I sat him up and noticed an oozing wound. "Bloody hell he did this to you?!" I was panicking now.

"What's going on up here?!" I heard Gin yell as she came up the stairs. "Call an ambulance, the police, someone!!" I screamed and held John, picking him up carefully and wrapping a towel around him. He could barely stand on his own, he lost too much blood. I put his trousers on him and didn't bother with a shirt. Gin stood in the door way, wide eyed and shocked. "GIN!" I yelled to snap her out of it. "I'll call!!" She yelped and ran down the stairs to the phone. John collapsed into my arms. My heart was racing as fast as it possibly could. His eyes fluttered but they were locked on me. "Macca," he whispered. "I'm here love, I'm here," I held him close. "M'love, my beautiful boy," John whispered before closing his eyes. "John? John?!" I shook him a little, feeling my body begin to shake in fear.

"Excuse us," I heard behind me. I spun my head around to see three paramedics. One began pulling me away from him. "No!" I yelped, not wanting to let him go. "Son we need to get him help." The one pulling me said. They put John on a stretcher and began taking him down the stairs. I chased after them, only to be stopped by two officers. "We need you to stay here for questioning." The taller one said. "No! He needs me!" I yelled and tried to shove passed. "Please let him go." Auntie Gin said sternly behind me. "Who did this?" The shorter police officer asked me. "My father, Jim McCartney," I said, my eyes still on John who was now being taken outside. "Go on then, kid." The taller officer said. I looked over to Gin, who nodded. "I'll stay, go with John." She told me.

I ran outside and hopped in the back with John, who was still unconscious. The paramedic was feeling for a pulse. "I've got a faint pulse here, starting CPR." He yelled to the other paramedic. Just like that, the doors were closed and we were flying to the hospital. I watched in horror as he paramedic gave John CPR.

I felt so unbelievably helpless.

When we arrived at the hospital, they wouldn't allow me into the room with him until they could stabilize him. I stood in the doorway, as far as I was allowed to come, and what I saw changed again.

It was me laying in the hospital bed, battered, bruised, broken and concussed. John was sitting in the chair next to the bed holding my hand, looking extremely tired. "Paul please wake up, please, I need you, m'love... don't leave me..." John was muttering over and over again. It sent shivers down my spine, and I felt a piercing pain in my ribs, the ones that never healed properly.

"Hey! Kid!"

I snapped out of it and realized there was a nurse standing in front of me. "I'm sorry," I said, flustered and rubbing my side. "You can go see him now." She gestured for me to go into John's room. I caught my breath and walked passed her into John's room. He was awake, still pale, but smiling. "Bloody hell John," I said as I ran to his side, grabbing him carefully into a hug. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault, John I'm so sorry," I rambled into his bare shoulder. "No it's not Macca, it's not your fault." John said, smiling as he pulled me off of him, looking in my eyes. "I'm so sorry John," I said, fighting the feeling of tears pricking at my eyes. "Tell me what happened," I sat down on the bed beside him, not letting go of his hand.

"It's over Macca, I don't want you to have to hear about it. Look at ye, m'love. You're pale and shakin'." John observed and touched my cheek. "I need to know, John." I said sternly, looking down at his waist. It was wrapped up all the way around his torso with gauze. "He just followed me, on me way to Mimi's. Didn't make it that far though, did I?" John laughed, flashing his stunning smile that constantly reminded me just how much I loved him. "He blames me for ye goin' stroppy on 'im. You know me, gave him some words, I did. Called me a dirty fag, so I hit 'im." John's words became quieter and quieter. "Turned round t'walk away and he stabbed me. Small knife, it was. But guess he got me good." He kept trying to sound as though it wasn't a big deal. "I told ye." I mumbled. "Told me what?" He loosened his grip on my hand.

"That you'd get hurt. Remember?" I mumbled again. "Bloody hell, McCartney. Don't give me that shite. You bloody well know I would take a bullet for you." John was serious now. I tried to smile, but the look on his face wiped my smile away. "I'm sorry John." I said sincerely. "Stop yer bloody apologizin'. Everything is fine, I'm fine. But are you?" John took my hand again, smiling reassuringly.

Suddenly I saw something in John that I hadn't seen in what seemed like forever.

His eyes were wandering quickly, his breathing began to sound heavy and I could feel how fast his heart was racing based on his wrist pulse.

He noticed me touching his wrist and pried his hand away from me, his eyes glazed over. I stood up and backed away from him, unsure. "John?" I said quietly. It didn't seem like his eyes could find me.

"John are you there?"

I knew John had taken his medication that morning. Why was this happening?

"Paul," he finally spat out. "Jesus Christ," he stuck his hand out for me. I hesitantly approached him. "What just happened?" I asked as I took his hand and sat down in the chair next to his bed. "Paul, they won't stop." John's voice was shaky and his face was pale. My eyes widened. "I'll go get the nurse," I stood up but his grip on my hand tightened fiercely. "Ouch, John!" I tried to wiggle out of his hand but he just kept tightening his grip. "No! They'll throw me in the looney bin! Just get me damn pills Paul!" John yelled at me, finally letting go of my hand.

I quickly ran out into the hallway, closing the door behind me and taking a deep breath. I hadn't seen John act that way since before Hamburg.

"Mr. McCartney?" An officer said. "Of course." I rolled my eyes and turned to him. "Yes officer?" I said in a huff. "I just wanted to discuss your father." He stated. I rolled my eyes again. "Never ends, does it?" I asked sarcastically. "Pardon?" The officer was a bit defensive. "I'm sorry. What do you want to discuss in regards to my father?" I asked, trying to sound posh and polite. "Well we have arrested him, and pending the decision of Mr. Lennon, he will be charged with attempted murder. Now we looked up your case history, and it looks like you and your brother were adopted after an incident with your father. If you're willing, we'd like to take him to court and see if we can have him prosecuted with two charges of attempted murder. I have a lawyer on standby, if you'd like to meet with him." All of the information floored me. I was stunned, staring the officer in the eye. "Mr. McCartney?" He tried to snap me out of it.

"I-ugh, John needs, uhm, me t'run home, sorry sir, I'll have to talk to you when I get back." I tripped over my words and walked quickly toward the door. I lit up a cigarette and held in the smoke. I looked up at the sky and felt the burn of the cigarette smoke in my throat and lungs. "Bloody hell Mum." I said quietly as I finally released the smoke out of my nose. "What am I suppose to do?" I asked her. The worst part was I was expecting an answer. "What in the bloody hell am I suppose to do!" I yelled at the sky, finally letting tears stream down my cheeks. I began walking toward my home, kicking rock after rock, smoking cigarette after cigarette, having absolutely no shame as people walked by and stared at the crying McCartney boy.

As I approached the gate to my house, I stopped. I lit up another cigarette and stared at the house in front of me. It began to rain, and I could feel drops of water drip onto my beat red cheeks.

Suddenly I saw a bright, shining house with a beautiful garden. My mother stood in the doorway with a baby Mike on her hip, smiling and waving at me.

"Fucking hell!" I screamed as I threw my cigarette on the cold, wet pavement. "Fucking hell." I sobbed as the sight disappeared and the dark looking home reappeared. I needed to get John's medication, but I couldn't bring myself to walk through the gate toward the house. There was too many nasty memories. Plenty of fond memories too, I admit. "Stop being such a bloody child, and go inside." I mumbled to myself.

I took a deep breath and opened the gate. I approached the door and looked inside the small window. Mary's face smiled back from the other side. I looked away, back to the ground. I was so overwhelmed that my mind was playing tricks on me. John needed me right now.

I took another deep breath, and opened the front door.

[a-moment-in-time-blog]

Newt x male!reader :: Home - Part 1

Requests/Notes: @tyrelmocs Gave me a really detailed plot to work with! Thanks for being patient and explaining all your ideas to me! Also thanks to @vincentvangoghtthefuckaway who originally requested a Newt x male!reader story. I hope you enjoy this one--let me know what you think. :) It’s going to have multiple parts.

WC: 2,244

! Warning: Mentions of blood and violence

You were tired. Beyond tired. The lactic acid in your tensed muscles burned more like battery acid and your teeth were clenched to the point that you thought they may shatter in your mouth like shards of glass. When you managed to pry your eyes open momentarily the edge of your vision was blindingly white.

 “Is he, well--?”

 “We won’t know until the morning, his cells need time to rearrange.”

 “And you think this rearrangement can get rid of his...his…”

“His curse. Because it appears to also manifest itself physically, this should help manage the symptoms that psychiatric care could not.”

 “He just, well, he looks like he’s in so much pain.”

“The process isn’t easy, sir. These moments of struggle, however, are worth a lifetime of normalcy, or at least as normal as someone like him can be. Where’s his mother?”

“His mother won’t see him.”

“I see.”

“She’s...well, she’s a bit disturbed as well.”

   “Mmm, I see. Well, nonetheless, he needs to rest tonight. Enough current has gone through his brain to light a 500 watt incandescent lamp. The nurses will be checking on him overnight to make sure no more convulsions occur. Let him rest for now, though. He should be exhausted enough to sleep through the night.”

   Footsteps against a hard floor and the closing of a door and then silence. It took you a moment to remember where you were and why you were even here. Your “electroshock therapy,” or whatever the doctors called it, must be over. Your legs burned as if you had run miles uphill and were at odds with your brain which felt like it was coming out of the darkest slumber. You tried to take a deep breath but realized a leather strap ran across it tightly. You felt the familiar adrenaline rush of panic. Usually, this feeling would be accompanied by some strange event that no one could explain. You unlocked impossible locks to escape rooms, you broke a shelf of dishes a room away, or, if it was a particularly strong reaction, spontaneously set things ablaze. Now, though, you were too tired, far too tired. You let the muscles in your entire body relax in an orgasmic sort of release and fell back into the comfort of unconsciousness.

   The next morning, you were woken by a nurse throwing open the curtains surrounding your bed. Light sliced through your eyes and immediately the knot of a headache began to form in your skull.

   “Rise and shine, love.”    You still felt tired, but the absolute blackness of dreamless sleep seemed a bit clarifying. You also had a small seed of hope in your heart. Maybe, just maybe now you could be normal. Maybe people, even your parents, wouldn’t be scared of you.

   “Let’s get up, the sooner you get your muscles moving again the better!” You looked at the clock. The nurse was far too cheerful for 7 a.m.

   You slipped on your pants and sweater and noticed that your skin was red and shiny and looked almost burnt where the straps had been across your body. You stood up and wobbled for a minute, but with the nurses’ help you gained your legs enough to walk down the hall to meet your father. He was as unreadable as ever and looked you up and down with curiosity as you approached like he was already trying to determine if you had been fixed.

“Mum, I’m home,” you said softly at the bedroom door. Your father, still not speaking to you, urged with a nod to try again.

“Mum?” you knocked with your knuckles, “I’m back from the doctor.”

A low, ghastly groan came from the other side of the door. It sounded inhuman, or demonic, as people liked to say.

“Alright, you go in,” you father finally said.

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, leaning into it with all your weight. In the center of a huge room lay an iron bed. There was no other furniture in the room besides a small table which held an oil lamp. The walls were bare but for a wooden cross directly above the bed and one dirty window with the curtains drawn shut.

“Mum…” you stepped in slowly. Your father immediately slammed the door and locked it with a key, nearly catching your arm. The sound seemed only to annoy the figure lying in the bed which again moaned loudly.

“Mum..I...I think the treatment may have worked,” you inched across the worn wooden floor trying to mask your terror with a cautious smile, “And the nurse said that, well, if you want to that is, that possibly...if it’s successful on me, they may be able to help you too.”

You felt something grab you by the collar, though all that was there seemed to be air. Your mother reached a withered, bony hand from under the blankets and was holding out a fountain pen like some sort of wand.

“W-where did you get that…?” you said nervously. She wasn’t supposed to have any sort of sharp objects at all, or anything that resembled a stick or rod.

She flicked the fountain pen, sending a spray of ink like black blood across the floor and you flew towards her as if someone had pushed you in the back. She flicked it again and you fell to your knees, legs locked together. This time the ink had splattered across your face.

“Mum, you’re not s-supposed to…”

“You’re not normal,” she said with a sandpapery voice.

“What?”

“You’ll never be normal. You’ll never be like they want you to be. You’re like me,” her voice was small but loaded with hatred, “They’ll want to change you, but they never will. They never will!”

She flicked the pen again and you crashed into the opposite wall. She had never been this strong before. She’d never had someone to channel her power.

“Mother...stop…” you pleaded, trying to remain calm. You didn’t want to feed her with your own fear.

“You’re better off dead than living in this world,” she spat.

“No...you’re wrong. I’m going to get better.”

“You’ll never be like them.”

“Maybe I don’t have to be.”

“What’s going on in there!?” your father asked through the door.

“Nothing--” you tried to reply, but were cut off by another invisible blow, this time to the center of your stomach. You tried to stand up, your instinct was to run, to get away from this as soon as possible. Before you could pull yourself to your feet, your mother had begun to speak again. It sounded like some ancient language, like Latin.

“Crucio.”

In a moment you were sure that you were once again getting electroshock therapy, this time fully conscious. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was being filed away. Your bowels and stomach emptied their contents as you screamed the most primal sound you could make. The door slammed open, you heard your father scream and felt the floor rumble like an earthquake. Suddenly, the room was on fire and you weren’t sure if you couldn’t breathe because of the smoke or because of the pain.

The next time you awake it’s in an alley, with a trash bin blocking the bitterly cold wind with colorful figures standing over you. They seemed to be two people in full-length jewel toned cloaks trimmed decoratively. Once again, you found yourself an observer of a conversation about you.

“But how’d it get this bad, Gertie? He’s half-dead!”

“We can’t track every single obscurial in the entire world.”

“Yeah, but really, now what? ‘is parents is dead. No orphanage is going to take ‘im at this age, and now the bleedin’ Ministry is gonna be on our arses for not catchin’ this sooner!”

“Calm down, Tim.”

“Calm down? I just had to risk me flippin’ life draggin’ this kid outta a burnin’ building! An’ now I’ll be facin’ an inquiry!”

“You weren’t going to die. I was there as well.”

“Ohh, my hero!”

“Just shut up for a minute. We need to figure out what to do with this boy. His life is the priority right now.”

“I saw we leave ‘em. Leave it up to nature.”

“That’s a horrible idea.”

“He don’t ‘ave any other family?”

“They’re not going to take him. The entire neighborhood is already starting rumors that it’s arson.”

“What about another wizardin’ family lookin’ to adopt?”

“It’s not that simple. But…”

“But what?”

“He’s school-aged, right?”

“Yer not thinkin’ of sending ‘im to Hogwarts?”

“I think it might be his only chance at a normal life. No way can he go back to the Muggle world now, and if we could find a family for him to stay with during the summers…”

“He’d be so behind everyone else!”

“Better than developing a full blown obscurus.”

They both went silent for a moment.

“ ‘Is mum was real powerful…”

“Which is exactly why we can’t risk the development of an obscurus. Then it won’t just be an inquiry, but our heads.” “Blimey…”

“Let’s just get him to the Leaky Cauldron and make sure he stays alive long enough.”

“Yea…”

You felt two hands grab each of your arms and, still pretending you were asleep, felt them pick you up slightly. There was immediately a great whooshing sound and you felt your entire being stretched like a rubber-band. Your eyes flew open and before you could blink you were standing in a completely different place.    You were in some kind of pub. Everything was cast with the golden glow of a giant hearth and a huge pile of metal steins shined from behind the bar.

“ ‘Es awake!”

The two robed figures turned to face you. The tall, pale on grabbed you by the shoulders, “My boy, are you alright?”

“Erm,” was all you could manage.

“Thank goodness you are conscious. Do you feel nauseous? Sick in any way?”

“Just...just tired. But, where am I?”

“The Leaky Cauldron, my boy. We’ll explain later. Right now you need to rest. You’re safe now.”

“Yer in good ‘ands!” the shorter wizard added with the warmest smile you had ever received.

“Who’s this?” a young, auburn-haired witch turned to face you from the bar. She had large, sparkling hazel eyes. She wore a maroon cloak with a twisting golden dragon embroidered around the hem.

“Ah, Madam Scamander.”

“That’s Miss to you, Gertie.”

“Miss Scamander, this ‘ere’s an Obscurial! Well, almost one. ‘Is whole family’s dead.”

Gertie elbowed Tim hard in the gut, causing Tim to fold forward and let out a steady stream of expletives like a punctured balloon lets out air.

“Is that so?” Miss Scamander’s eyes darkened and her friendly smile was gone, “I’m so, so sorry.” She looked you directly in the eye, something many throughout your life had been too terrified to do.

“What Tim means is that yes, he was close to developing an Obscurus, but it seems we found him in time. The rest is just noise for now as we need to find him a place to stay for a few days.”

“He can stay with me,” Miss Scamander offered immediately.

“What? That would be asking too much, Madam. Far too much of anyone. He needs constant supervision.”

“I’m home all the time, and now that Theseus’ graduated we have a spare room.”

Gertie and Tim looked at each other nervously and then to you.

“This is dangerous magic, Miss. We don’ even know if he’ll be fit for school. He don’ even know ‘imself the extent of ‘is powers.”

“My powers?” you cut in.

“Yes, your magic,” said Gertie softly.

“Magic?”

“Oh, you didn’t even explain things to him,” Miss Scamander gave a reprimanding glare to the two men aside you.

“Aw, come on! We jus’ picked ‘im up!”

“We just rescued him from a burning house, ma’am. We can straight here. Not really much time to--”

“Well, you’re a wizard,” Miss Scamander said to you, once again meeting your eyes.

“You don’t have to be so frank…” Gertie said, the wind blown from his sails. It was as if she’d ruined some big surprise.

“The pup might as well know,” Miss Scamander tucked a few strands of her bobbed hair behind her ear, “It’s good to know there are others like you.”

“Others...like me?” you dared.

Miss Scamander’s smile returned triumphantly as she nodded.

“Well, we still need to work out loding--”

“I told you, he can stay with me until the Ministry figures something out. If he was really that close to developing an Obscurus he certainly needs attention. Plus, Newt’s about the same age. He can teach him a little about our world.”

“Madam Scamander--”

“I insist. I can’t leave someone in need just like that. Especially not when I have plenty of room and food.”

“Erm…”

“C’mon, Gert! This could work out perfect!”

“I suppose…”

“That way we can say the boy is with, er, family. No inquiry today, mate!”

“Oh, fine,” Gertie conceded.

Miss Scamander clapped her hands together and stood up. Her skin was tanned and sun-spotted giving her a rather radiant glow.

“Alright, pup, let's get you home and washed up. You’re going to be just alright. More than alright, in fact.”

She reached a hand out to you and you clasped it with your own shaking one. Thoroughly confused, but attracted to her motherly disposition, you decided to trust her.

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tags: @ladytevans07 @frankthethunderbird @allnewtsbeasts @danisaurus-rexx @hardcore-ravenclaw @storyofmemory@needlesinacandybox @confused17yold @astronomicaldun @orangepumpkinpen @meka-meow @prodigal-books @see-the-thestrals @newton-scamander-lover @legit-trash-bro @kawaiiusagichansan @cutedictionary  @itsleviosa14

Special thanks to the lovely @i-am-elsa-defying-gravity