#Harry's past embarrassment at this point.

[watermelonsugacry]

harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers. 

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him. 

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his. 

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.” 

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.  

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on. 

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute. 

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands. 

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter. 

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom. 

 “Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation. 

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top. 

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

.

.

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1dbandmember!yn #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles birthday #harry styles 30 #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles and you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x famous!reader #famous!yn #famous!reader #harry styles and famous reader

[cupid-styles]

silk and rope

the long awaited ddlg harry and yn pairing has finally arrived!!!

some general disclaimers: I've never been in a relationship like this myself nor have I experimented too much with proper bdsm techniques, so there may be some things that are wrong in this!!!! I did research and tried my best to make it as accurate as possible but pls don't come for me if something isn't right ok thank yoooouuuuuu!!!!!!!

word count: 10.6k

content warnings: daddy dom and sub/little yn relationship, big ol’ daddy kink, basically just a lot of smut (bondage, overstimulation, use of toys, dirty talk, f oral, penetration), discussions of subspace and crappy sexual experiences (nothing forced), yn in little/sub space

"Y/N, I just don't think this is working out anymore."

Normally, Y/N is able to see this coming.

In the past, she's had 20/20 hindsight, predicted when whatever man she was seeing — or rather, submitting to — had finally gotten bored of her, and been able to paste a smile on her face when it finally happened. She could bite her tongue hard enough to prevent the flush that would eventually warm her entire body with embarrassment, mumble out some nonsense response ("okay, that's fine, I appreciate the time we spent together", which was usually a lie anyway), give them a halfhearted hug and let them go.

Todd, however? The world's worst dominant? She seriously can't believe that Todd of all people is ending things.

Realistically, Y/N doesn't really care that Todd isn't interested in dominating her anymore. He was shit at aftercare and only paid attention to maintaining a sexual relationship, as opposed to an emotional one, too. (Y/N's profile specifically said that she was looking for a dominant inside and outside of the bedroom.) So, when it comes down to it, it's fine that Todd is putting a stop to their rather lackluster relationship, but Y/N is unprepared.

Typically, at this point, she already has a date with another dominant lined up for 24 hours from now. She's already talking to other people, listing out her hard limits and what she's looking for, maybe even switching her photos around to change things up after being on this god forsaken website for a year and a half.

And maybe she, too, was so unsatisfied with Todd that she wasn't paying enough attention to realize the end was coming. 

But with her slightly squinted eyes and half-open jaw, it must seem that she's in some sort of immediate stage of heartbreak (she's not, she's just surprised), because Todd goes to sling his arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

"It's not you, babe, it's me," he says, and it makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs, "Really, you were great. Fantastic every time. Just think I'm looking for someone a little bit more... emotionally stable, y'know?"

That's what breaks Y/N out of her trance, so she quickly rises from her couch and wordlessly opens the front door. 

"Thanks. You can go now."

With furrowed eyebrows, Todd stands up, as if he was expecting her to get down on her knees and grovel at his feet, begging him to stay.

"See, this is what I'm talking about, babe— one second you're all quiet and mousey, and the next you're trying to boss me around like I'm the submissive," he feens offense as he pulls his sneakers on, "I think you should probably get your brain together before you start seeing someone else, it's a real mindfuck."

"Okay," Y/N smiles tightly, gesturing outside to the chilly evening. "See you around, Todd."

The confused expression remains on Todd's face but thankfully, he leaves without another word. Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she shuts the door behind him and locks it up. She grabs one of the leftover muffins she made at work today, plops down on the couch, and turns on the TV to find a show to fall asleep to.

. . .

If Harry's being honest, the bar is the last place he wants to be right now.

And he would be at home if he hadn't blown his friends off for the past three weeks, and Claire hadn't stopped by his desk while he was packing his things up, threatening to kidnap him if he wasn't planning on attending this evening. 

He feels bad, especially because he knows he has the tendency to prioritize work over his friends, so he shoots her a tight smile and tells her to lead the way. 

So now he's at their usual booth in the corner, slowly nursing a lukewarm beer that he'd ordered an hour ago when they arrived. He's halfway listening to a story Lea is telling about her shitty on-again, off-again boyfriend, occasionally suppressing the urge to yawn. He glances down at the watch on his wrist to read the time and promises himself that he'll stay another 30 minutes before ducking out. 

Truthfully, he's bored, and he's tired, and his bed is calling to him in a way that's almost painful. He occupies himself by people-watching, trying to guess who's on first dates or, like him and his friends, getting together for weekly drinks. It's only then that he zeroes in on her — Y/N, that is — sitting alone at the bar top, slightly hunched over as she taps on her phone, a glass of wine in the other hand. 

Harry doesn't know Y/N that well. He knows that she went to college with Naomi, who started inviting her to things around a year ago, and now she's always just around. He's unsure if she actually likes any of them besides Naomi, though — she's quiet and introverted, which Harry respects and understands, but the one-on-one conversations they've had are few and far between. 

But that's why his interest is piqued in the first place. He's never witnessed her sitting alone at the bar, and a twinge of concern fires through him as he watches her. He clears his throat and turns back to the table, unintentionally cutting Lea off. 

"Is Y/N okay?" he asks, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bar.

"What? I didn't even know she was here," Lea says as she peers over with a shrug, "Seems fine to me."

She continues on with her story and Harry rolls his eyes, grabbing his pint and striding over to where Y/N is sitting. He props himself up on the stool next to her and waves the bartender down, pointing to his glass. 

"Hey, Y/N," Harry greets easily as his glass gets refilled. She looks up from her phone and immediately locks it, as if he's tearing her from some deep thinking, surprised that anyone would come to bother her in a busy pub. "How are you?"

With slightly parted lips, she looks a bit bewildered. "Um... I'm fine. How are you, Harry?"

He swallows, glancing down at the half-full glass of white wine she's drinking. He's never actually seen her drunk, despite near-weekly meetups at this pub. She seems tipsy, not fully under water, though decently buzzed. 

"I'm good, thanks," he forces a smile onto his lips as an effort to seem as though he's not concerned for her wellbeing. "I saw you over here and realized I didn't even say hi to you."

Y/N shrugs. "I didn't really feel like socializing tonight. Naomi kind of dragged me here."

"Ah, Claire did the same to me," Harry replies understandingly, nodding his head, "Said she'd kidnap me if I didn't come out."

She scoffs at that before tilting the glass back towards her lips, taking another hearty gulp. He doesn't miss the thin wince she makes as the liquid touches her tongue, swallowing it down quickly. 

"Is it 'cos you got broken up with, too?" 

Harry's eyes widen at her question, but she's already looked past him, zoning out with a bleary look. 

"Oh... I'm sorry, Y/N. Do you want to talk about it?" 

He's not great at emotional conversations, especially with people he barely knows, but he supposes it's a decent explanation for why she's in this state. He's content with lending a shoulder to cry on, he decides, because he doubts Naomi had done the same.

"It wasn't really a breakup, it's fine," she mutters with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We weren't dating, is what I mean."

Although she attempts at some sort of explanation, Harry's still confused, but he nods as if he understands. 

"Was it like a friends with benefits situation?" he guesses, and she shrugs noncommittally. 

"Kind of."

"So it was complicated, then," Harry murmurs. He gets that — he's been there a thousand times over, and he understands the pain associated with those types of situations.

"It wasn't," she shakes her head, and now Harry knows she's just spewing out drunken nonsense, "He was my... dominant. Or tried to be. He was really fucking shitty at it."

Dominant?

The familiar word echoes through the chambers of Harry's mind. He's certainly not unacquainted with dominant and submissive dynamics, but he's shocked — more than, really — that Y/N refers to a typically taboo word in such a casual way. He chalks it up to the alcohol, but he's still surprised that Y/N even had a dominant to begin with.

"I met him on one of those stupid seeking arrangements websites, which honestly never produces good results," Y/N continues, making Harry's eyes widen even more. He's sure that she would never reveal this information to any of their mutual friends, let alone him of all people. "Every dom I've had from there has been... whatever. But he was particularly awful, and he just ended things out of nowhere. Normally I like to have someone else lined up, but... yeah."

Even in her alcohol-fueled state, Y/N realizes that she's rambling, providing far too many personal details to Harry, who she rarely talks to. She knows she'll be ridiculously embarrassed by the entire evening as soon as the wine drunk haze wears off, but for now, Harry's on the receiving end of her secrets.

Harry clears his throat and straightens his posture, sitting up a little taller. "Well, you said it yourself. Those sites are shitty, the dominants on there are usually just looking to experiment for the first time and they don't know what they're doing. The local BDSM community is your best bet... clubs and gatherings and such."

Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows and peers at Harry beside her. He's looking straight ahead and nibbling on his bottom lip, his hand firmly grasped around his glass. She doesn't know much about Harry besides the fact that he works at some large company with a relatively well-off position. He's gorgeous, of course, and has flings with people here and there but otherwise, her knowledge of what him is... well, almost non-existent. 

It wasn't totally impossible — the likelihood that Harry, like Y/N, was involved in similar sexual dynamics. She wouldn't classify herself as part of the BDSM community, but perhaps it was because she'd never dove headfirst into learning about it outside of what she's interested in. She felt that what she looked for in a dominant was rather... specific. 

"Do you... are you...?" Y/N doesn't quite know how to phrase the question, "are you a dom?" without sounding like a total creep, so she allows him to fill in the blanks. His throat bobs as he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging his shoulders tersely. 

"Yeah," he finally answers. "Not very consistently, I guess, but I'll take on a sub a few times year. Usually for a few months."

She nods slowly, squinting her eyes a bit as she tries to picture it. She's not sure what type of dominant Harry is — whether he's sweet and soft, or tough and enjoys pushing his subs to their limit each and every time — but regardless, the mere thought of it is enough to make her squeeze her thighs.

"What about you?" he asks, shifting his position to face her. "It sounds like you go through doms kind of... quickly."

Y/N hums, "Kind of, I guess. I think I have kind of... like, particular needs, and not everyone is interested in it."

It's the most they've ever spoken to one another, and Harry doesn't even think before he's asking her what exactly she looks for in a dominant. He's immediately embarrassed — he doesn't know what made him question her so openly, but he can't help his curiosity. 

She waves his slight exasperation off, clearly not offended by his press for details.

"Can I just ask that you don't tell anyone?" Y/N says, looking at the man sitting next to her. "It's like, a little embarrassing, and I've never told our friends about it. Not even Naomi."

"Of course," Harry quips. He's always been good at keeping those types of things under wraps — he didn't believe anyone had anything to gain by learning about someone's sexual interests.

"I... I guess I have some trauma stemming from childhood that I've worked through in recent years. It's not important to this, but I tend to look for dominants who fulfill more of a caretaker role. I like to be... taken care of. In certain ways."

Her cheeks flush as the words leave her mouth as he listens to her closely. He's not sure if he's reading between the lines, looking too far into her explanation, but he gets it. He thinks. 

"So... a daddy dom?" Harry asks softly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and nods curtly. 

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he murmurs once he receives confirmation, "A lot of people like that type of relationship. I can understand why you'd be interested in it, especially if you have trauma."

She shrugs. "A lot of people think it's weird, too."

"Sure, but those aren't the people you should be seeking relationships out with," Harry replies easily, "What do you look for specifically? I'm sure we could find someone for you in the community."

Y/N lets a deep breath out, rolling her neck to each of her shoulders. She can't believe they're having this conversation in public, but she'd be lying if she said Harry wasn't easy to talk to. Plus, at the night went on, more people filed out of the bar considering it was a weekday. 

"It's not necessarily age play I'm after, which I think a lot of people think is what I want," she explains, "Just like... a caregiver, I guess, that's there for me both in and out of the bedroom. I, um... on bad days, fall into a... headspace, and it's very difficult to navigate that on my own. If that makes sense."

"Makes perfect sense," Harry nods. "Are you looking for punishments and such?"

"Yeah." she breathes, nibbling at her lip as she crosses her legs, attempting to mitigate the dull throbbing in her core. 

"Y/N, do you have my number?"

She swallows as she peers up at him through her eyelashes, shaking her head. He puts his hand out and she grabs her phone, placing it in his palm. He taps at the screen and she assumes he's putting his information in her contacts.

"Claire drove me here so I can't give you a ride home, but I'm gonna order you an Uber so you can head home," he murmurs lowly, handing her phone back to her. "Text me tomorrow. Can we get together after work?"

Y/N nods with slightly rounded eyes, making him smile gently. He realizes she must be more depraved than he thought if she's already slipping into her little space from an act as simple from that.

"Keep it together 'til you get home," Harry says with a quirked eyebrow, though embarrassment quickly washes over Y/N's body. He chuckles as she blushes, patting her thigh lightly. "I'll walk you out." 

She grabs her bag and follows him out of the bar, welcoming the autumnal chill as it pimples her skin. 

"Are you gonna slip on the way back?"

Y/N looks up to see Harry towering over her, a concerned expression on his face. 

"N-no. I'm fine."

He continues analyzing her for a moment or two more before he finally nods once. "Okay. If you feel yourself getting there, call me."

"I won't. I promise." 

Harry hums as a black sedan rolls up to the curb. He checks to make sure it's the correct license plate before guiding her to the car and holding the door open for her. She gets in the backseat and he nods at the driver, murmuring down at her, "seatbelt on."

She complies readily and he smiles, patting her head softly. "Message me when you get home. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Harry."

20 minutes later when he receives a text from her stating that she's made it home safely, he already knows he'll do anything to be her dominant.

. . .

Harry half expects Y/N to pretend like last night ever happened. 

He would understand it if she did. She was tipsy, revealing intimate details about her sexual preferences pertaining to BDSM. No one else from their friend group knew. It just ended up coming out for both of them — Harry doesn't parade his dominant role in the bedroom all around town, but if someone he knows asks, he's happy to admit to it and talk more about it. He's not ashamed by any means, but he can tell that Y/N is. She prefaced her explanation by stating that she has trauma — and really, who doesn't? — and hinted that dominants in the past have found her requests to be weird. 

Harry doesn't think the whole daddy dom thing is strange. He understands it, especially pertaining to a psychological, healing level. He's never engaged in that sort of dynamic before, typically sticking to scratching the itch his submissives usually had, whether it be getting tossed around a little, orgasm denial, or being tied up. He was happy to do what made them happy, but he usually kept it in the bedroom. 

The thought of taking up a caregiver role in Y/N's life made his spine tingle. 

He's always been interested in her — not even in a romantic or sexual way, he's always just found her fascinating. She's quiet and shy, beautiful, and the definition of a wallflower. Naomi brought her in one day and she just never left. It's been a year since then and Harry doesn't think she's spoken more than 15 words to the others.

And so, with all of this knowledge under his belt, he spends his day at work worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and constantly unlocking his phone. When he gets home that evening, narrowly avoiding Claire's proposal at more social interaction, he's lost all hope, even though he did tell her to text him when she was finished with work. He's properly pouting as he sits on his couch, knees to his chest, when his phone lights up on the coffee table in front of him.

From: Y/N Y/L/N

hey harry:) first of all, im so sorry about last night. i was clearly having a tough day and i definitely took advantage of u being willing to chat with me, so im sorry if i revealed too much or took you away from everyone else.. i know u don't go out often and im really sorry if i ruined it 

im also not sure if you still have interest in what we talked about last night w helping me find someone... its totally ok if you've changed ur mind or you were just drunk or whatever. again, i know i was being a lot so no worries!! sorry! just lmk :)

Harry's heart squeezes as he reads over her repeated apologies. In two texts, she said variations of "I'm sorry" four times. She thought she had ruined his night in some way when it was the complete opposite. 

His thumbs hover over the screen as he thinks of a response. He's over the moon that she still decided to text him and that she'd avoiding the path of pretending nothing happened. In all honesty, he's unsure if he could live with himself when he had all those images and thoughts of her in his head, knowing that they'd just moved on from it.

Hey Y/N. Please don't apologize for last night, I had a really nice time talking to you. I'm definitely still interested. Are you available tonight?

She's quick in her reply, which makes him smile. He can imagine the way she's probably alternating between biting her lip and picking at the skin around her fingernails, both of which he assumed were nervous habits that he picked up on last night.

ok if you say so.. and yes im free! i was planning on ordering some takeout if ur interested, i don't really have any food here that isn't a baked good lol

Harry chuckles at that. Claire mentioned once that Y/N works at the bakery close to the park he does his morning jogs through. When he passes by at early sunrise, the windows are often illuminated with a warm glow, and he wonders if it's coming from her.

That's okay, I was planning on cooking if you'd like me to bring you some. I have ingredients for a stir fry. Would that be okay?

She replies with what he can only describe as a bashful but affirmative answer (only if you're sure!! but that sounds great!) and sends a second message with her address. He's beaming as he chops up vegetables and sautes them up rice noodles and homemade peanut sauce, indulging in the simple act of cooking for Y/N. 

Last night, after he'd gotten home from the bar, he'd done some research on daddy dom relationships. He knew of them, but if he was going to offer being Y/N's, he wanted to ensure that he was knowledgable on anything she could want. He learned that there were many different facets of that type of dynamic, some of which he was comfortable with and some of which he wasn't. Like any other dominant and submissive relationship, hard and soft limits would be discussed, but this one, Harry realized, wouldn't just consist of kinks he had no interest in engaging in. 

As he spoons the finished stir fry into a plastic container to take to Y/N's, his stomach brews with butterflies. He's never expressed interest in dominating someone he already knows in real life. Those relationships existed purely in the confides of the bedroom. It's a commitment, he understands, to engage in such an agreement with her. 

So why isn't he scared?

. . .

"This is delicious, Harry," Y/N all but moans over her serving of stir fry, chopsticks in hand. He smiles before biting into a piece of broccoli coated in peanut sauce.

"I'm glad you like it. It's a go-to dish for me, especially on weekdays when I'm exhausted from work."

She hums, nodding thoughtfully as she chews. A temporary silence takes over as they eat, ended by Harry eventually clearing his throat and gently placing his bowl on the table. 

"So, about finding you a dom," he says, and her eyes perk up slightly, as if she's an over-excited puppy. "I have a proposition."

"Oh, you found someone already?"

"Sort of," Harry answers vaguely, "I think— well, no, I know. I would be interested in taking that place."

Y/N raises her eyebrows. She sets her own bowl of food on the table and purses her lips as she chews the rest of the contents in her mouth. 

"I don't think you want that." she says gently. 

"Why?" he shoots back, a near immediate response, "I spent all night and day thinking about it. I do."

Y/N sighs, "Because it's more than just spanking me when I have an attitude with you or cooking me a meal. I can be a lot, Harry, and it's the reason why I've gone through so many dominants already."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you go through so many because they're the problem?" Harry asks. "You lay it all out on the table, right? You tell them exactly what you're looking for. Everything you told me last night."

She nods.

"And they still agree. You tell them you want a dominant outside of the bedroom, too, that the 'daddy' role you're looking for is a caretaker," Harry continues, "So how does that make you the issue?"

"Because what I'm looking for is... unconventional," she fights back, convinced in her stance. "Guys think the whole daddy thing is hot until... until I actually need them."

"It's not unconventional, Y/N. I did a ton of research last night. There are a million sites explaining what a DDLG relationship is and what it can consist of. The things that go into it on both sides, but especially on the dominant's. I'm not saying I know everything about being one, but I've at least cared to learn."

Y/N sighs and rolls her lips into mouth. She'll admit, she's impressed. She's not sure any guy she's ever been with has done that.

"So... what would you want, then?" Y/N asks, her voice softened. 

"Well, I definitely have limits, but it's mainly dependent on what you're interested in," Harry explains. She finds that he's far too nonchalant for his own good, and the casual nature of his tone makes her even more nervous. 

"If you did some research then I'm sure you learned about the extents it can go to," she says thoughtfully and he nods, resting his chin in his palm, "I don't have a desire for the more extreme things. Diapers and pacifiers and all that." 

"Okay." 

She's taken aback by his lack of response — part of her expected some sort of "oh, thank god" — but she's starting to wonder if Harry just simply exists in a nonjudgmental space. One that she's very much not used to. 

"I just want someone to take care of me," she eventually forced out, setting her gaze on her bare thighs, a pair of lavender sweatshorts hung around her hips. "I can be bratty both in bed and out. I like to be put in my place. I enjoy being teased and humiliated. I like punishments and being pushed to my limits, even if I give you a hard time about it. I've been described as a handful when I'm feeling... little."

Harry had read a decent amount about "little space" last night. He'd dominated some partners to the point of falling into subspace, but little space seemed to differ. With his base knowledge on submission, he was able to tell that she was slipping into hers last night, giving him the inkling that making decisions for her and taking away the guess work was something she liked. 

"I'm sure you're not, but all of those things are fine by me," Harry replies easily, "What do you like when you're feeling little?"

"It depends on what put me there. If I had a bad day at work, I like a bath and you cooking for me... I get really touchy. If it happens from a sexual scenario, it can be quite difficult to pull me out. But I get really quiet... I'll be more pliable, allow you to throw me around. I'll usually cry, but if you're doing things correctly, they won't be bad tears. Just from overwhelm."

"What sexual scenarios put you there?"

She clears her throat, her tongue thick in her mouth. Thinking about these things is enough to make her slip, but she won't disclose that. At least not right now. 

"A number of things... edging or orgasm denial, being tied up and gagged. Anal since it requires trust and prepping. Any type of punishment, but especially spanking."

Harry's nodding his head as she speaks, apparent that he's processing everything she's telling him. He's not surprised by anything, per se, considering he's open to different experiences and nothing seems undoable. It's as if he's making a mental list, adding a separate section to his brain with Y/N's name plastered over it, filing away the information.

"What about when you're not feeling little?" Harry proceeds with little befuddlement, "What does the ideal dominant look like for you then?"

"Um... still just loving and caring. I likely won't be as bratty. More... in control of myself, I suppose," Y/N murmurs in reflection. "I would still like to have scenes with you when I'm not in that headspace, if that's alright. I'm not sure if it would be crossing a boundary."

"Of course." he answers readily without a blink of doubt, "When I embark on a dominant and submissive relationship, I don't like to half-ass it. I don't think there's a point in only asking for me when you need me. You'll never find comfort in me when you're feeling small."

Her heart warms at that, flutters in her tummy making it difficult to hide the smile curling at her lips. She assumes that she should've guessed Harry would be good at this type of thing; she's witnessed how deeply he cares for people. Even when they barely knew each other, he always greeted Y/N like they'd known one another for years, asking about her job at the bakery (she doesn't even remember if she told him he worked at one) and what sweets they were creating nowadays. 

She thinks Harry just has a way of making people feel special. 

It's what makes her core tingle, squeezing her thighs together for a semblance of relief as she rolls her lips into her mouth. She can feel herself starting to dampen in her underwear and she glances down at Harry's lower half, peeking through her eyelashes to see if he has a growing bulge. 

"Do you think we can do a scene tonight, maybe?" Y/N asks softly, glancing back up at his eyes. 

Harry chuckles. "I take it you think I'd be a good fit for you then."

"Mhm." 

"You're cute," he smirks and pinches her thigh lightly, "No scenes tonight though. I can come over tomorrow, but I want to properly feed you and make sure you're hydrated before we do anything."

Y/N nods as she nibbles on her bottom lip. If she's being honest, she wants nothing more than to crawl into Harry's lap, parting her thighs and grinding into him while he babbles dirty words into her ear. She's always found him attractive, but knowing that he's willing to cater to her own sexual desires lights a fire deep in her stomach. 

"I'm gonna head home, but I'm looking forward to getting started with you," Harry says with a small smile, "Oh, one more thing — no touching yourself tonight."

Her eyes widen as he stands from the couch, ready to grovel; they haven't even begun doing anything yet and he's already telling her what to do—

"Y/N," Harry growls, reaching up to grab her face. He squishes her cheeks together and her pupils broaden, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. "Nod if you understand."

She nods.

"Good girl. I'll text you when I'm coming over tomorrow. I'll bring you dinner again."

Again, she nods.

"Say 'thank you', Y/N."

"Thank you, daddy."

Harry's lips curl into a smirk, releasing his grasp. "Oh, we're gonna have fun together."

. . .

The next day, Y/N can't stop squirming. 

It's to the point where her co-workers notice that she's jumpier than normal, clumsy in her icing and piping when she's normally spot-on and nearly perfect in her efforts. She hears from Harry a few times throughout the day — he texts her in the morning and during his lunch break, checking in to see how she's doing, and it makes her entire body swarm with butterflies. He asks if she's eating a proper lunch (she's not), scolds her for it (which she secretly enjoys), and then tells her he'll make her something for her to take to work tomorrow.

Thankfully, she doesn't have a closing shift today, so she's done at a little past 6 pm. It's to her surprise, though, when she's peeling off her flour-coated apron, she spots Harry standing outside the bakery, a cozy cardigan and a graphic t-shirt covering his body. 

Y/N has to do a double take. He didn't say anything about meeting her at work this evening, but he has to be here for her, doesn't he? 

After sliding her jacket on and grabbing her tote bag, she exits the bakery, closing the glass door behind her gingerly. Harry turns, his eyes lighting up when he sees her.

"Hey," he greets with a grin, "Have a good day at work?"

"Um, yeah, it was alright. Sorry, did we say you would pick me up? I must've forgotten—"

"Oh, no," Harry shakes his head as he jerks his head in the direction of his car, reaching out to slide her bag off of her shoulder. He takes it into his hand, his fingers wrapping around the canvas strap as she shuffles to keep up. "I finished making dinner a little early, figured I'd meet you here. Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's really nice of you, thank you."

Harry hums as they approach his car. He unlocks the doors and they both get in, but he leans over before she has a chance to buckle herself up, clicking her seatbelt in. It's a small act that makes the butterflies return, but she doesn't comment on it as he starts the engine and begins the short drive back to hers. 

"I made us some veggie pasta for dinner tonight. Does that sound good?" 

"Delicious," Y/N replies honestly as she watches blurs of warm-toned leaves go by. "Thank you again."

A soft smile appears on his lips as he pulls onto her road. "Of course. How are you feeling?" 

"I'm alright. A little tired. Nervous, to be honest."

Harry chuckles and briefly glances over at her, "Yeah? Nothing to be nervous about. We'll take it slow."

She shuffles in her seat and wedges her hands between her thighs. "Just don't want you to judge me, is all."

"I won't, but we did manage to forget to have the conversation on hard sexual limits. Do you mind listing yours?"

She nods. She's done this dance enough times to know the importance of discussing this subject matter, though she doubts there's much Harry could do that wouldn't be a turn-on for her.

"Um, any bathroom things, fisting, foot stuff... I'm fine with anal as long as we agree upon doing it beforehand. And if you're going to inflict physical pain on me, that's fine, but I'd prefer it if we built up to it — so, like, starting with spanking then the belt or a paddle." 

"Sure, that makes perfect sense. I like to have conversations with my subs after we do a scene, so we can see how you feel about what we did," he pulls into a parking spot outside of her home, yanking the key from the ignition, "And, just so you know — no anal tonight and no spanking unless you deserve it."

He taps her cheek gently with his spare hand and she flushes as she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She follows him up to her front door and fishes her keys from the pocket of her jacket, unlocking it and stepping inside.

"Are y'alright with the traffic light system?" Harry questions as he sets her bag down on the slim table placed in the entryway.

"Yeah. My safe word is yarn, just FYI."

He wrinkles his eyebrows and pulls a few to-go containers out from his own bag. He opens his mouth to question her but she puts her hand up to stop him. 

"I like to crochet. Don't make fun of me for it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry murmurs, traipsing in the direction of her kitchen, "Go change out of your work clothes and put something pretty on for me, angel girl."

She's happy to comply, immediately feeling giddy at Harry telling her what to do from the get-go. When she gets upstairs and to her bedroom, she meanders over to the drawer she has for evenings like this. It's filled with lacy bodysuits and ruffly underwear, knee high socks, and pastel lingerie. Eager to rid her body of the jeans and sweater she wore all day, she opts for a sheer pink bralette and matching shorts that barely cover her bum. It's a sweet set that she personally likes, but she can't help the slight worry that Harry won't enjoy it as much as she does.

She's already meandering into her little headspace as she heads back downstairs. Harry's already plated up their dinner, complete with small servings of a side salad. He looks up as soon as he hears her soft padding across the length of the living room, his jaw falling slack at her appearance.

"Look at you," he coos, standing from the couch and closing the distance between them, "You look beautiful."

Y/N licks her lips, keeping her gaze low. She feels herself slipping, but for once, she's not scared of letting it happen. 

"What's wrong, little one?" Harry asks gently, pressing his pointer finger and thumb to her chin, raising her head, "Are you feeling small already?"

She nods, her eyes round.

"Mm, that was quick. Just from daddy taking care of you and putting on these pretty little clothes, huh?"

Again, she nods.

"Alright. Let's get some food in your belly and then daddy can play with you a bit?" 

This time, she shakes her head.

"No? No scene tonight?" Harry guesses through furrowed brows. 

"Wanna play now, please."

"Ahhhh," he nods, understanding now that she's looking to skip out on dinner. "Gotta eat first, baby. Then we'll play."

Y/N pouts and he chuckles, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her towards the couch. 

"C'mon. You can sit in my lap, hm?" 

Still in the trousers he wore to work today, Harry settles back against the couch. He pulls her body into his, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"Is this good?" he asks softly, catching the shell of her ear. 

"Yes." she peeps, nibbling on her lip. 

"Alright baby, grab your food for me. Gotta eat at least half before we do anything." 

Wringing her hands in her lap, Y/N doesn't move. Harry runs his fingertips along the length of her arm, nosing at her shoulder. 

"Would you... daddy, I..."

Her voice trails off and his heart squeezes, eager to coax whatever she's trying to say out of her. 

"Ask, honey. Use your words." he encourages tenderly. 

She forces the words out, even if they feel humiliating despite her clouded head. "Can you feed me, please?" 

Harry hums. He won't say it in the moment because he can tell the request was difficult to muster out, but his entire body feels infinitely softer. He leans forward to grab her serving, scooping some pasta on the fork. 

"Y'gonna be good and eat for me now?" 

She nods, "I will. Thank you, daddy."

He murmurs out a you're welcome, continuing the quiet pattern of feeding her, watching her chew and swallow, and going back for more. He doesn't let her get off without eating a few bites of salad, chuckling gently at her quiet protests.

"Still feeling good?" Harry asks, setting her empty bowl back on the coffee table. 

"Mhm. Playtime now?" 

He smiles and nods, carefully shimmying her body off his lap. "Why don't you go upstairs and wait for me? Daddy needs to eat too."

Y/N shakes her head and sinks to the carpet, pressing her chin to his knee. "Wanna be close, please."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles, grabbing his own bowl of pasta, "Okay, baby, you can sit there but no touching. I know you're nearly gagging for my cock."

He watches as she shivers, nibbling on her bottom lip and shifting her position slightly so her cheek is smushed against his thigh. He laughs quietly and threads his fingers through her hair, quickly eating his own portion. He can't deny that he's just as excited to get started — he, too, has been thinking about this all day, deciding what positions he'd fold her body into, if he'd edge her or overstimulate her with orgasm upon orgasm. He didn't want to fully push her limits so quickly — he wanted to create a foundation of trust between each other, but he couldn't help the inevitable daydreams that clouded his day. 

He finishes his food quickly, tapping her head playfully to alert her that he's done. She lifts her head and he takes in her moony gaze, his heart thumping quickly in his chest at how sweet she looks. 

"Upstairs, bunny. Hands and knees, bum in the air, okay?" He plucks at her bottom lip as he grants her guidance, her eyes fluttering shut, relieved to finally be getting instructions. She scurries up to her bedroom, listening to Harry putter around as he places their dirty dishes in the sink. As he asks, she lets her knees meld into the foamy texture of the mattress. With her cheek pressed against the pillow, she folds her legs and maneuvers her lower half into his requested position.

It feels like an eternity before Y/N hears Harry enter the room, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't move to remove any of his clothes, instead kneeling onto the bed behind her. 

"You've been doing so good for daddy, haven't you, baby?" 

She knows it's a rhetorical question but she nods into the plushy pillow, wiggling her butt. He chuckles and allows his palms to roam the expanse of her skin, from the bottoms of her thighs up to the swell of her ass. She keens at the feel of his touch, already obsessed with the way his large hands fit over her body.

"We won't be doing too much tonight, but I'll be asking for your color consistently. I want you to use your safe word at any point you deem necessary. Is that clear?"

Y/N nods her head and hums, though her answer is slightly muffled by the fluff of the pillow. 

He continues rubbing slow circles into the globes of her ass, intent on getting her to feel as relaxed as possible. He can tell she's excited — he is, too — but above anything, he wants her to be calm. 

"I brought some toys and things for us to play with," Harry continues, her ears perking up, "Can you tell me your color for each of them? It's perfectly okay if it changes at some point. I'd just like an idea of what you want."

Y/N has never had someone care this much — every time a dominant brought a toy to a session, he'd thrown it in there haphazardly. A vibrator turned up way too high, terribly knitted rope and, the worst by far, a butt plug that wasn't lubed whatsoever. 

So she's keening over the care Harry puts into his role, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as he shuffles off the bed for a moment and slings the tote bag onto the comforter. She still can't see a thing that he's doing, but as she floats into a comfortable cloudy mindset, she becomes more and more content with letting him make the rules. 

"Okay, baby. Know you want daddy to make the decisions but I need you to be good for me and tell me what you're comfortable with," Harry murmurs, his fingertips dancing along the soft material of her waistband. He doesn't dip below or tug them down; it more so feels like a reminder of what can come if she's good. "Tying your wrists with silk ties. Color?"

Her pussy pulsates at the immediate vision of her arms tied high above her head, unable to touch herself or him. "Mm. Green." 

"And what about your legs? Are you okay with rope, or would you prefer silk down there, too?"

"Either one, daddy. Green for both." 

Harry hums, dipping down to slowly press light kisses down the length of her spine. She shivers at the sensation of his soft lips making contact with her skin for the first time. "A vibrator for your cute little pussy?"

"Green," she whimpers as his hands find purchase on her hips.

"Can daddy use his mouth on you?" he asks, the low vibrations of his voice making her core leak with arousal. "On your pussy?" 

"Yes, yes," Y/N nearly pleads, bucking her hips up against his grasp. He tuts softly, and she can imagine the way his tongue flicks up against his two front bunny teeth, a look of disappointment painted over his face. 

"Be patient, bunny. Don't need you squirming around just 'cos you wanna be touched." 

She wants to groan out when he removes his hands from her skin but resists the urge, especially because he just told her to be patient (something Y/N has never been good at). She feels like it's a punishment in and of itself — he's barely done anything, but she can still feel the phantom kisses he placed down her back, and the skin stretching over her hips somehow feels lonely without his large palms pawing at it. 

"On your back." Harry suddenly instructs. She's quick to obey, rolling over onto the plush duvet. He's fast in his movements and already kneeling above her, wrapping her wrists together and fastening a bow with pink silk. "Have you used these before? Do you know how to get out of them if you need to?"

Y/N nods. She knows that she can simply pull her wrists apart to quickly dissolve the knot, instantly freeing herself. 

"Good girl. Daddy's gonna use rope for your legs, okay? Use your safe word or red if you need."

She has to admit, she's immediately impressed with Harry's apparent knowledge of bondage. She's been tied up many times before, but if she had to guess how many times someone's properly tied her hands, breasts, or legs with rope, it would likely only be once or twice. 

A wet gasp leaves her mouth when she realizes Harry isn't just tying her ankles down to the bed post. Instead, he's pressing her calves into the backs of her thighs, the slight burn of the rope pressing into her flesh in the most delicious way. Although she's able to close her legs, the knots still remove most of her mobility, especially with her arms tucked above her head.

After finishing with her legs, Harry stands from the bed, still in his tee-shirt and trousers. He admires his work from above with a devilish smirk on his face, making Y/N's skin warm.

"Aren't you just a wet dream?" he mocks lightly, trailing his fingertips up and along her knee, "All tied up and absolutely useless, hm? Can't even get out of bed, can you?"

Y/N shakes her head, her bottom lip beginning to wobble at his teasing. Everything about the scene is already so intense, the build-up so delicious and consuming and— fuck, he hasn't even touched her yet.

"You just need your daddy to do everything for you, don't you?" Harry continues, kneeling into the mattress. His hands find the insides of her thighs and he pushes them apart, but his eyes don't even fall to her core, instead keeping them square on her wide-eyed gaze. "Helpless little baby, aren't you? Say it. Say your daddy's helpless baby."

"I'm— I'm daddy's helpless baby." she stammers out, her tongue heavy in her mouth. 

"Are you gonna cry already, bunny?" he asks, his lips curling up into a wicked smirk, "Haven't even fuckin' done a thing and you're crying over being tied up. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Wanted daddy to make all your choices? Get all cock dumb and drunk on my cum?"

She nods futilely. She doesn't even realize the wetness pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she feels tears leaking steadily as soon as he mentions it. 

"P-please daddy. Wanna be touched."

"Ah, so you do have some thoughts going on up there."

It seems like maybe that's all it takes for Harry to finally cease his mocking, digging into the tote bag at the side of the bed to produce a silicone vibrator. It's light blue and long, with a bulbous head at the tip that she assumes is for stimulating the spongey spot deep inside of her.

He finds a spot between her thighs, kneeling back on his ankles. His hands move up her inner thighs and to the creases of where her legs meet her core, the sheer fabric of her pale pink shorts immediately giving way to the wetness seeping from her hole. Harry nearly groans out at that, the sight going straight to his rock hard cock being strained by layers of clothing. 

With a feather light touch, he thumbs over her clit through the material. She immediately jolts and he chuckles, moving his finger to gently stroke over her mound. 

"Desperate little thing. Begging for daddy's touch."

"Yes," Y/N mewls at the top of the bed, wiggling against the rough rope, "I need it daddy, please, touch me, I've been so good—"

"Have you?" he asks, retrieving his hand, "All you've done is do as I've asked. If anything, I'm the one that should get rewarded, don't you think? Picked you up from work, fed you, tied you up... sounds like you're just being greedy to me."

"I'm not— t-that is being good, daddy, I didn't touch myself like you said a-and I've earned it, please."

She's fully crying now, tears leaking from her eyes in steadfast streams that it actually makes Harry feel bad. She hasn't even stopped her begging by the time he's pulling her shorts down to reveal her weeping pussy, a soft tsk leaving his mouth.

"Stop pleading, bunny, I'll give you want you're so desperate for," Harry says, grabbing the vibrator. He'd initially planned to work her with his fingers before pressing the toy against her clit and pushing it inside, but he hasn't even spread her open and he can already see the creamy arousal coating her lips. He thinks that if he teases her for much longer, she may just disintegrate into the bed. 

So instead, because he's him and he's not a nice dom, he cranks it onto the medium setting and nudges it up against her clit. She instantly gasps out and jerks her hips up at the vibrations, a near-yell leaving her throat. He's aware that every person is different and it'll take him some time to learn her body, but with the way that her legs are already shaking as he uses more pressure to press the toy against the bundle of nerves, he thinks he he's getting somewhere.

"Are you gonna cum already?" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes rake over her body. Her own eyes are scrunched up, her lips parted as small whimpers escape her throat, beads of sweat beginning to tumble down the slopes and curves of her skin — it's a sight, and he wishes to commit it to memory.

"Y-yes," she admits, nodding quickly, "Can I? Please?"

In response, he transfers the vibrator to his left hand and slowly pushes a finger into her pulsating hole. 

"Go ahead."

He strokes once or twice against her g-spot with his finger before she's crumbling, her chest concave with haphazard breaths and her back arched. Moans readily fall from her lips, her pussy squeezing his finger so tight it nearly makes him cum on the spot.

As Y/N comes down from her peak, she recalls Harry saying that they weren't doing anything too crazy today, so she wonders if that's it. If so, she supposes that's fine, but she thinks she'll over him a blowie, offering to let him fuck her face while she's still tied up with silk and rope.

Instead, he cranks the vibrator up another setting and pushes a second finger inside, eliciting a broken groan from her chest.

"Again." Harry instructs, curling his fingers deep inside of her.

"O-oh," Y/N whimpers with shaking thighs and a dizzy head, "Daddy, I—"

"Again, bunny." he repeats, quickening the pace of his fingers. "I want another one. Now."

She quickly realizes that she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to reject Harry, because it only takes a few more pumps of his digits until she's squeezing him again. She's never had two orgasms so close together and she finds that this one is more intense, her muscles not even fully relaxed as they contract around him once again.

Her eyes are still closed when he removes his fingers and she thinks she hears a faint sucking noise, though she can't be sure. He lowers the vibrator setting but keeps it flush against her clit, despite the way her pussy is all but begging for a break.

"Color." Harry demands, his hand finding the backside of her knee. 

"G-green," she hiccups through tear-stained cheeks, "Can keep going, daddy. Please."

He nods once, lowering so his stomach is pressed against the mattress now. He finally clicks the toy off and pushes it to the side, pausing his assault on her core before spreading her lips open with his fingers. 

"Jesus, you're fuckin' pretty," he mutters, watching as her hole pulsates from two back-to-back orgasms. He spits, the saliva landing on her spread slit, making her gasp. "Who owns this pussy, bunny?"

Y/N's chest is heaving, but she still manages his honorific through wet, splotchy cheeks.

"Say it again." he commands before leaning forward to lick a fat stripe from her hole to her clit. 

"It's yours, daddy." she whispers, her hands forming tight fists above her form.

"Good girl. That's what I want you to say when you cum next, okay?" 

She doesn't have a chance to question yet another orgasms as his tongue makes contact with her pussy, moaning deeply. He's already obsessed with her taste and she's sure she's never had someone go down on her with this much vigor. She's gulping for air when his tongue darts in and out of her hole before licking up to her clit, lips wrapped around the nub as he sucks harshly, whines sounding from her mouth at the sensitivity. 

Y/N has never understood the phrase "making out with her pussy" until this exact moment.

She doesn't even know if he's coming up for air much, but he's quick to figure out the pattern that makes her thighs shake. Messy sounds come from below as he slurps at the arousal leaking from her, using the width of his tongue to lick upwards to her clit over and over again. 

"Daddy!" Y/N squeals, jerking her hips involuntarily, only to be pressing her core even closer to his mouth, "Please, I— I think—"

"Cum." he mutters into her, suckling at her clit with such fervor that Y/N genuinely thinks she may pass out. 

She doesn't, though, but the intensity of her orgasm claws up her body rapidly, loud cries bubbling up her throat as she repeats clamors of, "it's yours daddy, your pussy, it's yours."

She feels him press chaste kisses against her mound as he gently begins to untie the ropes, slowly easing her legs out of their angled positions. Once they're free, he helps her stretch them outward, continuing his trail of kisses up her body until he's straddling her waist between his thighs.

"Color," Harry murmurs, reaching up to release his wrists from the silk. Her eyes are set on the bulge in his pants and he gently taps her cheek, "Bunny, tell me your color."

"Green, daddy. That looks like it hurts."

She uses her newly freed hands to point at his crotch and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

"I'm fine, lovebug. Are you sure you're still green? Looking quite floaty."

"I am," Y/N lulls her head to the side, leaning it against her shoulder as she circles her wrists, "Wanna keep going though. 'm okay."

"Do you remember your safe word?" he questions, grabbing one of her wrists and pressing soft kisses into the skin. 

"Mhm."

"What is it?"

"Yarn. 'cos I like to crochet."

Harry grins, relieved that she isn't too far off the deep end. He finds her to be especially adorable when she's in her little space, the moony gaze in her eyes removing any traces of stress from her day-to-day life.

"That's right, baby," he replies, pulling off his tee-shirt. "Daddy's gonna fuck you now. Is that alright?"

"Yes, please. But I don't think I wanna cum again."

He hums and nods, unbuckling his pants and kicking them off his legs, "That's perfectly fine, bunny. You got daddy so hard that I don't think it'll take much for me to cum."

Y/N giggles at that and makes grabby hands at him, making him chuckle. "Off, please," she says, pointing to the briefs straining his cock. 

"You're such a polite little girl, did you know that?" Harry asks as he pushes his underwear down, settling in between her legs.

"Daddy's polite girl." 

If his cock wasn't painfully hard right now, he might've laughed at her repeating his words. Unfortunately, an hour of overstimulating Y/N and watching her writhe beneath his grasp, all tied up with no choice but to just take it — he's shivering at the images of it, and he knows he needs to cum within the next five minutes or his dick will surely fall off. 

"Gonna push in, okay?" Harry asks softly, rubbing circles into her hip, "Remember, tell me if you need to stop. Daddy will always listen to you."

Y/N nods her head, blinking away the leftover moisture in her eyes from her bout of cries earlier. She knows that if she didn't feel so comfortable with him, there's no way she would be this far in her little space right now, where she just wants him to take and take until he's satisfied. It's maybe happened three or four times in the past with a dom she had that was actually pretty good, but she knows now doesn't even begin to measure up with Harry. 

When his cock pops through her tight walls, it's a bit of a stretch, but she's wet enough with arousal from three orgasms that it barely burns. Instead, she finds herself enjoying the way her core adapts to his shape — not to mention, he looks gorgeous above her with his eyes squeezed closed and his jaw dropped in a quiet groan. 

When she doesn't safe word, Harry starts to move. He takes it slow, knowing that if he immediately starts to pump the full of his length inside of her, it may cause her more pain than pleasure, regardless of how small she's feeling. Her plushy lips part as moans begin to fall from them, hooking her ankles behind his form to bring him closer. 

"You're so big, daddy," Y/N breathes out, a strangled whimper coming from Harry. "I love it, I love having you inside me."

"Yeah? My little girl wants her daddy's cock in her all the time?" He pushes through grit teeth, his jaw flexing as he begins to quicken his strokes, "Tell me, bunny. Tell me how much you want daddy."

"Oh—," she mewls as he begins to brush up against her g-spot, "I want it always daddy, I-I need it— oh, god— please daddy, please—"

"Sweet little girl sounds so pretty when she begs," He says as he takes one of his palms and presses it against her lower stomach, "This pretty pussy is mine now. You hear me? It's daddy's pussy."

"Yes, yes— fuck, it's yours daddy!"

Harry growls — actually growls — and shifts his hand down to smack against her clit, a throaty moan falling from Y/N's mouth. 

"Dumb little babies don't curse," he snaps, slapping her clit once more, "Or do you wanna be punished? Not get any of daddy's cum?"

She shakes her head quickly, her eyes nearly rolling back at the sting of pain radiating through her core. "I want it, please!"

"Yeah? Beg for it, bunny."

She does — she pleads and begs and all but grovels on her hands and knees until Harry pulls out and pumps his cock over her, ropes of warm cum painting the skin of her stomach all the way up to her chest. There's so much (like an impressive amount, Y/N thinks), and she wants to scoop it up and taste it, but Harry grabs her wrist and gives her a look before she can. 

"If you do that, you will have to call out of work tomorrow."

She giggles and nibbles on her bottom lip, the little headspace she's swimming in telling her to disobey him. He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tee-shirt he was wearing earlier and swiping it over her body, ridding her of his cum. 

"You're a naughty little thing," he mumbles, tossing the tee-shirt to the floor — he makes a mental note to throw her bedding and everything in the wash once she's out of her little space. "C'mon baby, up. Gonna take a bath now." 

"With you, right?" Y/N mumbles with heavy eyes. He nods as he leans down to scoop her up in his arms, guiding them to the bathroom. He sits her on the toilet and she frowns, making him roll his eyes. 

"You don't want a UTI. This isn't a sex thing, just pee while I run you a bath."

She does but only because he tells her to, and she knows she'll feel embarrassed about this tomorrow, but she's okay with it right now. He busies himself with turning the water and making sure it's warm before plugging the drain. 

"I brought some bubble bath and epsom salts with me but it's in my bag. Can I leave you while I go get those?" 

Again, Y/N nods wordlessly and he leans down to press a kiss to her hair. She flushed and wipes while he's gone, and he returns while she's washing her hands. 

Harry knows it feels oddly domestic of them to be naked and prepping to take a bath together after an intense scene, especially since this is the first time they've done this. In the back of his mind, he wonders if they should've talked through the implications of them beginning this type of relationship — a ruined friendship being one of them — and he knows it was selfish of him to forgo that conversation altogether. 

He ignores his worries and instead helps her into the bubble bath once it's ready, tucking his body in behind hers as soon as she's situated. It's silent between them for the first time in hours as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, lightly massaging her shoulders. 

"How are you feeling?" He finally asks after a few moments of quiet. 

"Tired," she mumbles, laying back against his broad chest. He can't tell if she's still floaty by her one-word response so he continues rubbing her back, allowing her to sink into the warmth of the bath.

They don’t speak again after that, not until the water goes cold and Y/N almost falls asleep in the comfort of his arms. In the meantime, he makes sure to gently swirl a clean washcloth over her skin, using his favorite lavender scented body wash, and wash her knotty hair. All the while he whispers how special she is, how she’ll never be too much, but especially not to him. He decides it’s okay if she doesn’t hear him because she’s too out of it, but hopes that his words at least seep into her subconscious so she believes the same. 

#I will proof read this when I’m not so burnt out ! #writing #harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #Harry styles angst #harry styles x you #Harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #one direction

[petite-madame]

just so you know, it’s very obvious to actual artists that you’re posting AI and then lying that you’ve done it all by hand. kind of embarrassing, and more than a little fucked up.

Hi anon

This kind of nonsense usually ends up in the trash with a laugh but as it's my first "your art is AI", let's go! (It was just a matter of time, as practically all my artist friends got this kind of messages at this point)

it’s very obvious to actual artists...

Actual artists ? You mean, like me, a professional illustrator in her 40s, who has started drawing at the age of 8 and who has been drawing with a consistant art style for the past 15 years (with some improvements, thank god 🤓) ? People like you have accused me of tracing using tracing paper when I was a kid, tracing in Photoshop 15 years ago when I started to post on the internet and now my art is "AI". I should be used to it by now: when I posted this one 14 YEARS AGO, people told me it was traced and that "I wasn't a real artist, actual artists could tell"

I've consistently posted step by step, WIPs, vids, reels, gifs, shown the number of layers I use by art (sometimes more than 100) but apparently, it's never enough. And my art is AI generated ? Which one ?

So much for the Loki one, I apologize for the 0,3%…

Which is also funny is that fans of Supernatural, Good Omens, Sherlock, etc…have been able to say exactly which reference pictures I used for each drawing, not only for faces but sometimes also for the pose and the clothing (because yes, omg, I use reference pictures, the horror 😲)

However if you want to talk about my technique, and I've never hidden it, I sometimes use photos or 3D models for backgrounds because I hate drawing backgrounds. For instance the background of the Superwholock one is composed of a couple of stock pictures (a pub).

Same for a "Sherlock Harry Potter AU" I'll post in a month or so: some parts oh Hogwarts are screenshots from the movie because I didn't feel like drawing a room full of students.

Also, is there sometimes mistakes in my art that don't make sense ? Yes, nothing new, I make mistakes, I've been doing it for years and I still do it, particularly when it comes to anatomy. I want to pull my hair out when I notice them weeks (sometimes months) later but here we are.

Anyway, people like you who throw "it's AI" accusations all over the Internet better think twice because the result is this.

Don't get me wrong, I get the AI paranoia but instead of sending messages to artists like this one, ask kindly about their process, their technique, etc…and also, have a look at their archive, it could help.

I'm leaving you now, I have AI art to generate (= spending 10 hours per drawing using reference pictures, finding inspiration from classical painting, using about 100 layers and stressing about the art not being good enough).

Have a great weekend!

#pmasks #my first “it's AI” #a change from “you trace” and death threats I suppose

[allthelovehes]

The Author*

Summary: You just moved into your new apartment and your new neighbour turns out to be the author of the smutty book you're currently reading.

Pairing: Author/Neighbour!Harry x Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: Smut, basically strangers, it's cute tho.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

Support my work by joining my Patreon!

The first few weeks of living in your new apartment were, thankfully, relatively uneventful. You had managed to find a new job and keep your finances balanced, and the building you were in seemed to be relatively clean and well-maintained, and you'd never seen anyone who you thought would have a problem with you.

You travel back and forth between work by bus, not really feeling the need to have a car in the big city. Plus it gives you the perfect opportunity to read a good book, something you love but always slips in the cracks of your busy life.

It's the last day of work before your weekend, and you're on the bus home deep into a chapter of the book you're reading, everything is going perfectly fine. You're excited for the weekend as you still have a few boxes to unpack and some cleaning and organization that needs to get done.

You've been so into the book you're reading, that when you realize the bus just drove past your usual stop, you're shocked.

“Oh, shit.” You mutter under your breath as you try to think of what to do. You could just walk the few blocks back to your stop, the weather is fine anyway. You press the button, the bus comes to a halt at the next stop and you step off, thanking the driver for the ride. You begin walking, a tote on your shoulder and the book still in hand.

The streets aren't busy, it's not a particularly busy part of the city, and it's a beautiful afternoon. The sun is shining and there is a slight breeze, but not too much. You can hear the birds chirping and see the small kids playing in the nearby park, all in all a nice day.

You reach your building after a few minutes of walking, and the front door is unlocked and ajar, so you let yourself in and start to head towards the stairwell. When you reach the right floor, you spot your neighbour coming out of their apartment, the one you had seen the first night you'd arrived.

He was tall, much taller than you, and wearing a t-shirt that clung to his form nicely, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal a collection of tattoos that ran all the way down to his hands. His hair was curly and looked incredibly soft and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through it. His jaw was chiselled, sporting a stubble. He looked good, really good.

“Hey.” He says, his voice deep and smooth, and you can't help but notice the accent he has. “I haven't seen you around before, are you the new neighbour?”

“Yeah, I moved in a couple of weeks ago.” You reply. “My name is Y/N.”

“It's nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Harry.” He extends a hand and you shake it. You notice the rings on his fingers, they're large, but not tacky, and they suit him. He looks at the book in your other hand and chuckles, “A reader, eh?”

“Yeah, I've always loved reading, and this one is really good, I've been wanting to finish it, so I'm glad I missed my stop, I was so deep into the story I hadn't even noticed.” You chuckle and it's then when Harry notices what book you have in hand, his book.

“Hey, wait a second. You're reading my book!” He points at the cover.

“Oh, you wrote this? Well, now I feel kinda embarrassed.” You say, laughing, trying to hide the embarrassment and your blushing cheeks. The story is based around quite a few explicit sex scenes, and you're hoping he won't bring it up.

“I'm just messing with ya. I'm actually quite flattered.” He chuckles.

You talk for a few more minutes and then go on your way. He is funny and kind, and his smile is one that you know you would kill to see. His eyes are bright, and you love the way his curls move when he laughs.

As you make your way to your apartment, you're smiling to yourself, thinking about how good-looking your new neighbour is. He seems kind and easy-going, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to spend more time with him.

When you get to your apartment, you drop your things, kick off your shoes and throw yourself onto your sofa. You sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to process the day, and what just happened.

Knowing the man who came up with those incredible sex scenes was living right across the hall from you, is driving you absolutely wild. You're not sure why you're reacting the way you are, you have no business thinking about him like that. But he's just so fucking hot, and his accent, and his body, and the way his arms looked...

You feel your skin begin to heat up, and a tingling between your legs, and before you even realise, your hand is down the front of your jeans. You start touching yourself, and all you can think of is him, and the words he has written. Your breathing becomes heavier and you close your eyes, imagining him doing these things to you, his lips and hands exploring your body.

You're abruptly ripped from your fantasy by a knock on the door, and you jump and scramble to pull your hand from your pants.

“Fuck.” You hiss under your breath, and run your fingers through your hair, trying to get it to look presentable. You look through the peephole in the door and your eyes widen, there stands Harry, and he's holding a bottle of wine. You take a deep breath and open the door, trying to appear as composed as possible.

“Oh, hi.” You say, smiling, but you're nervous. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

“Hey, Y/N, I just came to drop off some wine.” He seems nervous. “I figured since you're new it'd be a nice thing to do.”

“That's very sweet of you, thank you.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.” He turns and starts to walk back to his own apartment.

“Harry, wait!” You shout, and he turns back to face you.

“Yes, love?” His British accent thick.

“Do you want to come in? I'll pour us some wine.”

“Yeah, that'd be lovely.” He follows you into the apartment. You take the wine from him and pour two glasses. You hand him the glass and sit down next to him, making sure to keep some distance between you.

You chat for a while, sipping your wine, and you find yourself enjoying his company. He tells you about his writing and how he's working on another book, and that he's glad that you've enjoyed the one he already published. You tell him about yourself, about how much you love to read, and he tells you he'll send you copies of the other books he has published.

The wine is flowing, and so is the conversation. Harry is really nice, and you find yourself wanting to spend more time with him. The bottle is empty and your cheeks are flushed, but not just from the alcohol.

“Well, I should probably head home.” Harry says, and the disappointment is evident on your face.

“No, don't leave yet.” You protest, and his eyes lock with yours. “I'm enjoying your company.”

“Well, alright. I can stay a bit longer.” He says, smiling.

You're not sure why, but you feel compelled to lean forward and kiss him. Maybe it's the wine, or the fact that he's just so fucking hot, or the stories and sex scenes in the book he had written. You're not sure, but something is driving you crazy, and you need him. Your lips crash against his, and it takes a moment for him to register what's happening. But when he kisses back, your heart flutters and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults.

You pull away and stare at him for a moment, and he looks at you with a mixture of lust and surprise in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “I shouldn't have-“

He cuts you off by leaning in and kissing you again, this time deeper, and more passionate. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and your tongues collide, tasting each other. He pulls away and stares into your eyes, his lips slightly swollen and a smirk on his face.

“You're a good kisser.” He whispers.

“So are you.” You reply, a smile spreading across your lips.

He leans back in, kissing you more roughly than before, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. He begins trailing kisses down your neck and jawline, eliciting small whimpers and moans from you. He makes his way down your collarbones and chest, then moves back up to your ear.

“Y/N.” He whispers. “May I take this off?”

“Please.” You reply, almost begging. He grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head, revealing the lacy bra underneath. He stares at your breasts for a moment, drinking them in, before he dives down and sucks at the exposed skin. He moves to your other breast and does the same, and his other hand begins to unbutton his own shirt.

He removes his shirt, revealing his tattoos, and you can't help but stare. He has a slim yet muscular frame, and his arms are toned and strong. You trace the ink on his chest and torso with your fingers, and he watches your reaction with a smirk.

He stands up and grabs your waist, picking you up and setting you on the kitchen island. He leans down and kisses you again, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You can feel his erection through his jeans, and it's big, really big. You can't help but let out a moan at the thought of him fucking you with that monster.

He reaches around and unclasps your bra, pulling it off and exposing your breasts. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at it, while his hand plays with the other. You throw your head back and moan, grabbing at his curls and tugging slightly. He lets out a groan and grinds his hips against yours, and you can feel his cock harden even more.

“Harry.” You moan. “I want you.”

He removes his mouth from your breast and looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Are you sure, love?” He asks, his accent sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, please.” You beg, and he smirks. You're so eager and it's making him impossibly harder. He undoes his belt and his pants fall to the floor. You stare at his cock hiding in his black boxers, and your mouth waters. It's long and thick, and you know that it's going to feel amazing. He pulls off his boxers, and his cock springs free, standing proudly.

He grabs your jeans and tugs them down, revealing the matching pair of lace panties. He groans as he looks at you, and his fingers hook under the fabric, pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking beautiful.” He breathes, taking in the sight of you. You're completely naked and exposed in front of him, and he can't help but marvel at how perfect you are. He leans in and kisses you, and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him close. He grinds his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your wetness. He's teasing you, and it's driving you insane.

“Harry, please.” You whine, and he smirks.

“Please, what?” He teases, continuing his slow grinding.

“Please fuck me.”

He groans and searches for his wallet, finding a condom. He slides it on and lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. He fills you up completely, and you cry out, arching your back. He lets you adjust to his size before he starts moving. He sets a slow and steady pace, and you're moaning and whimpering.

“Fuck, Harry.” You gasp. “You're so big.”

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He groans. He thrusts his hips, his cock sliding in and out of you. You reach down and begin rubbing your clit, and the extra stimulation has you seeing stars. No wonder the smut in his books is good, the man himself knows exactly what he's doing.

His pace quickens and his breathing becomes laboured. He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the sounds that escape your mouth. He picks you up from the countertop and carries you over to the sofa, never breaking his rhythm. He lays you down and continues pounding into you, and you can feel the pressure building.

“Harry, I'm so close.” You moan, and he reaches down to rub your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He growls, and that's all it takes for you to come undone. You scream his name and arch your back as the orgasm rips through you. He keeps his pace, thrusting harder and faster, prolonging your pleasure.

When you come down from your high, he pulls out and grabs your legs, flipping you onto your stomach. He positions himself behind you and pushes back in, causing you both to moan. His hands grip your hips and he begins pounding into you, and his grunts fill the room.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking tight.” He groans, his voice thick with lust.

“Oh, god, Harry.” You moan. The sound of skin slapping skin and the scent of sex fills the air. He reaches around and starts rubbing your clit, and the pleasure is almost too much for you to handle. He thrusts his hips, filling you completely.

“Come for me again, love.” He commands.

“Yes, Harry, fuck.” You cry out, your walls tightening around his cock. You know that anyone passing by your apartment would definitely hear the sounds of sex, but you don't care. The only thing that matters is the feeling of him inside you.

You come undone once more, and he fucks you through your orgasm. He moans, his thrusts becoming erratic. You turn him on so much, he never wants to stop fucking you. His cock slides out of you and he pulls you back up, turning you around to face him.

“I want you to ride me, love.” He growls, his voice deep and rough. You straddle him, your wetness coating his cock. He positions himself at your entrance and you slide down, moaning as he fills you again. You start moving, your hips rocking against his.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He moans, and his hands grip your hips, guiding you. Your pace quickens and you can feel yourself getting close again. You look at him and his eyes are filled with lust and desire, and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Harry's lips crash into yours and his hands tangle in your hair. He breaks the kiss and his mouth moves to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. You let out a string of curses and he groans against your neck. He leaves a trail of kisses down to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He nibbles and sucks on it, and his tongue swirls around it.

“Fuck, Harry.” You moan.

“Do you like that, love?” He asks, looking up at you with dark eyes.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You reply, your voice wavering.

He continues his assault on your breasts, switching from one to the other. Your breathing is heavy and you can feel the pressure building again.

“Harry, I'm so close.” You breathe.

“Me too, baby. Come for me.” He growls, his fingers rubbing your clit. The combination of his cock filling you his mouth on your nipples and his fingers stroking your clit sends you over the edge, and you scream his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Your walls clench around his cock and he loses it, his thrusts become more erratic, and his breathing is laboured. He moans your name, and the sound is like music to your ears. He comes hard, and his cock pulses inside you.

You both collapse, breathing heavily. Your heart is racing and you can't believe what just happened. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You lie there in his arms, trying to catch your breath, the scent of sex and sweat filling the air.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Harry says, breaking the silence. “That was incredible.”

“Mhm, you're far better than your books.”

“Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He chuckles. You snuggle into his arms, and he holds you tight. You've never felt so safe and secure in someone's arms, and you know that you're already falling for him.

#harry styles #allthelovehes #harry #styles #harry smut #fanfic #smut #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #harrystylesfanfiction #harryxreader #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry x you #harryxyou #harry x yn #harryxyn #writing #hot #author!harry #Author #author harry #author harry styles #neighbour #neighbours #neighbour!harry #neighbor #neighbors #neighbor!harry

[dreamingonfilm]

✧˖*°࿐ Bruises pt. 2 | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, angst

Summary: A week after punching Draco, he finally talks to you. But he comes to realize that love isn’t always the answer.

W/C: 1.8k

a/n: thank you all for the support on the first part! i apologize in advance <3

Part 1 - Read part 1 here !

Your friends laughed once more as you described how Draco’s face looked that day you punched him. It has been a week since then and you haven’t stopped thinking about it. The event still coming up a few times a day, as no one would have expected someone as kind as you to be the reason for the bruises left on Malfoy's face.

As the laughter settled down, you couldn’t help but be curious as to how Draco was doing. You haven’t seen him in a week and in all honesty you couldn’t help but wonder why he hasn’t tried to get back at you for what you did. What you didn’t know was that since the day you stood up for yourself, Draco hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. 

Immediately after you got into your common room, the boy turned completely red, his stomach erupting with butterflies as he thought about how your fist felt against his cheek. ‘I’m in love’ was all he could think as he walked to Madam Pomfrey in a daze. Each time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but put his hand up to the yellow and purple bruise to try and remember what your skin felt like. 

It was a feeling that was new and confusing to him. He wanted to be mad at you, he wanted to hex you, to feel no remorse as he goes back to making your life a living hell, but for some odd unnamed reason, he couldn’t. He was completely enamored, every thought he had was of you, every time he walked into the Great Hall he would scan the room looking for your oversized robe and mismatched socks, but to his defeat you paid no attention.

On one occasion, Draco even went as far as to wait for you outside your potions class. He stood there for half an hour waiting for you to come outside, but to his dismay, you had skipped class that day to go to Hogsmeade with Harry. He walked back to his room in embarrassment after being caught lurking by Professor Snape. 

Despite his unsuccessful efforts, he knew that he would run into you soon. He put all his hopes on today.

The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match was one that you would be sure not to miss, after all your two best friends were a part of the team. You couldn’t help but be grateful for a break from the stress of school and Draco. As you and Hermoine sat down on the stands, you couldn’t help but stare at the boy himself. He looked rather nervous, which was something unusual for someone of his caliber, as he fidgeted with the rings on his finger. His eyes moving back and forth threw the crowd almost as if he was looking for someone, that was until they landed at you. 

Letting out a small gasp you quickly looked away. Putting your head down to avoid eye contact with the boy that has made the past few years of your life a living hell. He however, couldn’t stop staring. Normally, he would be confident before a game, but today all he could think about was how you were watching. His stomach turned as he realized that you would be there to see whether he did poorly and embarrassed himself. Breathing in heavily, he tried to collect his nerves as the game started.

“Get it together, Malfoy.” he whispered to himself.

The game lasted for about two hours, the tension in the crowd was rising as the score was nearly tied, Gryffindor in the lead by only ten points. You watched carefully as your friend avoided an incoming bludger, giving you a smile before he took off again in order to find the snitch. 

“(Y/N?)” Hermoine interrupted your thoughts, looking at you with a small amount of worry in her face.

“Yeah?”

“By any chance have you talked to Draco?” She asked, giving you a small smile as you were taken aback. 

“No, no, I haven’t talked to him since last week,” you answered quietly, turning your head to look at him as he followed along behind Harry, “Why?”

“He’s been staring at you for most of the game.” 

“Wha–” you were cut off by the announcer over the speakers of the field.

“Draco Malfoy has caught the Golden Snitch! Slytherin wins!” The stands erupted with applause, cheers and a mix of boos echoing through your ears as you tried to find Draco. Your attempts being cut short as Hermoine grabbed you by the hand and led you down to where the players were.

After about twenty minutes, your friends finally came out to greet you. You gave each of them a hug and praised them for the good game. Your words of encouragement weren’t enough as the boys continued to complain about how unfair the match was, and how if McGonagall wasn’t there they surely would have given him a piece of their mind.

—--

“He’s never played like that, ever!” Harry complained once more as he took a bite out of his, now cold, steak. 

“Honestly! It’s like he was trying to impress somebody or something.” Ron agreed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of how they lost.

You glanced over at Hermione with a desperate look, but it was too late. “He was trying to impress (Y/N)! He was looking at her the whole game!” 

The boys simultaneously spat out their water, Ron choking a bit as Hermione gave him pats on the back to try and help out. They looked at you in shock, their mouths moving as they tried to come up with what to say but no words came out.

“He was not looking at me! He hates me. We all know that.” You said. Shaking your head as you tried to explain to your friends how there was no way that Draco could ever pay attention to you if it wasn’t without malicious intent.

“So you’re the reason we lost (Y/N), well I have to give it to you, you really did leave a nasty mark on Malfoy. Maybe you knocked something loose.” Ron finally managed to spit out, not before being hit on the back of the head by Hermione.

“You’re implying that (Y/N) is only likable by people who are out of their mind!” She responded while simultaneously rolling her eyes.

“Well actually,” Harry said, ���I’m not out of my mind and I quite like –” but was cut off by someone clearing their throat behind you. 

You turned around only to be greeted by the devil himself. Your heart started racing, ‘this was it’, you thought, ‘he’s finally come for revenge.’ He shifted uncomfortably as he waited for someone to greet him, but finally spoke once he realized that no one was going to say anything. “(Y/L/N), may I speak to you,” he glanced over your friend's faces for a quick second before continuing, “alone.” 

You tried to respond but you couldn’t get a single word out of your mouth. Your breathing quickened in pace as you realized that you were going to be alone with Draco Malfoy once more. Surely you were going to get what was coming. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Shut it, Potter.” He sneered at your friend, “If she doesn’t want to speak with me then she is fully capable of telling me herself.” 

“O-okay.” You finally managed to muster out. The sooner you speak with him the sooner you can get it over with. Your friends gave you an apologetic smile as you started to get up from your seat. 

“If you need help, just call for me.” Harry whispered in your ear before you left, giving you a kiss on the forehead for reassurance. You smiled and walked off, following the blonde headed boy that was two steps in front of you.

The walk with Draco was unpleasant. Neither of you had anything to say, you both stared at your feet as you walked through the empty corridors of the castle. Looking up at him, you finally noticed the yellow and purple bruise on his jaw. While you wanted to smile, taking it as a token that you won, you couldn’t help but feel bad for the mark you left on him. 

Draco turned to look at you, feeling your gaze burning right through him, and finally spoke. 

“I just,” he started, “I wanted to apologize for how I’ve been treating you. I was hoping that we could start over.” His eyes still had those golden specks, and the wrinkles showed as he softly smiled. 

You couldn’t help but to stare at him in disbelief. Years of being harassed by Draco Malfoy, and now he decides that it’s time for you two to be friends? You were insulted. No amount of time, or therapy, could ever help you get over what he has done to you. You brought your shaky hand up before slapping him right across his bruised jaw, only this time you weren’t scared.

“If you think I can forgive you that easily, then you must be mistaken. I could never forgive you, Malfoy.” You spat out, his face full of confusion as he wasn’t expecting you to answer the way you did.

“But, (Y/N),” he spoke, “I’ve changed. Not to mention, you’re the one that punched me!”

“You deserved it! And I would do it again if I could!” You spat. Your words stabbing him a million times over. He shook it off and brought his hands over yours, your anxiety building up as you had no clue as to what he was capable of doing.

“But (Y/N), I love you.” Draco whispered to you.

You froze. You felt as if the walls were spinning around you, a high pitched screech ringing in your ears as you tried to keep yourself from falling down. He tried to help you, holding on to you, but you refused. You’d rather be cold on the ground than touched by Malfoy. Finally you brought yourself up to his face.

You stared at his eyes, those same eyes that have you captivated time and time again; you took in the way his hair fell in front of his face, the bags that he developed after not getting enough sleep unbeknownst to you that it was because he spent all night thinking of you, the healing cut on his cheek, and that damn yellow and purple bruise. 

Draco’s heart was beating out of his chest. Over the past few days all he’s been dreaming about was this moment. He wanted you. He wanted you more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life. With a passion that could only come from the universe and stars themselves. He waited patiently for your response.

“Draco,” you began, running your thumb over the cut you left, “I could never love you.”

And then you walked away.

#draco angst #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy imagine #angst #fanfiction

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When Three Became Two 🪽| Platonic!Weasley Twins Imagine

Set during the Battle of Hogwarts

Harry Potter masterlist

Characters & Pairings: George & Fred Weasley x Sister!Weasley Triplet (platonic), the Golden Trio x weasley!sister (platonic)

Content Warnings: Character Death, sadness, angst, mentions of blood and major injury, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7k

Premise: The dynamic redheaded duo Fred & George were never particularly close with their older triplet sister Y/N, especially after she was sorted into Slytherin during their first year at Hogwarts. It is not till the Battle of Hogwarts do the twins realize just how important family is, but by then it was too late to make amends.

(Y/E/C)- Your eye color

Note: I’m going to put red hair because you know Weasley but if you want to envision your own hair color that is totally fine too. Also, just so y'all know....I started this piece back in 2018 and recently picked it back up. So....the last 400 words are pretty much the most recent material I added + i did A LOT of editing. So I apologize if the beginning is trash because like I said, 6k of the nearly 7k words are from 6 years ago. I've been hyperfixating on the Weasley twins again which is why I was like 'maybe I should finish that imagine I started...'

Italics are flashbacks

------------------

Y/n Weasley felt the sweat and blood drip off her forehead as she ran through the halls of the school she had spent several years in which became a second home to her. She was out of breath, dodging and reflecting spells that were casted her way from the surrounding death eaters. Screams and shouts echoed from every corner, flashes of red and green light nearly blinding her (Y/E/C) eyes while her flaming red hair swished when she ran. Her breath was wavering, she could see several of her fellow Order members dueling around her. Passing the Great Hall, her pace nearly faltering when her eyes locked on the doors, the memory of walking through the first time when she was just a nervous little eleven year old began to play in the redheads mind….

Y/n sighed, stepping off the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Her twin brothers had already raced to the boats leaving the smaller, although older, of the three behind. Picking up her robes that were slightly dragging due to her small stature, Y/n followed her fellow classmates to the boating docks, casting a smile to Hagrid as she walked past him, who in return smiled back. She found a boat that already had two other first years seated, and quickly took the spot adjacent to a girl about her age.

“Hi,” the girl smiled to the redhead, “I’m Angelina Johnson. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n Weasley, it’s nice to meet you,” the two shook hands with smiles.

“What house are you hoping to be in?”

“Honestly,” Y/n sighed, “I’m not sure. My whole family has been in Gryffindor, including my two older brothers who are currently here. It would be nice to be sorted there so I have my family, but I’ve always felt different.”

“Are those other two ginger boys your brothers?” Angelina pointed to the boat where Fred and George were laughing loudly while talking with a dark-skinned boy. Y/n nodded after looking where Angelina was pointing, turning back with a grim expression.

“Yeah, that’s Fred and George. We’re triplets, I’m the oldest of the bunch yet I never seem to be included in anything.”

“Aw, that’s not right,” Angelina said with a frown. The two continued to talk the entire boat ride to the castle, learning about their backgrounds and finding out  they had several similar interests. One could tell that the two instantly connected and were on the road to becoming best friends. The two girls got off the boat once it got to the docks, Y/n helping Angelina when she nearly tripped as she got out, to which the young girl was grateful for. 

“Oh my gosh thank you!” Angelina exclaimed, “That would have been so embarrassing.” Y/n laughed slightly, fixing the girl’s robes.

“No problem, I wouldn't want you tripping on the first night and being made fun of before classes even started.” The two girls followed everyone to the entrance of the castle, beaming in awe of everything they passed. Climbing the steps that lead to the great hall seemed like forever, but soon they were faced with an older woman who wore a pointed hat on top of her head and green robes. 

“Good evening,” she greeted, “I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, the doors behind me will open and you will enter the Great Hall where you will then be sorted into one of the four houses named after the four founding members of Hogwarts; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin--.” She continued to explain the four houses to the children before the doors opened. When they did, Professor McGonagall escorted the group into the Great Hall. Many looked at the ceiling, gasping at the candles floating in midair. Some caught the eyes of soon to be fellow classmates, the students sending smiles to the young ones. 

The group halted in front of the steps leading to the podium. The members of the head table gazed down on the children, Headmaster Dumbledore giving them a warm smile to welcome them making many feel more at ease. Professor McGonagall stood beside a stool, on top of it was a brown pointed hat. 

“When I call your name,” she said, capturing everyone's attention, “You will step up, take a seat on the stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head where you will be sorted into your houses.” Y/n felt her hands become clammy, nerves racking through here with each name being called getting closer to hers. When Angelina was called and sorted into Gryffindor, Y/n clapped for her with a smile, happy for her new friend. She immediately hoped she would also be sorted into the house to be with not only her older brothers, but also with Angelina. 

“Weasley, Fred.” The ginger boy raced up the stairs, careful not to trip over his robes and took a seat on the stool with a grin. The hat was placed onto his head and it took only moments before the hat exclaimed, “GRYFFINDOR!!” Cheers erupted from the lion house, the older Weasley boys, Charlie and Percy, clapping loudly for their brother and greeting him with open arms when he ran to the table. George was called next, the boy also running to the stool and the Gryffindor house applauded with joy once more hearing the sorting hat call out the name again. Fred and George embraced in a big hug, happy they were going to be in the same house and sat next to each other beside their brothers. 

The room went quiet and Professor McGonagall read out the name many had already guessed was next, “Weasley, Y/n.” The small eleven-year-old let out a shaky breath, ascending the steps before taking a seat on the stool. She flinched when the hat was placed on her head and heard a gasp emitted from it.

“Ahh another Weasley,” the hat began, “only you are much different than your many siblings huh? Loyal to your family, a trait you value, but Hufflepuff is not for you. There is no doubt you are brave like a Gryffindor, there will be a time your bravery will be put to the test, but there is a strong ambition that lies within you. You are a very determined young one, and will do anything to accomplish your goals.” Y/N felt her heart begin to beat faster as the hat continued talking, “So, there is only one house in which you will find what you are looking for and that is SLYTHERIN!!”

That day, while no one wanted to admit it, changed everything. The twins hardly ever talked to Y/N, even less than what they already had. Many of the Slytherins ignored her, not enjoying the fact that a member of the blood-traitor family was sorted into the notorious pure-blood house. Even though Y/N was of pure blood, it did not matter to them, she was still relatively shunned from her housemates. Professor Snape was displeased at first until she proved she had a talent for potion making, becoming more advanced than any student he had ever taught. It was then he treated the Weasley girl with some actual respect and even allowed her to practice in the classroom whenever she pleased as long as she promised to never let her brothers get their hands on any of the ingredients he stored in the room. 

Charlie, Angelina, and Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff seemed to be the only people besides her parents and professors that looked beyond the fact she was in Slytherin. Others included her older brother Bill, her younger sister Ginny and eventually Hermione Granger. The bushy haired Gryffindor met the older Weasley in her first year at Hogwarts. After being told of the talented potion maker from Ron, Hermione sought to meet her. Y/N was shocked when the girl first introduced herself, but it was the start of a treasured friendship Y/N held dear to her. 

“Hi!” a cheerful voice sounded, causing Y/N to look up from her textbook. Her eyes met the warm brown ones of a petite girl bushy haired girl sporting a Gryffindor tie and robes. The Slytherin girl gazed at her confused, looking around  the library in case she was addressing someone else other than her. By the warm smile the first-year gave her, Y/N realized she was in fact talking to her. 

“Uh hi?” she said with a questionable tone, brows furrowed. The girl stuck her hand out which made Y/N slightly flinch by how fast the movement was.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she introduced. Y/N hesitantly extended her own hand, clasping it with the girl's small one and shook it lightly.

“Y/N Weasley.”

“I know,” Hermione smiled, “Ron told me about you. Well he did not tell me much except your name and that you were in Slytherin. He also mentioned you were really good with potions and Snape likes you.” Y/N could not help but slightly chuckle at the last sentence.

“I wouldn’t say Snape ‘likes’ me, but he certainly tolerates me more than my siblings. You’ve probably already seen that the twins are pranksters, they tend to cause him immense distress.” This made Hermione laugh and Y/N felt her lips curl up. She then noticed the girl holding several textbooks, one of which was a first-year potions book, “Is there anything I can help you with Hermione?” 

“I just wanted to get to know you,” the girl said warmly, which made Y/N slightly shocked. “Ron and the twins did not speak much about you and when they did they made it seem like you were horrible just because you were sorted into Slytherin. I know that a house does not define who a person really is, so I wanted to talk to you myself and it appears you are not a mean or evil person that your house makes people think you are.” Y/N could not believe what she was hearing and she could not detect any hint of a lie in the girl's words. 

“Wow,” She breathed, “Sorry, I’m just a little taken back. It’s been a while since I’ve really heard anyone say that. Only my older siblings, minus Percy, my parents, my sister, and a few people who I happen to be friends with think the same way you do. Ron and the twins just really ignore me.”

“But aren’t you and the twins actually triplets?” The question caused Y/N to frown and look down at her book.

“Yeah,” she muttered softly, “We are. Many people forget that we are because we never act like it, but it’s okay, I’m used to the two leaving me out. It happened before we were sorted into our houses so it does not bother me much anymore. I’ve learned to live with it.” Hermione frowned at that, feeling sad for the older Weasley.

“That’s not right. You guys are siblings, family. They should not treat you like that.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. One day they will realize how they act wrong, until then I can only be patient.” Hermione nodded though she still possessed a frown  and Y/N pushed away the many books laid on the table, gesturing for the girl to take a seat. “Here, sit down. You said you want to get to know me, so let's just talk while we do our homework and you can see how I really am compared to what Ron tells you. I’ll even help you with potions if you need.” Hermione beamed, placing her books on the table and sitting down across from the redhead. The two talked for hours until it was time for curfew, getting to know one another and Y/N offering help when Hermione had a question on a certain subject and Y/N felt it was the start of a blossoming friendship.

The years continued, and Y/N only had few friends, hardly ever seeing her siblings due to them all being sorted into Gryffindor leaving her alone. Her friendship with Hermione grew and she even looked at the girl as a sister, the Gryffindor looking at her the same way. Y/N and Angelina remained close even after being sorted in different houses. Despite having few friends, she could not wait to graduate and finally go off on her own, already planning to continue her work in potions and become a potioneer after spending countless summers devoted to perfecting different elixirs. Several events happened during her time at Hogwarts, including her sister Ginny unlocking the Chamber of Secrets and the tragedy of the TriWizard Tournament. 

When the Order of the Phoenix was back in business to stop Voldemort following the death of her dear friend Cedric, Y/n immediately joined despite objections from her parents. The death of her friend caused immense grief. She became depressed in the following months, hardly sleeping due to nightmares of his corpse and she rarely ate, resulting in her facial features becoming more hollow. It was not until she joined the Order that she was back to her normal self and that was because of her determination to bring justice to Cedric’s death. The Order faced great loss. The deaths of Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody and with her brother George losing his ear proved how real the war was and the fight to make the world a safer place. 

Now it was the second of May, and the fight of everyone’s life was in place. Death Eaters swarmed every inch of Hogwarts, attacking students whether they were armed or not. Y/N ran down the corridors, deflecting spells and sending jinxes back and forth. Her adrenaline was soaring, not knowing where exactly she was headed, but the only thing she knew was to survive and protect the students around her. Y/n never thought she would ever cast the killing curse in her life, but when a second-year Hufflepuff was about to be killed, the spell left her mouth before she could stop herself. The Death Eater fell back unmoving, Y/n took the hand of the small boy she saved and hurried him to the nearest dormitory or classroom. 

“Here, go!” she ushered him into the room, “Stay here and do not leave! Hide somewhere and be alert, you understand?” The boy nodded furishouly, his small body shaking and clutching his wand tightly in his hand. The redhead raced out of the room, closing the door shut before darting down the hallway. A flash of familiar hair caught her eye and her feet carried her to the source. “Ginny!” She shouted upon seeing her sister. The younger Weasley halted her movement at the sound, turning around only to collide in the older one’s embrace. “Oh my God,” Y/n breathed, “Are you okay? Why are you out here? I thought you were to stay in the Room of Requirement until this was over?”

“Harry needed me to leave,” she told her sister, the two moving to a corner where they were slightly hidden from the battle, “He needed to search the room for a possible horcrux. Once he went in, I left and came here. I couldn’t just let my friends and family fight with the chances of them getting killed and just sit and wait!” Y/n sighed, bringing a hand to wipe the sweat on her face which resulted in more dirt being rubbed. 

“While I don’t like you being involved, I understand where you’re coming from.” She pauses to rub her nose bridge, placing her hands on Ginny’s shoulders to look at her sternly, “Mum and dad might kill me for letting you fight, but there’s really no time to negotiate and stop you. At least find Neville or someone who can stay close to you and keep you covered, okay?” Ginny nodded, embracing her sister once more in a tight hug. 

“Stay safe, sis.”

“I will,” Y/n told her, “You stay safe too, I’ll see you soon.” The two pulled away and Y/n bolted away down the hall while Ginny rushed to Tonks after seeing her battle a Death Eater and rushing to her aid. Y/n turned the corner, something in her stomach dropping and her intuition telling her something bad was about to happen. She heard the sound of a duel taking place and followed it. Familiar voices echoed in her ears and her pace picked up. The redhead rounded the corridor, jets of light flashing in her eyes and she spotted Fred and Percy battling Death Eaters while Harry, Ron, and Hermione helped while dodging incoming jinxes. 

“Hello, Minister!” Percy bellowed, sending a jinx at the man, “Did I mention I’m resigning?” 

“You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouted and looked at his brother. Y/n watched the two and in the corner of eyes she could see a Death Eater with their wand raised. Her brothers could not see the man, and she noticed he was pointing at the wall directly behind them. Before she could think, Y/n sprinted as fast as her feet carried her, eyes widening when the flash of light emitted from the want of the assailant. At that moment, nothing mattered other than making sure her brothers were safe. All the years of being ignored and looked down upon by them due to being sorted in Slytherin seemed to vanish, and Y/n felt water line her eyes as she got closer. 

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were--.”

“Fred! Percy!” Her scream ignited and the two snapped their heads toward her just in time for the redhead to push them both out of the way at the exact moment the air exploded around them. The two brothers along with the Golden Trio were flown back from the impact, all landing onto the stone ground with a groan. Pain erupted to several areas of their bodies which would surely bruise. Dust covered them, their vision blurred from how much was in the air. 

Fred pulled his body up, groaning from the pain in his side and coughing from how much dust filled his throat. He scanned the area and saw how the wall he was in front of was blasted apart with stone and wood now covering every inch of the ground with a large pile in the middle. It took two seconds for the ginger to realize what had happened, the last thing he saw was his sister running at him before he was flown back. He immediately got up and rushed to the pile of debris, staggering over the stones while shouting his sister's name.

“Y/n!!” He screamed, moving at a fast pace. “Y/n, can you hear me!” The boy began throwing the many pieces of stone and wood away from the pile, searching for any sign of movement and listening for sound. Percy and the trio joined in, the group shouting Y/n name and digging through the debris. “C’mon Y/n I need you to tell me where you are!” Fred grew more and more worried, feeling his heart sink by the second. It was not until he heard a pained groan and rushed to the source. He spotted a hand peeking through the rubble and Fred shouted for the others saying he found her. They all rushed to him, removing the stone covering Y/n's body, allowing Fred to pull her out of the wreckage when they were able to get her upper half revealed. She let out a scream, pain erupting all through her and Fred tried his best to get her out as gently as he could. 

“I got you, sis.” He said with a shaky voice, “I got you.” With one quick but harsh tug, Y/n was removed from the rubble and was laid onto the floor. Everyone surrounded her, becoming frozen by how much blood covered her body. Cuts and gashes painted her skin, her clothing ripped and chunks of stone were embedded into the many wounds. Her breath wavered, gasping for air and they all felt their heart race at the sight. Hermione, with shaky hands, pressed a palm on to a deep cut in Y/n’s neck. The Weasley girl hissed, blood filling her mouth and dripping down her lips. 

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Hermoine’s voice cracked, trying not to look at the many wounds which the girl could tell will be fatal if not treated immediately. Ron could see a large gash right above his sister’s temple and gently laid his hand on top of it, while biting his lip to stop a sob from escaping. He knew it was bad, and his sister was dying in front of him. They needed a healer, but the Great Hall was several corridors away and Ron feared she would not make it in time. Percy began calling for help, applying pressure onto her stomach which had been cut open when a large piece of wood had impaled her. Harry stayed on his feet with his wand ready for any threats while also keeping his eye on Y/n, his heart dropping at the sight of her battered body. 

“I can’t--,” Y/n gasped with a tired breath as Fred held her hand, “I can’t feel my legs.” She could hear them gasp, Fred’s hand becoming tense in her hold. 

“We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey!” Fred shouted and went to pick her up, the others keeping their hands on her wounds to hold the bleeding but when they tried Y/n erupted in wails from the pain filling her by the slightest movement. It was like a volcano, fire filling her blood. The thick liquid poured out of her wounds, her skin becoming pale. Hermione’s hands were painted red, as were Ron and Percy’s. The sound of her screams were so loud it echoed through the nearby hallway and caused tears to stream down Hermione’s face.

“Stop!” she shouted, “Fred stop! It’s too late, she won’t make it!” 

“You don’t know that!” He yelled back trying to get his sister into his arms, his clothes now coated in red. Y/n began to shake from the pain, becoming numb by the intensity and Fred started to panic. 

“Fred, she’s losing too much blood,” Hermione cried, “She’ll bleed out before we can even get her to the Great Hall.”

“Are you serious, Hermione?!” Fred shouted in disbelief over the chaos around them, “Do you even hear yourself?! She’s your friend and you’re gonna let her die!? ”

“Fred stop,” Y/n's hoarse voice whispered. The ginger boy looked down at his sister, her upper body being held up in his arms while the others continued to put pressure on her wounds but blood continued to seep through their fingers. 

“What--?”

“She’s r-right,” Y/n interrupted, “I-I won’t make it. The pain is too much--I-I can’t move and I'm losing too much blood.” She was shaking, fighting against what was pulling her to the other side to have a few precious moments with her family. “You need to get out of here, go find mum and dad.” Fred could not believe what he was hearing, neither Ron nor Percy. All three boys felt their eyes water and Fred tightened his hold on her. Percy grabbed her other hand, and Ron kept his on her head, covering her wound while tears flooded his face. 

“Y/n,” Fred stuttered her name, “We can get you to a healer. Madam Pomfrey will help and she will heal you, you’ll be fine.” The words were more to convince himself. He watched as her lips curled up, tired and broken eyes looking into his. 

“Fred,” she sighed, “You and I both know that I am not going to make it.” A sob escaped his throat.

“No! You’re not dying! You’re going to be okay!” He cried, dropping his head so his cheek rested on her hair. “You’re going to get out of here. You’re going to go home and learn how to walk again and become a potioneer like you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll get married and have kids…” He trailed off when sobs overtook him and he began to cry into her hair. Fred never believed he would ever have to watch his sister die in his arms. He had never felt more pain in his life than in that moment watching her gasp for air as her life started to fade away. What made it even more painful was knowing she saved him in the process, “I was supposed to die, not you! Not you!” 

Fred started to think back to all the times he and George would ignore Y/n, never including her in pranks or just ordinary things. The moment she was sorted into Slytherin they acted like they were not even related at times and Fred felt more tears fall knowing he could never make up for it. He won’t ever get the chance to show her how sorry he was. 

“Y/N go get your brothers and tell them supper is ready.”

“Yes mum.” Y/N raced up the many flights of stairs in the burrow in search of her twin brothers. When she got to the room, she knocked gently and waited for a reply but did not hear one so she pushed it open to see the two boys sitting on the ground in between their beds with several items in front of them. 

“Hey, hey!” Fred shouted in surprise and George started to gather their many inventions away from her sight. “You can’t just come in here without saying anything!” Y/N frowned at him.

“I knocked,” she told him, “neither of you responded.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “Still does not mean you can just walk in our room unannounced. We are doing something very exclusive and can’t risk you snitching it to mum or dad or your pal Snape.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed at her brother.

“Snape is not my ‘pal.’ He just stands me more than you lot because you are always causing him trouble.” George mumbled something under his breath, but the girl could not hear it. “And besides, I haven’t told anyone about your previous antics so why would I do so now?”

“Oh please,” Fred said in an annoyed tone, “we know you told Filch that we were the ones who put fireworks in his office second-year.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at the accusation, her cheeks becoming inflamed as anger rose.

“I did no such thing!” she shouted, “whoever told you that was a lie! I never ratted you out to Filch and why would he believe me? He thinks I’m just as bad as you two because I’m a Weasley.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand how you are one?”

“Excuse me?” she said appalled, “What in the bloody hell do you mean by that?” The twins just looked at her with blank expressions while she felt her eyes begin to water. 

“Well first,” Fred started, “the most obvious is that you are the only one of us who got sorted into Slytherin. A house you know is full of pure-blooded pricks and bullies who hate everyone but themselves. You don’t like quidditch like the rest of us and prefer to be by yourself working on potions. Snape likes you, but hates the rest of us and you just have always been the outkast in the family. Who knows, you may even become a Death Eater like the rest of your housemates. Maybe you already are one and just haven’t said anything, wouldn’t be surprised you never tell anyone in this house what you are up to.” Y/n stayed silent when Fred finished, she felt a small tear fall down her cheek but neither of her brothers looked like they were unapologetic. She bit her lip giving a small nod and wiped away the drop.

“Mum wants you to know that supper is ready.” Turning on her heel, Y/n paced out of the room with the door slamming shut behind her. She shoved past Percy who simply glared at her for her attitude and bumping into him, obviously not knowing what the twins had said to her to cause such emotion. The redhead burst into her room, collapsing onto her bed and pushing her face into her pillow as cries erupted from her, being muffled by the pillow. She felt her heart break, her brother's words replaying in her head causing torment like a radio playing a horrible song over and over again. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he wept into her hair, “I’m sorry I treated you so badly. For everything. Ignoring you, pranking you in ways that had humiliated you and made you cry. Accusing you of snitching on us when you never did.” He held her close to his body, breaking inside each time she made a sound of agony. “I’m sorry for what I said to you during fourth year. I’m such a horrible brother,” he sobbed, “Please sis, don’t go. Don’t leave us.” 

“It’s okay, Fred,” she hushed him, stroking his arm with the hand Percy wasn’t holding. The two other Weasley boys were sobbing next to her. They two often treated her unfairly and were now going to live in tremendous guilt and despair, begging God to not take her. “It’s okay,” she said again, this time quieter.

“Y-Y/N,” Percy stuttered, but she simply hushed him.

Her voice grew weaker, and the group knew it was only moments before she would be gone forever. “It’s gonna be okay. I love--,” it was getting harder to speak, but she was fighting. “I love you all.”

“We love you too. We always will,” Ron said and Hermione started to cry harder, leaning onto Ron for support. Harry no longer looked around for Death Eaters, his own face drenched in tears at the sight in front of him. He felt anguish in him, seeing another friend die at the hands of those who wanted him dead. 

“You think I’ll see Cedric up there?” She questioned, eyelids falling shut and the image of her best friend filled her mind. Happy at the thought of possibly seeing him again. Fred let out a small cry before she felt him nod. 

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, “He’ll be waiting for you. You’ll be together again just like before.” 

“Freddie?”

“Yeah, sis?”

“Take care of George,” she managed to breathe out, “Tell him I love him.” 

“I will,” He sniffed, feeling her take one last breath.

“Promise me you will live.” The air left her body one last time, the pain no longer present and Y/n felt at peace, unable to hear Fred’s last words to her. 

 “I promise. I love you, sis.” But Y/N did not respond, causing him to gently shake her.  Her lack of reaction caused Fred to collapse into a heap of cries when her body finally went limp in his arms. “Y-y/n?” 

Percy felt her hand become unmoved and he too, cried in heartbreak. Ron held onto Hermione, turning his body away so he did not see his now dead sister in his brother’s arms. His heart was heavy with agony and he could not help console Hermione for he was in the same state. Harry dropped his head, sadness all within him at the loss of someone he looked at as family. He would never forgive himself, and he wished nothing more for Y/n to be brought back.

“Y/n,” Fred tried again, but to no avail. “W-wake up. Please w-wake u-up.”

The Golden Trio had to force themselves to leave, to continue their search before more people died. Harry and Hermoine having to drag poor Ron away from his siblings. None wanted to go, but time was limited and it took all their strength to get up and leave Percy and Fred with Y/n’s body. Promising Ron they’d get her to their family once it was safe to do so. 

The two Weasley brothers lost track of time. They stayed put, mourning the loss of their sister until the battle ceased and they were drained of tears. It soon became quiet in the castle, Death Eaters had retreated upon Voldermorts order and bodies laid all through the halls. 

“We should take her to the Great Hall,” Percy spoke with a dry voice, hoarse from all the cries. “Take her to mum and dad.” Fred was still, looking in front of him at the dusted hallway full of debris from the explosion that killed his sister. She was still held close in his arms, eyes closed and the blood stopped flowing but coated every inch of her skin along with Fred’s clothes. It took all his might to look down, eyes landing on her face. She looked peaceful, her lips slightly curled as though she had died smiling and that gave Fred some sort of comfort despite her damaged body. 

That she left the world at peace. 

“You think she’ll watch over us? Even though we treated her like shit?” His voice cracked. The older Weasley gazed down at his little sister, a small yet heartbroken smile on his lips and he cleared his throat. His hand came over her forehead to move some of her red hair, flinching at how cold her skin was.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think she will.” Fred carefully stood, cradleling Y/n in his arms. Percy rose beside him, grabbing their discarded wands and leading them out of the hallway, careful to avoid the debris around them. They reached the Great Hall, hearing the sound of others. Many were painful groans, others were cries of despair. The two emerged in the doorway, paying no mind to those around them and instead continued to walk forward until they saw their parents, Ginny and older brothers Bill and Charlie. Ginny was the first to see them, and rushed to them relieved they were okay and searched for her sister, but when her eyes landed on what was in Fred’s arms she halted. She could see the flaming red hair similar to hers and the blood stained clothing on the unmoving body. Her mouth went agape, hand flying to cover it as her eyes filled with water threatening to escape.

“Please tell me it’s not--.” But Percy simply shook his head, looking at his baby sister with sorrow and Ginny let out a small scream, falling to the ground but was caught by Bill. He stared at the Y/n’s lifeless body, his heart breaking into pieces and he tried desperately to console Ginny, but found it hard to battle his own grief emerging. Molly and Arthur ran upon hearing their daughter’s scream and froze when they saw their son.

“Fred,” Arthur said in a hesitant voice. His son looked at him with tear filled eyes, lips quivering and for Fred, he could feel his body start to shake.

“I-I-I,” he could not find the words, “S-she saved us. She saved us…..” His knees nearly gave out and his brothers Percy and Charlie helped him lower their deceased sister onto the ground. After gently placing the fallen Weasley onto the stone floor, Fred once more collapsed over her body as his grief overpowered him once more. Molly fell back into her husband’s arms, wailing in agony, he too had trouble holding her up as his body racked with sobs. Ginny was still on the floor, being cradled by Bill while Charlie and Percy stood over Fred, rubbing his back with tears of their own falling. 

Onlookers watched with solemn expressions. The sight was gut wrenching but unfortunately resembled many throughout the Great Hall as friends mourned friends and teachers draped blankets over their deceased students.

“No! Not my girl!” Molly screamed, “Please not m-my girl.” She fell to her knees, crawling over to the opposite side of her daughter's body and caressed her cold cheek. Blood was all over her precious face, adorned with cuts and gashes, the most horrific on her head and neck. Molly did not even want to look down at Y/n’s body, for she was afraid of what else had happened to cause her daughter such a horrific death. Arthur could see the gaping wound in Y/n’s torso, his stomach lurching at the sight and he had to turn away as he felt nauseous. 

George burst through the entrance of the Great Hall. He had separated from his family and Fred at some point during the battle which resulted in his anxiety to soar at not knowing where they were. He heard the wounded were being treated in the Great Hall along with the bodies of those who perished being moved until further notice, so the ginger bolted to the location as fast as he could. His eyes scanned every inch of the large dining hall, and soon he could see a group of people with the same colored hair as him, instantly relieved. 

George walked with a rushed pace, slowing with confusion when he heard the wretched cries of his parents and siblings. They were all huddled, blocking his view of the ground. He immediately looked for Fred, becoming relaxed when he saw his brother alive. But George’s stomach dropped at the broken look painted on his twin’s face.

“F-Fred,” he stuttered out as he approached him, “what’s wron----.” Something behind Fred’s shoulder caught his eye, George’s gaze falling to the still figure on the ground. That’s when he realized the fact Fred was kneeling on the ground, hovered over the figure, and his mother was sobbing into their neck. 

His twin lifted his head, turning to meet George’s eyes, which revealed the horrific reality waiting for him. There, lying on the stretcher covered in a dark red--almost black--substance and nearly unrecongnizable, was his sister Y/n. Unmoving. Dead. 

All the air left George’s body, face consorting to match his family as he took in sight. The clothes she wore were tattered. Dirt and grime painted the visible parts of her skin not coated in her blood. Gashes upon gashes. A nasty intrusion on her temple and torso. George felt the bile form in his throat and before he could stop it the redhead was hunched over, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Arthur instantly went to him, rubbing his back. Once it appeared George had got it all out, Arthur produced a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his son's mouth as he had seemed to freeze.

“Y-Y/n,” he dropped to his knees. Crawling to Fred and their mother. His twin slightly moved aside to give space. George instantly reached for her hand, devastated when the cold touch hit his skin. “No.” Tears dropped from his eyes, George looking to his family for them to say it was all a nightmare. “N-no. No!” 

“George,” Molly whispered, reaching over to comfort him. 

He shook his head, not wanting to believe the truth. “What happened?!” Fred winced, returning to a heap of sobs. 

“She saved us,” Percy whispered, making George look up. “There was an explosion. A-and she pushed us out of the way. A wall came crashing down,” the older Weasley boy flinched, head dropping as he relieved the most horrifying moment of his life. “It crushed her.”

Molly wheeped into her daughter's chest. Picturing the scene. Unable to save her baby girl who she had spent so long wishing for. 

For the twins, it was like a piece of them was now missing. Creating a hole deep in their hearts. They all came into the world together. Y/n first, then Fred, lastly George. How were they supposed to go forward without the third piece of their puzzle? 

This question only surfaced the ocean-sized guilt swimming in their veins. Like Fred had done in the precious moments he held their dying sister, George was replaying all the times he had tormented Y/n. The constant pranking. Humiliating her in front of her friends and schoolmates. Getting her in trouble with their antics when she took the fall. Accusing her of snitching on them. 

George crumbled, clutching onto Y/n’s hand as he lowered his head to her torso. Praying to whoever above to take care of her in the afterlife and begging her spirit to forgive him. Wishing he could turn back time to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted his sister back. 

A cold breeze brushed his ear, almost like a whisper. George thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he turned the closest person to him was Percy, and he was at least five steps away. 

Whatever it was Fred had felt it two. The redheads glancing to one another, anguish filling their gaze. For they had their suspicions of what--or who--was responsible for the touch. 

Turning back to Y/n’s body, Fred and George pictured what life was in store for them without their sister. Reality sunk in. No longer a bright light, but instead dimly lit. 

For what was once three became two. 

#weasley twins #george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins imagine #fred weasly x reader #george wealsey x reader #weasley!reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #slytherin!reader #platonic!reader #harry potter angst

[elaratyrell]

Poor Unfortunate Souls {Part 3/3 -> FINALE} … Jace's Version

*All images found on Pinterest. Moodboard made by yours truly*

Dark ! Ursula! Aemond x Fem! Eric! Reader x Ariel! Jacaerys

Warnings: Language probably, reader is still mind controlled, Aemond's a dick, Aemond kicks a dog but it's unharmed, non- consensual touching (Aemond's gets a little handsy {well, tentacle-y, if you get my drift}), minor angst but a happy ending!!! Not entirely proof read (yet) *Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: Jacaerys Velaryon, the reluctant heir to Atlantica. The moment he saw you, he knew he would never see someone who could capture him with their beauty again. You would haunt him eternally. In a desperate attempt to meet you, he turns to Aemond Targaryen, an outcast from the merfolk, to help him walk amongst the land dwellers. But when Aemond lays his eyes on you, he knows he has to have you. By any means necessary.

Chapter Synopsis: Jace desperately tries to stop your wedding to Aemond before sunset, but will he be able to break the spell his crazed uncle has on you? And if he does, will you feel the same way about him?

Part One Part Two Aemond's Ending

A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long to write, I've struggled with motivation and burnout. BUT... the trailer, Harry's recent instagram posts, all of the Ewan content we've been getting over this past week and listening to the little mermaid soundtrack on repeat has relit a spark inside of me. Enjoy! Aemond's part should be published before Christmas

Jace hadn't dared to leave his room all day.

He didn't want to in fear for seeing you or Aemond.

The thought of you marrying that monster made him sick to the pit of his stomach.

And he felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed over how stupid he had been.

He should have known that Aemond had an ulterior motive. He should have known there was something else planned. Looking back on it, it was obvious that his uncle had developed a depraved obsession with you. The way he knew about you, tried to intercept him at every turn. Jace thought that Aemond just wanted him to fail but seeing that... it had made everything abundantly clear.

And now his soul was to be claimed by Aemond. And what would most certainly be an even worse fate awaited his family, his people, especially poor Luke. Aemond would save the worst for him. And you... Jace immediately shook the thought from his mind. He didn't want to think of what Aemond had in store for you.

At some point during the day, Jace had moved from leaning against the door to sitting by the window. His gaze would rest on his two legs, something that he had always dreamed of possessing, now seeming obsolete. Where he had previously looked upon them with wonder, he now looked at them with nothing short of resentment, disgusted with how his selfish impulsiveness had sealed his entire kingdom, family and the woman he loved to a terrible fate.

He regretted ever following your ship that night.

He regretted seeing you, falling for you, letting those feelings and fantasies of living on the surface with you cloud his mind.

And yet despite that, his heart sank when he saw your wedding ship leave the port from the view of his window, head resting against the glass, watching as you drifted further and further away from him. Were you feeling nervous? Happy? Did you think of him at all?

You hadn't even said goodbye.

Perhaps Jace had merely been a burden, a duty to you. Someone that you felt you needed to help, but not to care about.

His eyes squeezed shut as he felt a new wave of tears cloud his vision for what was likely the twentieth time that day. His body heaved in a silent sob, his head dropping to rest on his brought up knees.

He could only imagine the look of disappointment on his mother's face if she could only see him now. Or the cruel, mocking one that would no doubt cross Daemon's as he showed Rhaenyra that every jab he had sent Jace's way had been true. That he was nothing but a weak, unworthy prince of the realm. An unfitting heir to the throne that Aemond would likely attempt to usurp from her.

Feeling a small nudge against his cheek, Jace tilted his head to see Syrax perched on his shoulder. Perhaps it was his own tear stained vision, but it almost seemed as though she were crying too.

Jace lifted his head and attempted to give her what he hoped was a small smile, but his face shortly crumpled again, tears streaking down his cheeks. Syrax placed her claws either side of his face in a sort of hug, her head resting against his. It was strange, but it comforted him, quieting his sniffles and calming his breaths.

Yet all he really wanted was to see his mother, to feel the warmth of her embrace one last time. To amend their relationship that had been fracturing for some time now.

The somewhat tender moment was interrupted by a loud smacking thud against the window, causing Jace to jump and Syrax to almost slip and fall from his shoulder.

Jace hastily leaned forward to unlock and open the window to let a very distressed Cannibal into the room, the bird squawking loudly as he landed on Jace's knee.

Jace attempted to calm the bird down, but nothing seemed to work. Cannibal hopped of the prince's knee, hovering in the air, as though miming himself flying in the sky. He then suddenly dived onto the unmade bed, hiding behind the bedpost, staring at the ground like he were spying on something.

Jumping onto the bedroom floor, he covered his left eye with his wing, his beak upturned in an almost sinister grin as he let out a choked squawk that bordered on a laugh, pointing at his chest with his other wing. Hopping to face the other way, he pinned his wings by his side, wiggling his body from side to side.

Jace rose to his feet and hurried over to the desk, grabbing a sheet of parchment. He opened the ink bottle, dipping the quill inside several times before scrawling onto the parchment. Black ink dropped onto the parchment, and his handwriting was nothing short of a scratchy sprawl that was just about readable. He lifted the parchment to show Cannibal and Syrax, who had joined the bird on the floor.

'Aemond and Vhagar?'

Cannibal squawked loudly, jumping in the air, covering his head in an almost facepalm.

Jace's brows were furrowed in evident confusion as he watched Cannibal try to get his point across again.

He hopped to the side, raising his wing over his head, feathers arranged to mimic your hair.

'Y/N?'

Cannibal nodded with another squawk before continuing.

He walked a few steps pretending to be you before resuming his Aemond persona, creeping up behind where he had been you seconds before, once again letting out that strange laugh, his wing patting his chest as though holding something. His other wing stretched out towards where you would be standing, feathers wiggling slightly. From an outside perspective, the sight would look almost comical, but Jace was too concerned over what Aemond could be up to properly notice.

'Aemond's necklace?'

The bird nodded again before flapping to the dresser and grabbing the dinglehopper resting atop it, holding it in one wing and up in the air jabbing it in random directions across the room.

'My mother? Her trident?'

Cannibal dropped the fork, returning to being Aemond once again and picking it up, then miming placing a crown atop his head.

'Aemond is going to steal the throne from my mother?'

Clearly growing impatient, Cannibal flew up to hover in front of Jace's face, squawking loudly at him before returning to the ground and bringing his wings together.

Jace placed the parchment down, his expression clearing as he grabbed the quill again, hand trembling slightly as he brought it down.

'Has he cast a spell on her? So I fail by sunset and he can then use my soul to trap my mother for the throne?'

Cannibal cawed softly, his head bowing in a single nod.

Jace dragged a hand through his curls, his jaw clenching and eyes steeling in resolve. He grabbed Syrax, stuffing the crab in his pocket before bolting out the room, Cannibal hot on his tail.

Upon reaching the port, he placed Syrax down on the ground, his chest heaving in deep breaths from sprinting down there. The setting sun was cast on the water's surface, making it seem like liquid gold. The boat, your wedding boat, was sailing towards the horizon.

Before the sun sets on the third day...

He didn't have much time, but he knew he had to at least try to save you from Aemond, even if he couldn't save himself.

Without hesitating, he leaped rather clumsily into the water, hearing Cannibal's squawk of alarm before sinking into the cold depths below.

It was a strange feeling, opening his eyes to the stinging rush of the water blinding him, arms flailing to keep himself afloat and break through the surface to breathe. He had no co ordination in his legs, which desperately kicked out beneath him to propel himself upwards.

He couldn't swim.

He suddenly felt himself being pushed upwards towards the surface, soon feeling the sun's dwindling warmth as he broke through, letting out choked splutters as oxygen filled his lungs again. Cannibal was hovering overhead, Syrax now balanced on one of the many barrels she had no doubt cut free to help support him, and Vermax appeared beside him, guiding him towards it.

He nodded in thanks to his companion, holding onto the barrel and resting his head against it as he caught his breath, wet curls plastered on his forehead.

Syrax dived beneath the water. When she resurfaced, she had the rope tied around the barrel between her claws, which she then tied around Vermax, pointing towards the boat. Jace began to kick out with his legs to help his friend while Cannibal flew off, loudly screeching as he did so. Jace's gaze was fixed on the boat, his kicks growing more and more forceful.

Syrax watched them for a short while, making sure they were on track to hopefully reach the boat in time before diving underwater once again and swimming in a different direction to find Rhaenyra.

The boat had seemed to come to a stop, making Jace and Vermax's journey that much easier. But as they grew closer to the grand vessel, far more impressive than the ship he had saved you from what now seemed like years ago, the soft melodies from the musicians sent a ripple of sickness through him.

The ceremony must have begun.

He had hoped that he could find you alone without involving any of your people. He didn't want to expose he or Aemond to them. That could give Daemon the excuse he needed to declare war on the surface, and he had enough issues to deal with as it was.

But you were the priority for the moment.

One problem at a time.

If he had to interrupt the ceremony and attract the entire kingdom's attention, that's what he would do.

Vermax pulled him to where the anchor was docked so he could grab the chain to pull himself up towards the deck. The metal dug uncomfortably into his palms, but he held on tightly nonetheless as he turned to his closest companion, giving him a small smile. He held out a hand for the fish to lean his head against for a moment before beginning to climb.

Whether that would be a bittersweet farewell or a simple a brief goodbye would remain to be seen.

Every one of his muscles ached and burned with fatigue as he continued his climb, but he still persisted, fuelled by his determination to save you from Aemond's clutches. He glanced down as he reached the deck, only to find Vermax gone, the barrel floating away, the rope untied, the water directly beneath him rippling slightly from someone- or thing- sinking beneath the surface.

Jace peered over the top of the deck, watching as you walked down the aisle. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, of how breathtaking you looked. Any warmth he felt from seeing you disappeared when his gaze moved to where Aemond stood waiting for you, a small, yet rather smug, smirk on his face, arms clasped behind his back. His platinum locks were half tied back out of his face, a leather patch covering his scarred eye. He was dressed entirely in black leather, and seemed as though he would be more suited for a funeral rather than a wedding, a stark contrast to your angelic beauty.

Following you was Max, carrying a blue velvet cushion in his mouth to a chorus of aws from the crowd. He placed the cushion between you and Aemond, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he glared up at the latter. Yet you just stood there, staring blankly straight ahead. Aemond glanced towards the crowd for a moment before gesturing to the officiant to begin.

"Dearly beloved..."

Seeing everyone distracted, Aemond took that opportunity to kick Max away, the dog whimpering softly but appearing unharmed as he stalked away to sit by Grimsby. As Aemond had raised his leg, a flash of metal caught Jace's attention, and he just about managed to see a glimpse of the dragon glass dagger strapped to Aemond's side beneath his overcoat. His hands gripped the side of the ship tightly, cheeks flushed scarlet in anger as he watched Aemond grab your hands tightly, his eye raking your figure in a most sinful way, practically undressing you with his eyes.

Swinging a leg over the side of the boat, Jace crept onto the deck of the boat as quietly as he could, crouching down to sneak behind the back row.

"Do you, Aemond, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Jace heard Aemond reply, an air of smugness in his tone. And he had every right to be. The sun was nearly set beneath the horizon. Jace wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but he needed to act now.

A soft squawk above Jace alerted the prince, and he glanced up to see Cannibal flying overhead, followed by an entire flock of gulls. Jace followed the bird's gaze to where Aemond was stood, too engrossed by you to notice.

Until they dove towards him, that is, attacking on his left side.

Aemond managed to duck before they reached him though, glaring at the flock as they circled back around, no doubt for a second attempt.

The distraction allowed for Jace to edge around to the opposite side of the boat to get towards you. As he crept closer and closer, he heard cries of alarm in the crowd, followed by a scream as a heard of sea lions flopped onboard.

Jace ducked down behind a chair to avoid Aemond's gaze, the guests having since ran from their seats to escape the animal's path, leaving you and Aemond stood at the alter. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jace saw your guards raise their weapons to the animals.

He pushed the chair out of the way, standing between them and the sea lions, hands outstretched as he frantically shook his head at them.

"Stop! Don't shoot!" Grimsby had pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Do not shoot. They won't harm her!"

"You!"

Jace turned to meet Aemond's glare, trying not to let the way you had grabbed your captor's arm for protection get to him.

'She is under a spell. She doesn't love him', he reminded himself, but it stung all the same.

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment a circling pelican swooped down and dump its full beak of water on top of Aemond, drenching him completely. Aemond opened his good eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. There was a still silence so thick that even the strongest of swords could struggle to cut through.

Once again, Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but all that left his mouth was a yelp of pain as Max bit down on his leg. He kicked out his leg in an attempt to wrestle the dog off of him, but the animal's jaws were like a vice.

"Max! Max, let go now!" You yelled, glaring down at the dog, who slowly loosened his hold on Aemond, shrinking away from you.

Aemond smirked at Jace, despite his appearance, gesturing to the nearly disappeared sun.

Jace stepped towards you, his hand reaching out to brush against your upper arm. You turned to face him, the expression on your face one of pure indifference. Max crept behind jace, nuzzling against his other hand for comfort.

"Yes?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jace desperately searched his mind for anything, anything, that he could do to break Aemond's hold. But how could he? He wasn't educated in magic. He knew nothing of it. And he couldn't even try to talk to you in hopes of getting through to you.

A loud, shrill squawk behind you cause both you and Jace's gaze to turn to where Aemond had now grabbed Cannibal by the throat, the bird's beak clamped down on his pendant, glowing a vivid sapphire blue.

Of course.

The realisation dawned on Jace.

Aemond's source of magic.

He moved past you, crashing into Aemond and sending the both of them crashing to the floor. Upon impact, Aemond let go of Cannibal, sending the bird flying along with the pendant, which landed on the ground. Separated from the user of its magic, it shattered on impact with the boat's deck. From the shards of dragon glass arose a small ball of blue light, Jace's voice singing that song echoing from within as it floating towards him, leaving a small plume of blue smoke in its wake.

Jace watched as your hand came to clutch your head, your eyes flashing a vivid blue for a moment as the spell over you broke. You glanced down at your dress, before looking back up, a look of pure confusion on your face. Aemond had staggered to hit feet, glaring at Jace.

He let the voice float towards him, his voice growing louder the closer it came, circling around him and rising upward until it reached his throat, the light fading but the song growing stronger, this time coming from Jace.

Gone was the burning pain in his throat whenever he would open his mouth, or the constant sore hoarseness that brewed at the back of his mouth. Instead, he finally felt complete. There wasn't the feeling of having a sort of compression inside of him, the barrier had been lifted.

He turned to you, a smile spreading across his face as you stepped towards him, that usual warmth in your eyes replacing the vacantness that Aemond had created.

You came to stand in front of him. "Jace? It... it was really you?" Your voice was quiet, but thick with emotion.

Jace reached out, taking your hand in his slightly trembling on. "It's me."

You smiled warmly up at him. "I knew it," You whispered. "A part of me... it knew you were the one." Your grip on his hand tightened slightly as you pulled him closer towards you.

"Y/N, get away from him," Aemond growled, but you didn't listen. You didn't even grant him the courtesy of looking in his direction, keeping your eyes locked with Jace's.

"Y/N, I wanted to tell you... I couldn't he..." Jace tried to explain, but you shushed him, his forehead resting against yours.

"It's okay, Jace. It's okay," You whispered, taking his head in your hands.

"Y/N, no!"

Jace's ignored Aemond, his gaze flickering briefly down to your lips. He knew he needed to kiss you, but couldn't bring himself to do it without you wishing it. But you smiled, giving him a nod, tilting your head towards him slightly.

Jace leaned forwards, his lips a breath away from yours when a searing pain cut straight up his legs, causing him to crumple to the ground in your arms.

"Jace? Jace, what's wrong?" You asked. "Your leg?"

"No, no don't..." He weakly pleaded as you rolled his trouser leg up

He gritted his teeth in pain, his entire body tensed as he watched the skin on his legs shed into scales.

"What the... you're... you're a merman?" You whispered, eyes widened in shock.

"I tried to tell you..." Jace replied, ripping his trousers off to free his fully reformed tail. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

"Jace..."

"You're too late, nephew."

Jace looked up as Aemond came to stand in the centre of the deck, the triumphant smirk returning to his face. "You're too late," He chuckled darkly thunder rumbling overhead. A bolt of blue lightning crashed down and struck Aemond directly, and when the flash faded, Aemond had also returned to his natural form, those six tentacles replacing his legs to a chorus of gasps from the crowd.

One of his tentacles suddenly shot out and grabbed Jace by the tail, dragging him towards the edge of the boat and throwing him overboard.

"Leave him alone!" You yelled, rising to your feet and moving to follow them, but Aemond's tentacles kept you back.

"I apologise that our union was rudely interrupted, ñuha dārilaros," He smirked at you, one tentacle wrapping around your waist and pulling you to him as he ripped off his eyepatch to reveal the sapphire underneath. He knew that you would not look upon it with disgust like everyone else did. "But do not worry..." He continued, another tentacle creeping under your dress and up your leg. As the tip brushed against your clothed cunt, you let out a small gasp, causing his smirk to widen. "I will return for you soon... and I have every intention of making you mine..."

And with that, he released you and dove overboard.

Jace hadn't managed to swim far.

Not with Vhagar circling the shape, the massive beast circling him, trapping him for when Aemond joined them, that blue eye of hers glowing dimmer than before, but still glowing nonetheless.

"Poor, poor prince," Aemond's mocking tone alerted Jace to his arrival. "Poor little nephew."

"Do not mock me, uncle!" Jace exclaimed, hands clenched into fists by his side as Vhagar disappeared into the kelp below. "You cheated."

"Hm..." Aemond tilted his head to the side. "I do not recall our contract saying that I could not interfere. Love comes with its challenges and I merely wished-"

"No. You wanted her and used me to get to her. And then so you could kill me!" Jace interrupted.

"Don't be so dramatic, nephew," Aemond smirked, a tentacle grabbing his arm to pull him along behind him. "It is not even you that I am after. Not really anyway. There's a much bigger fish that I have to-"

"Aemond!"

The exiled prince's smirk widened as he turned to face Rhaenyra, her trident pointing directly at his throat.

"Sister," He greeted. "How are you?"

"Let my son go." She demanded, her eyes alight with a fire that concealed the worry behind them.

"Not a chance, sister," Aemond replied, his hold on Jace tightening. "He's mine now. We made a deal." His voice progressively grew in its mocking tone as he brandished the gold scroll with Jace's contract on. Rhaenyra's gaze scanned the scroll, her expression contorting to one of horror.

"I-I'm sorry, mother! I... I'm sorry, he-"

"Hush now, nephew. Can you not see we are having a conversation?" Aemond interrupted him, another tentacle wrapped around Jace's mouth to silence him. "Now, sister, where were we?"

Rhaenyra glared at Aemond, and pointed her trident at where the scroll was dangling from his grasp, a jet of gold light striking it with the intention of destroying it, but instead it harmlessly rebounded, the scroll now glowing bright blue.

"You see, sister? The contract's legal. Binding and completely unbreakable," Aemond replied smugly. "Even for you." He smirked, knowing he had her trapped. This was a plan, years in the making, finally being executed. And it was so satisfying for Aemond to watch unfold. "Of course, I always was someone with an eye for a bargain, so to speak. And the son of the great, powerful queen of the oceans is a rather precious commodity, do you not think?"

He relaxed his tentacles, both the contract and Jace being released, but before the prince could swim to Rhaenyra, the scroll stretching and fading into blue light which then surrounded Jace, spinning around him like a tornado.

"But, I also consider myself as reasonable, and I could be willing to make an exchange for someone... for something... even better..." Aemond added, a tentacle reaching out towards Rhaenyra's crown, making her flinch away from him in disgust.

"If you think..." Rhaenyra began, but when her gaze shifted to Jace, she faltered.

The light surrounding Jace had grown brighter as it slowly drained his strength, the prince beginning to shrink, his face hollowing and skin shrivelling. Yet he still managed to shake his head at his mother, despite knowing that it would likely prove pointless.

Aemond smirked at the sight, a new contract appearing before Rhaenyra. "Do we have a deal?"

"Mother... don't..." Jace gasped out, but Rhaenyra simply gave her son a small smile, raising her trident once again and with another flash of gold, her name was signed at the bottom.

"It's done," Aemond murmured, the scroll rolling itself up and disappearing. He waved his hand, and the blue whirlpool surrounding Jace grew and moved to instead enclose around Rhaenyra. The light burned harsher, shrinking and shrinking before dissipating to reveal Rhaenyra, once the proud ruler of Atlantica, nothing more than another soul claimed by Aemond, a grotesque creature identical to the hundreds of others trapped in Aemond's lair.

Jace swam over to where Rhaenyra was, her sad eyes gazing up at him as he shook his head. "Mother... I'm so... oh gods, I'm so sorry..." He bowed his head, eyes squeezed shut. When he lifted his head, Syrax had joined him, her whole form bowed down before her companion, who could only stare.

Aemond chuckled cruelly at Jace, lifting Rhaenyra's crown to place atop his own head. "At last... it's mine.." He murmured, lifting the trident as Jace turned to glare up at him.

"You are not even the heir!"

"I will be by the rising of dawn, taoba!" Aemond snarled in response. "When I eradicate Rhaenyra's entire lineage, the throne will be mine."

"Then Aegon will-"

"You think my drunken fool of a brother would dare oppose me?" Aemond tilted his head to the side. "Naïve, nephew. So naïve."

"You're a monster!" Jace spat at him, lunging forwards, but Aemond's tentacle smacked into him and sent him flying to the seafloor.

"Monster? No, nephew. A monster is the fool who banished me when her brat of a son removed my eye. A monster is the so called just and noble queen who banished me for demanding retribution for my permanent scarring. A monster... is responsible for the death of my mother, and she sealed the fate she is now subject to the day she sent me away." He pointed the trident towards Jace. "So don't you think for a second, nephew, that you can fool with me by branding me the monster. You foolish, little-" Aemond suddenly let out a grunt of pain, his free hand flying to where blood clouded the water from the graze on his upper arm.

Jace looked behind his uncle, spotting you several metres away, glaring at Aemond. Beside Jace, was a spear lodged into the seabed.

"Y/N, get back to the surface-" Jace began, but a tentacle clamped back around his mouth.

Aemond sent his nephew a small smirk as he raised his trident towards you. "What do you think nephew? Hm, it is tempting. However... even if someone doesn't seem to love you at first, there are other ways that you can claim them mentally... and physically." His lips curled into a grin as you shrank back slightly. "Yes, I can just put her under my spell again, and in time, she may return my love for her. But whether she does or doesn't is irrelevant... she'll be mine... and never yours, nephew."

Jace once again lunged towards Aemond, but was pinned down by several more tentacles.

"Oh nephew, do not humiliate yourself," He smirked, moving the trident slowly. Your gaze followed its path to where the ship was floating above the water a distance away, your face contorting into one of pure anger. You immediately began swimming as fast as you could to the surface.

"Vhagar, tolī zirȳla!" Aemond exclaimed, his beast emerging from the undergrowth on his orders. [after her]

Jace thrashed around, but his restraints held firm, rendering him helpless. He could only watch as you broke the surface for a mere moment, managing to splutter out something towards the boat before Vhagar dragged you back down again, her tail wrapping around you like a boa constrictor.

"I wish for you to witness this, ," Aemond said to you, once again pointing his trident to the ship. "I love you... but that does not mean I cannot hurt you."

Jace desperately strained against Aemond's hold, managing to break his arm free. He leaned forward, using all of his strength to grab the only thing he could.

Aemond's hair.

He yanked on it as hard and fast at he could, causing Aemond to grunt in pain as his head was rapidly pulled back, knocking him off balance just as the trident glowed gold, causing a flash to shoot out from the trident away from the boat. Instead, it struck Vhagar directly in the heart, causing the beast to explode into nothing more than a few shredded scales that floated to the seabed.

"No... Vhagar..." Aemond breathed, outstretching his hand to where she was, her scales falling onto his hand.

Jace pushed the tentacles off of him, hurriedly swimming over to where you were once again making your way to the surface. He pushed you upwards, one hand resting on your waist as he helped you.

You let out a choked gasp as you grabbed ahold of the small rowboat you had used to reach Jace, letting out a series of coughs.

Jace kept his hold on your waist. "Are you alright?" He asked worriedly, and you nodded in response, air filling your lungs.

"Yes... yes I... I'm fine..."

"Y/N, you need to get out of her," Jace urged.

"No, Jace-"

"You don't understand-"

"I can't leave you!" You insisted, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. "I'm not leaving you..."

"Y/N, I-" Jace began, but his gaze travelled to the water surrounding you both.

Even with just the silver glow of the moon and the distant light from the boat, he could tell it was clouded black with ink.

"Y/N... you need to get back to the ship-" Jace began, but a trembling beneath you both stopped him in his tracks.

"Jace, what-" You let out a gasp as you and Jace were both lifted from the water, separated by the spike of a crown. You gripped hold of the metal tightly, refusing to look away from Jace as Aemond emerged from the water.

"Jump!" Jace yelled, reaching over and grabbing her hand, the both of them leaping down beneath the waves.

Jace immediately pulled you protectively behind him as you stared up at Aemond towering above you. He must have been at least twenty feet tall, his eyes alight with pure, unbridled fury.

"You are a fool, nephew," He sneered at Jace, voice deep and booming louder than any thunder that rumbled in the storm clouds overheard. A tentacle came crashing down between the two of you, causing Jace to push you away out of its path.

"I now rule the ocean, Jacaerys! Even the waves obey my every whim! The sea, and all it's spoils will now bow to my power. And you... you will face my wrath," A wide grin now appeared on his face as he raised the trident and brought it down into the water, circling it around Jace to create a whirlpool around the prince sending him spiralling to the seabed, the water ensnaring him, trapping him on a rock. Lightning lit up the sky, the waves growing more violent, sweeping you further and further away from Jace and closer towards Aemond. All around you, wrecked ship broke through the surface, the barnacle encrusted wood rotting and the faded sails torn.

You grabbed ahold of a ship that swept by, holding onto the wood as tightly as you could, small splinters digging into the flesh of your palm. As the ship swerved away from Aemond, you took the opportunity to climb aboard. It seemed relatively newer than the other resurfaced wreckages, despite it's dire condition. Grabbing ahold of the wheel that was spinning out of control, you looked over to where Aemond was shooting lightning down at Jace from the trident.

"Just hold on a little while longer, Jace," You murmured, turning the wheel with the current and towards Aemond. Fortunately for you, the waves were heading directly towards him, the strong winds propelling you forward.

"Come now, nephew. You cannot evade this fate!" Aemond taunted. "Do not worry, I will take good care of her. So much for your true love, hm?"

He raised the trident once again, but before he could bring it down upon Jace, you steered the boat directly into him, the bowsprit, jagged from being broken, impaling him directly in the gut. Aemond yelled out in pain as you jumped off the ship, swimming away as fast as you could against the current. Turning back for a moment, you saw Aemond fall back as lightning shot through him, his eyes rolling back as he sank beneath the waves with a violent crash, sending a mass tidal wave that swept you along with it. You were smothered by the wave, only managing to resurface for long enough to take another gasp of air before being dragged under again.

You waited it out, managing to stay afloat as the wave calmed, treading the water as you looked behind you for any sight of Jace.

But all you saw was dark blue smoke billowing upwards towards the sky.

You let out a deep breath, keeping your head above the water as you kicked towards the beach, visibly close. The moment your feet made contact with the seabed, you practically crawled onto the sand, every muscle, every bone, every cell in your body completely exhausted.

"Y/N!"

Your head turned to the side to see Grimsby and Max running towards you from further down the beach, the ship a short distance away. The wave must have swept them up as well.

"Grim..." You murmured, gripping onto his arm tightly as he helped you to your feet, Max jumping up at you, glad that you were back to being yourself again. You gave him a soft smile, gently stroking his head.

"Oh heavens. Y/N, are you alright?"

"Fine..." You replied, glancing down at your tattered dress, completely soaked through.

"Come, now, princess. We must get you in a warm bath, and fresh clothes-"

"No! Grimsby, I need to wait for Jace and see if he's okay."

"Y/N, as your closest advisor, I strongly... well... advise... that you at least get some food in your stomach."

You sighed, still staring out at the horizon.

"If you survived, I have no doubt that he did as well," Grimsby said gently.

"Fine," You muttered. "I'll go and change. But you're staying here to look out for him."

"A-as you wish... but Y/N, will you not need help to get to the castle-"

"No," You replied firmly, already trudging up to the castle, your bare feet dragging slightly on the sand, Max right on your heels.

Carlotta was anxiously waiting by the castle gates upon your arrival, rushing over to you and immediately fussing over your rather bedraggled appearance. You brushed her off, walking to your chambers to change.

You felt sick to the stomach at the white shirts, the blue dresses and black trousers... anything in those colours that only reminded you of Aemond... of what he had done...

You threw them out of your wardrobe, ordering Johanna to wash them and take them into town to donate to anyone who needed them.

"May I make a suggestion, princess?" Carlotta spoke up.

"I would appreciate that," You sighed.

"I have the perfect one for you," She smiled knowingly, waiting for you to step aside so she could reach into the wardrobe, taking a hanger from the rail and holding it up to you. "Well? What do you think, princess?"

"I think..." You murmured, cocking your head to the side in contemplation. "That it's perfect."

Jace had watched as the whirlpool around him disappeared. He had seen Aemond collapse, watched as he sank out of view. Swimming to where he had fallen, he found his uncle, now back to his usual size, a rather large wound to his abdomen staining the water with a reddish hue. He reached down, taking the crown off his head, looking down at it.

He couldn't imagine it atop his head.

Feeling a warm hand rest on his shoulder, he turned to find his mother, restored to her full self, smiling down at him.

"Mother..." He murmured. "I... I'm so..." He bowed his head, letting out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, Jace," Rhaenyra tilted his chin upwards. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you away. Destroyed you beautiful collection. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me," He whispered, immediately being pulled into her warm embrace. He immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly. When they broke apart, he reached down to where the trident laid several feet away from Aemond, holding it out to his mother, who took it from him with an appreciative smile.

"I can't... become king..." He sighed. "Not... not here."

"I know, my darling," Rhaenyra sighed, her free hand resting on his cheek. "The matter of my heir will be settled in due time-"

"Baela would be a good candidate," Jace spoke up.

"Indeed she would," Rhaenyra softly smiled.

"Jace? You're alive!" Luke exclaimed as he swam over.

"Luke, I told you to stay at the palace."

"I did, mother. I stayed for half an hour, and then left to follow you," He replied, faltering slightly as he saw Aemond's corpse. He stared down at the body, letting out a small scoff. "Well thank the gods," He muttered.

"Luke," Rhaenyra warned.

"He was a monster, mother. He tried to kill me!"

"Well, he's dead now. Thanks to your brother."

"Actually, it wasn't me," Jace piped up. "It was Y/N's."

"Y/N?"

Jace sighed, glancing up to where the water's surface was glowing orange with the dawn.

"Jace?"

"I need to show you something."

"Jace... if this is going where I think it is-"

"Please," Jace's eyes were pleading. "Please, mother."

Rhaenyra shared a glance with Luke, who nodded in encouragement. She let out a small sigh. "Very well."

Jace could sense Rhaenyra apprehension as they looked out towards the beach, the rocky shore that had greeted him after making his deal with Aemond separating them from the land.

"Is that her?" Luke asked, pointing towards where you were hurrying down the beach. All Jace could do was nod in response, his lips parted slightly as he gazed at you in awe.

You were dressed in a glittering red gown, the bottom of the skirt grasped in your hand. It had thin straps across your shoulders and a cowl neckline, hugging your curves perfectly. Your hair was loose, and still damp, your face void of any makeup, those ruby earrings you bought at the market dangling from your ears.

And to Jace, you had never looked more beautiful.

"Nice," Luke grinned with an approving nod, earning a glare from both his mother and older brother. "She's pretty..." He mumbled.

Jace swam forward, hoisting himself up on a rock, the very same rock that he sat on when he'd saved you on your birthday. He watched you walk along the beach, your gaze fixed on the horizon, Max barking happily at your feet.

"What is that?" Luke exclaimed. "It's all... weird and hairy!"

"Hush now, Luke," Rhaenyra murmured, her gaze resting on her eldest son. There was a soft smile on her face, but her eyes were brimmed with sadness. "He really does love her, doesn't he?"

"Must do," Luke replied. "I mean, he was ready to sell us to Aemond for her so... ow!" He yelped as Syrax, who had joined them on a nearby rock, pinched his arm in disapproval.

"He does, doesn't he?" Rhaenyra repeated her question, this time directing it towards her companion, who nodded in response.

"I was never truly permitted to be free and lead my own life," She mused. "It was expected of me to take the throne, I was raised for it. And there was no other worthy heir to claim it in my stead. It is just a shame... that it took him going to Aemond of all people to make me realise that I should not expect my children to suffer that same fate." She nodded to herself. "I suppose only one problem that remains..."

"And... what is that?" Luke asked, gently rubbing his reddened arm from where Syrax had pinched him.

"How much I am going to miss him..." She sighed.

Luke gazed up at his mother as she lowered the tip of the trident down on the oceans surface, casting a small ripple that grew as it came closer to Jace, the water surrounding the rock glowing gold.

Jace looked down as the gold consumed his tail, turning back to his mother in shock that soon turned into a soft smile as the light consumed him.

Max let out an excited bark, taking off down the beach, you hot on his tail.

You stepped into the water, the gentle waves lapping around your ankles and your free hand coming to shield your eyes from the bright light. When it faded, you expected to see Jace, but you were greeted with nothing.

Your shoulders heaved in a silent sigh, your head shaking in disappointment as you turned away, but Max letting out another bark caused you to turn back, a wide smile spreading across your face.

Jace emerged from beneath the waves. He was walking towards you on legs, dressed in a crisp white shirt and burgundy trousers, his chocolate brown curls fluttering in the sea breeze.

The moment he laid eyes on you, he broke out into a run, with you rushing towards him as well, throwing yourself into his arms. Jace lifted you up and span your around, his hold on you tight, as though you would slip from his grasp again.

But you weren't going to let go.

When he placed you back on the ground, Max excitedly circling around you both as you took his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his.

Jace immediately sank into the kiss, his heart fluttering.

"I love you," He murmured as you broke apart, his forehead resting on yours.

You smiled, hands sliding upwards to tangle in his curls. "And I love you, Jace. So much," You whispered.

A/N: One more part left...

…All I'm going to say is I hope you enjoyed the sweetness of this ending because Aemond's ending is going to be complete filth.

Hint: it involves tentacles.

Masterlist

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#House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon imagine #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon imagine #Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen imagine #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader x Aemond Targaryen

[r2d2lover]

Cruel Reality

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x f!Reader (Third person insert, Draco's POV)

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Semi-Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Jealousy Sex, Fingering, Blowjobs, Draco's POV

Summary:

After a messy breakup, Draco still can't get his mind off of her.

--

Snippet of something that I'd like to turn into a fic one day but I always say that. Crossposted on Ao3!

Draco walked quickly down the corridor, the heat burning in his cheeks becoming unbearable. He couldn’t even hide his frustrated sighs and ran an aggressive hand through his hair. It wasn’t hard to ignore her desperate pleas calling out for Draco to stop. In fact, it made him walk faster, almost to the point of a run. He felt ridiculous for fleeing the dungeon halls and throwing a tantrum, but he felt justified. But at the same time, he knew he really wasn’t. He was the one who broke up with her. He was the one that had to make her hate him. He was the one that decided to be nosy and walk up the stairs to check on the other prefect sectors.

It was a day shy of it being a month since Draco had broken up with his girlfriend, but the time didn’t make the pain pass. He didn’t have the mental capacity to be mad at the forcing hand of his mother in the situation or the festering wound that was the Dark Mark. No, he was more upset that he walked in on his ex-girlfriend and Harry Potter, of all people, practically having sex in the shadows of the castle. Maybe Draco was exaggerating, but its not like he stuck around to figure out why Harry Potter had his ex pinned to the wall with a visible hand running up her sides. Draco couldn’t believe that this was what was getting him worked up. Not the still burning pain in his arm or the insomnia that left him with a permanent headache. He was pretty sure she was only running after him to try and save face. He almost laughed at the idea of her begging him not to report her and Potter that he almost stopped in the middle of the hall to let it happen. Draco didn’t regret his earlier comment about Potter’s sleaziness, but he really didn’t want to try to talk to her because he was sure that he would have an embarrassing breakdown.

Draco decided that he would hide in the bathroom until she gave up and leave when she’d realize that he wasn’t actually going to go to Snape or Filch to report the two. Unfortunately, she had caught up to him right before he reached the bathroom and grabbed his arm to stop him from opening the door, causing him to cringe in an impossible pain from the pressure she was putting on the Mark. Instead of crying out like he wanted to do, he tried his best to suppress a hiss and yank his arm away. 

“Are you going to follow me into the toilet?” Draco instinctively brought his arm across his chest in an attempt to nurse the pain. He felt a little bad for the tone of voice that slipped out of his mouth from the pain, but it fit the image he was going for.

“If that’s what it’ll take for you to listen to me,” She said exasperatedly, looking rightfully concerned at his arm. “Is your arm alr-“

“Look, I’m not going to report you and your… new boyfriend if that’s what you’re worried about,” Draco said as coolly as possible. “Not worth my time.”

“I-“

“But really? Potter? Really lowering your standards, huh?” Draco jabbed, hoping it would do the trick in getting her to leave. She just let out a frustrated cry and pushed Draco up against the wall, shocking him so much that it made him forget about the pain in his arm.

“That’s the only thing you have to say to me? Do you get off on humiliating me? First the Great Hall, now this? If you hate me as much as you told everyone that you do, why can’t you just leave me alone?” She shot back, obviously spewing something she was keeping bottled up for the past month. Draco felt vulnerable, quite literally backed into a corner. He let her puff a bit before pushing off her and pinning her against the wall instead. Her unpleased look reminded Draco of a ruffled cat, making it difficult for him to really be upset.

“Listen, princess,” Draco dropped his voice tauntingly, trying to lock unwavering eye contact. “Don’t get mad at me if you’re dumb enough to decide to shag in the hallways. With Potter, no less.”

“Don’t get mad at situations that you misunderstood,” She saw through Draco’s failed attempt to keep his jealousy at bay. Before he realized how pathetic he probably sounded, he found the warm, artificial taste of strawberries that he had been craving for the past month upon his lips. He wasn’t even sure who made the first move as he tightened a surprised hand around her hair, pulling her in for a deeper kiss like he was starving and going in for another bite of food. Her hands were already interlocked behind his neck, melting his body into hers from the electric feeling running through his veins. Draco’s blind rage was gone, instead replaced by a shameless desperation for more of her. Every plight from the past month dissipated with each kiss he took without breath. In this moment, he didn’t feel guilty for lying to her when they broke up, he didn’t feel any of the familial pressure that plagued his sleep, nor could he even think about why he was angry at her in the first place. 

When she broke the kiss, Draco was temporarily snapped back to the reality where she was supposed to hate him and vice versa. They locked eye contact and without another word, Draco decided to indulge his delusion and quickly pushed her into the boy’s bathroom, muttering a locking spell under his breath. Draco didn’t think that the unspoken agreement would actually pan out, but this time, she definitely made the first move by jumping back into his arms for another kiss that rivaled the one that they just shared in the hallway. He ran his hand through her hair, savoring the missed touch. He slowly moved his hand down to her button down, dragging his fingers over the top few buttons. To his surprise, he freed her breasts easily without the need to discard any extra fabric. Curious, he moved his hand down to the hem of her skirt, brushing it to investigate if she had forgone all of her undergarments. He proved his theory right and realized what it meant. 

“I can’t believe you,” He said breathlessly, moving his lips down to her neck and moving his hand around to cup her ass. “There’s nothing that he could have done to deserve all of this.”

“Stop talking about him,” She pleaded, the desperation in her voice matched by her blind tugging at his belt buckle. Draco should’ve been mad but this empowered him. He smirked at the idea of his longtime enemy slinking back to his room sadly or even better, fruitlessly waiting for her return at the entrance of her common room. Draco dragged a teasing finger over her slit and the growing tent in his pants was almost painful when he realized how wet she was.

“Now, who got you this worked up?” Draco whispered tauntingly, planting another kiss at the nape of her neck.

“Y-You. Ah. You, Draco,” She slurred as Draco inserted a finger. He pressed her against the wall for better support. Her head rocked forward to his chest as her knees started to buckle into his touch. She was pushing him past insanity. He let out a tsk, straightening her back up against the wall to look at him. Draco let out a hiss when she reached around his arm to firmly squeeze his bulge, relieving some of the pressure building in his pants but he couldn’t let it distract him. He added another finger, beginning to fuck her with unrelenting speed as she drew out an incoherent string of his name over and over. For Draco, this was music. He met her mouth again, moving his thumb over his clit. Draco smiled into her lips as she was unable to return the kisses due to her moaning. He felt the familiar feel of her walls starting to clench around his fingers and her breathing quickened to a pant. Draco pressed his forehead against hers, watching her reaction as he removed his fingers to bring her to the same edge of delirium that he was standing on. 

“Draco… Please… I’m so close. I was so close,” She cursed, begging unashamedly. Reality was truly suspended at this moment. Their dynamic remained that same as if they were still dating, as if the last month didn’t happen.

“Be a good girl and you will,” Draco bit his lip as he stared into her look of desperation. He took a small step back and started to undo his belt while she dropped to her knees without instruction and took over. When she set the first lick up his shaft, he barely caught himself on the wall behind her from the surge of lust that almost made him crumble. He tangled his hands in her hair, brushing any pieces away from the front of her face. She let him guide her around him, fighting to keep his composure. “Just… Just like that.”

Draco’s voice was husky from bewilderment. When he hit the back of her throat, he swore he could’ve finished at that moment. He let out a low groan, pulling at her hair. She wasn’t on him for long, but he was afraid of finishing too early. Draco pushed her off softly, rolling his eyes back into his head when she removed her mouth with a pop. He used the grip on her hair to encourage her to stand up, pressing her back firmly against the wall. He removed his hand from her hair and used the same arm to hook underneath her leg, pulling her closer and taking a moment to take a deep breath of her comforting perfume. He used his free hand to undo another button off her top, sliding a wandering hand to her breasts. A soft chorus of “please, Draco” fell from her lips, despite knowing it was best not to beg. She was lucky that he was as impatient as he was. In a swift movement, he slid himself in her slickness, sharing a moan of relief with her. 

Draco let her stay seated for a moment, dizzy from the pleasure and wanting to savor this moment. A quick thought flashed thorough his head that as soon as they were finished, they’d go back to being a burnt-out flame. The worrying thought began to clash with the high of the moment, so he removed his hand from her breast to create a backstop between her head and the stone wall. His first few thrusts created an awkward rhythm that he was trying to build up in order to prolong the moment. Nevertheless, she threw her head forward into the crook of his neck mumbling his name and leaving sloppy kisses where ever she could. He pulled her head back to look at him, drinking in her sinful look of matched pleasure that manifested in drooped eyelids and a cute flush across her cheeks. She reached up and kissed him again, encouraging him to pick up the pace. The messy sounds of skin on skin along her almost melodic moaning created a rhythm that Draco tried to keep up.

“Draco… I’m. so close. Can I- ah! Can I please cum?” Her sweet request was too good to deny. He moved his hand again, this time to draw close, tight circles around her clit and she threw her head back in a wail, sliding down the wall. She pushed her pelvis as close as she practically can, letting out the same hungry pleas from before.

“Cum for me,” Draco crooned, smiling at the formality that she had allowed him and watched hungrily as her eyes rolled with her release. She clenched impossibly tight around him, and he had forgotten how the feeling of her warmth only got better as she finished around him. He teetered on the edge of his own orgasm and she knew that. She lazily leaned her head forward, whispering into his ear.

“Only you fuck me this good,” She drew out. Her filthy words were just what Draco needed and the delirium set in.

“Can I cum in you?” Draco practically begged, his voice just above a whimper. When she breathed out a shaky “yes,” Draco fell in one last thrust before holding her as close as he could and let out a final groan. He wish he could’ve prolonged the high of spilling into her, especially since she was peppering sloppy kissed all over his jaw and cheek. He pulled out and took another deep look into her eyes, matching her heavy breathing. 

Draco helped her clean up and as he was redoing his belt and she was buttoning up her shirt back with the same flush splashed across her cheek, reality came crashing down. He choked down a cough, unable to find anything to say to her. He didn’t know how to answer a “what are we” question if she asked. Instead, her reached out again to cup her face, running a thumb over the apple of her cheek. He managed to form a quick sentence, forgoing any fear of how pathetic he could sound.

“I’m sorry.”

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy fic #Draco Malfoy #jealous Draco #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfic #Draco Malfoy one shot

[takearisk-xo]

written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3 day 3: speak now

'But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead…'

******

It was a new sensation, this urge, and Harry didn’t particularly enjoy it. In fact, he found it quite debilitating at times. For weeks he’d daydreamed away his first period, missing crucial Herbology notes he had to copy from Hermione later. He’d started taking an inordinate amount of bludgers at quidditch practice. So much so that McGonagall had kept him after class once to ask if he was feeling alright. Not to mention, he seemed to have lost any and all authority over certain...extremities.

It was mortifying.

But today was by far his worst bout of brain fog. He’d walked right past the Great Hall at lunch, Ron having to call after him when he was halfway up the marble staircase. Harry had doubled back, his face heating with embarrassment, but Ron seemed to buy whatever excuse Harry had stuttered out.

She’s Ron’s sister.

He chanted the mantra inside his head for what felt like the thousandth time. The problem was, it didn’t seem to stick. An empty space of time, or a lull in the conversation and Harry’s train of thought veered right back to shining copper hair and secret passageways; his hands on her waist and his lips on hers. 

Every. Single. Time.

Harry tossed a handful of chips onto his plate and hoped someone at the Gryffindor table had something mildly interesting to talk about, but he was out of luck it seemed. After a few minutes of chatting shit, his mind started to wander. 

They were in a hidden alcove behind the tapestry of Grimma Mog on the fourth floor. The stone wall was cool against his back and Ginny’s body was warm where she pressed into him. Harry could feel the slight flare of her hips beneath his palms, could feel the hitch of her breath as he swiped her bottom lip with his tongue–

Ron’s sister! He shouted inside his own head, pulling his own traitorous thoughts to a halt. 

Focusing on Hermione across the way, he tried to digest whatever she was talking to Neville about. Something to do with toadstools. 

“This new experiment suggests medicinal properties…”

“Really?” Hermione peeked over to read the academic journal Neville had open on the table. “Raw? Or brewed?”

Ginny pressed into him harder, her fist tugging at his hair. In retaliation, Harry slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her jumper and felt smooth skin at the small of her back–

“I'm bloody starving,” the real life Ginny groaned from behind his right shoulder and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. 

She plopped into the empty seat next to him, sending a shoot of electricity up his arm as her elbow bumped his. Harry tossed her a grin that he hoped looked normal, but was probably completely deranged, only to see Dean falling onto the bench on her other side. 

The reminder of her complete unattainability sucker punched the monster living inside his chest. 

Not only was she Ron’s sister. She had a sodding boyfriend. He kept forgetting about that particular obstacle. Probably because his brain was too obsessed with kissing her. 

God, he wanted to kiss her. 

Ginny glanced at him sidelong and Harry averted his gaze, realizing too late he’d been staring. He spent the rest of lunch forcing himself to pay attention as Hermione and Neville's conversation shifted from toadstools to the merits of Moroccan Coriander over other varieties. Meanwhile, Ginny ate and laughed and flirted, and overall tortured Harry to the point of madness. 

But his resolve held. He kept his fanciful scenarios in check for the rest of the day. 

Which turned out to be completely futile, because while he was able to hold some semblance of control in his waking hours, this just spurred his imagination to run wild while he slept.

And like a fixation he couldn’t shake, over and over they were pressed up into the wall of the alcove, twisted together in a hushed encounter unbeknownst to the crowded corridor on the other side of the tapestry. 

It made looking Ron in the eye all the more difficult, and in the mornings, Harry had never been more grateful for the curtains surrounding his four-poster bed.

#*insert skull emoji here* #hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #hinny fic #harry x ginny #harry/ginny #my fic #corneliaavenue

[bleedingoptimism]

𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 

𝗦𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗮𝘆

Someone is knocking on his door when Eddie wakes up from his impromptu nap at 4:30 in the afternoon.

Although there’s nothing impromptu about his nap since he literally spent the whole day in bed feeling sorry for himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, past self who thought it’d be funny to write about his knight in shining armor when high as fuck.

He knows the knocks are either the kids, here to beg him not to cancel the campaign, or Steve, coming over to let him down easy. And he doesn’t want to deal with either one.

He’s just so embarrassed, and like, he knows Steve won’t laugh at him. He will a little, probably, but not meanly.

It’s just the ‘This is flattering Eddie, but I don’t feel the same’

It's the ‘I hope we can still be friends’

It’s the ‘I care about you but not that way’ of it all Eddie really fucking hates.

The knocking hasn’t stopped and it’s getting more insistent so Eddie sighs and gets up. Time to face the music, he supposes.

He opens the door so hard it bumps into the wall, revealing a slightly surprised Steve outside.

“Harrington,” he says and turns, walking back inside. He flinches once he’s turned at the thought his dramatics might have left a dent in their brand new government-hush-money-bought house.

How is he going to explain it to Wayne?

‘Sorry about the wall Wayne. I needed to do the equivalent of slamming the door shut but while opening it before I got rejected.’

Steve walks in behind him and closes the door softly, following him to the kitchen where Eddie is leaning against the cupboards with his arms crossed.

Steve leans against the counter right in front of him. The kitchen is nice but leaning on the smaller side, so there’s not much room between them. Eddie watches as Steve takes a neatly folded paper out of his pocket.

And his shoulders go all the way up to his ears when he sees it’s the character sheet. Steve delicately unfolds it and puts it beside him on the counter, straightening it with his hand, softly, caringly.

‘Why?’

It makes Eddie nervous, “If you’re here to laugh at me, just get it over with already,” he tells him.

Steve looks at him, smiles kindly, and then his smile gets bigger and bigger until he’s chuckling, but still kind, “I’m sorry but,” he breathes, “Harry Stevenson? Really?”

Eddie snorts, unable to help himself. It's so dumb.

“Who would that make you? Manny Eddinson?” Steve says, outright laughing now.

Eddie starts laughing too, “Yeah, okay, okay. Laugh it up Harrington,” he says, completely red in the face and motioning with his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.

Steve shakes his head, “No, no, it’s Stevenson to you,” he says, but then he sobers up, shaking his head again.

“Wait, sorry. I didn’t come here to laugh at you Eddie,” he tells him, standing up straight, making the distance between them seem shorter, “I came here to tell you something.”

Eddie sighs and looks at the floor, at Steve’s white snickers at his own bare feet.

“Let me guess,” he says, “You’re flattered, but–”

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

He stares at Steve. Stares and stares, but Steve is just looking at him, biting his lip with a faint blush adorning his cheeks.

“Is this real?” Eddie asks him in a whisper.

And Steve points at the sheet, “Is this?” he asks him.

Eddie blushes even more and nods once.

Steve smiles bashfully and takes one step closer to him, “So, can I keep it?” he asks, and it takes a minute for Eddie to figure out he’s talking about the character sheet. It’s hard to think when Steve is standing so close.

“Can I keep you?” Eddie blurts out.

Steve’s whole face illuminates with the brightness of his smile, and he lets out a small noise, a happy little hum of a sound that Eddie knows he’ll dream about for the rest of his life.

Steve lifts his hand and moves Eddie’s hair away from his face. He grazes his cheek as he tucks a few strands behind his ear, smoothes them when he gets to his shoulders. He continues to trail his fingers down his arms, all the way to his hands and takes them, holds them.

“Is this real?” Eddie can’t help but ask again.

“It is if you want it to be,” Steve answers easily.

Eddie nods and closes the distance between them with a kiss.

And Steve chuckles because Eddie didn’t actually stop nodding before attempting to kiss him, so he has to chase his mouth up and down for their lips to properly touch.

They both end up giggling into each other's mouths, but then Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose and tries again.

He grabs Steve’s face with both hands and inclines it for a better angle, deepening the kiss, exploring the inside of his mouth with his tongue, and then sucking Steve’s own tongue into his mouth.

Steve moans and pushes Eddie into the cupboard and Eddie retaliates by pushing Steve back and crouching slightly to grab the back of his thighs and lifts him. Steve yelps and laughs into his mouth as Eddie places him on the counter and Steve opens his legs to let Eddie stand between them.

He hugs him, burying his face on his neck and Eddie circles his waist with both arms and presses himself flush against his chest.

Steve sighs and then moves back a little to look at Eddie. He moves his hair out of his face again, lifting his bangs, and kisses his forehead, and then his nose and his cheek once, twice, three times quickly, and Eddie laughs.

“I wanted to do that for so long,” Steve sighs, still holding Eddie’s face between his palms.

“You? Wanted? Really?” Eddie stammers, because his brain left the perimeter a long time ago.

Steve giggles and leans in, touches their foreheads together, and nods.

“Steve…”

“Mmm?”

And Eddie kisses him again because he doesn't know how to say what he wants to say. He kisses him and he hopes it gets the message across. He kisses him and he lets his hands talk, his lips confess, his body speak.

He pours everything into it and when they pull apart to breathe, Steve whispers, 

“Take me to bed” And he knows Steve understood him.

The sun is gone when they get back to the kitchen, wearing each other's boxers, with Steve also wearing one of Eddie’s shirts, and fuck does it look good on him. He tells him as much as he kisses his cheek and hands him a glass of orange juice.

Steve is back to sitting on the counter, and Eddie groans when he sees he’s looking at the character sheet that’s still laying innocently beside him.

He steps between Steve’s legs and Steve immediately makes room for him, putting one arm around his shoulders and pushing the paper out of Eddie’s reach with the other.

“You really want to keep it?” Eddie asks against his neck and kisses a bruise he left there a couple of hours earlier.

“It’s so embarrassing! I was high and pining and a little horny…”

Steve laughs, and buries his hand in Eddie’s hair, scratching the back of his head, “Of course I want to keep it! It’s probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Well, that’s just sad,” Eddie snorts.

“Shut up,” Steve tells him and pulls at his hair, making him groan and then laugh.

He moves back an inch or two to kiss Steve’s cheek and catches him still staring at the paper, tracing where his name it’s written backward,

“You have no idea how happy this made me,” Steve whispers, and Eddie fucking melts at the way his voice sounds, oh so tender, “When Dustin showed it to me-” 

But something clicks when Steve says that. Dustin said he hadn’t looked at it, the little shit. 

“Oh, I’m going to fucking kill that gremlin.” 

Steve laughs, “Don’t be too mad at him,” he tells him, rubbing his hands up and down his back, “Yes, he did something shitty, but he just wanted to help.”

Eddie just grunts in response, his mind going through a hundred different scenarios of how to punish him.

“I was never going to confess to you Eddie,” Steve admits.

“But he knew I liked you and thought I needed some encouragement. That’s why he showed it to me.” 

“You told Dustin you liked me?” Eddie asks him, smiling.

But Steve snorts, “No. The little shit accidentally overheard me.”

That prompts an ugly laugh out of Eddie and then they are both laughing again and then kissing again and again and again until the moon is high in the sky and their eyelids are heavy.

They go back to Eddie’s bed, Steve on his back and him between his legs, head resting on his stomach.

“I quit Hellfire,” Eddie murmurs sleepily.

Steve hums, “Of course you didn’t. But I don’t think it’s a bad idea to wait until Dustin apologizes before you come back. Make him sweat a little.”

Eddie chuckles and moves to bite Steve’s tummy right above his belly button before kissing the spot and resting his cheek over it again, “God, I love you.”

Steve pinches his shoulder lightly for the bite, “Love you too,” he answers back and after a moment he asks,

“Should we tell them?”

“It’s up to you,” Eddie tells him, “They already know I’m gay.”

“Really?” Steve asks him, curious.

“I noticed Will was struggling with it, so I made one of my characters gay just to test the waters. I made it clear there was nothing wrong with him, or me. And when they had questions I answered them and-”

He gets interrupted by Steve pulling him by his face and kissing him soundly.

“That was so nice of you. So fucking brave,” Steve tells him between kisses.

“You make me feel brave,” he confesses.

So yes, it’s up to Steve when he wants to tell The Party, because he knows, he’s sure, whatever comes their way, they can deal with if they’re together.

𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗲𝗱

part 1: ❤️

part 2: 🧡  

part 3: 💛  

part 4: 💚    

part 5: 💙  

part 6: 💜

part 7: 💗

☕🥐💕

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #d&d got him laid its a win for us gays #i wrote something

[planetharrie]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Jet Ski

In which Harry and you are interviewed on the streets of New York on how you first met 🦩🚤🌊

This is inspired by ‘meetcutesnyc’ videos on tiktok, although this turned out to be way longer and in depth than I’d planned.

⭐️

There was a cool breeze drafting the streets of New York City, but Harry's hand enveloping yours was enough to keep your entire body warm. You'd both decided that a morning walk through the highstreets was needed after waking up still full from last night's bottomless tacos and fancy drinks. (Well, and to also 'window-shop', as you'd described it.)

"Whew—fuck, I'm still full from that dinner.." Harry cringed as he threw a t-shirt over his head. You hum in reply, glancing at him in the reflection of the mirror you were using. "Fancy a walk? I feel like I'm carrying rocks in my stomach!"

You click the lid back onto your eyeliner wand and whirl your head around, your freshly-washed hair twirling with the suddenly movement. Harry catches the glimmer in your eye, "That to me sounds like an invitation for some window-shopping, babe."

With your cherry-cheek smooshed into Harry's upper arm, you both amble the streets of New York—Harry now $50 short because of a pair of new shoes.

"Y/n, you said we'd just window-shop." Harry winged, unimpressed with the cardboard shopping bag dangling in his right hand. You lift you head up off his arm and glance up at him with slight puppy eyes.

"I know. . . but—" Your argument was slowly cut short when you were approached by two young guys; one holding a mobile phone up, clearly recording.

"Hey, excuse me?" The guy—who wasn't recording—started, "are you two a couple?"

You and Harry slowly come to a halt and he let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively.

"Yes, we are!" Harry chirped, with a tinge of uncertainty in his reply. His ring-clad hand squeezed your waist slightly and you lean into him as the guy continues.

"Great! Would you mind telling us how you first met?" He gently signals to the phone camera and his eyes scan both of you.

You laugh nervously and glance up at Harry, who's cracked a shy smile. He shuffles on his feet and takes you both to the side of pavement, out of the way of other pedestrians.

"Oh—sure! We'd love to." Harry agrees. When he gives an encouraging nod, you look back at the two guys in front of you.

"We met on a lake—" You begin before both you and Harry burst into laughter. He rubs his eye all embarrassed, and nudges you to continue after you'd both sobered up from the fit of giggles.

"Sorry. We met on a lake; I had gone swimming with my friend and we took this inflatable flamingo with us. ." You make a swift glance up at Harry and catch him watching you proudly as you re-tell one of the best days of your lives.

"And Harry," You point you thumb at him, "had actually offered to help us blow-up the flamingo for us 'cause we were struggling!"

Another fit of giggles erupt but just from you this time and your hands cover your flushed face in embarrassment. Harry takes over and you can hear his smile as he talks.

"Oh, my God, Y/n! Do you have noodles for legs?" Your friend cried jokingly as you attempt to to blow-up your inflatable flamingo with a pump. Except, you were laughing too much to even push you leg down on the foot-pump.

You were nearly bent at the waist, hugging your stomach as tears of laughter form in your eyes. You couldn't stop the fits of giggles coming from you. "It—it's too—it's too fucking stiff!" Your sentence comes out broken in between laughs. You try the pump again, using all your leg-strength, managing one large pump of air into the crinkled, plastic flamingo's poor arse.

From a few yards away, a young guy wearing black sunglasses had been watching the two girls struggle for the past 10 minutes. Stood next to a parked black truck, he cracked his own smile when the two girls fell to the knees with uncontrollable laughter.

"Oi, mate. Fancy helping?" His friend grunted under a pile of water-sports equipment in his arms. "Harry, stop being a creep—"

Harry shot him a pointed look, his lips tied in an unimpressed line. He took off his sunglasses and placed them on his friend's head. "Hold these."

"Harry!—" The friend dropped the equipment at his feet with a defeated sigh as he watched his nosy friend walk up the two hysterical girls at the edge of the lake.

"Do you guys need any help with that?" Harry called orotundity as he approached you and your friend.

You quickly sobered up and awkwardly picked yourself up from the grass and tucked your hair behind your ears.

"Uh. . ." Your started, glancing between him and your friend who was still sat, leaning back on her hands. She shrugged and you spotted her concealing a smirk.

"I know these pumps are a pain. I can do it for you, if you'd like?" He insisted, talking with his hands.

"Sure. Thanks." You stand back, shyly covering your bikini-covered torso with your hands cupping your burnt shoulders.

You watch him. He takes off his green shirt and discards it as his feet. His calf muscles flex and tighten as his leg starts pumping. The flamingo finally starts to grow and form into something more than creased blob of plastic.

"He's trying too hard to impress us." Your friend whispers in your ear, her eyes never leaving the generous brunette. You shush her and she laughs breathily.

"Don't. He's sweet!"

He morphs into a squat, his boxers' waistband now on show, as he secures the lip of the air-hole.

"Think I've pumped enough air into 'em—"

"Her." Your friend interrupts him.

". . . her, sorry. I'm Harry, by the way." He blinks.

Harry. You've always liked that name.

"I’m Y/N—oh, and this is Y/f/N. Thank you for helping us." You smile.

"Not a problem. Be careful on the water, heard it can get uh.. quite blustery out there." Harry starts backing away, waving a hand up as a 'goodbye.'

You and your friend share a look; her lips crinkle-up in disgust whereas yours morph into a flattered smile.

"Hey, don't make that face. He was cute."

"He was cringe, Y/N."

"So that's how we first met. Ever."

"And then later on that same day he came and saved me with his fancy little jet ski." You finished, biting your bottom lip with a smile.

The interviewer nodded, "Okay, I need to hear the rest of this story! You say he saved you? What happened?"

Harry sighed and raised his brows, "I had warned her to be careful. She wasn't exactly sober when I met her a second time that day..."

You gently wack him with your hand and he grunts. "I'd had two beers!" You looked back at the camera-guy, "I wasn't drunk."

"She was."

You were about 150 meters out from shore, bobbing up and down ever-so-lightly on the pink flamingo; a half-finished can of Brewdog in your left hand, resting lazily on the ring. Your toes paddled in the murky waters keeping you cool despite the 27° heat practically penetrating into your skin.

With your head comfortably tilted back, you hadn't realised exactly how far you'd floated from you and your friend's little sunbathing spot on shore. Eventually, you tuned back to reality after daydreaming your way for many yards away from Y/f/N. No longer hearing Tove Lo blasting from your tiny travel speaker, you lift your head up along with your sunglasses. You scan the water.

"Oh, fuck. ." You palm your forehead. "Bloody hell."

You seethe a storm of cusses and sit up straighter. "Great. How on earth am I going to get back?"

You spotted the beer can in your hand and don't think twice to down it in one. You looked around. Then looked around again; and again for a third time, your tipsy-brain half-expecting for some magical sea animal to appear and push you back to shore.

But this is Windermere Lake in Cumbria. The only possible magical creature that could sail you back to shore was the element of wind, and for the first time in possibly forever, it was not a windy day in England.

You flinch at the distant buzzing noise ‘near’ your ear, flapping your hand to scare away the imaginary bumble bee. But in reality, a couple of jet skis were coasting the water, creating minor waves that bobbed you up and down.

“Oi! Hey!” You yell, speech slightly slurred as your rock on the floaty. “Stop making those fuckin’ waves!”

A guy on one of the two jet skis, casted a long glimpse over at you as his water-ride slowed. He yelled over his shoulder, making some remarks with one of his arms at his friend before steering over towards you.

You frown and swallow, sitting up a bit as this stranger approaches you. He’s shirtless and wearing a crimson life jacket.

‘He’s wearing flip flops..’ you think to yourself, spotting the green shoes on his feet.

“Y/N. Fancy seeing you again.” The guy jeers, a smirk tugging at his lips. He circles you, his eye never leaving yours.

“You know my name?” You cock an eyebrow at him, a small scowl of disgust at his cheekiness.

“Hmm. .” He hums. “That makes it sound like I’m some stalker-creep guy. Not pleased. I’m Harry. We met earlier?”

Earlier, earlier, earlier? You wrack your brains. The alcohol fuzzed your memory slightly but you do recall a particularly random interaction with a particularly random dude.

“Oh, right. Hi. . . again.” You feel you cheeks tie-dye into a colour resembling embarrassment.

He eventually stops circling you after a fifth time, which you’re internally thankful for as he’d started making you feel dizzy.

“Are you stuck out here?” He squints at the lake, realising you’re both dead centre of it. “I can help you get back, if you’d like?”

Your ego says NO. How embarrassing was it having to have the same guy to help you out twice in one day; a guy you just met! But your brain still had a ration of sense in it; you wanted to get back to Y/f/N and stand on solid ground.

“I hope you realise how much I want to say no right now, Harry.”

He laughs, lowering his head and shaking it. You kick a splash of water at him with a smug look.

“Come on, Trouble. Hop on and I’ll take you in.” He beckons you, shuffling on his seat to make more room for you on the back.

Trouble. Trouble? You can’t tell whether to laugh, cry, smile or take offence to that nickname.

“‘M not trouble..” You mumble as you attempt to clamber from the inflatable. “Do you always wear those silly vests?”

Harry smiled with mixed expressions of embarrassment, offence and amusement. He looks down at the life jacket.

“Don’t go insulting my life jacket while you’re out here on a ten-quid floaty. I’d rather look silly while having fun rather than. . look ‘cool’ and drown.” Was his reply, cheeky as usual. “Which would you rather?”

“At least I’d die and look good.”

“At least I won’t be dying. Now come on, take my hand.” His hand reaches out, clasping yours and ready to hoist you onto the back of the jet ski. You awkwardly balance on the inflatable, knees shaking as you prepare to leap onto the vehicle.

Instead, you launch yourself a metre underwater and Harry pulls you back up.

“Jesus Christ, are you alright?” His voice is low and grave as you resurface and gasp for a breath.

The water is numbingly cold and with desperation you pull yourself up. You cough, spluttering and spitting into the water bellow.

“Ergh. I think—I think I just swallowed something!” You reach a hand up to your mouth attempting to scrape whatever it was from your lips.

“I had a firm grip on you. Why on earth did you—well, I don’t even know what you did.” Harry’s body is twisted, facing you.

Your eyes dart up at him and he takes that as a sign to start driving.

“What about your float—”

“Just drive, Harry.”

“And then after that, we shared each other’s Tumblr usernames and it just went on from there. . .” You finish, your smile wide. “We were too cool for contact numbers, I think.”

“Wow! So what did you think of Harry when you first met?” The interviewer asked, clearly very amused by your story.

“I thought. . . I thought he was charming; very charming. I’ve always looked back and admired how confident he was to approach us but he wasn’t cocky a single bit.”

“And Harry? What were your first impressions of Y/N?”

Harry paused, “Fun. I got the impression that she was a very fun and bubbly person; ya know, those people you just always want to be around?”

“And were you right?”

“Absolutely. She is my person. And she’s so fuckin’ pretty so I couldn’t ask for more.” Harry leans down and drops of kiss in your hair.

“Alright, thank you guys! Have a great day.” The two guys held up a hand and walked away, leaving you and Harry to continue your New York stroll.

“I loved that.” You whisper up at him, his green eyes bright with love and adoration. You appreciated those two (obvious) TikTokers approaching you and asking about your love story.

“I love you.”

“I love you, H.”

⭐️

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles instagram #harry styles writing #soft harry #love on tour #harry styles imagine #harry styles prompts #harry styles social media #harry's house album #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader

[missmielyhoran]

Cameras

She looks like a star but only on camera...

[Actor!Harry× Actress Oc!Amyra, Harry× Ellie]

A/N- Based on my interpretation of Cameras by Drake. I know you guys want Stages of grief but guys your girl is getting some alright! I'm happy right now let me be sad cause I'm dating a man afterall he's bound to do something and then I will update stages of grief<3

Warning- Smut babyyyyy, Cheating, Manipulation, Paparazzi, Fake Dating?, Toxic Harry and Oc, Choking, Hate fucking, just me being a menace tbh, ANGST, Enimes to lovers? they never get there tbh, oh and death, depression, abuse

Masterlist

*****

We've been living on the high, they've been talking on a low

But it's cool, know you heard it all before

Whispers were common for Harry. After all, that's what made him what he is today, famous.

The whispers paid his bills. All his luxury life was because of those whispers.

So he wraped his hand around her waist a little to close for coworkers or friends and definitely too close for someone he hated, but whispers grew louder, so did the camera shutters, and so did his pay.

Got you angry about this girl I'm with in all them magazines

Another plate went crashing against the wall just past Harry's head. He flinched and screamed.

"Are you fucking crazy!"

"Yes I am!" Ellie screams as she searches for another thing to throw at him, "You make me fucking crazy!" She screams and throws the magazine at him.

It hits him at the head, and that only makes his anger grow. He looked down and saw her smug face looking back at him like she was happy watching two of them fight, the satisfaction she was having from his misery.

Oh, how she got on his nerves even without being there.

"You're with her on everywhere! Magazines, social media, Twitter fucking everywhere. Everyone's talking about you two!" Ellie screams in anger, bringing the same topic of their fight for the millionth time.

It look like we in love, but only on camera

Only on camera, only on camera

"Ellie, you know it's only for the promotions! We need to have to spread the rumor to gain an audience! People love drama so we have to give them that!" Harry said, which was more like scream. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt headache growing.

"But for how long?" Ellie screamed. The only emotions she felt at this point were anger just anger, no tears, no sadness, no betrayal, just anger.

"I don't fucking know okay! Stop acting like a child and grow the fuck up!" He screamed again at her but louder making Ellie flinch which he noticed and he did feel bad.

See the problem was Harry didn't love Ellie, he care about her and she was a good fuck but he didn't love her but that care made him walk forward with a soft demour and kiss her softly.

"I hate her guts, Ellie. I have nothing with her. Whatever, it is just on camera. " He said, "If you want, you can check my phone"

"Yeah, I want to" Ellie said, sighing as she felt a bit lighter. Harry took his phone out of the jacket and gave it to her. Ellie went through his phone every corner of his phone she looked at, and that's only she felt relieved. There was nothing suspicious, and that made her feel embarrassed and sad about her overreacting.

"I'm so sorry, babe" Ellie said and hugged him. Harry hugged her back and chuckled mockingly

"It's alright Ellie" He said, "She's fucking crazy anyway" He said as he felt the burner phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Baby she looks like a star but only on camera

Only on camera, only on camera

Amyra was the talk of the town and has been since her birth.

Born to famous director dad and more famous actress mom she was the it girl since childhood.

She was pretty with her long red hair and sluttry brown eyes. She didn't have any extraordinary features, but that's what made her different. She was like any other person, but at the same time, she was not. She was Amyra Stockly, and she owned that.

No wonder she got Harry in her claws.

It's hard to stay away

You keep on calling me

Harry loved whispers no matter if it's from the paps or people gossiping about him when he passes by them or if it's from her tangled between the sheets.

"Yeah you fucking like that don't you?" He whispered in her ear and bit on it.

"No I fucking don't you forgot your today's dose of viagra or what?" She said laughing trying to rile Harry up which worked as he paused and groaned.

Harry grabbed her neck and pushed her face down into the pillow, making her lay on the bed on her stomach he pulled out of her immediately and then pushed in one go, making her moan into the pillow. He increased his pace, putting all his energy and thoughts in it.

"I don't even fucking know why I come back" He said in between breaths, "Cause you love my pussy, fucking pussy whipped" She said chuckling.

Harry gave her a particular harsh thrust making her moan louder than he has ever heard and he didn't know how in her green lively world he became harder still inside her.

"You like that baby? Pretty little Raya likes to be fucked like slut" He whispered in her ears as his fingers slid from her stomach to between her legs and he started rubbing her clit.

"She does but pretty little Harold seems to have forgotten about my clit it's on the fucking left" She says with gasping breaths. Harry feels embarrassment for a second but then goes back in with double encouragement and starts rubbing her clit faster.

She was so close so close to her eternal bliss when Harry's phone went off. She picked it up and as soon as she saw Ellie's name she threw it across the room making it shatter into pieces and all Harry did was chuckle cause it wasn't the first time it happened and certainly wasn't last.

Harry pushed on her back, making her arch more and started thrusting deeper, she screams on the top of her lungs as she squirted all over the bedsheets.

"Holy fuck" He said in disbelieve, the sight pushed him to his own high and he came all inside her filling her up to the brim.

Harry fell on the bed beside her, both heaving like animals. After a few minutes, she stood up and put on her slik robe and walked towards the windowsill and sat down lighting the cigarette.

The sight was somewhat what you would see in those Renaissance paintings, her robe slipping from her shoulder, the cigarette smoking mixing with the sunlight that fell just right on her hair making her look like all the sins and virtue combined in the heaven and the hell.

She was Harry's personal heaven in hell.

For a moment, Harry could've even said that he loved her, but he wouldn't. There was only one thing he could love that was money as much as the temptress she was. Nothing was worse than those green papers.

So, he stood up, got dressed, and walked out of the room like he cared so less about her. He walked out like he got the thing he wanted and couldn't have cared less.

But that wasn't true, was it? They both knew it just didn't want to acknowledge it.

So he left his temptress, his only sunshine in darkness on the windowsill with sin on her fingers and lips.

How you mean, how you mean, what you know about the team

You just know what you get told girl I see behind the scene

Harry didn't mean to peek, but when he heard shouting coming out of the trailer, he couldn't help himself.

The door was slightly ajar, but it was enough for him to look inside and watch her with a very angry look on her face, fighting with her manager still in set clothes.

"I can't do this shit anymore," She shouted, "I'm quitting. I can't do this movie, this spotlight, this fucking everything!" She shouted and this was the first time Harry saw her vulnerable. The raw expression on her face was much different from what she shows on the movie it was real, it was her.

"Why now? You've been in this since you were a newborn. Why now?" The manger asked her, "You can't do this cause you're tired or you are in love with your boytoy?" He asked, smirking.

She kept looking up at him with anger but now with slight hesitation. Robert laughed full of mokery and shook his head.

"Nothing to laugh about. I want out, and that's it." She put her foot down. Robert took a step forward and gribbed the back of her head, taking a chunk of her hair in her hand and making her wince.

Harry's hand formed a fist, but he refrained himself from intervening.

"I make rules here not you and you will do as I say or little kid wants this to get to her mom so, I will do that" He says with a evil smile when she doesn't say anything else he lets her go.

"That's what I thought."

Harry got out of the way before Robert could see him. As soon as he was out of the trailer, he went inside. Why? he didn't know he just wanted to.

He didn't know what he thought he would see, maybe her crying, sobbing on floor or breaking down whole trailer in anger shouting at everyonea anything expect her standing in front of the mirror flixing her hair like nothing happened.

He walked in slowly.

She looked at him.

He walked towards her and stood there looking into her honeycomb like mirage eyes and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

He felt her for the first time. He felt her rigid heart of stone melt into a puddle, and so he held her tighter, and for some reason, he never wanted to let her go.

He hoped she thought the same.

She spilled whisky on her shirt, she gon' have to get it cleaned

She been going way too hard, someone has to intervene

It was her birthday party, and since movie had wrapped up shooting there was a combined party.

And Harry did the stupidest thing he could.

His mind was a mess after that day, it felt like everything between them changed. Even their sex somehow felt....softer.

How a hug could change everything?

So, he took Ellie to the party and he regretted it as soon as he said it to her.

The cameras, the paps, everyone asking the same question, who is she, and the answer he gave was lound and clear, "Oh she's my friend."

She didn't seem to have taken it well though.

Harry saw her wandering eye falling on him, looking him up and down with the same hunger as always and then Ellie came in and pulled him into a kiss.

Amd then she was gone.

The person who's birthday party it was gone and no one cared. He was certain that if someone else would have cut her cake they wouldn't have cared.

But she came to cut the cake, drunk so, drunk and probably high also. She was stumbling, giggling it, it was endering to watch and concering also.

She cut the cake with Harry beside her playing the "supportive boyfriend" for media. She didn't feed him the piece, but to her other costar, Shelly. She doesn't even know Shelly! Harry was pissed to say the least, so while the cake got distributed, he decided to talk to her, but again, she vanished in thin air.

Harry for the whole night kept searching for her his eyes wandering to find her which annoyed Ellie a lot but she kept her cool and tried to pull him into a small kiss only for him to push Ellie away.

"What the fuck to you actually want?" Ellie asked him just for Harry to give her a eye roll.

"Not here, go back to your house we will talk there" He said to her before taking off to look for her.

Harry searched the whole house, every nook and corner from first floor to the last one the place left was the last bathroom on the top floor and he really hoped he would find her there.

He did find her sitting in the bathtub. Her heels were on the floor, her dress bunched up with whiskey stain on them, her makeup running down her cheeks all messy, yet she looked like something poet would write poems about.

If Harry wasn't so sure he would've said she just fucked someone but he saw her, he felt her cause he was feeling it too.

"Why are you ignoring me?" He asked. It was so stupid, but he wanted to know, and he also didn't know how to talk to her.

Her red eyes fell on him, and again Harry was amazed how intoxicating she was, how her single glance gave Harry so much relief like thirsty person in dessert just got his thirst quenched.

"You look handsome" She said with a small smile. He was in a sage green satin shirt with a dark blue suit accidentally matching with her green dress, which was for once was not planned.

"Not answer of my question." He said back and walked towards her and got into the tub in front of her.

"I don't need to answer anything to you" she said, taking a swing of champagne bottle he just noticed in her hand.

"You do. Why.are.you.ignoring.me?" He said through gritted teeth pushing his face closer to hers.

She looked up and Harry saw, he saw the same vulnerability he saw few weeks ago, he saw her, "You came with her" She said in a soft voice and Harry's whole body melted into a puddle. How could a person whose heart is made of stone could be melted by other person with the same heart. Maybe she broke him, rocks break rocks, and ignited fire that Harry feels every time he's near her.

"y-yes, she's my girlfriend" He said so unsure he cringed himself which she caught and smiled showing off her left side dimple.

"You love her?" She asked after some time. He didn't know who she was talking about, and he wanted to ask if it was Ellie or her, but how could he love anyone other than himself? Was he even capable of it? Maybe he was, but a scared broken man could have never loved right.

"Doesn't matter" He replied back, and her smile fell into a sad one. She took a deep breath and fell back, resting her back against the cold tiled floor.

"You're right it doesn't matter." She whispered, drinking again and everything went silent. "You know Harry I can have anything I want." She spoke after some time.

"Yeah I know you're filthy rich eveyone knows that" He said scoffing.

"Yet I can't have one thing I want and it's so annoying. Cause I always get what I want I'm Amyra Stockly and I can't" She said through a chuckle and scoff. He didn't know how to comfort her. He didn't know why he wanted to comfort her. He hated her but maybe that was it, he hated her.

"What do you want Raya?" He asked into a soft voice. She looked at him, so deep he thought she could see his soul, his heart beating so fast it could power a city lighting up her name.

"Really like that nickname. First one I ever got to be honest" She said, "If you don't consider slut to be a nickname"

"Why are you dodging all of my questions?" Harry asked feeling annoyed by her nonchalant behavior.

"It's called good media training kinda get used to it when you have been doing it for so long" She said with a smirk and he knew she was just edging him to snap but that wasn't gonna happen that day.

"Forget that tell me what you got me for present? It's my birthday, after all, or did you think you would get away with birthday sex?" She said with a playful tone.

"No I brought you something" Harry said with a smile, he worked for a month straight on her gift, the one she knew she would love but as he searched and felt nothing in his pockets he was reminded that it was in Ellie's purse, "Shit I forgot it at home I promise I will give it to you"

"You better, I will be waiting" She said taking a swing of drink again.

He just hummed and watched her. Everyone knew she was gorgeous, the red hair, brown eyes with slight freckles on her nose she was like some Goddess sent on earth.

The light bouncing from the mirror in front of tub bounced and fell softly on her side. Harry scooted closer to her and tucked her messy strand of hair behind her ear, it was missing earring which made him smile.

He looked at her and pulled her in a kiss, it was soft like sleeping a bed of clouds, he didn't know what shit feeling butterflies was like until that moment. The kiss left both of them breathless, her lips glistening and swollen made him love all over again.

"If it was your last night how would you spend it?" She whispered to him, her eyes not leaving his and he wished he could have seen it but he couldn't.

"I would spend it with someone I love" He whispered back, his fingers brushing her hair making her hum in contentment.

The moment soon was destroyed as his phone rang and he saw Ellie's name pop up on the screen, made him so angry he wanted to throw his phone across the room but he took a deep breath and picked it up.

"I don't want to waste much of you time just want to give you back her gift sonce it's her birthday and all. I'm the parking" She said as soon as he picked up the call.

"I will be there in 5" He replied and started to get up when she gripped his hand.

"Stay" She said.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Stay just for tonight. Don't go to her" She whispered so softly he could've missed it but he didn't know how he could when she was all he could see.

"What are you-"

"Stay here with me in this bathroom for one night. Just you and me" She cut him off. The look in her eyes was something he could never forget. Even in darkness, her eyes shined like sunlight peeking through the holes of a dark room, and maybe that's somewhat what Harry saw her as.

She burned for her whole life but shined into everyone elses. So, he walked towards that door and this time he didn't leave his temptress but he locked the door and walked back to her. He gave into her, and she pulled him into her like they were made of the same starlight.

Somewhere during the night of their deep conversation and laughs, Harry fell asleep. The cool and hard tile made his back hurt. He got up, groaning in pain, and with a raging headache. He looked around, trying to find her asleep beside him, but she wasn't there.

He walked towards the door and saw the reflection of himself in the mirror, lipstick stain littering on his cheeks and neck, he smiled as he remembered her kissing all of him but it was so innocent he felt like a teenager in love.

Baby she look like a star, but only on camera

Only on camera, only on camera

Many times, life has taken an unexpected turn for Harry, but this was something that made his head spin.

Amyra Stockly found dead in her bathrub was not the news he ever expected to hear. That was the first time in his life he cried since he was a baby.

He was a mess. He didn't do any press tour or got out of his house until one day, when he found the wrapped up gift.

He never had the courage to go to her grave, he was at her funeral but he ran away from there also, how could he see the eyes that he saw the whole universe in be closed forever?

It was a cruel joke on his life.

First time he fell in love and universe took it away from him.

They took her.

So, he collected all of his courage and walked up to her grave, which, just like her, was beautiful, flowers surrounded her grave from fans and whatever friends and family she had.

He sat down not even caring about getting his clothes dirty it was last of his concerns, he fished his pocket for the thing he came for.

"I know you're still waiting. Even dead you are stubborn showing up in my dreams and sometimes in front of my eyes giving me false hope of you being here with me still" He said with a chuckle.

"I got a tattoo for you" He said, touching the lipstick marks made on his neck, "I know your narcissistic ass is loving it" Harry laughed now seeing blurry due to tears filling his eyes.

He took out the envelope from his pocket and duct taped it to her grave cause hell he was not letting it go anywhere but her, the song he wrote for her and for her only.

He hid it under the flowers so it could stay like that for a while, as he was hiding it he saw a picture of him and her. It was only genuine photo of them where the smiles where real on both of their faces and it made all his patience crumble.

"Wish you were still here" He said through sobs. His broken voice was interrupted with a loud thunder and then rain.

It wasn't even rainy that day but he knew.

It wasn't universe.

It was his universe.

It was her.

*****

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry angst #harry styles x yn #harry styles x oc #oc #harrystyles #hs writing #hs smut #hs #hs au #harry styles au #harry au #actor!harry #actor!au #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x actress!reader #actress reader #actress!reader #actress!oc #cheating!harry #cameras #harry 1d

[thottybrucewayne]

A LIST OF PEOPLE WHO ARE GOING TO HELL: 2024 EDITION

Every zionist, duh, but esp yall who screenshot perfectly reasonable posts and go "Um, the look at this idiot who thinks genocide is wrong" yall make my ass itch and nobody takes you seriously, MOVE. 2. The entire U.S. government but esp Joe Biden that old ass man gettin spit roasted in hell (AND NOT THE FUN KIND!) 3. DIDDY AND EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT PROTECTED AND DEFENDED HIM. 4. Tory Lanez whole family, his mama, his daddy, his dog? All them. 5. The nonblack people who run those Rap House Tv type blogs that are clearly trying to be shade room clones. 6. People who get all their news from the Shade Room and Whatsapp, sorry auntie, I'm sick of you tellin' me COVID can be cured by sticking cloves of garlic up my nose :/ 7. Every single one of you dirtbag leftist ass people, yall do nothing for nobody except you thousands of adoring "former nazi" fans that need to be told it's okay that they still say the n word in private. 8. N.O.R.E and every single hiphop "journalist" 9. Charlemagne Tha God and Dj Envy, they know why. 10. Everyone who made Ike and Tina jokes after Tina past away. Grow up. 11. You fanfic girlies. So many of y'all are seeing the lake of fire, But esp if you donate to ao3 or own ao3 merch. Like, that is just embarrassing. 12. It's 2024, If I see you coming up here saying shit like "Miku wroke harry potter!" or " Hello Kitty wrote Ofmed, actually" I'm sending you to hell myself. 13. Booktokers? This is yall the second year on this list, tighten the fuck up and stop being weird about strange men on the internet, now. 14. People who do LITERALLY NOTHING yet try to tell other people how to be activists. You contribute nothing to any conversation you're a part of, suck my dick from the back. 15. People who stopped masking because other people were making them feel bad. Fuck your mama not being able to see your smile, PEOPLE ARE DYING???? 16. Lana Del Ray and Taylor Swift. They know exactly what they did. 17. Every white girl on twt who tried to jump me cause I said the Barbie movie is white feminism at its finest. 18. Elon, you raggedy bitch. 19. Every single man who hit on me this year who isn't one of my friends. 20. People who don't know what transmisogyny means and make that everyone else's problem. I need yall to start reading so bad it's not even funny. 21. You "goth is a feeling" people. You gonna be "feeling" that hell fire nippin' at your ass, NEXT 22. You 35 defending fanservice of high schoolers in anime/manga all day every day...yeah, just get on down there, big fella. They waiting on you. 23. Cishet Black men on tiktok and twt who make it their life's mission to make an ass of themselves for minor ducats. You are a one-man modern-day minstrel show and you will be dealt with. 24. White Tyler The Creator fans. Y'all know what you do.

Dishonorable mentions: Shojo fans who never talk about the fucked up shit in the manga they recc you because "At least its not as misogynistic as shounen!" (yes, yes it is) Fashion tiktokkers I hate so many of you its not even funny Every person who put the image of T.D. Jakes getting his doonies beat down at a Diddy party in my mind. Like I literally never needed to think about that. My dad <3 and all my friends' dads. Patricide NOW!!!!! People who are still whining about having to boycott shut upppppp god damn. People who stare at me in public. You got a fuckin problem?????

That's a wrap! Here are the lists from last year and the year before feel free to add more in the tags <3

#thotty speaks #thotty's going to hell list 2024 #thotty rants #tw abuse mention #ask to tag

[samaraannhan20]

Harry Styles Imagine: College Reader AU!: Keep Driving

A/N: i saw videos on tik tok of him reading this fan’s sign and i just ran with it and the outcome makes me really happy

Warnings: college!reader, agegap, mentions of drugs and sex(just song lyrics)

“H I need to go to the booth soon,” you say as you run your hands through Harry’s hair as he lays his head on your lap. “And also you need to, and I’m just guessing here, but warm your voice up? Or listen to the opener?” “I know, I just don’t want to get up.” “Babes, you have to give an entire concert tonight, you have to get up,” you respond with a small chuckle. “Besides, aren't you just so excited to read fan signs? I bet there will be a bunch of good ones tonight,” you say, and begin poking your fingers around his face. “Harryyyy get up. Come on. I have to pee before I go out there,” you say, laughing because he has begun wiggling around trying to get away from your fingers. “Okayyy,” he says, dragging it out. “Can I get a kiss before you go though?” “Of course H,” you say, and then lean down and kiss him, before pulling away so that he can sit up and move.

“Can I read this out?” Harry asks as he stands onstage a few hours later. Your sign says ‘thanks for teaching my daughter about cocaine and sideboob,’' Harry says as he reads a fan's sign, and you openly laugh from the box you are currently in for the concert. “Ohh goodness. Scott, let me tell you,  first time I played that song to my mother,” he says, and then pauses for a second and shakes his finger, before pointing at the fan. “Be glad you weren’t there! That’s all I’m saying. I wish I wasn’t there.My girlfriend,” he starts, and then has to stop because the cheering gets way louder. “I know, she’s amazing. But my girlfriend was there, and I know most of you have seen videos of her melting, in a way, to the floor when she is overwhelmed. Videos that my sister has posted before, or Sarah, because she does it literally any time that she is embarrassed, and one of my favorite past times is embarrassing her in front of family and friends.” “Jeff is he really about to share this story?” you say, looking quickly between Jeff and the big screen that you can view Harry on. “I think he might be,” Jeff says with a laugh, before turning his attention back to Harry. “So as this song played, mind you she had already heard this song, I played the album for her before I played it for Mum, she literally slid onto the floor, her little melting things that she does, as my mother reacted to that song. I felt so bad, I tried to apologize, but she said… wait, one second. Darling,” he calls out, looking towards the box he knows you are sitting in. “Can I tell them the conversation we had after we left that day?” “Yes!” you shout back, laughing and nodding your head, knowing that at the very least the cameras are probably on you so he’ll see your nod. Jeff cracks up with laughter next to you, and you slap him gently on the arm. “She said yes!” he exclaims, and then starts his story again. “Okay, so, as we left I told her ‘Clearly my brain left my head when I asked you to go over there with me,’ and then she responded “Babe, if I was uncomfortable with people hearing the song, I would have asked you not to put it on the album. Your mom’s reaction was what could be expected from a mother hearing about her son doing drugs and…’ okay well I’m going to stop there, but you get the memo,” he says with a chuckle. “Anyways, let's get back to the concert!” he shouts, and the band starts to play the intro to the next song. As he starts up again, you find yourself drifting into the memory of playing Harry’s House for Anne the first time.

December 2021 “Oh Harry! Daydreaming was so good!” Anne says as the song finishes. “I agree!” Gemma says from her spot next to her mother. “But I think my favorite so far was Matilda. Uh, Y/N, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but was that one about you?” “Oh, um, yeah. But it’s okay now. But, oh, girls. Just wait. I love all the songs, and I don’t remember the exact order, but some of my favorites from this album haven't been played yet,”  you say, as Harry clicks play on the next song. He walks over and sits back down, next to you on the couch, resting his arm on your shoulders. You lay your head on his shoulder. It isn't long before you realize what song is playing. “H,” you whisper, getting concerned. “Is this Keep Driving?” “Yes love,” he whispers back, and you proceed to completely dig your face into his neck. “Harry I really like the beat of this one,” Anne says, and you feel a blush begin to build. “Passports in footwells, kiss her and don’t tells,” comes from the record player, and you begin your slow slide off the couch, which happens every time you get embarrassed, and it's almost unstoppable. Harry holds tighter to you, to stop it, and does manage to stop it for a while. You’re so focused on not sliding off the couch, that you don’t notice Gemma pulling out her phone and starting to video you.  “Life hacks going viral in the bathroom. Cocaine, sideboob, choke her with a seaview.” “Harry Edward Styles!” Anne shouts, and you slide the rest of the way off the couch, and lay your face on it, Ariel in the grotto style, as Harry gets reprimanded about his song. “I can’t believe you put that in a song! I mean, I knew you did drugs occasionally, and obviously I’ve known forever that you have sex, but to detail it like that in a song! And look at Y/N! You and I both know she only slides off the couch like that when she is super embarrassed.” “Mum!” he exclaims when she finally pauses to catch her breath and gives him a chance to get his thoughts in. “Before I decided to put this on the album,” he says, and stands up, crossing over to stand in front of Anne. “Y/N and I both talked about it for a long time! And she was okay with it. She’s only embarrassed because my mom is sitting here listening to the details of our sex life, however minute.” “Harry you at least could have warned me,” she responds, quieter than she had been. “Mum, you told me after I explained the first song that you didn't want me to warn you, or explain every song before it happened. So, if anyone is going to be upset, it’s me. My music is an extension of who I am. Just because you don’t like the lyrics doesn’t mean it’s not a good song.” “Guys, stop fighting,” Gemma says, and stands in between the two of them. “Mum, it’s just a song. Give him a break. Let’s listen to the rest of the album.” The four of you sat and listened to the rest of the album, with Anne and Gemma giving their thoughts at the end of each song. After Love of My Life, Anne pipes up with final thoughts. “Harry, it was an amazing album. I was a little freaked out after "Keep Driving”, but it really was an amazing album.” “Thank you Mum. I appreciate it.” The two of them hug each other, and Gemma walks over and wraps her arms around you, and you do the same with her. “I know you didn’t write the album,” she whispers in your ear. “But you inspired it. Thank you for being the light in his life.” You squeeze her a bit tighter, before whispering a thank you and pulling away.

Jeff nudges you as you come back from the memory. “If you want to get back there before he takes the encore break we should probably head back now,” he says, and you nod, grabbing your water bottle and heading out of the box with him. As you head backstage, fans begin to notice you walking by, and you wave at some of them who are visibly taking pictures or videos of you. When you make it backstage after showing your passes to the security, you sit on the steps that lead off stage and shout something to Jeff. “You know? I will never get used to people loving me. I haven’t even done anything that’s worthy to give me fans, other than being Harry’s girlfriend.” Jeff crosses over to where you are sitting and squats down in front of you. “You give him something to sing about. You keep him sane. You’re you. Don’t act like you don’t do anything, Y/N. You do more than any of us. Besides Harry himself,” he says, and leans forward, patting you on the shoulder. “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you hear from behind you, and turn to see Harry standing there. “I’m gonna take a couple of minutes to sit here with my girl,” he says, and Jeff nods before heading to the refreshment table to get Harry a new water bottle. “I love you,” he says, sitting down on the steps next to you. “And I am so thankful that you are spending the summer before your last year of college,” he says, but you interrupt him. “Last of 6. I’ve been there forever,” you say, and he chuckles a little, and wraps his arms around you. “But it’s not because you failed classes. It’s just a long program. Now, let me continue please,” he says with a laugh, and kisses you on the forehead before continuing. “You’re taking the last summer before you become a full blown adult to travel the world with me, and I appreciate that so much. I wouldn’t even be here without you. I wouldn’t have written Harry’s House and had it succeed as much as it did without you,” he finishes, before leaning over and kissing you on the lips. “Now, I’m going to go sing the encore, and then we’re going to go back to our hotel room and…” he trails off, looking at Jeff standing above you both holding a water bottle out and laughs. “I feel like I’m in university again. We’re gonna go get a good nights sleep before doing it all over again tomorrow,” he says, with a sly wink in your direction. He chugs the water that Jeff handed him, and kisses you one more time, before heading back out to the stage. You stand at the back and watch him sing Kiwi for the last time of the night, just in awe of him. Before he comes offstage, he says one more thing to the audience. “I want everyone to give one last big cheer, but not for me. Give it up for Y/N, without whom we would not have half of the songs I sang tonight. Goodnight!” he screams before heading offstage. As soon as he’s off, he walks straight to you, picks you up, and kisses you as you wrap your legs around his waist. “I love you Harry,” you say as you pull back from him. “I love you,” he says, and pulls you in for another kiss.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

[avatar-anna]

could you maybe do an angst where y/n and harry broke up and after they broke up y/n found out that she was pregnant so she was about to tell harry about it but when she went to harry she found out that she already has a new gf so she backtracked years/months later she bumped into anne n gemma

you ask for angst, i provide angst :)

part ii is up!!

part iii

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Y/n? Is that you?"

"Shit," you mumbled. You wanted to duck behind the rack of clothes you were standing behind, but it was clear you'd already been spotted.

Thanking your lucky stars that you were wearing a big enough sweater to hide your bump, you smiled hesitantly and waved at the two women. They took that as their cue to come over, and you swallowed the urge to high tail it back to your car. With feet planted firmly on the ground, you waited for them to reach you.

"Hi, sweetheart! How are you?" Anne said. She looked like she wanted to hug you, but you kept your shopping cart between you and her. You didn't want to be rude, but you couldn't risk her feeling your bump during a brief embrace.

"I'm well, thank you. And you?"

Anne was happy to fill you in on all the things she'd been up to since you'd last spoken, almost like nothing had changed. Did they not know? But one look at Gemma told you that they did. She mumbled a quick, "Sorry," to you, like she would've stopped her mother if she could have.

In theory, you wouldn't have minded a surprise run-in with your ex's mother. The two of you had been close, and that kind of close relationship didn't disappear overnight, even if you were no longer seeing her son. The problem was that you were the only one who knew you were pregnant, and you knew that if either Anne or Gemma found out, they would not hesitate to tell Harry, and you could not let that happen.

You were determined to have this baby on your own, without any kind of help from the baby's father, who as far as you were concerned was merely an untimely sperm donor. It was clear that he had moved on. He had a new life, and you or your unborn baby did not fit in it.

You tried to tell him when you found out, of course. You weren't a total monster. But a young woman's voice picked up Harry's phone, and as if that wasn't enough of a stab in the chest, you could hear him on the other side of the call. Could hear him calling her back to bed, hear the woman's giggles as she fended him off. He used to do the same to you, and you always pretended to hate it, but none of that mattered anymore. He had clearly moved on, so you would too.

"What are you doing in the baby section?" Gemma asked. An innocent enough question, but one that would cause suspicion if not answered carefully.

"Oh, my friend is having a baby shower. I was just picking out a gift," you said, hoping your voice was steady enough to be believable.

"How wonderful! Baby showers are just the best, aren't they? I remember pressing H about when you and he would finally settle down and—Oh, darling, I am so sorry. I didn't even think—"

"It's alright," you said, even though it really wasn't. You and Harry had been broken up for months now, five months to be exact, but being reminded of the past still stung. Especially when it seemed like you were the only one who mourned it.

There was an awkward silence, one that none of you knew how to fill. You were all well aware that Harry had moved on, so there was no point in dwelling on what could've been. And since your hormones were all over the place at the moment, you were suddenly overcome by the very strong urge to cry. You'd come to the store to look for a crib, but that would have to wait another day.

"I, um—It was nice seeing you both, but I should get going," you finally managed to say.

Anne looked like she wanted to say more, but Gemma rested a hand on her arm and shook her head, letting you turn your cart around and walk away from them. In your embarrassment and haste to get away, it didn't occur to you that your cart was full of baby items, not just one single gift.

----------------------------------------------------------

A few days later and you were at home, lounging in your bathtub as you sipped sparkling cider and pretended it was champagne. The baby was quite active today, moving and kicking and making your life generally unfomfortable, so you decided to wind down with a bath. You still had a bunch of expensive oils and soap bubbles that Harry bought you, so you drenched your bathtub in it, got the water nice and hot, and carefully stepped in. The baby seemed to enjoy it as much as you, and you quietly mused that it already had expensive tastes like its father.

You stayed in the tub until your fingertips were all wrinkly, putting on the fluffy robe your friend bought you for your birthday last year. It had come in handy the last few months, as clothes sometimes felt too hot or too itchy to wear, so you often just lounged in a pair of granny panties and your robe. Life was good. It wasn't always going to be easy, but you took everything day by day, and today was good all things considered.

Half asleep on your couch as you watched TV, a knock pounded on your door. You got up with ease, silently dreading the day that that wouldn't be the case anymore. Looking through the peephole, your heart nearly stopped.

What the hell was he doing here?

Fixing the tie on your robe and smoothing out your hair, you answered the door, trying to ignore the skip in your heartbeat when your eyes landed on him.

"Harry, what are you—"

"Can I come in?" he asked, but didn't wait for you to respond. He pushed his way past you, pacing back and forth on your carpet.

"Sure, be my guest," you muttered to yourself, trying to keep your panic at bay. You feared he knew what you didn't want him to know, that Anne and Gemma were more perceptive than you wanted them to be.

As you got closer to Harry, you realized he was mumbling to himself. Maybe this was about something completely different. He looked more panicked than you did. "H, are you alright?"

He didn't seem to hear you, just kept pacing and muttering to himself, too quiet for you to make out.

"Harry, what's wrong?" you asked again, only this time you placed a hand on his arm to stop his jittery movements.

"Five months," he blurted. "Did you know at five months, the baby starts to grow hair and this greasy coating to protect their skin?"

You sighed. Your worst fears had come to light. "I did, yeah."

"I didn't," he said. "I didn't until my mum called me and left a message about how she saw you and asked me if I knew you were seeing anyone, and I called her back and told her that as far as I knew you weren't and why would she ask me that, and she said she saw you with a cart full of baby stuff and you had this glow about you and that you had to be pregnant, and for a moment I was devastated, but then I realized that we hadn't seen each other in five months.

"Five months, Y/n," Harry said. "You had five months to tell me you were pregnant, and you didn't."

Nodding, you said, "I know."

"Why? And why are you acting like it's some terrible thing if I did know? I'm the father, I have a right to—"

"You have a right to nothing," you said, angry all of a sudden. He was the one who broke up with you, who said he'd fallen out of love with you. He didn't get to judge you or your decisions. "We were broken up when I found out. I was terrified and alone, and I did try to tell you, but your girlfriend picked up. It was clear to me that only after a month of being broken up, you'd moved on. This is your past. We," you said, gesturing to your belly, "are your past."

"That's not fair," he said. "That's not fair and you know it."

"You need to go," was your reply. You walked towards the door to see him out, but he stayed put.

"Why? Because I caught you in a lie? You can't hide from me, Y/n. I want to be a part of my child's life, and you can't just—"

"I still want to be with you!" you shouted, your chest heaving up and down from your sudden outburst. Blinking back tears, you crossed your arms around yourself protectively. "You might've fallen out of love with me, Harry, but I—I'm still foolishly in love with you. I won't let you wanting to play house give me false hope. This is my life, and I need to learn how to live it without you. You want to help? Write a check, but I can't—I can't do this with you. Not right now."

It was a horrible thing to say. You regretted the words as soon as they flew out of your mouth, but you couldn't take them back, nor could you turn back time so you wouldn't see the way Harry's face fell. And you hated yourself for it, but a very small part of you vindictively felt good that you made him hurt as much as you'd been when he'd blindsided you with the breakup.

You thought he would fight, but he just hung his head in shame, which only made you feel worse. "I understand," he said, not looking you in the eye once. "Will you at least text me with updates? Or my mum or Gem? I don't want to be completely in the dark, and I—of course I'll help you if your having trouble financially."

"H, that's not—I shouldn't have said that. It was cruel and hurtful and—"

"You were honest about how you felt, that's all we ever can be, right?" he said, but he still wouldn't look at you. "I need to give you time to heal, and despite our situation, I'll try and let you do that. I'm sorry I didn't take your feelings into consideration."

"I'm sorry too," you said, your mouth feeling like it was covered in sandpaper. "Wait here."

You left him at the front of your home so you could go to your bedroom, pulling a picture frame off your desk.

"Here," you said, handing it to him. "A peace offering."

Harry held the framed sonogram photo like he was actually holding the baby. He wiped his eye as his finger brushed over the image, studying it closely. When he looked up, his eyes were lined with tears. He tried to hand it back to you, but you gently pushed his hand away.

"Keep it. I have an extra copy around here somewhere."

"Thank you." His voice was wobbly, but no tears fell. "Do you know if—"

"No, I want it to be a surprise," you said, assuming his train of thought.

You walked Harry to your door shortly after that, his eyes rarely leaving the picture you gave him. Seeing him so enamoured by the sonogram photo did things to you, made you believe in things that weren't going to ever happen. And that was why you needed your space. You could accept that Harry had moved on, but your heart hadn't yet. And with the baby and all the hormones, your feelings about him would make things worse. Seeing him as the father of your child, going to checkups and buying things and baby proofing your home, it would only confuse you more. You didn't deserve that, and quite frankly neither did his girlfriend, whoever she was.

"I didn't mean what I said before. I just—I just need time," you said as you opened the door.

"I understand. I'm sorry for the way things ended between us."

Shrugging, you said, "You can't control your feelings anymore than I can, H. If she makes you happy then be with her."

You meant every word. Because even though you were still in love with him, you wanted him to be happy. You knew you deserved to be happy too, and you would be, just not with him.

"Thank you, though I'm not sure how happy she'll be when she hears about this," he said, attempting humor.

"Then go. And be gentle."

Harry left soon after, and you pathetically watched him walk away, hoping he would turn back. He didn't, but you didn't expect him to, either.

When your door shut, you leaned against it and finally let the tears fall.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing

[joesalw]

Without even getting into the merits of TS being named person of the year, I’m genuinely shocked that she brought up Travis in the interview. From an excerpt Time posted on its socials, she says they are “proud” of each other and she references how she locked herself in her house for years and she’ll “never get that time back.” I know how hard she’s pushing this relationship and narrative, but if you’re getting this monumental honor for your work, why would she bring up a bf of only a few months? She famously did not thank Calvin Harris or bring him to accept her second AOTY Grammy. I have no idea if this relationship will last, but why would you want a part of your legacy tied to a random guy you’ve known for less than a year?

Say what you will about Taylor, but I always thought she took her work seriously at least. This is a huge honor (whether deserved or not) so I’m stunned that she’s letting the Travis thing be attached to it. It’s very disappointing.

Also, I hate that she’s pushing the “locked in the house” narrative even here. It’s definitely aimed at Joe and what’s even the point? It’s been almost a year. Side note, I’ve never actually believed she spent the past 7 years in the house. I think she lived her life exactly the way she wanted it. A list celebrities can and often do live low key lives. There’s a reason that you rarely see pap pics of Beyoncé, Adele, Jennifer Aniston, even Selena apparently has kept her dating life off the radar for years according to DeuxMoi.

This is all such an embarrassing shitshow. There are people dying in Palestine, they are filming their lives and counting the seconds left in their hand before being bombed and killed. Hospitals are being bombed, they have no food or water supply and journalists are being killed brutally for speaking up. Even jews people are being killed or kidnapped for speaking up for Palestine...

Yet somehow Taylor Swift is the Person of the Year. As if this alone wasn’t shitty enough already, she is talking about how oppressed she has been throughout her entire privileged life. Saying she's spent the last six years of her life being locked in her own house (mind you two years of them were pandemic) She literally went out and did proper promos for Lover era. She did rep tour in the previous year. It was only reputation album release time when she was silent because of her so called tagline "There will be no explanation, just reputation" She couldn’t do promo for folklore and evermore in such way because there was a fucking pandemic going on. But now she will throw this narrative to make Joe look bad. Do you guys realize how insane this is? She has no accountability for her own actions, if it's not going according to how she wanted, she will just blame the next person. Also it's been 815372919 years since the kimye incident, can she fucking let go off it?

It's just astonishing how she said it with broad chest that the real love she found with Joe was what helped her get through that period of time, but now that it didn’t work out she is making it seem like the kimye incident took her in a bad place where she didn’t want to be (mind you she admits flying to london herself, joe didn’t force her) and she's feeding the narrative that Joe took advantage of her low period which was a fanfic written by swifties earlier. She's just feeding them their words to dig up a grave for joe.

But also why are we discussing about a billionaire's love life in a magazine like Times in the midst of a fucking genocide? This is just eye opening for us about pop culture and western media tbh

#anti taylor swift #swifties dni #anti swifties