#when he leaves home for the first time he ends up shagging a nice girl and he's genuinely like so when we get married... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelisverba · 4 years ago

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thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number)

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

* * * * * *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter.

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat.

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society.

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’ his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room.

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck.

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin.

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit.

Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips.

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had.

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango.

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion). The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere.

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it.

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough.

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did.

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother.

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat.

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door.

Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be.

And he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company.

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants, and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel.

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already.

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.”

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like.

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy.

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation.

Right?

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy.

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table.

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon.

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants.

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny.

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could.

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again.

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin.

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class.

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go.

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’.

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence.

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said.

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement.

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.”

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible.

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked.

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t.

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited.

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible.

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another.

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart.

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent.

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.”

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy.

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.”

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully.

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be.

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her.

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer.

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning.

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him.

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked.

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home.

His home.

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture).

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too.

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did.

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number.

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room.

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise.

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her.

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her.

“Oh my god!” She said, “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with. She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’.

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’.

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm. The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow.

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up.

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf.

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.”

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.”

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.”

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three.

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said.

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n.

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her.

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.”

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck. Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements.

Like dropping her card when she piped up again.

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm.

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous.

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing.

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram.

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added.

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?”

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.”

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma.

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time.

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates.

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat.

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store.

***

Harry was having a shitty morning.

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should.

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage.

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead.

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance.

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way.

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day.

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that.

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning.

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart.

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down.

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content.

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.

It’s no use.

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true.

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be.

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him.

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier.

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin.

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible.

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy.

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips.

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay.

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day?

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look.

“Back again so soon, H?”

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop.

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.”

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said.

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal.

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and-

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart.

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?”

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off.

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove.

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.”

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.”

It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence?

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.”

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.”

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out.

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle.

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly.

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice.

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like.

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.”

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance.

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought.

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.”

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling.

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.”

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!”

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles.

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!”

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all.

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else.

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time,

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-”

Harry and y/n giggle at each other,

“You go first.”

“Y’speak first.”

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.”

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands.

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm?

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.”

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose.

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.”

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her.

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.”

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum.

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face.

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body.

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything.

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers.

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes.

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning.

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole.

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?”

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-”

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists.

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?”

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.”

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning.

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching.

“Will you text me?” She asked him.

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?”

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center.

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?”

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.”

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent.

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling.

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.

********

Harry can’t stop thinking.

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning.

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom.

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds.

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface.

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button.

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like.

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut.

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock.

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her.

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself.

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm.

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge.

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base.

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum.

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum.

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out.

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again.

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body.

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads:

y/n <3 : so… dinner?

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name.

He couldn’t be happier.

* * * * * *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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poison--ivory · 4 years ago

Text

Neji Hyuga/Uchiha!Reader (Modern au)

Warnings: “Guy talk”, cursing, smoking, kissing, and fem. reader

Domestic fluff with Neji

(Neji’s pov throughout the story)

Neji would be lying if sex didn’t run through his brain every now and then. It was a normal human habit that a lot of people did, but not him. He did manage to masturbate before, however he felt ashamed each time he dug his hand down his pants. He never liked the mess afterwards either. The pain of cleaning everything that he touched, because in his mind he thought someone might come into his room and see the little Neji’s swimming on his headboard or nightstand. Let’s not get started on the nudey magazine Naruto left at his flat, he only looked at it one time before burning it. The two pages stuck together made his skin crawl just knowing that idiot came all over that paper and gods forbid if you saw it and thought he was like Naruto, just wanking off to any material he can find.

To say it in less words, it was a pretty taboo topic for him. Especially, when his dad and uncle heard he got a girlfriend. The tiny sexual remarks were pretty hard to miss whenever his relationship came up. Small jabs at how when they were younger they were pretty sexually active in college and wouldn’t be surprised if their kids were the same. He knows Hinata is pretty sexually active since Naruto is always talking about their sex life. But, him on the other hand was the complete opposite.

If any of the guys started talking about intercourse he’d get uncomfortable. But, neji was in that type of predicament right now and all he felt like doing in that moment was slap the hell out of Naruto for initiating this conversation.

‘A nice night with the boys’ is what Naruto said. Which usually meant him watching them play video games, eat fatty snacks, play drinking games while Shikamaru gets high in the background. However, the only requirement met were the snacks and left a pretty irritated Shikamaru.

Naruto and Kiba started with their stories, and Neji had to sit through Naruto's raunchy story of how he fucked Hinata on Sasuke’s dorm bed. The noirette boy sitting next to him smacked him on the back of his head. Kiba’s story consisted of him only receiving blow jobs form random girls on campus, they mostly never wanted to have sex since Shino creeps them out. So, they never stayed after the bj. Shikamaru was next and once he was done talking about his personal experience Kiba was quick to jump into action.

“So, when you and Ino were fucking was it better or worse than what Temari does to you?” Kiba asked.

Shikamaru eyebrows creased together, “Well, Ino was pretty good in bed, but she couldn’t give a blow job to save her life. Temari on the other hand swallowed me whole on the first try.” Neji visibly and internally cringed at the thought of some of your girlfriends doing anything sexual. “Just don’t go blabbing to anyone about what I said. Temari still won’t let me go anywhere near third base hell even second base sometimes.” Shikamaru disappeared in the kitchen, snatching a bag from Choji bundle of snacks.

“I can’t promise.” Kiba yelled. Paying close attention to the other black haired boy in the room. Kiba was quick to turn to Sasuke who in return glared back at the smirking Inuzuka. Scooting closer to the Uchiha a smirk appeared on his face.

“What?” Sasuke said, clear annoyance in his voice.

“C’mon, you and Sakura seem buddy, buddy lately and I’m pretty sure she had a limp walking around campus today. No need to be, so secretive, we all know.” Glancing over at the noirette teen, Neji could tell he was reaching his limit of stupidity for the day.

“Naruto and Shikamaru told their stories, you could at least give us one, indulge us.” Choji rebuked, looming over the kitchen opening. Shikamaru glanced up from his phone for a split second, before shoving his earphones in.

“Maybe some of us don’t want to talk about their sex life right now.” Sasuke snapped back. Kiba jumped back, yet refused to let up.

“Are you mad that your friends are getting some while you're not, didn’t know you were that petty.” Kiba nudged him, which Sasuke evidently shoved back. “Or are you still hung up on your cousin, (Y/n), shagging Neji.” Black eyes filled with anger, blared at the brunette. Yet, the idiot kept going. “She’s pretty innocent, doncha think, just imagining he-” Kiba was interrupted as both fist of Sasuke and Neji collided into Kiba’s sides. Knocking the brown haired boy further on the couch. Sasuke gave him another harsh hit to the shoulder.

“Don’t you know when to shut up, Kiba.” Neji glowered.

Neji stood up at this point and as he took his leave Sasuke trailed close behind. They both left the blonde haired boy’s house without hesitation. Reaching for his keys in his back pocket he noticed Sasuke just loitering in the yard. If you found out that he just left Sasuke standing there, he’d never hear the end of it. You were always close with your younger cousin and would go to him whenever you guys argued. Turning back around to face the younger Uchiha he asked, “Do you want a ride home? I don’t really care what you pick, I just don’t want (Y/n) thinking any less of me.”

Scoffing, Sasuke moved to the other side of the car and as Neji unlocked the doors the dark haired man quickly sat in the passenger seat. Pulling off Sasuke spoke up, “Mind if I smoke?” Out of the corner of Neji's eye he could make out the square box being waved back and forth.

“Sure, but roll down the window I don’t my car smelling like smoke. (Y/n) would flip.” Neji nodded his head towards the window, his hand automatically rolling all of the windows in the car down. The sound of a lighter flicking rang under the noise of the engine and soon the smell of cigarettes filled the air.

“She gets pretty upset whenever I do it. I quit smoking for about a year, because she didn’t want to see me get lung cancer. But, I got back into the habit a couple of months ago.” He said, and inhaled the thick smoke that blew from his lips, flying out the window soon after.

“She really cares about you, ya know.” Neji mentioned, yet the man sitting next to him remained silent. Sighing Neji kept his gaze on the road, this is going to be a long car ride.

The rest of the car ride was pretty silent, well it wasn’t really a surprise since both of the men in the car are pretty solitary people. It didn’t take too long for him to drop Sasuke off at his family’s house, not giving Neji a proper ‘thank you’, he settled for a two finger salute as he walked up the stairs. Neji pulled out and headed straight for his place, you and Neji moved in together your senior year of college. He grew accustomed to your habits pretty leisurely, not that he minded them, well maybe he hated the way you did dishes or ate really unhealthy foods. But, he never voiced out loud with you, like how you never told him off for his out of nowhere belching.

As his car pulled up in the driveway he took notice of your car parked on the street. You always gave him the driveway, he didn’t really complain about it though. He couldn’t help, but pay close attention to the way he nearly skipped several steps to open the front door. Swinging the hard wood wide open Neji slipped his shoes off before adventuring further down the hall. You were usually watching whatever crap you listened to whenever you came home, however you didn’t seem to be in the living room. Feeling worn down, Neji opted to take a quick nap, this day left him feeling heavy. Lead feet trudged up each stair, feeling his feet getting heavier with each step.

Reaching the master bedroom Neji stared down at the curvy figure laying on the bed sheets. (Y/n) laid still on the only sign of life was her soft breathing sounding through the silent room. Laying over Neji sat himself on the comforter, scooching closer to your body. His toned arms pushed under your limbs, bringing you in closer for a soft hug. A kiss planted on your cheek, he finally closed his eyes.

“Love you, (Y/n).” He whispered.

Smiling, you held onto his thick forearms, “I love you, too Neji.”

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Crescent Moon 1/1

Title: Crescent Moon

Pairing: Henry Cavill x YOU

Rating: Sexy, fluff, teasing, some swearing and borderline language

Summary: As a working model, you landed a coveted Dunhill Cologne job. The number one rule in the industry is NOT to get involved with your fellow models. But, the delicious blue eyed boy waiting for you on set changed your mind.

Gif by amancanfly

Note: this is absolutely a trash fic. So.. here ya go :)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘I can’t very well put my tongue in her mouth without even knowing her name, Jamie,’ Henry groused and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to where you sat in a rickety director’s chair getting your make-up retouched.

‘You’re so fucking, English, Henry,’ Jamie replied easily. ‘Do you need a little page three girl? Get your courage up?’

‘Fuck off.’

Why would he need boobs in newspaper form when he had a real live woman right there on set?

Jamie laughed and slid an overly friendly arm around Henry where his tuxedo jacket stretched crisp and inky black across his broad shoulders.

‘Listen. You are the handsome face of Dunhill. Right? You are paid to do what you’re told and to sell the product. It’s my job as principal photographer to make you look delicious so that every little wet twat out there wants to buy this cologne for her ruddy, beer bellied husband and every lad wants to look exactly like you in the hopes of pulling a posh bird.’

Jamie thumped Henry’s chest with the base of his palm and smoothed down the artfully undone bowtie around his neck.

‘We understand each other?’

Henry nodded. He depended on Jamie for the campaign and pissing him off wasn’t in his best interest.

‘Good, now go sit in the chair and put your fucking tongue into her mouth. And for the love of god, act like you like it.’

‘What’s her name?’ Henry asked shrugging out from under the heavy arm weighing him down.

‘Fuck if I know, ask her yourself. While you’re at it, why not ask for her ring size as well and her old gran’s maiden name.’

‘Jesus Christ, Jamie. What the hell is wrong with you?’

Jamie scrubbed a hand across his unkempt face and was tempted to spill his guts about the divorce papers with which he’d been served that morning.

‘Just…. go do what I tell you and we can all get paid. We still have a night shoot on the bridge and we have to make it quick.’

With that, Jamie turned round and walked off of the dimly lighted set. To calm himself, Henry tried to push his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and not for the first time that day he remembered that they were rented and the pockets had been sewn shut. Instead, he swiped his moist hands on his thighs and went back to the curved, crescent shaped chair on the set. It was supposed to be an easy shoot. Lounge in the chair, smoulder, have girl between his thighs leaning adoringly over him, avoid looking down her low-cut top and boom – 5k in the account.

When you joined him on set, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, and half-smiled awkwardly. He’d been paired with high end models before who had been icy and hurried. But you were someone he felt he could talk to. He asked your name.

To which you turned to him, smiled curiously, and gave it.

‘I thought you already knew it,’ you said.

Henry leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together between them.

‘I turn up, do what they tell me and go home to walk my dog,’ he laughed and then cringed, caving beneath the weight of how lame he must have sounded.

He was Fat Cavill all over again, floundering and unable to talk to a pretty girl. He hated himself for it.

Henry was heartened when you made an interested noise and leaned in close.

‘What’s his name? Your dog.’

Names, he thought. See Jamie? Names were important.

‘Kal,’ he said.

‘Kal… like Kal-el?’

With his eyes brightening, he turned towards you.

‘Yeah! Like that. Do you.. I mean are you… so you know about Superman?’

You grinned and bobbed your head.

‘Who doesn’t know about Superman? I mean… my little brother collects comics and I used to watch that show back in the 90s.’

You shrugged and teased slyly, ‘Pfft, who doesn’t know about Superman,’ but in a way that asked if he was really wondering if normal people didn’t know about one of the most famous comic book superheros.

Henry wasn’t bothered by it. He he smiled, intrigued and was about to continue the conversation when Jamie, holding his massive digital camera, swaggered over and pointedly waited for you to stop talking.

‘Right, you two lovebirds getting good and acquainted?’

‘He’s nice,’ you said, pressing your elbow into Henry’s side. ‘He’s got a dog named Kal. You know, like Superman.’

Absolutely pleased with you in that moment, Henry ducked his head and squashed a grin. But Jamie looked blankly at you and then made a face of disgust.

‘Here’s how it’s going to go. You two are having an illicit night out, met at a party, little drinks, a little dancing and you’re into each other. You can’t wait to leave together. You like her, you like him and shagging is definitely on the table. I want that from you. I want longing looks, I want wet parted lips, I want sex. Ok, got it?’

He looked directly at Henry.

‘Or shall I bring out the finger puppets.’

You smiled and nodded happily. You weren’t sure what was going on with the photographer, but a job was a job and you had dealt with worse.

‘Get into your original positions, please,’ Jamie said motioning towards you.

You got up, untwisted the thin shoe strap across your ankle and waited for Henry to lay back against the chair. He reached up for you and cradled your hips as you positioned between his spread thighs. You put your knee down between them, careful not to press up against his sizable bulge and with one hand on his shoulder, you artfully leaned in. Your breasts swung forward in your skimpy top and you turned just a little so that they wouldn’t bounce out and hit him in the face.

Not that you thought he would mind, considering how fixated on them he had been for nearly the entire shoot.

But you yourself hadn’t been so innocent.

You had noticed how much he was packing when you were first posed together and that little lizard part of your brain wanted to feel him.

Henry was fixated on you and you were fixated on him. You looked down into his big puppy dog eyes and could tell that he was still feeling nervous, as he had been all morning. You wanted to relax him, maybe play a little.

‘Look at you,’ you murmured, leaning in closer as his attention snapped to your face. ‘Lying there like the perfect boy.’

Henry’s lips parted and he gave you such an adoring look that you greedily drank it in like a cool glass of wine. You popped open a few of his shirt buttons and gingerly curved your fingers about his naked throat, marvelling at how immediately the shyness melted from his eyes. One corner of his lush mouth curved up into a slight smile and the fingers clenching your hips pulled you closer. He froze when his own actions pressed your knee right into his groin. You both looked down at where you were touching him so intimately, yet neither of you moved.

‘Whatever you two are fucking doing, don’t you fucking stop.’

Jamie was close now, the camera shutter clicking madly, but he was an annoyance in your peripheral. Your entire focus was on the boy beneath you and the big hand working across your bottom.

Not wanting to give away what you were doing to him, Henry hissed in a long indulgent breath and undulated in response to the upward press of your knee. Colour seeped into his cheeks and when you leaned down, hovering your wet mouth over his, he groaned softly. Everything muted and faded into the background and he lifted his chin to close the distance between you. The gentle confident stroke of his tongue along your sensitive lips rippled a delectable sensation through you and tightened your nipples into tender peaks.

This couldn’t be real, you thought. Are you that willing to fuck this man right here in front of the whole crew?

‘Ok, that’s good you two. I think I have enough.’

Someone was talking.

It was Jamie.

And just like that, the spell was broken. You scrambled back and off of Henry. Standing up, you quickly dusted off the back of your dress. Henry’s hand had been so hot against your arse that you were sure he had left handprints.

You tried not to look back at the man still lounging on the chair. But you couldn’t help it. One sly glance at him looking positively debauched, told you that it wasn’t over between you. And it was later in the back of the setpiece Bentley that Henry showed you how much more he wanted.

-end

Thank you for reading and please consider reblogging to help me to reach a wider audience :)

@lightsidecalling @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @emmaofgreengabbles @justaboringadult @jencanbeyouryengeralt @skittywittykitty @g0ldenlush @xxxkatxo @the-soot-sprite @rachie725 @harrysthiccthighss @little-green-love @littlefreya @foxyjwls007 @xshadyladyx @angreav @mstgsmy @ruthoakenshield @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @henry-owns-these-tatas @supernaturallymarvellous @cynic-spirit @whiskey-cokenfanfic @laketaj24 @october505 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @foodieforthoughts @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @singeramg @sapphirescrolls @emyearns

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #reader insert #man of steel #the witcher #august walker #geralt #sherlock holmes

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years ago

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Little Secrets - pt. 2

A/N: I couldn't found a perfect gif. Okay?! But this is the closest I could get. Plus, I really have to go to the bathroom, so this is the quickest gif I could find. I also spent three days writing this because I had about thousands of scenes in my head but I had to write only one. I love it. Hope yall love it too <3

All five of you have been sitting at the table; your father, James, Sirius, you and your mother, who had just brought some tea.

Sirius has been smiling at you. You had been smiling at him but not because you had pleasantly enjoyed his sudden appearance, though he was a quite fit young man, but because it was all so amusing.

"So you have a sister?" Sirius turned his head to James, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes..." James smiled awkwardly. "My younger sister, (Y/N)."

"That you had never mentioned." you grit your teeth a little and raised an eyebrow.

"Why haven't you, son?" asked your father, meanwhile your mother went to get Sirius some warm clothes.

"...it... didn't come in conversation..." James shrugged.

Both you and Sirius let out a laugh, exchanging a familiar look, as if the two of you were old friends already.

"Does anybody in Hogwarts know that you have a sister?" you asked, getting more stiff and angry, though you pretty much knew the answer. "I mean, some purebloods surely have to know." your tone started to get louder, causing James to sink in his chair. "Or was the fact that you have a Squib sister put shame to your popular reputation?" you stood up from your chair, glaring at your brother and seeing his friend stare at you with wide eyes.

You were a Squib?

You ignored his expression and made your way up-stairs, going off to bed. You didn't cry and you didn't yell. You weren't really sad to cry or angry to yell... you were just confused. That's all.

---

A few days passed and you didn't much talk to James. You avoided him, called a few friends and went into town with them. They were all mostly Muggles and you didn't mind that. You kept your secret life separate but you did tell them that your brother was keeping you as some sort of secret from his friends and the only explanation you had was that he was some sort of ashamed of you.

"That's rubbish, Pea."

That's what your friends called you. A nickname from the first day of school all those years ago, there was a little accident with peas at lunch. Everybody called you Pea since then. Everybody except your family.

"Than what other explanation is there?" you started to get frustrated, digging your head into your hands. "I just don't understand!"

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"I did. He's determined to avoid the topic." you drank your coffee and threw yourself back.

"And his friend?" she raised one of her eyebrows.

"Sirius."

"Sirius. What a name..." she started to tease you. "Is he cute?"

"He is." you smiled a bit. "Quite fit."

"Uff! What does he look like?"

"Well, he's tall, a bit shorter than Jamie but he's got a gorgeous face. Like if Aphrodite had a son with Kleopatra, he'd be the product of them."

"Hell, that good looking?" she rolled her eyes, thinking you were being your usual sarcastic self.

But you weren't. He was literally beautiful. "Okay, look. I am not in love with the guy. I just have eyes and my eyes love pretty things. He is one of those pretty things."

"Objectifying now, are we?" she continued to tease.

"You know what I meant."

"What about Alissa?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows and causing you to sink in your chair.

"What about Alissa?" you smiled sheepeshly.

"I saw the way she hugged you in front of school."

"Yeah but I don't know if she's into... you know..."

"Girls?"

"Yes! It's so hard to tell. I mean, she gives me so many signs-"

"There you go. She likes you."

"- but then she also ignores me at times. Like this hot-and-cold energy."

"Oh." your friend frowned at the sight and slumped her shoulders. "How about we go to a party tonight? You and me-"

"And?"

"Some friends." she grinned.

"Whiskey?" you grinned as well, feeling so much lighter at the proposition.

"There has to be whiskey. If not, we're leaving."

"Okay, let me just call mum. Tell her, I'm going to be a tad late." you winked at her and ran to the payphone at the back of the cafe. You spun the number and waited.

Your family loved the phone. Being a wizard, the communication usually fell through the letters but since you lived with one foot in the Muggle world, the discovery of the payphone has made you overly-excited as well as your parents. The communication was much faster and you could always call your home whenever you needed.

"Hello?" there was a foreign voice that only seemed to belong to one person in that house.

"Sirius? Is that you?"

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" he shouted into the phone. "Who is this!?"

"Sirius, it's (Y/N)."

"Oh! James' little secret sister."

"Yeah, that one." you rolled your eyes.

"Are you stuck in there?"

"Where?"

"In this tiny box? Do I have to call your mum to get you out?"

"Sirius, this is a phone."

"Oh! I've heard of those. It's a Muggle thing." he let out a laugh. "Foolish little thing. When you can just write something and poof it to someone's way."

"Well, I can't really poof it, can't I?" you smiled as you heard him gulp on the other side.

"Uh... sorry... I forgot."

"It's fine." you giggled, letting him know you are not offended from his reckless words. "Can you get mum anyway?"

"Why?"

"Because I have to tell her I'm going to come home late today."

"Oh." you could see him leaning on the wall and smirking at the idea. "Where are you off to?"

"Only a friend's house.

"A-ha." he doubted. "Friend's house." he continued to speak in a mocking tone. "Am I-"

"Oh, you've discovered the phone." you heard James in the background, laughing. "Who is it?"

"This thing is magnificent, Prongs. I can talk to her like she's here, though she's not in this tiny little box.... is she?" he whispered the last part, covering the phone.

"It's (y/n)? Is she still mad at me?" he leaned on the phone. "Stop being such a stubborn little arse and get over it!" he shouted, meanwhile you rolled your eyes.

"She says she's staying at a friend's house?" said Sirius.

"No, she's not." James laughed. "Her friend, Mandy, lives with her uncle who doesn't approve of (y/n) what-so-ever. She's going to a party."

"Am not!" you shouted through the phone, clearly lying. "I'm not going to Mandy's... I'm going to Zoe's."

"Zoe? I thought she goes to Greece during the summer."

"She's staying this summer. Broke a leg."

"Broke a leg my arse!" James shouted.

"Can we come too?" you heard Sirius through the phone.

"Maybe next time. I don't think I can manage James' face without punching it yet." you shrugged.

"Can I come then?"

"Oi! Don't be a prick."

"What?! It's a party!"

"Just tell mum I'm coming home late and that-" and with that the call got cut. You looked at it with surprise and then just shrugged. "They got the message."

---

You had come home, not drunk, not tipsy... just a little dazed. You wished you were wasted but a memory of you not being able to walk a few years ago due to some heavy home-made Scottish Whiskey, you had decided that getting wasted wasn't worth it.

You put your shoes away carefully and quietly before going to the kitchen. A simple walk home sobered you up. You could walk normally, feel lighter on your feet but wanting to collapse into your bed as soon as possible. Though you were starving, so the fridge was the first stop. Toast, mayo, baloney and cheese.

"Mmmmmm." you rolled your eyes back from the delicious flavor in your mouth, almost melting as it filled your stomach. When your eyes rolled back to the sandwich you felt like you saw a spark of light from the corner of your eye. You glanced back up and saw a familiar figure standing on the porch.

He was leaning over the fence, mind deep in thought, eyes far in the distance. Brushing your hands on your pants, you opened the door from the porch and peeked out.

"Peek a boo." you said casually but he didn't budge, only turned back calmly.

He gave you a soft smile and moved a little to give you space. "How was the party?" he said as he flickered the cigarette away, shutting up the grasshoppers.

"Eh." you shrugged, mimicking his position. "Wasn't really a party, more like a friendly gathering."

"Bummer."

"Not really." you laughed. "There were all these random people, Muggles as you call them and I knew three or four of them. People kept leaving and coming, random people that I know from school but never really hung out with them, you know?" you looked at him and he smiled, listening on. "And I did talk and flirt with this guy, who kept coming onto me but all the time I kept observing others and by the end of the night, when I came home, there was only one person on my mind and it wasn't that guy- that random, thought quite charming and nice guy- but it was this girl from school with pretty bluish-greenish-brownish eyes."

"All three colours?" he laughed.

"They change colour a lot, okay?" you laughed. "But it's not even the colour, more like the way she looks at me- like she's in love with me but I don't know if she's in love with me because one day she's all for it and another moment she's ignoring me. It's so frustrating."

"So you like girls?"

"More or so. I don't mind guys either."

"Which one do you prefer?" he asked from curiosity.

Though it wasn't one of your favorite questions to hear, you still replied casually. "It's not the matter of preference, more like the matter of which I fall in love with. Guys are simple. They think simple and there's no secret meaning behind their words. You know when they want to snog you or shag you or when they want something serious or not serious. Simple."

"And girls are not simple?" he laughed.

"Oh, girls are so complicated!" you groaned. "Not all of them of course. Not me." you laughed and he chuckled as well.

"Not you?"

"No. I don't like to complicate things just because of how my last girl did."

"Your ex?"

"Not really an ex. It was an odd situation but listen up to this." you started to get more comfortable. "She and me have been writing to each other- she was a tough nut to crack to be honest. I was breaking the ice with that girl for like a year and a half. She was hot and cold with me. I never knew what she meant. One day she was giving me hints she was into me, another times she was completely ignoring me."

"Is this the same girl you talked about before?"

"No-" you stopped, thinking back a little. "Though it is a similar situation, isn't it?" you asked him, meanwhile he laughed.

"I think so."

"Hm... I'll get back to that thought." you pinned the realisation down and continued with the story. "Okay, so she was finally starting to open up to me- also she was tall and dark and gorgeous green eyes, super hot- I can't leave that out."

"No, you can't."

"She was getting to open up, telling me stuff about her family, her friends, which classmates she hated and I was getting excited because LOOKIE THAT! SHE MIGHT TAKE A FANCY IN ME." you said over-excitedly, throwing your hands in the air before your face and your hands fell back down. "And then I see her hugging a boy in the hall and suddenly they're both dating."

"Oh, bummer!" He laughed. "She was straight."

"Oh, hell no." you laughed. "That girl was definitely not straight but her parents were, so-"

"Oh, makes sense."

"Perfectly good sense. She's studying to become a lawyer."

"A lawyer?"

"Yes, a lawyer."

"Bet her parents are happy."

"Over the moon, I suppose."

"And you?"

"Eh. I moved on from her a long time ago. To be honest, I just liked the chase." you let out another laugh and he rolled his eyes.

"Really?"

"I always love a little chase or runner dynamic."

"So you're the chaser?"

"Or the runner, depends which one I'm feeling. Today was more like a runner but when I play the runner, they really give up easily, you know?"

"I actually do know." he shook his head a bit, pulled out another cigarette and lit it up. "Does James know?"

"He does but not about... you know... them. He just knows about it."

"What do you mean?" he started to laugh again. You were funny. He liked funny girls and from the way you reacted to James' little secret, he thought you'd be just like the others but you were so simple and funny with a tad of mystery in your eyes.

"He only knows bits of it."

"Bits of it?" he quirked an eyebrow. "I thought the two of you tell each other everything."

"Clearly not." you rolled your eyes and dropped your head back. "I'm a secret."

"A pretty secret." he blurted out before he could help himself. Noticing what he had said as he had watched you drop your head back, your hair flowing in mid air and your eyes focused on the distance, he really couldn't keep it in. James kept you a secret. A pretty little secret and he never understood why. He had known him for so long and he hadn't mentioned you once in all those years. Did Peter know? Or Remus? Or did really nobody know that James Potter really had a younger sister, who had no magical abilities.

"You think I'm pretty?" you smirked, quirking an eyebrow yourself.

He let out an embarrassed laugh and looked away just before his eyes locked with yours again, the blue that is bright in the day, now dark, almost black in the night. "I have eyes, (y/n). It's just a mere observation."

"Oh." you laughed as well, jumping down from the fence and putting your hand on his shoulder. "Than as a mere observation, I can say that you are extremely hot." you put your hand on his cheek and tapped it a few times just before you made your way to your bed. "Goodnight, Sirius Black."

He watched you walk away with his cheeks burning red. Bold, daunting- you were. Similar in a way with how James acted but he had to admit that you seemed quite more of an adventure than James. It sounded ignorant to say that. You were new, something hidden, now on the surface where he can marvel at you. He felt just a little bit more excited than the day he met James. Such a thrill, knowing that he has all the summer getting to spend with you.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #james potter #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #marauders x reader

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londonalozzy · 4 years ago

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Don’t Tell Bucky 1/2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama

Summary: The reader arrives home one night after drowning her sorrows, thinking she doesn't stand a chance with the guy she loves most, Bucky Barnes. She is so out of it that she ends up revealing all of her feelings to the first person she sees. The man himself.

Masterlist

I've been teased my whole adult life about what an old fashioned, hopeless romantic I am.

Yes, I'm an Avenger. Yes, I can kick ass when the occasion arises. But the rest of the time, the usual place to find me, is curled up on the couch with my head buried in a Jane Austen novel.

A couple of years ago someone came into my life that I thought was the key to it all. He was destined to be the Darcy to my Elizabeth, the Edward to my Elinor, the Mr Knightly to my Emma. Oh, how wrong I was!

When Steve first brought Bucky to Avengers HQ it was like a modern day version of when Bingley introduced Mr Darcy to the people of Meryton at the ball in Pride and Prejudice.

He was the archetype of the aloof romantic hero. Tall, dark, handsome, brooding and quiet. He kept himself to himself, observed everyone with eyes of an eagle, and only spoke when spoken to. I was well and truly hooked.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky and I came to an understanding, a friendship that only got more complicated as time went on. After everything he had been through, it was hard for him to open up to people, to let his guard down. What he did yearn for though, was companionship, someone to sit beside, someone to just be there if and when he needed them. I became that person for him.

Every time I decided to sit silently with a book in hand, it wouldn't be long before I had a certain super soldier at my side, just embracing the company, not having to worry about putting on a show for people he didn't feel comfortable with.

The complication in our relationship came when I realised how much I had come to depend on him being there for me.

My aching for him first made itself known when he started going out on missions that I wasn't apart of, when he went on all day training sessions away with the guys, and whole nights out when his confidence finally got a boost. I missed him. I missed him with every fiber of my being.

"So, I'm guessing you've heard the latest gossip on Barnes?" Nat asked me one morning over breakfast, her eyes not leaving her plate of blueberry pancakes as she spoke.

"Gossip? What are you talking about?" Any news on what Bucky was up to was music to my ears. I'd barely seen him these last few weeks, and it was seriously messing me up in more ways than I'd like to admit.

"You mean he's not told you? You? Princess Y/N?"

To say Nat was surprised by my ignorance was an understatement. This must be something big if she is shocked about it. When did it change to others knowing more about Bucky than I did? I thought we were best friends. He calls me Princess for Christ's sake.

"Maybe you should ask him yourself," Nat suggested, reaching across the table and rubbing my forearm. "I just assumed he would have told you first."

Now I'm seriously freaking out. "Nat, please just tell me what the hell is going on."

"You know Theresa down in medical?" Oh, shit. I've got a bad feeling about this.

"Yeah. What about her?"

"They're dating." Oh no!

It felt like my heart had leapt into my throat. I couldn't think, never mind know what to respond with. I knew it would happen eventually. I knew he'd end up with someone. I just assumed it would me. How stupid could I be?

"Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel." Why does Nat always have to be so good at this observation stuff?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I choked with a traitor tear in my eye, and a jump up from my chair when I suddenly felt the need to escape.

Nat followed me down the hall to my room, putting herself in front of me as I tried to change into my running gear. I had to get out of there. "You can't pretend this isn't happening Y/N. This is Bucky we're talking about. Your Bucky. You'll regret it if you don't tell him."

"Yeah, well I'll regret it a hell of a lot more if I do tell him and then lose him completely."

Nat grabbed my arms, stopping me in my tracks. She was one of my closest friends for a reason. She knew what made me tick, what scared me, what mattered the most to me. It's just not a risk I can take though.

"If you don't talk to him, all of this will get bottled up inside and it will ruin your friendship anyway. Y/N you need to get this out."

She was right. This was Nat. She was always right. My head and heart couldn't handle all of this new information. I didn't know how to deal with it, how to react.

So much for that epic romance I thought I was destined for. Looks like, for me, I'm only meant to be the friend, the side character in someone else's love story. I'm Eponine and not Cosette.

Deciding to lay off of me for the rest of the day, Nat rounded up Wanda and a few others and we headed out for a few drinks. Well, what started out as a few drinks anyway.

By the early morning I had at least 10 too many tequila shots in my bloodstream, partnered with a sore throat from overly emotional karaoke renditions of some of the best known heartbreak songs. I was a mess. A mess that could barely remember her own name.

"Are you drunk?" A random voice echoed through the hall as I stumbled around, trying and failing to get into what I hoped was my room at 2am.

"Why would you think that?" I replied to the swaying figure as they moved closer to steady my feet.

"Probably because you're trying to unlock your bedroom door with a lip stick. Plus the fact that the door doesn't have a lock on it anyway. What's up?"

Ignoring the nosy stranger, and giving up on getting into my room because the handle kept moving all over the place, I went in search of the nearest soft thing I could find to park myself on. Standing up was over rated anyway.

"You don't normally drink like this Princess," the randomer observed, leaning over me as I started making rug angels on the shag pile in the common room.

Why is this guy talking like he knows me? Who the hell does he think he is calling me that? "I've just got a lot on my mind. And don't Princess me. Only Bucky gets to call me that."

"Noted," the randomer laughed with a shake of the head, then joining me by laying at my side.

Staring at the ceiling as the silence engulfed us, I decided to confide in this handsome newbie. "If I tell you something, can you promise you won't tell anybody?"

"I promise," he responded without hesitation.

"I mean it, nobody can know. Especially Bucky. He can never find out." I pulled him into a sitting position and put my hands on either side of his face, trying to stress how important it was that he keeps this to himself. He really was pretty.

"I swear, Bucky will hear none of this from me."

"Ok. Here goes," I jumped up, frantic all of a sudden. "I want him to break up with his girlfriend, and it's seriously stressing me out."

"Why would you want him to do that? She's a nice girl isn't she?," pretty boy questioned in confusion, getting to his feet as well. Why did he care so much? Where the heck did he come from anyway? I swear, if this is one of Tony's robo experiments again I'm gonna flip.

"I'm sure they're perfect for each other," I groaned. "I just know that I don't want him with her. At first I had no idea why. He's one of my closest friends. I should want him to be happy right?"

"Of course," Mr Blue eyes confirmed with a furrowed brow and by gripping onto my now clammy hands.

"Then I started thinking about it. Why was I feeling like this? Why was it bothering me so much? I realised, it wasn't just this one girl I have a problem with. It's all girls. All except one."

"Who?"

"Me."

"Wait? What?" He bellowed, leaping backwards and pacing the floor. "You want m...I mean Bucky to go out with you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think so."

"Y/N, you can't just come out with something like that and respond with I think so," he screeched out in loud exasperation, so much so that I burst into flood of tears.

"Why are you shouting at me?" This guy is such a meanie.

When he saw how upset I was he immediately calmed down, placing his palms on my face and wiping the salty drops away. "Y/N please don't cry. This is just a lot to process."

It took me a while to calm myself down, hiccups escaping my lips as the crying finally subsided. Slowly, the angel man, stranger, person, thing walked me over to the couch and sat us both down. His eyes were boring into me, beautiful azure pools that looked slightly familiar. Maybe it was those bath bombs Steve keeps buying from Lush. I don't know.

"Why do you even care about all this? It's not like you know him or something?" I enquired, now looking at anything other than in those beautiful bath fizzer eyes.

"Just try to explain to me what's going on in that crazy little head of yours," he pressed.

Oh well. I may as well carry on now I've started.

"I've been with the Avengers for a long time. They're my family, my home. And don't get me wrong, I know they care about me, love me even. It's just easy to be sidelined, you know? To become an after thought when you're part of something so big. Bucky changed that. When I met him, it was like everything shifted. He became the reason I smiled every day, why I looked forward to getting out of bed. For the first time in my life I felt like I was at the top of someone's priority list."

"So are all of these feelings because you think you're gonna lose that? You think you're gonna lose him? I swear to you it won't happen." If it only it were that easy.

"I wish it was that," the tears building up once more as I eventually decided to look at him properly. "It would make all of this way less complicated."

"What is it then?," he pressed in urgency.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm head over heels in love with the guy."

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #reader #james barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #Avengers #captain america #falcon #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #oc #romance #comedy #drama

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super-unpredictable98 · 3 years ago

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Tourist Trapped (pt 1) | Misfits Timeline Anomaly' verse

An oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: Strong language, smut

(Masterlist)

As usual, when Lydia got home from work, everyone was still asleep. For a moment she thought of waking them up, but she decided to take a shower first. There was a lot to think about after the notes she got from her director, some alone time would be nice.

She left the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible while looking for something to wear, but apparently she wasn't as quiet as she thought.

"Who's the sexy naked bird in my room?" her Nathan yawned.

“Hey, Lyds,” Win murmured, stirring. “How was rehearsal?”

"It was... interesting," she smiled, crawling into bed to give each of them a kiss. "How was, um, sleeping?"

“It’ll be a lot better now that you’re here,” Win’s Nathan mumbled, pulling her against his chest.

Win frowned slightly still thinking about Lyddie's answer. “Interesting good? Or interesting bad?” she wondered.

"I mean, I'm excited. We open in five weeks, I know pretty much everything by heart, but my director-" Lydia stopped talking, maybe she shouldn't say anything, at least not as they wake up. "He gave me some odd instructions..."

“Odd how?” Win’s Nathan asked, suddenly worried. “You’re not gunna hafta strip on stage now are yeh?”

"No," she laughed. "I'm probably the only girl who doesn't. I just- he asked me to change some stuff to fit the role better, nothing major."

“Oh... okay...” Win nodded, still confused.

“What does that mean?” he exclaimed. “Oh God, please don’t tell me y’hafta cut your hair!” he gasped.

"Wow, all that at the thought of me with short hair? I know you like to pull it but that's overreacting a little, don't you think?" Lyddie looked up at him. "But no, quite the opposite actually."

“Well, I mean...” he began, hissing as Win pinched him.

“I have short hair! Are you saying you doing like my hair?”

“What, no—!"

"The opposite? What's the opposite? Like a wig?" Lyddie's Nathan was now fully awake.

"He wants me to stop shaving the bits that show in costume..." her voice nearly disappeared by the end of the sentence.

"Wait, what?” Win’s Nathan spluttered.

“Ohh, okay,” Win said as if it was no big deal, before kissing the other woman's cheek. “If you want I can stop shaving in solidarity.”

"I feel like you'd look sexy," she giggled. "I would definitely be into that..."

Win grinned to herself. Leave it to Lyds to think she’d be sexy no matter what.

"Wait up," Lyddie's Nathan had a reaction similar to his clone's. "The bits that show in costume, so... just upstairs right?"

"Nathan!" she hid under a pillow, she knew they would react like that, that's why she was scared to say anything.

“Hey, c’mon, it won’t be that bad,” Win exclaimed, directing fierce glares at both boys. “Maybe I’ll just stop shaving for good. Do you know how fuckin’ annoying it is?” she snapped.

“Yeah, 'cept you could always just borrow my power t’make it disappear,” her Nathan pointed out.

“That’s besides th’point!” she countered, pinching him again.

The idea of not having to shave anymore was tempting. Lydia tried it for a while in 2015, but decided to quit when Nathan himself started teasing her about it.

"This job means the world to me, if it bothers you so much I could shag only Winnie until my run is over," she looked defiantly at the boys while holding her tightly.

"Hey hey!" her Nathan sat up. "All I did was ask which areas would be affected!"

“I’m fine with that,” Win chuckled. “More Lollipop for me.”

"See? Someone loves me in this quad!" Lyddie cried dramatically.

"Hell no! I love you!" he protested. "I'll shag ya, I was just curious..."

“Wha— I love yeh too!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed. “Nothing could change that.”

"I love you too," Lyds whispered. "I'm really insecure about that and I'm scared you won't feel attracted to me anymore, so I'll just go make us breakfast," she tried to leave, but her Nathan held her in place.

"Fuck no!"

"Are y'kiddin'? I mean, it might take a little gettin' used to, full disclosure," the other twin admitted, "but nothing could stop me from bein' attracted t'you."

"I want to believe you," she sighed, turning to face him. "But future you said..."

"Future me was a twat!" Lyddie's Nathan cut her off. "Fuckin' hate that guy, don't believe him!"

"Yeah, it's not exactly fair t'judge us based on him. He's a completely different person!" Win's Nathan agreed.

"I suppose..." Lyddie mused, running her fingers through his hair. "It's fine, I'll be extra sexy so you'll get used to it."

"I don't think that's humanly possible, love, but damn if I wouldn't like t'see you try," he joked.

"Mmmm, I can hardly wait," Win drawled, running her hand down Lyddie's thigh.

"Let's go," Lydia got up against her will. "If I stay in bed with you, I'll do nothing else for the rest of the day, and you're making me horny, so that's dangerous territory," she headed to the kitchen.

"Boo," Win whined, slipping out of bed too.

"Noooo, not you too!" her Nathan whimpered. "Winnie..."

"Get up, c'mon," she laughed, throwing on a shirt and following her fiancé. "Hey, you sure you're okay?" she asked, hugging her from behind.

"Yeah, I think they might feel different in two weeks, but Natty is right, I can't judge him based on a version that doesn't even exist anymore," Lydia leaned back while still trying to focus on the bagels she brought from the bakery.

"Yeah..." Winnie agreed, pressing her lips between Lyddie's shoulder blades. "But if they so much as make you feel even the teensiest bit bad about yourself, do I have permission to deck them?" she half-joked. "Because I will if I have to."

"You have my permission, just leave the face intact, it would be a shame to mess with those pretty faces," Lyds looked over at them. "I'm so lucky to have you, baby."

"Do we get food or just watch you two gettin' cozy over there?" her Nathan teased.

Win gave her another squeeze, turning to face the twins.

"I thought you liked t'watch," she taunted, sticking her tongue out at him before slipping from Lyddie's side to move closer, lowering her voice. "If you make her feel bad about herself, I will punch you... not in the face, but it will still hurt," she threatened, though there was no heat to her voice.

"Jesus, alright..." Lyddie's Nathan chuckled nervously. "Don't worry, babe. It's Lyds, our fiancé, the sexual deviant we all love to bits, we'd never hurt her."

"Good," Winnie whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I know," she added softly.

"I had to wait twenty minutes in line, so I hope it's worth it..." Lydia served them one by one, giving each of her partners a kiss before sitting down.

"Thank you, babe," she chirped, taking her seat and accepting her kiss. "What's the plan for today?"

"So I was thinking we could go to Eagle Provisions on Brooklyn, they have craft beers from all over the world, and..."

"Lyddie, can I ask one thing?" her Nathan raised his hand, already halfway done with his bagel. "Why do we never get t'go somewhere like... That M&M's store or that wax museum with the complicated name?"

"Yeah, that sounds fun!" his twin exclaimed, licking the shmear from his fingers. "Why don't we?"

"Do we really wanna be a bunch of tourists?" Lydia rolled her eyes with a grin.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Lollipop... but we kinda are. This is only the second time we visit." her Nathan grimaced. "Shouldn't we give it a try?"

"I guess we can..."

"I've never gotten to see any of the touristy stuff," Win added. "It wouldn't hurt for at least one day. And then you can go back to takin' us all to the places only native New Yorkers know."

"I've never seen the touristy stuff either," she seemed to realize. "Well, you're right. We should probably give it a chance, but I'm drawing the line. We're not going to the Empire State, that's 75 dollars just to look around."

"I can live with that," Lyddie's Nathan nodded. "And who knows? Maybe you'll like it..."

"Ooo I'm excited!" Win clapped. "I wanna go to Coney Island!"

"Okay, we should get going soon then, cause that's about 40 minutes by car with no traffic," Lydia couldn't help but get excited with how happy they were. "Put on something comfortable, we're gonna do a lot of walking."

Win picked out her most comfortable shoes and a cute outfit before stealing one of Nathan’s oversized hoodies.

“I’m ready!”

"I'm packing your swimsuits just in case a miracle happens and we're able to go to the beach without freezing to death," Lyds laughed.

"I'm ready too," her Nathan stumbled out of the room while still putting on his jeans.

“Me three,” Win’s Nathan called, hurrying out of the room, his shoes still untied.

“Anything else we need, babe?” Win asked.

"I think we have everything," Lyddie got down on her knees to tie his shoes. "Let's go then."

“Oh, thanks,” he murmured, trying not to think of other things she could do on her knees before quickly clearing his throat.

“Are we taking a cab part of the way there or...?” Win asked as they walked down the hall.

"We can take a cab and when we get to Coney Island we decide what to do first, we can go for the roller-coasters or the aquarium, the Wonder Wheel..." she searched for the keys to the front door of the building. "I'm just happy I won't have to make dinner tonight, we can eat at Nathan's."

"Where?" her Nathan's brows furrowed.

"Nathan's, it's arguably the most famous hot dog in New York."

“Ha!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed. “I wanna eat there just for th’fact that it’s named after me.”

“Oh my God,” Win muttered, shaking her head ruefully. “Believe it or not, I don’t think I’ve ever had a hot dog before, actually."

"Named after you? Yeah, pretty sure when that place opened, your grandparents weren't even born- Wait what?" Lyddie gaped at her. "You don't know what happiness is until you shove a hot dog down your throat... um, that didn't sound right."

Winnie’s eyebrows shot up before her lips curled impishly. “Well, if it’s similar to a dick, then I guess I do kinda know how that is,” she laughed, bumping her shoulder against the other woman's arm.

"Well, dicks don't come with toppings so I'd rather get a hot dog," Lydia shrugged before getting in the car.

"Lollipop!" her Nathan seemed offended. "Y'never asked! I could arrange that..."

“That seems like a choking hazard, but I bet there are people that would be into that,” Win shrugged as she and her Nathan piled into the cab as well.

For a good part of the ride, Lydia had to listen to the boys discussing which toppings would go better with cock, and for a second she thought wow, I'm really marrying those guys.

Win rolled her eyes, enjoying the conversation, while still feeling a little bad for the poor cabbie who was forced to listen as well. When they got to their destination she got out and stretched, glad to see the sun was out

"Oh, looks like we picked the right day to come," Lydia took the sunscreen out of the backpack. "Hikaru, Kaoru, come here."

"No! C'mon..." her Nathan whined.

"Stop being a baby and let me apply it, you'll live," she chuckled. "So where do you guys wanna go first?"

“Rollercoaster!” Win shouted.

“How’d I know you’d say that, y’little thrill seeker,” her Nathan laughed.

"Okay," Lyddie was a little scared, being the only mortal one, but hey... if she got hurt, at least she'd be able to fix it.

"What way do we go?" her Nathan wrapped one arm around her shoulder.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm being used a tour guide slash personal encyclopedia..." she dragged them towards the Luna Park.

“Well, you know the most out of all of us,” Win pointed out, slipping her hand in Lyddie’s as they neared the Park to get in line for the coaster. “I probably should’ve asked if you guys were okay with this,” she realized as they stood under its shadow.

"I'm fine with it," Lyddie's Nathan wrapped the sleeves of his hoodie around his waist, tying a knot at the front. "Lyds is the one who's scared."

"No I'm not!" she scoffed, wanting to punch him for saying that in front of the others. "I'm excited, it's gonna be fun!"

“If you’re scared, we don’t have to...” Win held her hands up. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, babe.”

"Nah, Nathan is taking the piss, you know him," she blushed, not wanting to seem like a coward. "It's totally fine, I love 90-degrees vertical drops! Look at me, honeypie, do I look like I'm scared?"

All of them could see her tremble slightly, but if she wanted to insist she was okay, Win didn’t wanna embarrass her by claiming otherwise.

“Okay, let’s do this then,” she said as they were next in line.

"Y'don't have t'do this," Lyddie's Nathan whispered. "She's already engaged t'you, remember?"

"I'm cool, I live on adrenaline," she sat down next to him, soon enough everything was ready and they started moving. "Jesus Christ... if I die, tell Simon that I love him!"

"What?" he cackled.

“This is awesome!” Win exclaimed as they took off and when the car climbed the first tall hill she glanced back at Lydia in the car behind her. “You ready babe?”

When they topped the crest she threw her hands in the air and screamed excitedly the whole way down.

"OH MY FUCKING FUCKIDDY FUCK!" Lyddie cried, squeezing Nathan's hand as he laughed watching her reaction.

"Isn't so bad, is it?" he shouted.

And surprisingly, she found it really wasn't, her heart nearly came out her mouth, but besides that, she felt amazing.

“So, did you have fun?” Win asked as soon as they got off the ride. “It sounded like you were having fun.”

"Hell yeah!" Lydia was beyond proud of herself. "That was awesome! I don't know why I've never tried it before."

"Wait, you've never been on a roller coaster before?" she gasped.

"Oh, says the woman who never tried a hot dog! You can't judge me! When I was little I was scared of them..."

"When you were little?" Lyddie's Nathan mocked as the two girls held each other in a fierce embrace. "Y'mean five minutes ago?"

"I'm not judging you," Win assured. "I'm glad you had fun! I would've hated to scar you for life."

"I'd follow you anywhere, you know that," Lydia whispered. "God I love you! I've never felt so alive! Wonder Wheel next!"

“Sounds good!” Win agreed, though her fiancé's words touched her more than she could say, affection aching in her chest as she followed down the boardwalk.

Thankfully it was November, so the lines were pretty small, in about ten minutes they all managed to get into one of the Wonder Wheel's cars.

"So... just the four of us, feels pretty romantic to me," Lyddie leaned back on her seat.

"Oh, so that was your plan, y'wanted to get us alone, huh?" her Nathan teased.

"Kinda, but not like that."

“It is romantic,” Win agreed, snuggling closer to her Nathan to look over the edge of the car as they began to ascend.

“So what did you wanna get us alone for then?” he asked.

"I like the idea of being in this tiny little car, right now it's just us, the rest of the world doesn't matter," Lyds looked over the city, and then back at her partners. "No one to judge us or look at us weird when we're kissing..."

"Aww baby, you're too sweet," her Nathan took her hand.

“That sounds perfect,” Win murmured, running her thumb over her Nathan’s knuckles as she slipped her hand in his. “Maybe we should do some kissing then?” she teased with a smirk.

"I was trying not to be a horny monster, but it does sound good..." Lyddie looked down. "My only complaint is that I can't snog all of you at the same time, that's the only downside."

“It doesn’t have to be horny snogging, it could be romantic snogging,” Winnie mused with a grin. “But isn’t that the biggest mood? It’s like you’re in my head Lyds.”

"It's because I know you, babe," she murmured before pulling her Nathan in for a kiss, while gently stroking the other woman's thigh. "Because we're perfect for each other..."

“Mmm, we are...” Win hummed, sighing as her Nathan captured her lips as well, her hand resting over Lyddie’s. “I knew this would be a good place to come.”

"Damn right..." Lydia sighed before slapping Nathan's hand away from her chest. "Natty! We said romantic snogging!"

"Wha-? I am! I'm romantically grabbin' your tits!" he argued. "I'm a gentleman..."

"The man makes a good point!" Win's Nathan exclaimed as she leaned over the side once more.

"God, will you look at that view?" she breathed.

"Gentleman... aham," Lyds pulled away to look outside as well, it sure was something. The ocean stretching as far as the eye can see and the city far away. "Yeah, almost as beautiful as you."

"Jesus, that was cheesy..." her Nathan mocked. "Lollipop only has two moods: extremely horny, or hopeless romantic, there's no in-between."

"Yeah well, it suits me just fine," Win argued, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.

"I wish we could stay here forever," Lyddie smiled.

"I could snap my fingers and break this thing, y'want me to?" her Nathan whispered.

"Jesus! I didn't mean I wanted to get stuck here forever... just that this moment could last forever."

"I was gunna suggest somethin', but I'm not gunna..." Win's Nathan muttered cheekily, sharing a look with Winnie.

"Wait, I'm curious, what were you gonna say, baby?" Lydia had a feeling she knew, but she was still interested anyway.

"No, you didn't wanna get horny, and if I say, then you're gunna get horny."

"Please?" she ran her fingers up his thigh with a pout. "Maybe I've changed my mind..."

"If we broke th'ride... we could potentially shag up here... y'know..." he answered, swallowing as her hand lingered on his leg. That image of her on her knees coming back uninvited into his brain.

"Exactly what I was thinkin'..." Lyddie's Nathan agreed.

She considered it for a second as they reached the top. "Go ahead then, but make sure you can fix it after, I still wanna go to the aquarium and the brewery before dinner."

Win laughed delightedly as the boys nodded, snapping their fingers, bringing the ride to a slow stop. "See, another reason we work so well together."

"I could make so one sees us, but what's the fun in that?" Lyddie's Nathan was already unzipping his jeans.

"Which one of you am I shagging?" Lydia looked between her three partners, arousal pooling between her legs.

"Whoever you want babe... We could always sit in the boys' laps and make out th'two of us," Win suggested with a mischievous smirk.

"I like the way you think," she jumped on her Nathan's lap, grinding against his crotch, ignoring the commotion still going on over the broken ride.

"Fuuuck," he let out a breathy moan. "What you doin', Lollipop?"

Win shimmied her jeans down as her Nathan quickly freed his cock. "Oh, fuck yes, we can check this off our shag list, babe," he murmured as she lowered herself to his lap, letting him sheath her before grinding against him, moaning softly.

"Wait, what did you do to my knickers?" Lydia realized she was completely naked under her long flowy skirt.

"It's in my pocket, don't worry," her Nathan guided her hips to the right position while kissing her neck roughly. "Just don't be too loud, alright? I'm not sure who can hear us..."

“Don’t worry, I can keep her mouth busy,” Win purred, leaning forward to claim her lips.

Lydia hummed, moaning quietly as she moved, kissing her fiancé back while riding Nathan.

"Oh, baby, you feel so good," he panted, that was her first time being on top with him since the incident with the supposedly broken cock, but after all the practice with her other partner, she was pretty confident

“Oh fuck, Winnie, you two are so hot,” Win’s Nathan groaned, bouncing her in his lap, trying not to jostle the car too much and Win gasped, her hand finding Lyddie’s breast, kneading as she kissed her.

In moments like this, Lydia really appreciated her power because she didn't wanna break the kiss to breathe. One of her hands went to the back of Winnie's neck, rubbing circles around her skin, while the other blindly snaked under her shirt.

“Mmm, Natty, Lyddie,” she moaned into the other woman’s mouth, arching into her hand.

“Holy shit, I’m close!” Win’s Nathan cried, biting his lip. “Jesus y’feel so good,” he exclaimed as he guided her hips.

"Me too," Lyds whimpered and looked down at her own Nathan, kissing her chest while bucking his hips. "Are you...?"

"Oh, I am," he pulled away to catch his breath. "Go faster, Lollipop." Happy to obey, she picked up her pace, riding him through her orgasm while moaning into her fiancé's mouth.

Once they all had come, Win slumping against her Nathan's chest, she let out a soft laugh.

"Well, Lyds, what'd you think of that?"

"I think that I'm very happy you guys dragged me here today. God, you're amazing..." Lydia tried to reach for her Nathan's pocket to grab her knickers, but he stopped her.

"Ah ah, I'll keep 'em," he insisted.

"Natty! If I don't put them on, I'll get spunk dripping down my legs until we're back home."

"Y'say that like it's a bad thing."

"Y'know I think you have a thing for stealin' knickers, Nathan," Win pointed out. "You did th'same thing t'me the other night. You little deviant," she teased.

"Not me, I'm an angel!" her Nathan asserted cheekily.

"How dare you?" Lyddie's Nathan gasped, clutching his chest. "I'm no such thing! I'm simply... takin' it with me for safekeepin'." "Mhmm..." Lydia sat back down, at least her skirt was long enough so it wouldn't be visible. "And you say I'm the horny menace to society."

"Uhm, Nate, the ride..." Win murmured and her Nathan gave a start.

"Right, course," he said, snapping his fingers and suddenly the car began to move once more. "So, I'm pretty hungry after that," he exclaimed, stretching exaggeratedly. "Plus I wanna see Lyddie and Winnie shove a hot dog down their throats."

"And I thought I was the one who enjoyed watching you eat," Lyds chuckled, hoping no one questioned the mechanical issues they just experienced. "I suppose I could deepthroat it for your amusement..." she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Wait, can ya?" her Nathan asked, suddenly very interested.

"Not having to breathe all the time has its perks," she shrugged.

"Pretty sure Lyddie'd be better than me," Win joked as they neared the ground.

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @holidayspirits

#misfits fanfic #misfits nathan #misfits #nathan young x oc #nathan young #otp: green apple lollipop #fic collab #timeline anomaly verse

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vaniri · 4 years ago

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Helping hand [Johnny Silverhand x V]

On their way home from Clouds, Johnny decides to end V’s life. Or help her, she is not sure anymore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Contains all the good stuff: fingering, a bit of dirty talk (at least until V tells Johnny to shut up), Johnny being Johnny™, and public embarrassment. Does not contain: plot. Who needs that?

18+ only, obviously

As always, HUGE THANKS and I LOVE YOU to @ugh-my-back for helping me out with this little creation and doing the beta 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Johnny felt almost sorry for that pathetic piece of unfortunate shit he’d been involuntarily attached to. She had a simple task – go to a brothel, get the information she needed, get laid because that’s why you go to establishments of that kind, and leave. And literally nothing went according to plan: she didn’t learn much, got fucking psychoanalyzed instead of laid, and was shot at on her way out because she had to sniff around, having the sneaking skills of a drunk teenager. Only V could have that luck.

“I said that getting off was waiting for you in Clouds? I take it back.” He mocked her, materializing in the passenger seat of her car. “Was almost right about getting offed, though.”

“Please shut up and go back to pretending you don’t exist.” Tired and exasperated after what she’d been through, she didn’t even shoot him a glance, trying to focus on the road.

“I left you there for five minutes, so you could get shagged in peace, and not only did you fuck that up but also wound up in a shooting turned massacre. You should have just fucked that doll and bailed, like any normal person would."

"We weren't there to fuck anyone, remember?"

"Yeah, and we should be. You should be. Tell me, V, is your cunt sealed with cobwebs already? Because I scoured your memories, out of boredom, and it’s been a long, loooong while since you had some action there."

“Asshole.”

“Yeah, there too.”

“You really know how to brighten the day, don’t you?”

“And you really don’t feel how sexually frustrated you are? Because I do.” He turned in his seat to face her. Being a woman was fucked up in general, he found out - all these hormones and stuff Johnny didn't even try to understand - but the level of stress she was living under was absolutely crushing. The majority of it was obviously caused by the chip and everything that was going on in V's life lately, but a part of it, not a small one, came from her sexual starvation. And lack of sleep. Or maybe her abstinence led to insomnia, Johnny wasn’t sure anymore. All he knew was that she – they – were constantly tired as of late. And horny. Very horny. “And I don’t like it a bit. If I were you, I’d start jerking off right here and now.”

“Please don’t.” A look of dread flitted across her face.

“I won’t. But you should.”

“I’m driving, if you haven’t noticed. I really want to get us home in one piece, and as soon as possible.” She needed a shower and some takeout to make herself feel better, and maybe a cold one too. ”So eyes on the road, hands on the wheel.”

“Fine. I’ll lend you a hand, then.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to drive a car. You’re not corporeal, you know.”

“I was rather thinking about fingering you.”

“WHAT?”

“Eyes on the road.” He chided her, visibly amused by the utter horror showing on her face. “I’m just saying that I want to help you. No strings attached, don’t worry. Treat it as a friendly favor.”

“We aren’t friends.”

“Aww, V, that hurt.”

“Good. Now fuck off.” She seemed adamant, but he noticed that her hands, now gripping the wheel for dear life, were shaking a little. She was both abashed by the thought of being this intimate with Johnny and genuinely thinking about it. Considering. Imagining.

He knew her thoughts. He lived in her brain and he could read her like an open book. He knew exactly the effect he had on her and what she was thinking about him, he knew about her fascination and curiosity. And her constant denial about it.

It wouldn’t be hard to get what he wanted, never had been for him. And all he currently wanted was to get in her pants.

“Come on V, I’ve seen the thoughts that keep you awake at night. All of them. These about me too.” He purred, caressing her taut arm with his silver fingers. “I’m not going to tease you about them. Just want you to know that I know about your little fantasies. And appreciate your taste.”

“Sure.” She murmured, flustered.

“I will gladly show you that reality can be even better. If you let me.” He put his organic hand on her thigh. She didn’t immediately push it off, which was a promising sign. “So, what do you say? Will I get a yes? I may be an asshole and love sex way too much, but I would never go on someone without clear consent.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I’m serious, V. And I really just want to help. If you don’t blow off some steam anytime soon we’re both going to explode. Not the best way to go, trust me on that.”

Johnny saw how intensely she was thinking about it, processing what she had heard, weighing pros and cons. And he was waiting patiently for her answer, gently but not intrusively massaging her leg.

“If you ever mock me about it, or use it against me, I will rip both your silver arm and your cock off. Somehow.” She warned with a serious glare, finally giving up. She spread her legs a little, inviting his hand further, her face turning bright red.

“I would never. But eyes on the road, please.” He reminded her, an amused smile plastered on his face. His hand snuck past the hem of her trousers, rubbing the soft skin of her lower abdomen. “Smooth.”

“Not for you.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” His hand continued its journey down her groin. V’s breath hitched in her throat and body squirmed involuntarily when he dragged his fingers along her folds. “Easy girl, I barely touched you.”

“Should I maybe pull over somewhere?”

“And make a show for everyone passing the car by? Kinky.” Johnny leaned towards her, his lips nearly touching her earlobe. He was so close that V could feel his hot breath on her skin and smell the stench of his favorite cigarettes lingering on him. As if he was real, she thought. She couldn’t dwell on it for long though, not with his hand skillfully stroking her slit, up and down, in a steady pace. “Just focus on the road. And try not to come after five seconds, deal?”

He cupped her crotch and a breathy “yes” was the only response V managed to give.

Her pussy was just as Johnny had expected – hot and slick, already dripping, craving stimulation his fingers were so eager to provide. He had so many plans for her, yet so little time, considering how touch-starved and sensitive V was. He thought that maybe he should suggest to fuck her properly, but in their current position it had to wait. Slightly disappointing, but Johnny was fine with that. He loved sex, but watching his girls squirm and moan under his touch was even ten times better than coming himself.

“Nice little cunt you have here.” He tested the waters, slipping one finger in. “Tight and wet, definitely my type.”

“Just stop talking and do what you have to do.” V had a really hard time focusing on the road. She already slowed down, trying her best not to crash into a lamp or another car, and Johnny’s words were making the situation even more challenging.

“And where’s the fun in that?” He was already fingering her deeply, setting a fast pace. ”Without telling you how much I appreciate your body? By the way, have I mentioned that your tits are fucking great?” Johnny’s metal hand cupped her breast, causing soft gasp to escape her mouth. “Amazing. I’d cu-“

“Stop. Talking. PLEASE.”

“Alright, alright, mouth shut. For now.”

Watching V try to keep her body and its reactions under control, while his slick fingers with her juices started massaging her clit, was fun. And dosing her pleasure like he wanted amused Johnny even more. He stopped his ministrations every time V bucked her hips up trying to rub against his hand, or did anything to get more friction, a wry smile twisted at his lips when she shot him a furious glance or made a discontent sound. Yes, it was supposed to be a quick finger fuck, but how could he finish it so fast when he was enjoying it so much? How could he deny himself having his fun with her, having her all to himself like that, a little longer?

Johnny was reluctant to admit it, but truth to be told, he’d had his eyes on her almost from the beginning. V was a woman - an attractive one, there was no doubt for that - and he was a simple man. He couldn’t resist watching her when she was changing or taking a shower (she knew), or even sleeping sprawled on her bed, with that stupid smile on her blissful face. He wanted to see more of her, and sometimes he caught himself thinking of touching her, feeling her in this way. He tried to convince himself that he felt like that because of his fifty years of celibacy, that she wasn’t his type and it was just his cock speaking. But there was something about V, something that attracted him to her like corpo scums attracted his bullets.

And to be honest, did he even have a type? Pretty face, a pair of tits, willing cunt and nice ass - that was enough to get him going. And V fitted that description perfectly.

To V’s relief, and Johnny’s probably too as his existence depended on whether she was alive or not, their car got stuck in a traffic jam, huge as always at this hour in this part of Night City. Now she could fully focus on Johnny and his hand, working its magic in her pants.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting her position to give him better access to her already dripping entrance. He immediately accepted her invitation, sliding a finger inside, one at first, then second, slowly, giving V time to get used to the stretch. He fingered her deeply, in a steady pace, reveling in the squelchy sounds his hand was making, smiling widely every time a breathy moan escaped her parted lips. Sometimes it was just incoherent babbling, sometimes a mantra of “fuck”s. But then, when she was close to coming, it was mostly his name.

“Such a good girl.” He praised her, getting back to stroking her clit. “Ready to cum?”

“Yes, fuck, don’t stop.”

“I want to feel it.”

His fingers were back inside her pussy, picking up the pace, fucking her harder than before. He was determined to give her the best finger fuck of her life, and after seeing her memories he knew that there wasn’t much to compete with. V had had several partners in her life but, obviously, none of them could measure up to Johnny Silverhand and he was keen to show her why he was so popular among women back in his days. He put his entire heart into working her cunt up and it quickly paid off. V was completely lost in pleasure; her head fell back, eyes closed, moans turned into wails.

She put out quite a show and was so busy chasing her release that she didn’t notice that the guy in the car next to theirs was watching her intensely with a mixture of concern and fascination on his face. She was sure a sight to behold: disheveled, flushed and panting like after running a marathon, and rutting her needy cunt furiously against Johnny’s hand. A hand only she could see. A sudden wave of anger surged through Johnny. Back in his younger days he was quite a fan of public sex, never afraid of being caught, and to be honest not much changed in that matter. He would gladly show this loser who V belonged to and who was making her scream, force him to bashfully avert his eyes and never look at her again. But sadly, he couldn’t, and that frustrated him immensely.

He couldn’t even show that fucker a middle finger. Being dead sucked.

“V, could you do something for me?” Luckily, he had another idea.

“What?” She opened her eyes, looking at him questioningly.

“Scream my name so loud that the entire Watson knows who's making you cum.”

She wanted to snort at his request, but her breath hitched in her throat when Johnny’s lips landed on her neck with a sloppy kiss, escaping it as a loud moan seconds later when his metal hand began working on her clit. And with his organic fingers hitting that right spot inside her, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Never in her life had V come so hard before. She couldn't control her squirming body, nor her cussing mouth, when waves of pure ecstasy shot through her one after another. She felt her walls clench rhythmically around Johnny’s fingers, still pumping in her to prolong her orgasm, and she cried out his name, begging him to not stop. It was mind-blowing, absolutely breathtaking, and when his lips kissed her exposed neck again, she felt another kind of warmth pool in her chest.

Johnny could feel it all too. Delayed and not as intense as her climax, but strong enough to make him feel spent and satisfied. He flopped back on his seat and reached for his never ending pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a long puff, as he always did after a good fuck.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” V was slowly coming down from her orgasm high. “Holy shit.”

“And that’s all? Where’s some ‘Thanks Johnny’, ‘You were right Johnny’?”

“Thank you Johnny.”

“See? It wasn’t that hard.” He patted her thigh. “And speaking of hard, that guy in the car on our left was watching you the whole time. And he’s still looking.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” She covered her face with her hand, realizing with embarrassment that she probably gave people around her quite a show. It must have looked exceptional from their perspective. Or maybe not, maybe she looked as if she was just enjoying a BD of a particular sort. Still, she felt pretty awkward.

“Let’s get out of the car and kick his ass, wipe this stupid smile off his stupid face.”

“No.” She didn’t even want to look in that guy’s direction right now.

“Pussy. At least show him a middle finger or something.” Johnny immediately flipped him off with both hands. “Come on, V. Fucker deserves it.”

She sighed and reluctantly, still not looking at her accidental spectator, she did as Johnny asked.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #SilverV #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #fanfiction #duck pecks her keyboard

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

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𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖

“It’s always been you. Has it always been me?”

pairing: Tobio Kageyama x fem!reader

rating/warnings: E for everyone :) [if there ever are warnings, they will be posted before reading]

synopsis: You liked him. He liked you. Easy right? Well, maybe not as easy as you thought.

a/n: hii💓 i can’t believe that im finally posting this. this is the first two chapters but it is in one post. ive been writing this for a while so im super excited to share it :)) enjoy XX

•

one: sweater

“You do realize you have to talk to her in order for her to notice you, right?” said Tsukishima. Kageyama turned to him and growled.

“Of course I know that!” huffed Kageyama. He couldn’t help but stare at you. You weren’t even doing anything. Just standing there, talking with your friend seemed to be interesting enough for him.

“I can’t just go and talk to her. What would I even say?”

“Just ask her out!” squealed Hinata. Kageyama rolled his eyes.

“No one asked you,” he said. Tsukki chuckled.

“Well I hope you enjoy staring then, because that’s all you’ll be doing if you don’t grow a pair and talk to her,” Tsukki chimed in.

Kageyama has liked you since he laid eyes on you. There wasn’t one thing he didn’t like about you.

“Give her your sweater,” said Yamaguchi suddenly.

The group turned to him.

“What?” questioned Kageyama.

“Look at her, she’s cold.” Kageyama turned to look at you again.

You were only wearing a short sleeve button up with a skirt and uniform socks. You rubbed your hands up and down your arms to warm yourself up. It was fall turning to winter and the school’s AC has been full blast all day. You didn’t remember it was going to be colder out.

“Uh...” Kageyama looked down at the sweater he was holding. It was his club one.

“That’s a great idea Tadashi!” said Hinita, practically jumping for joy.

“So what, I'm supposed to just give her my sweater and leave? That’s so stupid,” Kageyama grumbled, trying to think of any excuse possible not to go over to you.

“If you go over to her, I won’t bother you during practice,” Tsukki said. This sparked Kageyama’s interest.

“Just do it,” said Tsukki, pushing Kageyama.

He stumbled on himself, but surprisingly kept walking towards you. Your friend had already left so you were alone by your locker. He walked slowly, practically starting to shake in his shoes. He could hear Tsukki’s laughs behind him, only making him more nervous. Kageyama swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Uh... h-hi Y/N,” he managed to stumble out. You jumped, as if you were startled.

“Oh hi Kags!” You smiled.

You had the most beautiful smile Kageyama had ever seen. Kageyama was so tall, you looked small as he looked down at you. You were the only person in the world that called Kageyama ‘Kags’, and that made him like you even more.

“I saw that- well I don’t mean that I saw, I just happened to notice- that um, you looked cold. So um, here.” Kageyama reached out his sweater. You looked stunned. Your shock turned into a smile.

“Oh my gosh, thank you. I was so stupid and left my jacket at home,” you chuckled. You took the sweater with care, lightly brushing against Kageyama’s hand with your own. You put the sweater on. It hit almost to the end of your skirt and the sleeves passed your hands, so you pulled them up, holding them in the center of your palm, like sweater paws. Kageyama couldn’t help but smile. You looked so perfect in his sweater, as if it were made for you.

“I-I wouldn’t want you to be cold,” said Kageyama. Even he was surprised he could form a sentence.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you smiled. Kageyama started to drift off into his own world just by looking into your eyes.

*RING*

Kageyama snapped back into reality when he heard the final bell ring, signaling the end of the day.

“Well nice talking to you see you later,” Kageyama spoke, a mile a minute, as he rushed back to his friends as they headed to practice without him.

You stood there, with a confused smile on your face. You sighed, realizing you REALLY were wearing his sweater. You hugged yourself, smelling the sweater. You grabbed your backpack and headed to the locker room with an overwhelming smile.

two: backroads

“Aw, little Kageyama getting flustered over a pretty girl!” laughed Noya. Kageyama grumbled to himself.

“I never said I wouldn’t tell everyone,” said Tsukki, enjoying this torment of Kageyama most of all.

“I didn’t know Kageyama could like anything as much as volleyball, let alone a girl,” Daichi chuckled.

“Oh I’m pretty sure Kageyama is in lo-“ started Hinata, before Kags threw him across the gym with full force.

“Shut up Hinata, you moron!” The whole team laughed before getting shushed by Ukai to start practice.

Kageyama couldn’t focus at all. All he could think about was you in his sweater. He wasn’t in sync with Hinata, he couldn’t score with his usual line shot, and he even missed 2 serves.

When hitting lines started, he asked Suga to start. Kageyama went over to grab some water and outside for some air. Little did he know that right there was the cheer team practicing.

“Omg Y/N, isn’t that Kageyama?” said Koi, the friend you were talking to earlier. Your head did a 180, seeing that it really was Kageyama. He stood at the foot of the steps of the gym, drinking his water. You felt your face start to get hot.

“Uh yeah it is,” You said. You were still wearing his sweater, since it was chilly out, but now with leggings.

“Hey Ka-“ began Koi, before receiving your hand over her mouth.

“Say another word and I’ll kill you,” Koi laughed under the pressure of your hand. Kageyama looked up before spotting the scene before him. His eyes widened, before rushing back into the gym. You sighed.

“The last thing I need is for you to embarrass me in front of him.” You said. Koi smiled.

“Kageyama is so hard to read sometimes but one thing is for sure. He likes you.” replied Koi, giving you nudge. You smiled.

“I’m not so sure. I think he was just being nice with the whole sweater thing. I’m sure anyone would have done the same.” Koi shook her head.

“But not anyone did. He did.” Those words felt like a slight punch in the gut to you. Kageyama might be a scary and slightly unapproachable guy but he still was nice. You shook off the comment, putting your focus back on practice.

•

“Come on Kageyama! Get it together!” yelled Coach Ukai, after Kageyama shanked his second ball in a row. Kageyama has been off all practice. You clearly were the only thing occupying his mind.

“Sorry Coach,” said Kageyama, as he finally passed a ball right to target.

“Alright, shag up balls and go home,” said Coach. The team replied with a strong “right” and cleaned up.

“Wow Kageyama you really sucked today,” cheered Hinata. Kageyama sighed, knowing he was right.

“He was occupied with other thoughts-” Tsukki started before getting cut off with a punch from Kags.

“Whatever. See you guys tomorrow.” Kageyama grabbed his things and headed out the door. This was probably one of the first times he actually left practice early instead of practicing hitting with Hinata. Kageyama started to walk home. Now he was the one who was cold. His sweat cooled him off, causing him to shiver as he walked home.

“Kageyama?” He heard a voice call behind him. He turned around and there you were. His heart stopped.

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to keep his cool. You ran towards him to catch up. You still were wearing his sweater.

“I thought I’d take this route to get home,” you replied. That was a total lie though. You knew that Kageyama always took the back roads to get to his house, which was on the street next to yours.

“Oh...” he smiled. You two walked together in silence for some time. Neither of you had the guts to say something. All your bubbly energy had left your body due to being so close to Kageyama. He was the only thing in the world that made you nervous. Suddenly you remembered.

“Oh Kags, do you want your sweater back?” you asked. You of course wanted him to say no. If you could, you would keep the sweater forever. Plus, you were cold.

“Oh uh, no, you can keep it for now. I don’t want you getting cold,” he replied. Kageyama didn’t know what else to say. He loved seeing you in his sweater as much as you loved wearing it.

“Thank you, I’ll wash it and give it to you tomorrow,” you said, unsure what else to say without professing your love for him. You could feel your cheeks getting hot, not just because of the cold breeze. Kageyama smiled, nodding his head.

You two walked for another five minutes in silence. It wasn’t an awkward kind of silence, you were just glad enough to be in his presence.

“Well um, this is my stop,” you said, pointing to your house. Kageyama gave you a shy smile.

“Oh okay. Uh, goodnight Y/N,” Kageyama said, giving a small wave. You smiled.

“Goodnight Kags.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #kageyama #tobio x you #hq tobio #haikyuu tobio #tobio fluff #Kageyama x reader #always you. 🌸

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years ago

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End of the Tunnel: XI

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: a lil angst, fluff, language, and quick batch of public smut

MASTERLIST

***

It took them both a few days to fall back into the comfortable pattern they had once had.

George gained the habit of staring guiltily across the dinnertable while she sipped her tea. He softly flinched every time she touched him, apologizing when he eyes widened and lips parted to form her own apology. And while he longed to hold her in his sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to pull her into his arms without feeling like an imposter.

Hannah was fairing no better. While reading the paper she would glance at George, if only to check that he wasn’t glaring at her. She jumped whenever he walked into the room, worried that the accusations would soon follow. Every time she considered doing something nice she fretted, worried that he would look and see an off brand Fred wandering around their kitchen. And god, she wished he would hold her in his sleep, it was so terribly difficult to sleep without his arms holding her tight.

It had been a week since Hannah had come home, and they were eating dinner. She was trying to read the paper, but the feeling of George’s guilty eyes left her illiterate. Finally, in exhaustion, she slammed the paper down on the table and marched into the bathroom. She was going to fix this, she had to fix this, or damn it she was going to go crazy. After a quick pep talk that mostly involved deep breaths between each wave of panic, she returned to the kitchen.

“George, we’re going out.”

“What?”

“I’m not kidding, we’re going to go out, meet friends, and get absolutely plastered. I don’t care who you invite, but we’re going out before one of us explodes.”

“Hannah, I don’t-.”

“Tell me going nowhere but work and here have not driven you crazy, and we won’t. Tell me that the tension in this room isn’t killing you, and we won’t.” She tapped her foot on the floor as she waited for his response, and the grin she had missed so much spread across his face.

“Only if you wear the black dress.” She grinned and practically leaped over the table as she hugged him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before dashing towards the bathroom to get ready. With a smile that almost felt foreign he pulled out a pair of clean pants and shirt before ringing up Ron and Hermione.

To say Ron was surprised was an understatement but they quickly agreed.

“Draco will probably be there,” George warned and there was a pause on the other end of the line. He could hear hushed whispers on the other end of the line, most likely a small argument between Ron and Hermione.

“I’ll behave,” he said before pausing, surely waiting for Hermione to leave before adding, “as long as he does.” George chuckled and promised he would, praying that he was right. He hung up after telling Ron to meet them out front of the shop in half an hour.

“Mind if I use the phone, handsome?” came a soft purr from behind him, and when he turned, he remembered why he liked that dress so much. He kissed her before handing her the landline. “I want to invite Draco and Sloane, if that’s okay?”

“You said invite friends.” She grinned before dialing the phone.

“Hey, Sloane?” she began, pausing as her friend rattled on, full of bubbly excitement, “Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, get ready for a night out, grab Draco, and meet us outside George’s store in half an hour.” George could hear the squeal from where he was standing a few feet away. Hannah held the phone away from ear as she said goodbye, hanging up as the squeals ended. George leaned against the kitchen table, watching as Hannah practically burst with excitement. She stared at him for a moment before shuffling closer with a sly grin.

“What?” he asked but she didn’t say anything, only moved closer until she was positioned between his legs. She blinked innocently before guiding his lips down to hers with a gentle hand. He melted into her touch, hands reaching down to pull her closer. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her little, black dress. She grinned; biting is lip softly before pulling away.

“We should go,” she whispered, and he sent her a playful glare.

“So that’s your game?” he asked with a laugh and she shrugged, looking as innocent as the day she was born.

“Shall we?” she asked, offering her arm. He took it and with a resounding crack they arrived in front of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

Ron and Hermione were already there, locking up just as they arrived. Hannah unlatched herself from George and instantly began gushing over Hermione’s dress. It was a beautiful purple, and while it only sat an inch above her knee, its tight fit still managed to make her look absolutely sensual. She had straightened her hair, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice Ron’s inability to take his eyes off his beloved girlfriend.

No, it seemed she was something more, something that came with a shiny diamond ring.

“You’re engaged!” Hannah squealed, grasping Hermione’s hand with uncontained excitement. George glanced at Ron in surprise, who only shrugged. “Since when?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Hermione admitted, and Hannah faltered, the grin on her face dropping as she realized.

“Oh dear, we didn’t. I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Her own lovers spat had gotten in the way of such happy news, but Hermione wasn’t hearing any of her guilt.

“Hannah, I would much rather share it now that we can all be happy,” she promised, taking Hannah’s hands within her own and smiling. Hannah bit her lip, not quite sure how to proceed. Much to her relief, a loud crack interrupted her worries. Sloane and Draco arrived, arm in arm, and Sloane, ever the reporter, noticed the brilliant diamond right away.

“Engaged?” she squealed, and Hermione nodded, a little surprised at this stranger’s excitement.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hannah laughed, “Hermione, this is Sloane Richards, a dear friend of mine. Sloane, this Hermione Granger.”

“Oh, I think I’ve read your articles,” Hermione admitted, “I appreciate your attention to facts.” But Sloane was too busy vibrating with excitement.

“You’re the Hermione Granger, as in war hero, brightest witch of your age, punched Draco Malfoy in the nose, Hermione Granger,” Hermione giggled at the last of the accomplishments and Sloane beamed before glancing from Hermione to Ron who was standing awkwardly beside George. “And you’re Ron Weasley, my god Hannah, you didn’t tell me celebrities were going to be here, I would have dressed up more.”

“You look beautiful,” Draco said before possessively taking her by the waist.

“He flatters me,” she laughed throwing an arm around his shoulders, “But on a more serious note, I need a drink, the Prophet has laid permanent residence inside my ass.” Ron choked and Hermione blushed at her statement, but the rest nodded in agreement.

“There’s a bar next door,” George offered, and they all nodded in agreement before walking the few feet down the pavement. The girls instantly grouped up, gossiping about something or another while the boys were left in the back, awkwardly watching their girlfriends.

The bar was dimly lit with soft purple lightbulbs. Sloane quickly offered to by the drinks before dragging Draco with her towards the bar.

“Well, she’s a lively one,” Ron chuckled, narrowly avoiding Hermione’s elbow, “I’m just saying.”

“I think she’s lovely, from the rumors I’ve heard around the office she’s who you want if the Prophet’s going to interview you. Sticks to the facts, absolutely thrashes anyone who dares to report false information.”

“Oh come off it, you just like her because she’s the one who got Rita Skeeter sacked,” Ron drawled and Hermione blushed. Hannah sidled into George’s side as she watched the fiancés bicker across the table.

Sloane and Draco returned with six bottles of the bars strongest fire whiskey, and it wasn’t before long when they were as thrashed as they had intended. All six were howling with drunken laughter as George told a story about Ron when he had first developed a crush on Hermione.

“He practiced in front of the mirror for months, months I’m telling you!”

“She’s a frightening woman,” Ron defended through hysterics, which only made the rest of the group laugh harder. “Not that it matters, I got her, and you’re all invited to the wedding,” he announced.

Laughter continued to reigned at their little table, and it wasn’t until Sloane and Draco had disappeared for a solid ten minutes when Ron noticed they were missing. “Where’d those two go?” he asked, causing Hannah and Hermione to burst into laughter.

“They’re in the bathroom,” Hannah whispered through giggles and Ron scrunched up his nose.

“They’re completely unhinged,” he said, causing the group to burst into laughter once more.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that,” George whispered into Hannah’s ear, relishing in the sight of the blush that crept up her cheeks. She snuggled closer into his arm with a grin. She was going to respond before she noticed Ron earning a playful slap for making the same suggestion. Hermione was still dying of laughter, but it was clear she was not shagging in some dirty bathroom.

When Sloane and Draco returned, both significantly more ruffled than when they had left, George let out a whistle. Sloane bowed and Draco smirked, still buttoning his shirt. Draco ordered their fifth round of drinks and they downed them with ease. The laughter continued for another half an hour when Hermione suddenly stood, announcing she had to use the loo, asking Hannah and Sloane if they’d like to join her. They all stood and Ron, in his drunken stupor began to protest.

“Sloane, if you shag my girlfriend I’ll have to fight you,” he yelled, sending the girls away giggling. He dropped back into his seat and shook his head as he took another swig of Fire whiskey.

George wasn’t sure if Ron was worried or not.

“Hey, listen Draco,” Ron slurred, his mind quickly falling away from bathroom shenanigans. “I’m sorry about the gala, sometimes I’m just a bigoted fuck,” he announced, and Draco shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, we’ve all been there, judging for family, but damn, I think I just wanted to punch you.” He got a laugh out of that.

“Well, you succeeded,” Draco responded coolly, and George nudged him, silently begging for Hannah’s sake that he would accept the apology. “It’s behind me, let bygones be bygones.” It seemed he had read George’s mind. The boys settled into drunk silence. Draco and George chuckling when Ron tipped forward and began snoring.

The girls returned from the bathroom, laughing at Ron’s snores as they settled back into their chairs. Pleasant conversation continued around the sleeping lump, but it wasn’t long before the rest began to feel the lethargic effects of the liquor.

Quickly paying their tab, the couples stepped into the street. Ron and Hermione walked down the street, laughing all the way as Ron kept trying to grab Hermione’s ass, while singing drinking songs he had learned from one of his older brothers. Sloane and Draco were even handsier, hands never leaving the other as they waved a slurred goodbye and apparating back home. George offered his hand to Hannah, glancing at her when she didn’t take it.

“Were you serious about that bathroom?” she whispered nervously, and he nodded, grinning all the while. Suddenly, with a grin to match his she dragged him back inside and towards the bathroom. He locked the door behind them, setting her on the sink as he slid her dress to her waist. She fiddled with his belt before tossing it to the floor and unbuttoning his pants.

A knock on the door froze them both as they tried to silence their laughter. The handle jiggled before the person disappeared, and then they were jumping each other once more. He slid into her, thumbing the sensitive bud that resided above her entrance. She covered her mouth as she tried to silence her moans, but it wasn’t doing much. She leaned back into the grimy mirror, reaching for anything to steady her as he thrust into her.

“Fuck,” he growled in pleasure and frustration. It was the first time they had had sex in weeks, and he was already close. He tried to hold off, think of anything to keep his release away, but it was an exercise in futility. She was too warm, too soft, and too inviting. The rhythm of his hips stuttered, and she was crying out, nails digging into his shoulders as she came. He followed quickly after, grateful for the release.

They pressed sweaty foreheads together as they giggled, ignoring the annoyed demands to be let into the restroom.

“I think he wants to get in,” she whispered breathlessly.

“He’s awfully impatient, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I think we’ll leave it locked,” George said with a grin before apparating them back to his apartment.

“George!” She playfully slapped him, and George shrugged.

“He’s a wizard, he’ll figure it out.” She laughed before yanking him towards the bed and crashing into the covers for round two, and as many rounds as it took to make up for lost time.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfic #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader fanfiction #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader fanfic #George weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley x reader angst #end of the tunnel

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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LOVE IS LIKE - Sleeping Beauties and Working Life

< PART 1 | PART 2 Sleeping Beauties and Working Life | PART 3 >

A/N: It's snowing so I'm stuck inside..writing! Hope you all have a lovely Sunday ❤️

Summary: Back to work, Henry remembers his early days in showbizz. And the banana sock wearing woman appears to have found the sneakily shared phone number.

Word count: 2.179

The song: Chaka Khan - Like Sugar

Disclaimer: mentions of great age difference sex partners, stardom, loss of partner to cancer, dieting, physical/mental insecurity as well as Henry just really loving his work

LOVE IS LIKE - Sleeping Beauties and Working Life

Hey. Thanks for the book! I figured the number written in the book was your number? If not, I’m sorry and don’t mind this message. - 08.45

It’s Aurora btw. - 08.47

The name’s Aurora I mean. - 09.04

nvm - 09.05

Thanks for the book! Good luck with everything! - 09.06

And say hi to Kal from me - 09.06

‘Are you asleep?’ Fingers traced through Henry’s curls, their strands slightly sticky with hair products and sweat after one busy night between the sheets, the ceiling fan broken. Henry grumbled, indicating he was at least sort of awake, his lips curling in a lazy, close-eyed smile.

‘Again?’ He mumbled quietly with his young sweet voice. The woman laughed and propped herself up on one arm, eyes tracing down the soft morning silhouette of the kid who became a man.

‘No, no. You did well.’ She lowered her fingers to trace his brow, nose, cupid’s bow and lips, fingertips silky soft and gentle over Henry’s skin. Henry’s smile grew. Almost as if proud he had managed to please her.

For a moment the room was quiet. A very early Los Angeles sun was starting its slow rise over the hills somewhere far from this 70’s style abode with its paisley print curtains and yellow shag pile carpet. The interior fitted its owner quite well; her long sleek brown hair cut in bangs that hid those mysterious emeralds that had taunted his dreams ever since he met her on set. She was older. Much older. And perhaps those bangs were there just to hide her first wrinkles. But Henry rested easy beneath her trailing fingers, his eyes slowly fluttering open as she spoke again: ‘So how is Hollywood treating you?’ There was some concern in her voice and Henry looked at her. After getting busy all night they hadn't spoken quite so sincerely yet. He shrugged.

‘Hollywood is Hollywood?’

The woman moved her fingertips to his chin and used her hand to tilt his face more sharply in her direction. Her mouth opened to speak, but she hesitated. The concern had now spread to her eyes as they gleamed in the light of dawn. ‘Be careful yea? And if you ever need help with anything..? I can help..or get you help. Okay?’

‘Ok.’ Henry pushed himself up so he could cup his hand around her cheek, pulling her closer. She let him. ‘Thank you.’ He whispered, kissing her like the way they did in the movies.

Henry stretched out in his naked morning glory, the early London air chilly on his skin. Pushing the sheets off of him and with Kal refusing to wake from his doggy dream by the foot end of the bed, Henry padded over to the ensuite. Squinting in the burst of bright lights clicking on, he stepped beneath the shower, cold water jumpstarting his day, the very air pushed out of his lungs as the radio alarm cued exactly on time. 4.30.

'Li-like sugar, so sweet Good enough -- to eat,'

Gasping softly Henry pawed his hands over his crusty eyes, waiting for the water to become more warm and soothing with every massaging drop of water. From here on his morning routine was perfected to the minute. Coffee: brazilian. Gym: ACDC. Eggs: 5. Kal: walk. Cab: thankfully on time.

It was near 9 when he walked onto set in his full gear, ready for his first run-through of the day, Leah waving him off with Kal by her side. 'Be careful yea?' She chanted, smiling as he winked at her - she always said that no matter how totally safe the day's set would be.

'I will! Have fun today.'

'You too!' Leah wanted to turn around when she felt something buzz deep inside her bag of tricks, her hand having to angle for a bit before she found Henry's phone - kept there for safe keeping.

Whatsapp - 08.45 - Hey. Thanks for the book! ..

Leah smiled.

And there was the mysterious new book owner.

Henry let himself fall back on his bed, the frame squeaking. Suddenly Jersey felt too small. His bedroom too boyish. His clothes too normal. His dreams no fiction but real.

Flopping around on his belly he turned his attention back to his flip phone, his eyes roving over the call that had just finished. Hundreds of boys, hundreds of auditions. But he got it. He got it! Smiling only to himself he sighed, near missing the sound of feet walking over the floorboard landing.

Was that Charlie? With an excited little squeal Henry pushed himself off his bed to chase after his brother. It looked like his little brother had just lost a bet!

'HENRYYY!!! Henry!!!' Squinting his eyes at the flash of a camera, he stepped out of the hotel's revolving doors. By his side his trusty pal Kal looked up. Fans.

'Henry! Can I take your picture? -- Can you sign-' Some pieces of paper were shoved in his face and with the blinding glare of the flash gone he finally managed to throw a smile their way, his free hand scribbling some signatures here and there as he greeted them with a warm good morning.

Some girls squealed and as the excitement finally dissipated, Henry thanked them all and bid them a good day, some few last flashes following his silhouette as he pulled Kal in the direction of the nearest Parisian park.

It truly had become a Mission Impossible to just walk his dog. And Henry couldn't help but laugh as Kal snorted in what may be disapproval.

'I know I know. I won't forget about you.'

'Hey.'

'H-hi. Hi?'

'It's Henry.'

'Oh, of course!'

Henry smiled as Aurora's voice greeted him back through the phone line. It was a little past snacktime, his hands holding onto his tupperware with last night's pasta. He was hungry, but with her messages waiting for him, he had decided food could wait a moment.

'So I see the book has found a good home with you?'

'It has. Hahah. Thank you again. In fact..I kind of finished it last night, dodging around some particularly benign toothmarks I think I got the jest of the story.' She laughed again, making Henry smile back as he looked out over the set, some camera men in raincoats dragging around material.

'Well there's more where that came from.'

He hesitated the moment the words were out of his mouth. OH you donkey! That..that is not something you say to -- she laughed even harder.

'Oh why that sounds both terribly enticing and terribly inappropriate hahahaha.'

'Sorry that kinda - '

'Oh please hush.' Her chuckles subsided and after some loud clatter and a yelp her voice returned to the phone. 'Hey..eh..aherm..can I-eh, DAMMIT, can I call you back?'

'Something wrong?'

'J-just me trying to manage coffee and a laptop - and failing.' It sounded like this was just another Tuesday for her. She really was clumsy huh?

'Oh! Oh yes. Of course. Hope your laptop's alright..eh.. I'm off after..6..ish?' Henry looked to his left and saw Leah return with one exhausted Kal, back from their walk.

'Okay!'

'Alright. Goodbye..Aurora.'

'Byeeee!'

He was soo, soo hungry. Cutting never was his favourite part of dieting, though this time it was extra rough. For half a year he had just let go, not working out much at all. But then the one role that got away was back in arm's reach and for the hell of it; he couldn't let it slip by.

Gritting his teeth he focused back on the barbell on the gym mat, weights the size of two small children on either side. At least if Ellen wanted kids, I can manage them with ease, he thought, gripping his sore hands around the bar before he pushed off to lift it with all the strength he could muster. It wasn't enough. The bar only lifted halfway before his body sighed in defeat, the weight of it all crashing down on him finally as the barbell landed back on the floor with a loud thump.

Ellen hadn't called back in days.

'Remember me?' He felt stupid for calling, but he just needed it right now.

A warm voice responded like they called all the time.

'Hey! Henry! Of course! How are you?! Are you okay dear?'

Henry settled on the airport bench, waiting for his personal cab to arrive. Stardom was great, but in silent moments like these he felt terribly alone. He felt stupid for it, but her voice was near bringing him to tears.

'Yea ehh..' His voice broke and the small boy in this Superman body returned.

'Hey-hey. No problem darling no problem. Where are you right now? Are you safe?'

Henry nodded and looked through the haze of his tears in hope nobody would see him - thankfully he was alone.

'Talk to me.'

'I'm sorry for--' He wished to hang up, forget about it all. Ellen leaving. The stress. Fatigue. The travel. But he didn't. He just hesitated, waiting for her to speak again.

'I don't know where you are Henry dear. But you must know that you're not alone, okay? And if you happen to be in town; I'm making an absolutely delicious, mean and green lasagna.'

Henry wiped away a rogue tear and smiled. He could kill for a lasagna right now. And one cheat meal couldn't hurt right? Looking up as he saw a man with a clipboard sporting his name appear, he sat a little more upright.

'I--I might just take you up on that.'

'Okay.' Her lack of glasses and banana print socks made the woman before him near irrecognizable. She did however still have that dorky vibe about her, especially when she removed the awkwardly placed handbag before her; a stain on the right side of her tight dress appeared. She grimaced. 'It's bad isn't it?'

Henry chuckled and stood up from his seat, the chique bar a hushed daze of black furniture and fancy cocktails being carried by hipster bearded men. 'Hi Aurora.'

'Hi.' She let a chuckle escape her red painted lips and let him move out a seat for her. She smelled nice.

'I thought I could fit in one more business meeting and eat on the way. And..yea..that--' She shook her head and waited for Henry to take his seat, his face beaming with mirth.

'Stain or not, I'm glad you're here.'

'As am I.' She picked up the drinks card and immediately turned it to the snacks side. 'Do you mind if I order something on the side?'

'Oh no, no of course. I'd like some too actually.' He leaned in to look with her through the options, the both of them deciding on a cheesy snackboard.

'And here I was thinking all of Hollywood was on a diet.' She smirked, making Henry grin.

'Trust me: been there, done that. But no more. I like eating simply too much.' He winked and signaled a waiter to take their order.

'Good.'

He had initially spread his arms to keep his balance as he rushed after Kal on this slippery meadow of grass. But as Kal returned on Henry's call, leaving some racing off sheep behind, Henry kept his arms up like that. Like an eagle in flight he sniffed in the countryside air, feeling blessed cold air tingle his lungs. Life was good right now. Really really good.

Halting his feet and near slipping in the process, he lowered his arms to praise Kal for listening and returning to him. Sometimes, his furry son truly could be a handful. Today, he was a good boy.

'Chasing after the ladies again huh?' He rushed his fingers through Kal's thick warm fur. 'Well there's one thing you should know Kal; gotta give them some space every now and then.' Kal looked up. 'And don't forget to listen to what they want, mkay?'

Kal borked softly. Henry laughed, being bombarded with an in-the-face-tongue-kiss.

Drinks buzzed in their veins and between all the laughter and nerding out, Henry noticed something. First he thought it was a play of light. A figmentation of his mind. But he could see it clearly now as she noted his gaze and held up her left hand: no longer there, the left-over indent from what once had been a ring.

'I'm no longer married if that's what you want to ask.' She sighed and lowered her hand again, looking at it with an unreadable expression.

'Oh eh.. no, no. I couldn't be so rude to..-'

'No, you're very much allowed to ask, Henry. Please.' Aurora smiled and took a somewhat shaky breath before finding her comfortable, confident (though slightly clumsy) self again. 'He got cancer, died two years ago. We built the company together..'

'I'm sorry for your loss.'

She smiled. 'Thank you. I do miss him, but this is just life. Can't have the good without the bad. And it's okay now. I like where I am.'

'In some dimlit bar with some weirdo you met on an airplane?'

'Absolutely.' She snickered, then shook her head. 'But no haha. You're no weirdo Henry. In fact; you are perfectly, and surprisingly..normal.' And with that she reached out that ring-less hand and brushed it over his right hand opposite the table. Her hands were so soft on his.

A comfortable silence fell and were it not for the toasty heat of the indoors, Henry would swear he was on that meadow with Kal again, feeling like he was breathing truly for the first time in a long, long while.

He smiled.

Part 3 >

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @maddyreads14

@beck07990

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #love is like #fans and fiction #henry cavill x ofc #memories #i guess it will be three parts?

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invisibleinorange · 4 years ago

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Swelter Weather | 6/?

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Marina Thompson/Phillip Crane, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Kate Sheffield/Anthony Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

It was a little wrong to sneak out and leave Eloise alone with a man that she’d just met but Penelope was willing to wager that their friendship would survive this slight. They’d had plenty of disagreements over the years and they nearly always made up. Nine times out of ten, their disagreements revolved around little secrets that Penelope wasn’t quite prepared to divulge and Eloise failing to be observant about them or Eloise being a little overly pushy with her own feelings and opinions.

This time would be different. Penelope had already made her mind up about this. She had every intention of sitting her down, having a heart to heart conversation about this Colin thing but first she had to be sure that there was actually going to be one. She didn’t actually know what was happening. She just knew that she’d always wanted something to happen and it was and she was terrified if she stopped it, she’d never be this lucky again.

That was why she dragged Colin away from the corner they’d disappeared to for longer than was appropriate to find Eloise and Phillip at the bar. She had a single-mission apologize away and then go. She’d ask for forgiveness later.

“There you two are,” Eloise asked suspiciously eyeing them curiously.

Phillip oddly didn’t look suspicious at all though Penelope did pick up on a hint of some sort of secret smile toward Colin. It definitely didn’t go without notice and it did strike her that perhaps Colin had known precisely what he was doing tonight. They weren’t the distraction for Phillip. Phillip was the distraction for Eloise. He was a reasonably good-looking, nice guy and it had worked swimmingly. Penelope had to give credit where credit was due.

“Yeah, sorry – I think something I had at lunch didn’t settle well,” she said, telling a little white lie. She might have failed by not exactly telling Colin more than they were going to be leaving as he looked confused for a fraction of a second.

“Oh, so… Colin is going to escort you home then?” Phillip said with the save.

Penelope hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him much but she already really liked this guy. He clearly was getting the memo.

She was starting to wonder if she’d sucked all the oxygen from Colin’s brain when he didn’t jump in on this. She elbowed him slightly which seemed to trigger him into action.

“Of course,” he said after a moment. “I’m really sorry that we didn’t have much time to hang out but hopefully Eloise hasn’t bored you too much.”

Eloise seemed to think this meant she needed to go too. She started grabbing her bag, trying to stand.

“I hate that our night was cut short-“

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of stealing you away from Phillip,” Penelope said after a moment, leaning into Colin for full effect and trying to will herself to look pathetic. “Please stay so his night isn’t ruined. Colin can take care of me.”

Eloise was definitely suspicious. Her eyes moved back and forth between Colin who had plastered the look of pure innocence on his face and Penelope who looked the picture of death. They were definitely on to something. Phillip seemed to think it was legitimate though and she shrugged deciding to just leave it be.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Phillip assured.

“Then it’s settled then,” Colin said with a nod, arm going around Penelope’s back to lead her up and out of the club before Eloise could change her mind.

In the grand scheme of things, the wait between the car being ordered to take them home and them arriving wasn’t that long but it felt about a million years.

As the slipped into the back of the car, Penelope couldn’t help but laugh when Colin pulled out his wallet and handed a hundred dollar bill to the driver.

“You see nothing, you know nothing,” he told the driver who accepted the money and thus the promise of absolutely ignoring them. He had ever intention of behaving but it never hurt to have someone turn a blind eye. The vehicle started moving without further question from the driver and that was all he wanted.

Colin grinned sheepishly in the dark before reaching to turn Penelope’s face so he could claim her lips again. He’d not wanted to stop at the bar and he was grateful to have the freedom to do it again even if the car wasn’t exactly private.

He certainly wasn’t ashamed to kiss her in front of other people. His problem was that his lips were pretty eager to explore more than her mouth and he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could behave himself.

There was also the matter that they hadn’t actually discussed what was happening between them and he felt like they ought to. He wasn’t under any illusion that he didn’t have a reputation albeit a false one. He didn’t want Penelope to have the wrong idea about his intentions nor did he want her to feel pressure to do anything either.

She seemed to be the one calling the shots more than he was lately and he wasn’t upset about it. He couldn’t help but find the moments when she took control, made it clear precisely what she wanted appealing. He’d always known the confident, direct girl existed but more often than not she let herself be pushed to the shadows. It was silly when she was so funny, smart and beautiful!

He admittedly felt his pants tighten when he heard the click of her seat belt, felt her move from her seat to his lap and her dress rose slightly bunching against her thighs. She was wonderfully warm against him and so perfect. He his hands moved to her hips to try and grip her.

His eyes closed when her mouth moved to tease at his neck. An audible groan escaped him and he was grateful that the driver decided to turn up the music he was listening to. He wanted to move his hands from her hips to her ass or elsewhere but he kept clutching her hips to try and keep himself in check.

“Pen,” he murmured after a second, knowing that he had to gain some self-control. He had to actually have a conversation with her before he ended up having his way with her in the back of this vehicle. She deserved so much more than that.

Her eyes opened slightly and she did pull back, confusion flickering across her face. Colin couldn’t help but pick up on what appeared to be hurt playing on her features and he felt like an absolute monster for it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked before trying to slip back to her seat. He shook his head no, hand tightening harder to keep her precisely where she was in his lap.

“I want to talk,” he said resolutely.

Penelope’s face turned ghastly white.

“I misread the whole thing and you don’t owe me any explanation for that,” she said trying to cut him off at the pass if he was going to tell her that he wasn’t looking for something long-term or that he couldn’t possibly want to be with her. It made sense to her. Colin wanting to be with her was too good to be true. “We’ve always been friends. You don’t have to… ”

He kissed her again to silence her not wanting to hear another minute of her thinking that he didn’t want her. It was ludicrous.

“Are you going to let me talk?” he asked when he broke away.

She nodded.

“Good. I was trying to tell you that I don’t want to just kiss you,” he told her after a moment. “I mean, clearly I want to do more than that but – I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time and my entire family cares about you. I care about you too.”

Penelope didn’t have to question for a minute that he did.

“I care about you too,” she told him softly.

“I need you to understand that if you let me have my way with you, you’re never going to be rid of me again,” he said firmly. “I need you to know that I’m going to be all in and I need to be sure you will be as well.”

Penelope wasn’t sure that she’d heard him correctly. Was he suggesting that she might be the one who decided it was a one and done? It was the most insane thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“You think that I’m going to shag and run?” she asked looking at him like he had grown another head. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were practically children.”

“No,” he said after a moment, jaw tightening. He didn’t think that was anything special and she was. He wasn’t as confident as he might like the world to think. He could let momentary vulnerability come through here. “I just – what if I don’t live up to your expectations?”

“What I don’t live up to yours?” she said turning it back on him. She didn’t consider herself beautiful. She could hide behind her clothes but when they came off would he be repulsed by her curves? Would he dislike her inexperience? She couldn’t imagine a scenario where he didn’t live up to her expectations but the other way around seemed far more probable.

“That won’t be happening,” he told her shaking his head.

“Then maybe we slow it down,” she said after a moment, biting her lip. “Until we’re both sure that the other isn’t going anywhere. I mean, not too slow and definitely not a secret because I’m going to talk to Eloise but a little less impulsive, a little more…thoughtful.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod, realizing the car had finally come to a stop. They were actually home. “Well I think that we have a lot of ground to cover and the house to ourselves for a little while. I do believe I’m supposed to be taking care of you so if you just happen to sleep in my bed that won’t be a problem.”

“I don’t suppose it would.”

Penelope moved off him enough to open the door and climb out, Colin following behind with a polite word of thanks for the driver.

“One more thing,” he said moving behind her, keeping the conversation going.

She turned her head toward him watching while he maneuvered around her to unlock the door and let them in. She kicked off her heels at the entrance.

“Okay?” she said waiting for him to say it.

“If someone asks, you’re my girlfriend,” he said firmly. It wasn’t a question but a statement. Of course, she could argue it if she wanted.

“I don’t remember you asking?” she said, pausing slightly, amusement was written on her face though.

Colin wasn’t one to turn away from a challenge though or an opportunity to be overly dramatic. He paused, moved down to one knee.

“Will you allow this to be an official thing?” he asked her, gazing up at her.

“Well since you asked nicely,” she teased.

#⚜ writings — polin #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

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genesisrose74 · 4 years ago

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Hinata Shoyo x Reader: Good Unexpected

Hello there! This is the first time I’ve ever posted any of my writing, so I hope you enjoy reading! I had a really fun time writing about my favorite ray of sunshine and may or may not have gotten carried away with the word count whoops :P Constructive feedback or just comments in general are welcome~

Word count: 6600

Warning(s): None

Another close win for Karasuno’s male volleyball team had a crowd on their feet and a roar echoing throughout the building. There were five volleyball courts in the structure, but none had a more rambunctious crowd in that moment than the once Flightless Crows. The match wasn’t an all too significant one, but it claimed the boys another opportunity to play in this charity tournament, and that’s all they needed to keep their drive going. In the chaos of cheering students, players on break, family members, and those who had simply been enraptured by the match, a duo of young females ushered out muffled apologies of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ more times than they could count as they edged their way through. A short blonde stuck closely beside her fellow classmate in the sea of people, letting out a breath of relief upon seeing a gap to a less crowded section of the stadium.

“Yachi, could you text Kiyoko and tell her we’re on our way? Takinoue and Shimada said they’d take care of the banner since the next match is tomorrow,” you instructed.

“Sure thing,” Yachi replied with a small nod, fishing her phone from her back pocket.

You both continued your move down a set of stairs, searching for the main entrance to court three, on which Karasuno had just played.

“Hey, I think I see Tsukishima by the water fountain over there! The rest of the boys must be close by.” Yachi gestured to the slim middle blocker, donning the unmistakable Karasuno High VBC sweatshirt each player was given at the beginning of the season.

“Yeah, that’s him for sure! Good eye, Yachi!” you acknowledged.

Jogging over to the towering blonde, you flashed him a warm smile in greeting. Tsukishima replied with a brief nod, his usual hello.

“Hey, Tsukki! Where’s the rest of the boys?” you inquired, now used to Tsukishima’s little expressed enthusiasm, even after a victory.

“Daichi, Sugawara and Ennoshita are checking out the standings for who we’ll face off against tomorrow, Yamaguchi is in the bathroom, and the dumbasses who share one brain cell went to check if the snack bar was open. I have no clue where the rest of them ended up,” Tsukishima listed, scrolling through his phone.

Yachi giggled at his last description of what you could only assume to be Tanaka, Nishinoya, Hinata, and likely Kageyama. Those boys had a way of getting into the stupidest situations, and their immense distaste for anything school related made their title quite fitting, although it was safe to say that you had a soft spot for the knuckleheads - especially one in particular.

“Speak of the devil,” Tsukishima stated as he looked up from his device. Sure enough, two of said boys had returned from their little food run with bags of snacks in hand. Tanaka had already ripped open a package of beef jerky, two of the sticks stuffed in his mouth as he spoke incoherent words to his fellow second year teammate, Nishinoya.

“Hey boys!” you waved enthusiastically. “Nice win today!”

Upon seeing you, Nishinoya and Tanaka gasped simultaneously, the remaining jerky in the latter’s mouth falling onto the floor. You could see a grossed out Tsukishima cringe in your peripheral vision, but you didn’t really mind the duo’s antics at this point.

As everyone knows, Kiyoko was the team manager, an absolute goddess to all, and the master of avoiding the flirty nature of any guy she came across. It was evident that she had a huge effect on the rambunctious second years, two of them in particular melting any time they were given the slightest bit of attention (affectionate or otherwise) - and she could even pull a reaction out of the calmest of boys, including the ever respectful and reserved Karasuno captain from time to time.

However, despite a deep infatuation for the beautiful third year female, the team had been introduced to a new kind of character in the past year that had thrown Nishinoya and Tanaka into a frenzy: a competitive yet kindhearted first year student who just so happened to be a volleyball player herself: you.

You had arrived in the boy’s gymnasium one afternoon, on the day of the week that the Karasuno girl’s team had practice off. You were hoping to find some tasks or drills to help out with, just to keep yourself active during your free time after school. Since Coach Ukai always appreciated an extra set of hands, especially some that held experience, you began appearing as a regular during Wednesday practices, and the team took a quick liking to you.

Despite your focus and intensity whenever you were on the court, you were almost always there with an encouraging word or bright smile if the Karasuno boys ever needed, and your consistent sweetness caused many players to view you in a similar manner as Kiyoko. While the more reserved Kiyoko Shimizu was more or less dismissive of the constant attention she would get from boys, you were always happy to jump in and boost the team with your enthusiastic words and actions.

Nishinoya briefly brought up that he likes when girls compliment his hair? You make a little mention of how good it looks at the end of practice that day. Tanaka isn’t feeling particularly happy with his spikes? You’re sure to compliment him extra when he gets a shot off that he likes. Yamaguchi gets frustrated with his jump floaters? You offer up a few words of encouragement to keep him going. Even after practice is over and it’s just a normal day that you can spend time with the team, you happily accepted the compliments and the affection you received from the boys - specifically Nishinoya and Tanaka. Of course, you never lead them on or anything of the sort; you’re all just very close friends.

It was an interesting dynamic to say the least, but the differing personalities of you and the team manager Shimizu had two second year boys going wild to get your attention.

But, the two troublemakers had discovered who you had your sights set on pretty quickly.

“N/n! I didn’t realize you came to watch today!” Nishinoya grinned, quickly making his way over and wrapping his arms around your midsection. You laughed and placed a hand on the libero’s head, patting his hair gently.

“Hi, Nishi,” you smiled. “Of course I came to see you all. I couldn’t miss watching my favorite libero in action, now could I?”

“How did you think we did? Wasn’t that an awesome last set?” Tanaka joined in the conversation, giving you a side hug in greeting.

“Yeah, it was pretty exciting to watch!” you agreed. “I’m all for the heart pounding matches, so long as you boys keep winning at the end of them.”

“You know we will!” Nishinoya smiled up at you.

“I do know that,” you affirmed before looking around the space. “Tsukishima mentioned something about you and some of the other boys getting snacks, but right now it’s just you two. Where’s the rest of your little group of mischief-makers at?”

“Kageyama stopped by a vending machine to buy some milk. He said it was cheaper than the prices at the snack bar.” Tanaka clarified.

“Hinata decided to stick with him to talk about the team we’re likely playing tomorrow, but they shouldn’t be far behind us.” Nishinoya concluded, a small grin playing at his lips. “Speaking of which, didn’t Hinata do pretty great, N/n? You should tell him how good he looked doing those quick attacks out on the floor today.”

You stuck your tongue out at the boy who still had his arms secured around you.

“Very funny, Nishi.” you pouted. “At this point you’re not even trying to be discreet.”

Nishinoya was the first player on the team to pick up on your attraction to Karasuno’s prized decoy. You had nearly walked into the wall of the school gymnasium while shagging volleyballs during a hitting drill, watching intently as Hinata did his approach before jumping and slamming the ball onto the other side of the court with ease. It would have been incredibly embarrassing if anyone else had witnessed your distracted movements, but fortunately Nishinoya was the only one to see, and had prevented you from smacking straight into the side of the building.

Initially, the libero thought the mishap was merely because you didn’t want to get nailed by Kageyama and Hinata’s quick attacks, but then he watched you nearly choke on your water when Hinata tossed his practice shirt off the same night, leaving the you to gape in silent astonishment as the middle blocker searched for a less sweaty replacement. Since Nishinoya was already quite close to you at the time, he was quick to corner you about the instance and declared himself an unofficial wing-man when you admitted you had feelings for the ginger.

He may or may not have let the secret slip to Tanaka one night when the three of you were walking home - and then profusely apologized to the point where tears visibly brimmed in his eyes - but Tanaka promised that he wouldn’t say anything to Hinata. Besides, even if he did make a not-so-subtle mention about you to the aspiring ace, you doubted that the dense boy would even understand Tanaka’s implications.

Little did you know, you were just as oblivious as Hinata when it came to people crushing on you. And the two second years beside you knew much more than you did.

“Awe, you look so cute when you get all pouty,” Nishinoya chuckled, reaching up to tap you on the nose.

“Oh, hush. Don’t make me bring up the time when you went completely rigid after Kiyoko-senpai gave you a high five at the scrimmage against Nekoma last month,” you countered.

“Don’t you mean the greatest moment of my entire life?”

“Wow, I’m hurt that she gets a higher placement than me in that regard.”

Despite being quite a bit shorter than you, Nishinoya easily hoisted you a few inches in the air and spun around, eliciting a surprised yelp on your part.

“Nishi, put me down!” you squealed, albeit laughing while doing so.

“You know how much I love you. Kiyoko might be my queen, but you’re definitely an angel sent to grace us with your presence!” he declared playfully.

The libero gently placed his friend back on the floor, a lopsided grin on his face as she ruffled his hair fondly.

“I know, and I love you too, little Guardian Deity.” you conceded. “Now, show me what kind of snacks you bought. I forgot to grab money before I left the house, so I could use some food.”

“You got it!” Tanaka opened up his backpack filled with goodies and offered it out to you. “Take your pick. We stocked up on a lot of food to munch on for the team meeting later today.”

“Speaking of which, you should come and sit in on that! I’m sure the rest of the guys would like to see you,” Nishinoya added.

“Actually I was already planning on going,” you mentioned while acquiring a bag of pretzels from Tanaka’s stash. “I texted Kiyoko that I was going to be here today, and she said that if you boys got another win that I should come to the meeting.”

“Sweet!” Tanaka exclaimed. “Since it’s not all that late, some of us were thinking about having a small practice in the gym after. If you had the time, it would be fun to have you stick around and maybe play if you wanted.”

“That sounds like fun!” you smiled, “just make sure you all don’t tire yourselves out completely before tomorrow’s game.”

Tanaka gasped dramatically, “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“-I’m just saying that you have a serious obsession with milk, Kageyama. It’s almost unhealthy.”

“Milk is a good source of calcium, you dumbass. So what if I drink a lot of it?”

“If you had the chance to marry a carton of milk, you absolutely would.”

“Would you shut up already?”

Two voices bickered back and forth as they approached the area near your little group. To anyone even barely associated with Karasuno’s volleyball team, these two arguing idiots would be easy to recognize from a mile away, and sure enough, a head of fluffy orange hair rounded the corner, quarreling with his dark haired teammate.

“Are they seriously having an argument about Kageyama and his milk?” Tanaka questioned.

“I’m honestly not even surprised at this point,” you sighed.

“Hey, morons!” Tanaka yelled at the two boys, who snapped their heads in the direction of their senpai’s distinct voice. “Quit fighting with each other and get the hell over here!”

You could feel your stomach flip involuntarily. Despite seeing the aspiring Karasuno ace many times during Wednesday practices and around school, it was always a sight to behold whenever he was suited up in the official team uniform. Hinata always got into these moments of intense focus during matches, which you deeply admired, and you affiliated such occasions with the jersey he always donned during each game. The look quickly became one of your favorites, but that piece of information was never shared with the boys. Only Kiyoko and Yachi knew about that secret preference, which they had promised to never bring up near any of the Karasuno team.

You were thrown out of your stupor when Nishinoya nudged you knowingly, a single eyebrow raised in a playful challenge. You only scoffed and shook your head, giving the libero a little nudge in return.

“Such a schemer, Nishi.” you murmured.

“You’re such a scaredy-cat.” he muttered in response. “Go compliment him about the game or something, you do it all the time with me and Tanaka.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Excuses, excuses~”

You huffed in exasperation, sparing another look at the little ray of sunshine with which you were so enamored. At this distance, the boy was close enough to recognize you, and you felt a gentle smile grow on your face when warm brown eyes met your own. You offered him a small wave in greeting, as you both were still a ways away from each other.

Hinata was quick to close that distance upon seeing you from across the hallway, making a beeline for the familiar girl that he had grown to love seeing walk through the gymnasium doors every week. He was glad to see you whenever he got the chance; you were always there to help him and Kageyama practice a few more quick attacks after practice concluded, always ready to try a few serves of your own when the boys wanted to get in some extra receives, always happy to help the young decoy with his studies when a particularly difficult exam was near. Not to mention, he found you to be the prettiest person out of his entire class of first years, so that was a plus.

The whole team may or may not know about Hinata’s very obvious affections, despite the boy not telling a single soul about the way his heart goes bwah!! whenever he thinks about you. Tanaka and Nishinoya found the entire ordeal utterly agonizing, being the only two boys on the team knowledgeable of your own feelings, and being sworn to secrecy about that fact. The Karasuno manager and the manager-in-training also knew the irony of the situation, but they didn’t dare meddle in your love life.

If your friends were all being honest with themselves, as torturous as it was to watch you two timid first years dance around each other’s feelings all the time, it was also incredibly adorable to watch your interactions. The usually loud and energetic middle blocker would lose all sense of function every time you would praise his game play, to the point where Kageyama had to kick his teammate from behind to get him to focus again. Hinata swore he nearly ascended when you had launched into his arms after beating Shiratorizawa in the Spring High Finals.

Yet, despite these moments of mutually lingering gazes and light blushes that often dusted both of your faces, the ginger rationalized that you acted this way towards every player on the team, and brushed such encounters with you off as nothing but platonic. He didn’t mind simply being friends, if that's all he could be. He was content so long as he got to be near you.

“Hey, Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming to watch the game today,” Hinata addressed you with a smile that put a blazing summer sun to shame.

“I wanted it to be a surprise! The student council meeting ended up being shorter than expected, so I called Kiyoko and let her know that I was on my way,” you explained. You then turned to Kageyama, who had eventually made his way over to the small group. “Nice game today, Kags. That one set you sent to Asahi in the second match from behind the attack line was insane.”

Karasuno’s starting setter nodded in acknowledgement of the commendation. “Thank you.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya, now standing next to their two teammates, aggressively attempted to gesture to Hinata with their eyes; a silent urge to get you to say something to the boy.

“And I think that one super fast quick attack you guys pulled off in the final set was really cool,” you tagged on. “It’s always fun to see the other team’s reactions whenever that happens.”

The two second years shot you a deadpan look. That’s not exactly what they meant, but they could see you struggling to string together any coherent sentence to your crush and decided not to press any further. You just couldn’t help it! You wanted to tell the present ray of sunshine that he played a great game, that he always played amazingly, despite his occasionally awkward receives or missed serves. He always gave each match 110%, and you wanted to express to him just how phenomenal he was, but just couldn’t find the right words without the fear of sounding completely obsessive and embarrassing. Nishinoya and Tanaka both glanced at each other, a silent agreement occurring between them in a matter of seconds.

Unlike Yachi and Kiyoko, the two boys weren’t opposed to a little meddling.

“Y/n is going to come to the meeting and maybe stay for that extra practice time we have planned,” Nishinoya mentioned, saving you from trying (and failing) to say anything else.

Hinata’s eyes lit up at the news. “For real? That’s great!”

The middle blocker enjoyed your presence at the Wednesday practices you’d attend, especially since it was where he got to witness your competitive and athletic side. So, getting to see more of that was welcomed any time.

You nodded in affirmation and popped a miniature pretzel in your mouth. “And since I was just dropped off at the complex and kind of need a ride, Kiyoko said that there was plenty of room for me to go back on the bus.”

“Hell yeah there is!” Tanaka grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “You can sit with me and Nishinoya, duh.”

You smiled up at him. “Well obviously. Who else would I sit with?”

Nishinoya cheered, picking his game bag off the floor and gently grasping your hand. “Well let’s go find the others, then! Coach Ukai is probably getting impatient waiting for us at this point,” the libero insisted, pulling you towards the doorway of the building with Tanaka in tow.

“Alright, alright! Don’t make me drop my pretzels, Nishi,” you warned, letting yourself get dragged by the excited teen.

Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima also started to gather their things to get on the bus, Yamaguchi doing the same after exiting the bathroom not long before the previous trio ran off to claim their seats. Tsukishima looked over at Hinata, who still had his eyes glued to the door from which his friends had just left, and seized the opportunity to try to get under Hinata’s skin just a little.

“Nishinoya and her are pretty close, don’t you think?” he mentioned briefly, before turning on his heel towards the doorway with Yamaguchi beside him. The pinch server spared a glance back at Hinata as he fell into step with his childhood friend. “Tsukki…”

Now Nishinoya was clearly a close friend to Hinata, as both of the boys were big balls of energy all the time, and as they both shared an immense love for volleyball. Hinata acknowledged his teammate’s tight knit relationship with you, and he was totally okay with that fact. But occasionally, the middle blocker would get a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had never really experienced before as he watched you interact with some of the boys on the team. It wasn’t an excessive amount of instances, but that feeling would bubble up from time to time - most notably when you would spend time with Karasuno’s libero. And whatever that feeling was, Hinata didn’t like it in the slightest.

“Oi, you coming, dumbass?” Kageyama questioned, snapping the ginger out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m coming, Bakeyama,” the middle blocker replied, readjusting his backpack and following Kageyama to the door.

******

The team was glad to see that you had come to watch them play, and you were quick to praise the boys on their well fought match. The ride back to school was relatively quiet, as many of the players wanted to either relax and listen to music or take a quick nap after their tiring game. As the bus continued on its route to Karasuno High School, it was evident that the energy and adrenaline felt earlier in the complex had calmed down, the boys given a chance to rest from the day’s events.

You, Nishinoya and Tanaka were seated near the back of the bus, with Hinata and Kageyama in the adjacent row. Tanaka was out like a light, his face pressed against the cool window next to him, while Nishinoya was struggling to get situated in the spot beside his teammate. From the corner of his eye, the libero could see Hinata sneaking subtle glances at you, as you unsuspectingly gazed at the passing scenery. With a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips, Nishinoya decided to kill two birds with one stone: try to help out with his friends’ crushes, and try to get himself a more comfortable napping spot.

“Hey, would you mind doing me a favor?” Nishinoya asked you in a soft tone, but just loud enough for the boy on the other side of the aisle to hear. You turned your attention to the libero, tilting your head to the side. “Sure thing, Nishi. What do you need?”

“Could I maybe lie down on you? It’s been a little difficult to find a decent position to get comfortable in,” he asked sheepishly. “If not, I totally get it.”

You smiled at the light pink that dusted his cheeks, and you patted your lap. “It’s alright, go ahead. You deserve to get some rest.”

Nishinoya offered you a smile of his own. He placed his legs over Tanaka’s snoozing form, knowing that his friend wouldn’t mind as they had been in similar positions on previous team bus rides. He then placed his head gently in your lap, gazing up at you before speaking up once more. “Thank you. You’re seriously the best.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” you waved it off.

The libero closed his eyes, sighing contentedly when he felt your hand brush through his hair. You absentmindedly hummed the soothing melody to a lullaby as you let your fingers carefully undo any tangles on his head. You paid special attention to the blonde streaks of hair that you always told the second year you adored, twirling the strands between your fingers and letting them fall back into place.

You were completely ignorant to the fact that the boy on the other end of the aisle felt a burning envy in his stomach as he witnessed the display from his peripheral vision. Your voice, which would have mesmerized Hinata under any other circumstance, did nothing to ease the emotions licking at his insides like unpleasant tendrils of flame. He desperately wanted to be able to sidle up next to you, wanted to feel your hands weave gently through his messy ginger hair. The fact that it wasn’t him made Hinata feel nauseous - worse than how he felt before a big game.

Because although Hinata was absolutely fine with you being close to the boys on his team, it didn’t mean he couldn’t get jealous.

Seated beside the middle blocker, Kageyama took note of his friend’s clenched fists and slightly tightened jaw, a stark contrast to Hinata’s usual happy-go-lucky enthusiasm. One look at the opposite side of the bus blatantly explained why. Kageyama was confused, though; Nishinoya knew just as much as the rest of the team that the decoy had his sights set on you, so why was he disregarding that fact right in front of him? The libero either didn’t realize what he was doing would upset his friend, or he knew exactly what he was up to. Was the whole thing intentional?

*****

Ohhh, it absolutely was. Kageyama figured that much out as soon as the team meeting started.

Nishinoya had been occasionally looking at Hinata to gauge the boy’s reaction, being careful not to overstep his boundaries, but pushing it just enough to see if the ginger would step in and make a move on you. From what Kageyama could tell, Tanaka was also in on this plan, but the wing spiker let his fellow second year handle most of the interactions with the brunette.

You were settled next to Kiyoko on the gymnasium floor, sitting with your legs stretched out as you listened in on the meeting. Nishinoya had his head resting on your shoulder the entire time, only shifting from his spot to steal more snacks from Tanaka’s backpack. If it weren’t for what Hinata had witnessed in the bus earlier that evening, he likely would have thought nothing of the second year’s actions. But now it was all he could think about, barely even focusing on the words coming out of Coach Ukai’s mouth. That feeling in his gut still hadn’t left him alone.

His discomfort was even more apparent when a number of the boys stayed behind after the meeting for some extra practice. Sugawara, who was the only third year who decided to postpone his walk home (mostly to keep an eye on his rambunctious children juniors), helped divide the group of six players into teams. Kageyama, Nishinoya, and Tanaka were on one team of three, while Suga, Hinata, and you were on the other. Despite the fact that he was on the same team as you, the middle blocker was still in a distant mood, and this showed when he completely botched the first two sets Suga tossed to him.

“Are you alright, Hinata? You seem a bit off at the moment,” you spoke softly behind him. When the ginger didn’t answer, she frowned slightly. “Shoyo…”

His first name coming from you had Hinata’s face heating up, not just because he loved the way his first name sounded on your lips, but because he was embarrassed. His bitter emotions had completely messed up his game, and caused him to practically ignore your concerned inquiry.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little tired is all,” he brushed it off. “I‘ll be good to go now that I’ve warmed up a bit.”

“Oh, okay. Tell me if you need some water or anything, your face looks hot.” You instantly flushed at the choice of words. “I mean, it looks warm! Like a red - you know what I mean.”

Tanaka snickered at your stammering, and you shot him a glare of annoyance before turning on your heel to retrieve the volleyball that had rolled away from the group.

After that, the three-on-three game went pretty smoothly. Hinata was in a better mood, working well together with his two partners. You even got a few good spikes in during the match (although a majority of them were thwarted by Karasuno’s Guardian Deity). Before you all realized it, the moon was shining brightly in the sky, and Suga instructed everyone to go home and get rest in preparation for tomorrow’s first game. After putting back the equipment the group had borrowed from the storage room, you were on your way out the gym doors, until the voices of Tanaka and Nishinoya stopped you midway.

“Wait up, Y/n!” The libero called out to her. You turned her attention towards him, a soft smile resting on your face after the impromptu practice.

“There’s no way you’re walking home all by yourself at this time of night.” Tanaka declared firmly, and Nishinoya nodded his head vigorously.

“I’ll be fine, you guys. Besides, neither of you live all that close to me, so it would be unreasonable of you to walk me home,” you told them.

“Well, doesn’t Hinata live in the same area as you do? Why doesn’t he walk you home?” Nishinoya suggested.

On the other end of the gym, Hinata had caught wind of the conversation. The ginger’s head perked up at the idea of accompanying you home, and standing beside him, Kageyama finally realized what the two second years had been up to the whole day. You narrowed your eyes at the boys in suspicion, but you couldn’t deny that it was a good idea to have someone else with you at this hour. You gazed over at your fellow first years, finding that Hinata was already looking your way, and a light shade of pink dusted your face.

“I mean, if he wouldn’t mind it, I suppose it would probably be smart,” you shrugged.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he uttered out.

Tanaka and Nishinoya shared a sly grin. This was the most that the two could do for their two dense kohais, so the rest was up to you both.

“If you’re uh, ready to go, my bike is just outside,” Hinata sputtered.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m good to go,” you responded with an awkward thumbs up that you mentally smacked yourself for.

“Don’t go having too much fun now,” Tanaka smirked. “He’s still gotta play tomorrow.”

His raised eyebrows and overall suggestive expression were met with a playful smack on the arm.

“Shut up, you big weirdo,” you scoffed, and before any more comments could be made by your two dorks of friends, you rushed out the gym door after Hinata.

Seeing the boy waiting outside for you, his fiery orange hair illuminated by the glimmering starlight like a cliche movie scene, you nearly tripped on the staircase by the school’s entrance. When he turned to you with an easy smile, your heart practically busted out of your chest. Damn him and his cute face.

You approached him at the gate and readjusted the bag on your shoulders, trying to remain calm at the realization that you were going to be alone with her favorite ray of sunshine. Beginning on the path up the hill, Hinata decides to push his bike alongside him in order to stay closer to you.

“I didn’t realize you lived that close to me until Noya said something tonight,” the middle blocker mentioned.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’m surprised you haven’t been over before.”

“Maybe I should come visit sometime.” Hinata’s eyes widened at the implication and quickly added, “Like, with the rest of the team!”

You laughed softly. “That sounds like fun.”

You both walked in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment, before Hinata spoke up.

“So, does that mean Nishinoya has been over to your place before?” he asked.

“Yeah, he’s been over a few times now,” you confirmed.

“Oh, that's cool.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his response, his voice laced with what you could only recognize as disappointment.

“Why do you ask?” you inquired.

“Well, you both just seemed really close is all.” The first year ran a hand through his hair. “Even Tsukishima noticed.”

“Well, Nishi and I are really good friends, and we know a lot about each other, so I guess that’s an accurate description.”

Hinata glanced at you and titled his head a fraction, which you thought made him look like an adorable little puppy.

“Really good...friends?” he murmured.

You nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, he’s like an older brother. Did you think we were dating or something?” you laughed. You meant it as a joke, but when the boy didn’t reply, your eyes widened a fraction and you stopped walking.

“You thought me and Nishi were, like, together together?” you gaped.

At this point Hinata was burning red. He nodded bashfully, and you fell into fits of giggles, placing your hands on your knees for support.

“H-hey! It was a justified question!” Hinata defended himself. “He fell asleep on you in the bus today and it looked like a normal thing for you two, so I just figured!”

You stood straight and composed yourself, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you started walking again.

“As much as I love Nishinoya, we’re definitely not dating,” you explained. “It’s a platonic relationship, nothing more.”

Hinata mentally celebrated at the confirmation that there was nothing going on between you and the libero, although he was embarrassed beyond words at this point in the conversation.

“I’m super sorry!! I just thought- I shouldn’t have assumed,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head.

“Awe, it’s okay, Shoyo. I guess we do act a bit like a couple sometimes, but...I’m not actually seeing anyone at the moment.” You added on without a second thought, “Nishi knows who I really like, though.”

Hinata frowned a bit at the latter sentence, but he remained in a better mood than before.

“So…do I know this person?” he inquired, feeling quite courageous himself.

You hummed, a blush creeping up your neck. “So what if you do?”

“Is it someone on the team?”

“Are we playing twenty questions or something now?” you laughed nervously.

Stupid! Why did I even mention anything in the first place? you mentally cursed yourself.

The ginger felt his heart rate pick up. Out of hope or anxiety, he wasn’t exactly sure.

“What’s he like?” Hinata heard himself asking.

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the ironic inquiry, and decided to answer his question.

“He’s probably the most energetic person I’ve ever met, but in a good way. He’s really kind to everyone, even though he can get very competitive. While he’s not the most studious, I can tell he tries his hardest to do his best in everything he does. Not to mention he’s incredibly cute.” You chanced a glance at the intently staring first year for a brief moment before focusing your attention back on the sidewalk, thankful for the dim lights of the street. “Sometimes I find it just…so difficult to not mess with his hair, too. It’s so overwhelmingly fluffy.

Hinata let out a small sigh. He didn’t think there was any way he could compete with the special someone that you had described so fondly.

“Well, it sounds like you really like him,” he said simply, a halfhearted smile on his face. “He’s a really lucky guy, whoever he is.”

At his genuine tone, you raised her head to lock eyes with Hinata, who was looking at you with such an honest expression that your breath hitched in your throat. You slowed down in the middle of the empty walkway.

“It’s you, ya big dummy,” you admitted quietly, fiddling nervously with your sweatshirt sleeves.

Hinata heard it. You could tell that much from the way his eyes widened as he stopped dead in his tracks.

“It’s me?” he echoed.

You nodded once, not able to speak as you evaluated his reaction. Hinata clumsily pushed the kickstand of his bike down with wide eyes, maneuvering around it to step closer to you and examine your face, trying to determine if this was real or all in his head.

“I like you too. Like a lot,” he managed to confess, a delighted grin gracing his features.

You felt like you were dreaming and about to wake up at any moment, the urge to pinch yourself just for confirmation that this was all real itching at the back of your mind. But your train of coherent thought quickly dissipated when Hinata gingerly moved a hand up to your flushed cheek, brushing your jaw with his thumb and looking up with warm brown eyes.

“Could I kiss you?” he asked gently, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please do,” you conceded.

Hinata brushed his lips with yours, in a brief but sweet exchange. He did so the second time in the same manner to experiment, and again, just to confirm that this moment was actually happening, before all but backing you into the bike behind them as you tugged at the collar of his shirt. His lips were softer than expected, and you tasted the fruity flavor of what you assumed to be lip balm lingering on them. You could feel the boy grinning into the kiss, this one longer and firmer than their predecessors, and you eagerly tangled your fingers in his fluffy orange hair that was impossibly softer than imagined. His own hands found themselves planted firmly on your waist to secure you from losing balance, drawing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. Your entire body was buzzing with excitement, practically melting when Hinata traced your bottom lip with his tongue.

Hinata pulled away briefly to catch his breath, a fire blazing in his eyes that had you shying away from his gaze. He took a hand off of your waist and tilted your face back towards him with his index finger, a newfound confidence radiating off of the first year in droves that had you flushing darker than you thought possible.

“Shoyo,” you spoke his name softly, pulling a bit at the fiery strands of hair still twirled between your fingers. The little hum elicited from Hinata’s throat was one of your new favorite sounds.

“Please use my first name more often,” the boy breathed out, and you couldn’t help but laugh airily at the request, Hinata unable to suppress the satisfied smile that bloomed across his flushed face at the sound.

“That was… unexpected,” you murmured.

“Good unexpected?” the ginger inquired playfully.

“Very good unexpected,” you joked lightly.

Hinata wrapped you in a warm hug, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. You reciprocated the action, arms encircling around his figure, taking in everything that had happened with an enormous smile.

You might just have to thank Nishinoya later.

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