#I mean look at Harry and that slow realization. please look at the glow around his shoulders at the beginning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sitp-recs · 3 years

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hi :) i simply adore your blog and your fic recs are so spot on, you’ve made me fall back in love with drarry and hp. I rly love reading a fic before I go to sleep but I end up picking a 70k word one and end up staying up much longer than I wanted to so could you possibly recommend me any fics max 15k words, with a happy ending pls i need the cuteness to help me sleep 🥰 Thanku so so much xx

Hi anon! Thanks so much, I’m thrilled to know I had a small part in making you fall back in love with Drarry, that’s amazing! And what a mood lol I used to pick long fics before bed too, it’s a mighty trap 😂 I’ve read many short fics in the last year so I decided to go for these delightful and not-as-popular shorts, with excellent build up and happy endings. Perfect bedtime reads in my opinion! I got a bit too excited with this list so I’ll call it 31 Bedtime Reads! One for each day of the month ;) enjoy!

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

oxygen by @maesterchill (2020, T, 4k)

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (2017, E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (2010, M, 5.8k)

He is the last person Draco was expecting, but then again, this is not a place Draco ever expected to be.

Vintage by momatu (2017, T, 7k)

Of all of the vineyards, in all of the regions, in all of France, Draco's blasted editor sends him to Potter's...

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (2012, M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, M, 8.4k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (2010, E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Blind Date by JosephineStone (2016, T, 8.6k)

Draco’s been working with Harry for years when another one of his relationships goes stale. He has to be married within a year, and though the WizNet has burned him in the past, Draco finds a new possibility in man as desperate to marry as he is.

Stories in E Minor by @huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 8.8k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (2018, M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

The Interest Here by disapparater (2015, T, 9k)

Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.

Tidings of Comfort series by @blamebrampton (2012, G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (2020, E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart by orphan_account (2015, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too.

Adventures in Truth and Texting by @fluxweeed (2020, E, 11k)

Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, NR, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (2011, E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (2012, M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was.

What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (2018, E, 12k)

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 12.6k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (2018, E, 13k)

“I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Evolution by @potteresque-ire Pie (2013, M, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

Plan Alphabet by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2019, T, 14k)

After realizing that his feelings for Harry were unfortunately real, Draco embarks on a foolproof—yes, Longbottom, foolproof—plan to woo Potter.

Countdown by dysonrules (2013, M, 14k)

When the Wizarding world is plagued by random outbreaks of Dark Magic, the Ministry assigns Curse-Breakers to assist Auror teams on their missions.

All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (2015, G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (2020, T, 15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (2014, E, 15k)

Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2019, T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #bedtime reads

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angryinternetduck · 3 years

Text

yellow & blue

[not my pic] Hello and welcome to 2.7k words of pure angst! This doesn’t really have a purpose lol but it’s sad and angsty and features 2020 Brits Harry so why not!!! Have some depressed Harry, angelic reader, and yellow suits. Featuring Harry Styles x famous!reader. Inspired by Woman by Harry Styles, It Isn’t Right by the Platters, and When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars (which should give you an idea of just how angsty this is lmao).

The first time he met you, Harry was wearing a yellow suit. The first thing you said to him was a compliment about it. That suit sparked a conversation, and that conversation sparked an interest, and that interest sparked the best two years of Harry’s life.

If Harry said he hadn’t thought about that suit while preparing for the 2020 Brits, he’d be lying.

The chatter of the table he’s at isn’t boring by any means, but it’s not anywhere near captivating enough to keep Harry’s attention on the conversation and off of you. He heard about your new boyfriend, of course - who hasn’t - but this is your first public appearance together and Harry is having just a little bit of trouble breathing.

It’s been four months. Four months since you broke up, three since the news went public.

As far as the public knew, the separation was mutual. As a brand new artist, you needed to take a second to find yourself as a person. As Harry Styles, the man the myth the legend, Harry needed to focus on his next album and possible future acting career. He also supported you in your decision, and knew that the two of you would, of course, remain the best of friends.

Most of that’s true. You only just released your second album - which is doing spectacularly, of course - and Harry really does need to get this next album done. But it wasn’t mutual. Harry doesn’t think any of his break ups have been truly mutual. You broke up with him. There isn’t really any getting around it. Not that the public has to know.

The problem is that Harry understands why you broke up with him. As heartbreaking as it is, he realizes what he did. He knows that he wasn’t a good boyfriend. He doesn’t really have an excuse, either; he can explain away his faults all he wants, but at the end of the day, you’re just too good for him.

Which makes it all the more depressing to watch you positively glow without him.

Part of him wants to go over and beg for your forgiveness. He wants to walk over and get on his knees and say, I love you with all my heart and I’ll never make another mistake again and I’ll love you forever and ever, please, please take me back, I’ll do anything.

Another part of him loves you too much to do that. Maybe you’re meant to be with this new guy. Maybe he’s your one, your only, the one worthy of all your love and attention. Maybe he’ll make you happy in ways Harry never did.

Because really, all Harry wants is for you to be happy. He wants you to glow like this all the time, to forget the feeling of sadness, to never cry a single tear again. He wants the only pain you ever feel to be an ache in your cheeks from all your smiling.

He just wishes he could be the one putting that smile on your face.

One thing he’s noticed is that your happiness seems to coincide directly with his. Whenever you’re happy, he’s happy. Not at the moment, actually, because you seem happy as a clam and Harry feels like his chest is caving in on itself, but whenever Harry thinks “happiness,” he thinks of moments with you. Of moments when you were happy. Moments when you were happy because of him, with him, for him.

He surprised you with a picnic one year for your birthday. He went all out, spreading a blanket down and everything, and the two of you drank wine, ate sandwiches and snacks out of a picnic basket, and talked in Harry’s back yard until after the sun came up.

Whenever Harry thinks “happiness,” that is the moment that pops into his head.

It wasn’t a loud sort of happiness, either. It wasn’t a bouncing on top of the world, adrenaline rushing through his blood, head pounding with excitement and joy and energy sort of happiness. He wasn’t breathless or wide eyed or buzzing with emotion.

No, this was a quiet happiness. It was the very definition of content. It was your head on his shoulder, your hand intertwined with his, your whispers of, “I love you,” the soft kisses exchanged as the sun set and the stars began to twinkle into the sky. It was your giggles at his jokes, your eyes brighter than the moon, softer than the wispy clouds suspended in air.

Harry’s getting a hollow ache in his chest just thinking about it. It hurts, really, because each of those memories, those days, those nights, carved a little hole in him and filled him with love and adoration and the purest happiness anyone’s ever experienced in the history of the world.

Now that you’re gone, that happiness has disappeared and all that’s left is a hollow, empty pit.

Since you’ve been gone, other memories have started creeping out of the shadows. These are different memories, memories of Harry’s failure and your disappointment and nights spent apart and tears sliding down your cheeks.

The problem with these memories is that it’s not a specific memory. It’s not one singular memory that Harry can turn over and over in his head and decide what went wrong. It’s not one thing that Harry can think about and solidify and apologize for.

It’s a whole bunch of things. It’s all the nights spent at the studio instead of with you. It’s all the last minute anniversary gifts and half hearted, distracted dinners, and all the forgetting of events and details. It’s the gradual falling away of random weeknight flowers, it’s the slow decline of hidden poems around the house he set out for you to find.

Well, maybe there is one thing. It might have been that one date night he cancelled. It was at the very end, during the knowing glances after frequent fights, after the slow, painful descent into acceptance but before the official conversation.

Dancing with the Stars had come on TV one night.

“Hey, I’m a star,” you murmured to him, curled up against him on the couch.

“Got that right,” Harry hummed, and you smiled up at him, and that smile made this night one of the good memories. “It should be just us two,” you told him, watching the pairs made up of one professional dancer and one celebrity dance on screen. “No professional.”

You giggled. “Yeah, we’re too good for them anyway.”

You took to dancing around the house after that night. Your dancing always brought a smile to Harry’s face. Funny how all you had to do was twirl, laugh, smile, breathe, and Harry would want to smother you in kisses and gift you his entire heart.

Sometimes you managed to rope him into it. Often you wouldn’t. Often, Harry would wake up to soft music playing in the kitchen, and he would walk in and see you dancing. He’d sip his coffee, and you would spin around and make up fancy footwork, and Harry would grin and blow you kisses and whisper, “I love you.”

He offered to take you dancing one night. He lay next to you in bed and traced his fingertips over your cheeks, lips, nose, and told you all about the night the two of you would have. He talked about live music and warm food and twinkling stars and dancing. You closed your eyes and smiled and hummed one of his songs, and Harry kissed you.

Then he got busy at the studio on the night you decided on. He stayed long. He called you. You didn’t pick up, because you were in the shower, getting ready for you big night. And you didn’t see the voicemail until after you were ready, until after you were sitting on the couch waiting for him, and when you saw the voicemail you jumped up because you didn’t look at the time it was sent, and you thought the voicemail was him calling because he was outside to pick you up.

You weren’t crying when he arrived at home. You just had a quiet sort of disappointment in your eyes, one that was almost more painful than tears, because this look told Harry that some part of you expected this. Harry didn’t look particularly guilty because he hadn’t realized how excited you were. He thought you probably didn’t even get ready. He thought you’d say, “Aw, well,” and move on.

He didn’t think he’d find you on the sofa, dressed in the most beautiful summer dress he’d ever seen, looking like an angel with a broken wing. He never dreamed you’d be so upset, never dreamed he’d be the reason for you being so upset.

That was the night he realized he was nothing but a mortal man in the presence of an angel.

An actual, real live angel.

An actual, real live angel who was losing her glow because of him.

Harry takes a miserable sip of his drink and tries to involve himself in the conversation happening around him. It doesn’t work. The noise level in the room is almost headache inducing, but somehow Harry can still pick out your laugh through the chatter.

He thinks, for a moment, that he’d like a shot of that laughter. He’d like to bathe in your happiness just once more. Maybe that’s all the closure he needs. A gasp of fresh air after what seems like eons of suffocating loneliness.

Then Harry thinks he sounds pathetic even in his own head and he excuses himself from his table. He walks almost blindly through the halls without even a semblance of an idea as to where he’s going. It’s quiet out here, at least, and he can clear his head, and take a breath, and maybe -

"Hey.”

Harry freezes.

For a moment, he thinks he’s imagining things. Then he turns around, and as it happens, he’s not.

There you are, in all your glory, a hesitant smile on your lips. You’re wearing a lavender dress. It fits you perfectly, makes you look like you’re floating off the ground, and Harry wants to cry because it matches his bow perfectly and that wasn’t even planned and goddammit, universe, that’s just salt in a gaping wound.

“Nice suit,” you say, and now your smile looks more sad than hesitant, and Harry feels the tears building in his throat because you remember too, of course you do, and Harry opens his mouth to reply but he can’t get his words out and now he’s on the verge of tears not only because he’s sad but also because he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks,” Harry finally chokes out.

“You’re welcome.”

The corridor suddenly feels long and empty and silent.

“Heard Feather on the radio the other day,” you say.

Feather. One word, a million memories shifting through Harry’s head faster than lightning.

A gifted necklace, filled notebooks, picked out notes, hummed melodies. Murmured lyrics in ears in early mornings. Night after night in the studio, together. Rubbish takeaway food, in the studio, together. Laughter over everything and nothing. Falling over each other in the booth, soft sighs and blissful gasps replacing giggles and shrieks of amusement. Late, late nights, together. Hearing it on the radio for the first time, together, almost driving off the road because of the excitement.

Hearing it on the radio last time, alone, almost driving off the road because of the stab of grief.

Harry’s not sure what to say to that. What do you expect him to? Oh, great, me too, fantastic song, innit? So he pauses for a moment and then replies, “We should make a sequel.” That gets a laugh out of you, and the thought strikes Harry to bottle it up and wear it in a little bottle around his neck.

“That would be something, huh?” you say.

“Call me,” Harry says. “I’ll book a studio.”

You smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t forget,” Harry tells you.

“I won’t,” you say, and there’s a beat of silence. Your smile fades as you look at him, as he looks at you, and Harry looks away because your smile’s about to disappear completely and Harry doesn’t think he could stand being the cause of your smile disappearing one more time.

You clear your throat. “Alright, well… Expect that call.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you around, H,” you say.

“See ya.”

You turn around and walk away. Float away. Fly away.

Again.

Flight, Harry thinks, watching you go. That’s what the sequel would be called. Feather. Flight.

You wore a white dress the first time the two of you performed it live. It’s such a love song. It’s the sappiest shit ever written by anyone in the entire world. If anyone else had written it, Harry would’ve rolled his eyes and said, Bullshit.

But it wasn’t. The song wasn’t, the love wasn’t, nothing was. It was the complete opposite. As pure and true as love could possibly be. Which makes it all the more painful that Harry couldn’t keep his shit together enough for you.

That’s another one of the Happy Memories: that first time performing together. You in your white dress, Harry in a silver, shimmering suit. The two of you did a whole choreography; you messed up every other move and Harry tripped over his own feet quite a few times, but the effort was there. The combination of the overwhelming yet familiar excitement of being on stage and the otherworldly bliss of simply being in your presence is a feeling Harry will never forget.

The air in the hallway grows heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Harry should get back to his table.

He starts to walk. He peers up at the ceiling as he does, hands locked behind his back, deep in thought. People are cheering out in the main room. Harry listens to the noise and closes his eyes, trying to shut his brain off.

The fans, he remembers, were devastated upon hearing the news of your breakup. It was kept quiet long enough that the questions and concerns weren’t particularly invasive, but it still hurt. It hurt like hell. It was ripping off the bandaid of the first month and poking and prying at the wound until Harry cried onstage and ducked out of an interview and missed a show.

Feather was taken off the setlist.

Once, during a lull in a show, the audience began to sing it. That was kind of strange. Harry looked up at the bright lights and swaying figures and heard his song, your song, being sung back to him by hundreds of strangers. It occurred to him, then, that it was not, in reality, your song. By that point, it meant something to other people as well.

That was very strange.

Harry ended up strumming out the chords for them. He smiled when the audience grew louder.

He heard later that the exact same thing happened to you. It was a few nights later, maybe the next week, and there were some technical issues. In the quiet, the fans began to sing Feather. You joined in just a second later, adding in your bit of the choreography.

Harry tried his hardest not to watch the footage, he really did, but he couldn’t help it.

He cried a lot that night.

When he finally makes it back to the main room, you’re situated under your new boyfriend’s arm, smiling brilliantly. Harry looks away as he sits down and downs the last of his drink. He grins at whoever’s talking at his table and shuts off his brain.

At the end of the night, through an alcohol- and exhaustion-muddled haze, Harry spots you by the door. He sweeps you up and plants a big messy kiss on your cheek, which you return with giggles and a kiss of your own. Harry leaves the 2020 Brits with two lipstick prints on him.

Despite the pictures splattered everywhere the next morning, Harry feels an air of contentment.

It’s done, he thinks, taking a deep breath. It’s done, and that’s good.

Because really, nothing gold can stay.

Not even the gold of a yellow suit.

***

ummm... yeah lol. hope u liked it...? lskdjf anyway there's that.

thx for reading! a reblog and some feedback would be fantastique!!!!

masterlist | ask

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles

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spacexcowgirl · 3 years

Text

I’d Lie - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N fell for her best friend, but she can’t let him, or anyone else, know that.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication, swearing, mentions of food, LOTS of pining and unrequited love, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: This is a song fic inspired by the wonderful unreleased song “I’d Lie” by Taylor Swift! mmmm this is my first fic without a *happy* ending and boy does that make me sad. But do not worry I quite literally already have a second part planned oops. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

I don’t think that passenger seat

Has ever looked looked this good to me

He tells me about his night

And I count the colors in his eyes

Y/N distracted herself with her fingers, tangling and untangling them and cracking her knuckles. It was all she could do to stop herself from completely ogling the boy sitting beside her on the couch. He was positioned towards her, one leg bent at the knee and resting between them on the couch. His hands moved back and forth wildly as he spoke, recounting some story that had happened during quidditch practice that night.

“Are you even listening?” George cut himself off, his tone light. When Y/N snapped her head up to look at him, she found that he was smiling, but still he looked a bit offended.

“‘course I’m listening.” Y/N reassured quickly, her eyes finally meeting his. That was all it took, and suddenly she was being reeled into those chocolate brown eyes, drowning in their various shades and hues, with no way out.

Y/N wasn’t sure when her feelings for her best friend shifted from friendly to something more. It was as if one day his messy hair transformed from something to giggle and roll her eyes at to something to swoon over. When his pranks made her admire his genius rather than scold the disturbance they caused. When his incessant teasing shifted from mild annoyance to exuberant joy from receiving any attention from him. Of course, these shifts all happened slowly, over a period of time, but the realization of them hit Y/N all at once. She was head over heels for the boy, and she hadn’t even realized she had been falling.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d be convinced that someone was slipping her a love potion. Or, maybe, she just hoped that, because Godric would it be less embarrassing than the reality of things. Because the reality was, Y/N really had just fallen for George Weasley, no potions or gimmicks needed, and while she was irrevocably in love with him, he had no clue.

“Seems like you zoned out for a second,” George lightly nudged her with his elbow, although a glowing smile remained illuminated on his face. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” Y/N racked her brain for an excuse, something believable, because she knew George could always see right through her. “Just classes, I guess. Umbridge. All of it. I guess I’m just stressed out.”

“So you’ve been letting me carry on about quidditch?” George sounded shocked, but his teasing smile was comforting. “Please, love, if you need something to take your mind off things, you should’ve just said so.”

Without Y/N even having to tell him what she needed, he was up and off the couch, rushing towards the boys’ dormitory steps. Y/N only had a moment to furrow her brows, before George was rushing back down them with a jumper in one hand and a bag of sugar quills, her favorite, in the other. Y/N exhaled a deep sigh, before the involuntary glow and warmth overtook her. Because no matter how much she longed to only view George as a friend, everything about him permeated her subconscious, lamenting and solidifying his place as more.

He’ll never fall in love he swears

As he runs his fingers through his hair

I’m laughing ‘cause I hope he’s wrong

Y/N and George walked side by side down the corridor, laughter bubbling from both of their chests. Y/N adored moments like these, when she could forget everything for just a moment and just bask in the presence of her favorite person. Ultimately, they always were ruined by her feelings hitting her like a truck, or by someone coming to steal him away, so she always tried to live in those few peaceful moments for as long as she could.

George nudged her with his elbow after making a joke, and just as she was about to respond she noticed the change in his demeanor. He was no longer laughing, but instead a small smirk had appeared on his face as he nodded a few feet ahead of them. Y/N followed his gaze, her eyes landing upon his twin brother leaned casually against the wall. In front of him was Angelina, his girlfriend, rocking on her heels as she giggled at something he said.

“Sickening, aren’t they?” George prodded, shaking his head a bit as Fred swooped down to steal a kiss on her lips.

“I think they’re cute.” Y/N tugged her books into her chest, tilting her head to the side as she watched the love-stricken couple. Angelina could have a tough exterior, and Fred could be a lot to handle, but they just got each other so well. Y/N would never say it aloud, but she envied them.

“You would think so,” George scoffed lightly. “You don’t have to listen to him ramble on about her every bloody second of the day.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Y/N teased, turning her body away from the couple to face George instead.

“Hardly.” George rolled his eyes, shifting his books into one arm. He slowly raked his fingers through his newly cut hair as he spoke again, entrancing Y/N entirely. “Love’s just not in the cards for me right now. Someone’s gotta worry about products, and about making Umbridge’s day as awful as possible.”

Y/N laughed at his joke, although she felt a little sting in her heart. Sure, he had said ‘right now,’ and perhaps that should have incited some hope in her, but it didn’t. It just made her chest ache. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t just drop it. She had to push on, test her luck and hope that George would offer her any sort of solace.

“Come on, I think it would be nice.” Her voice was quiet, and she found she suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. “Someone you could share everything with? Yanno, they could just be like… your person.”

George seemed to mull over her words for a moment, before swinging his arm around her shoulder and continuing to push down the corridor.

“Well, I already have you for that, right?” George beamed down at her. “Why would I need a girlfriend? You’re already my person.”

Y/N was certain her heartbreak could be heard throughout the school.

He looks around the room

Innocently overlooks the truth

Shouldn’t a light go on?

Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long?

The party was in full swing, blinding lights and near deafening music. It was risky, what with Umbridge slinking around every corner, desperate to give students a detention, but they needed this. Something about this year felt different, and not in a good way, and Fred and George knew one of their infamous parties was just small way to lift spirits.

Y/N scanned the crowd of people, nursing sips of her firewhisky every few moments. Parties weren’t necessarily her thing, but she couldn’t deny that she needed to unwind. As her eyes finally fell upon their desired target, she couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled in her chest or the smile that involuntarily rose on her lips. Once George met her gaze, he shot her a wink and beckoned her over, and she was quick to oblige.

“Having fun, darling?” George rested his weight against her, clearly much more drunk than she was.

“A bit,” Y/N giggled. “Not as much as you, I reckon.”

“What’s that s’pose to mean?” George slurred, giving her a drunken pout.

“Nothing, nothing,” Y/N teased innocently, shifting her weight to better support the boy. She wrapped an arm around his back, using it to steady both him and her. “Maybe you should lay off the drinking for now though, what d’ya think?”

“Fineeeee.” George elongated the last vowel before grinning down at the girl. “Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N hummed in response, a small smile of her own growing as she felt her cheeks begin to heat up. “What would you do without me?”

“Hm. Probably die. Fred’s doing, no doubt.” He leaned down to rest his head against the top of hers, shutting his eyes for a moment as he centered himself. “Honestly though, I’m really thankful for you. I don’t think I say that enough.”

Drunk George was always a bit sappy, but Y/N certainly wouldn’t complain. His words felt like a shock flowing through her nervous system, hitting every neuron and sparking her to life. Alternatively, she also felt completely useless in producing a response.

“Godric, I really do have the best friend in the world.” He hummed.

And just like that, the shock was sucked from her body and she was left feeling nothing but empty.

He sees everything black and white

Never let nobody see him cry

I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine

Y/N had searched for George for hours. After Gryffindors win over Slytherin, what should have been a wonderful celebration quickly went south. Y/N had watched from the stands as three team members held Fred back and Harry loosely clung to George, as both boys attempted to charge Draco. Of course, she couldn’t hear whatever he said that got the two so worked up, but from the look on George’s face she was certain it must have been bad. Everything seemed to move in slow motion once she saw Harry let go of George, and she watched with bated breath and wide eyes as he lunged at the Slytherin boy.

Of course, she had heard about the twins’ and Harry’s lifetime ban from Quidditch, and she knew George must be feeling awful now. So, she had to find him. Even if he didn’t want to see her, or anyone, she had to be there for him.

She had checked just about every spot in the castle she could think of, sighing profusely each time that she came up empty. Fred and George knew the hidden corridors and passageways of the school better than anyone, and she was certain he had used that to his advantage.

Just as she was about to give up, she decided to check one last spot that she knew of. She crept slowly up to the seventh floor, careful to make sure no one was following her. She paced back and forth three times, just as she had been taught, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door appeared. Quietly, she pushed it open, and her breath hitched in her throat when she caught sight of the familiar head of red hair. She had found him.

It didn’t appear he had heard her come in, and she used that to her advantage as she slowly surveyed the room. She felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as she took in the familiar sight of the burrow living room and heard George’s quiet sobs from his place before the fire. After the day he had, all he wanted was the warmth of his home.

“Georgie?” Y/N whispered quietly, letting the door shut behind her.

Immediately, George straightened up and wiped at his eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and she knew there was a reason for that. Fred and him both felt they had to be strong all the time, they had to be the ones cracking jokes and making people laugh even when it was hard for them. When he glanced back, his face was red and splotchy, but a forced smile was plastered on his face.

“Hey, darling.” His voice sounded scratchy, and it was clear it was taking all of his power to keep it together. Y/N could see that his lip was busted, illuminated by the fire, and she wanted nothing more than to cup his face in her hands and nurse him back to perfect health. “Reckon you saw the fight earlier?”

“Your lip…” Y/N spoke softly, approaching him with tentative steps. She didn’t have the capacity to answer his question, not when he looked so broken and beaten down.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” George swiped his thumb over his lip, and Y/N didn’t miss his slight wince. “You should see the other guy.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She finally reached him, taking her place beside him on the carpeted floor. “You don’t have to joke and pretend everything’s fine, not with me.”

George studied her for a moment before a shuddering breath left his lips. As the tears began to pool once more, he could no longer meet her eyes. And that killed her.

“I don’t know why I’m letting this get to me so much.” He spoke, sounding entirely disappointed in himself. “But, the things he said, about my mum, my family. And then Umbridge…” His words cut off as the tears began to roll down his cheeks once more.

“I’m so sorry, George.” Y/N reached out and gently cupped his cheek, allowing her thumb to brush a few tears away. When he leaned into her touch, her heart soared. “You don’t have to shut yourself off, though. I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.” His voice was soft as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away.

Slowly, Y/N leaned forward and brought her forehead to his, letting her eyes shut as well. Her hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hairs at the base of it. The action seemed to calm him a bit, so she continued to do it. By the light and warmth of the fire, the two sat in silence. Neither needed to say anything, they just wanted to be near each other.

“I love you, you know that?” George was the first to break the silence, not bothering to open his eyes or pull away from her touch.

“I know.” Y/N spoke quietly. “And I love you too.”

And Godric, did she mean it. But she was aware that they meant it in entirely different ways, and that George had no idea.

He stands there, then walks away

My God, if I could only say,

“I’m holding every breath for you.”

Months had passed since that night in the room of requirement, and while so much had changed, so much had stayed the same as well. Y/N had felt herself drifting from George everyday, and not because either of them wanted to. George and Fred were leaving, Y/N knew that, and they had to get everything in order to do so. So, Y/N had to push through everyday with him no longer constantly by her side, and she swore it was killing her.

A few nights prior, he had let her know that this was it, that him and Fred were really doing it. She had faked a smile, excitedly throwing her arms around his neck as she expressed how proud she was. And she was proud, but her chest ached and she swore she felt her stomach in her throat. It was selfish, sure, but she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to get through the year without him.

Now she stood in the corridor outside of the great hall, bouncing nervously on her heels as she watched him say his goodbyes to Lee. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but there was already a stinging behind her eyes and she feared no matter how hard she tried to keep her emotions at bay, it would be futile.

When George finally turned and took a few long strides to where she stood, her fears were confirmed. Her tears spilled involuntarily as she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that,” George pleaded softly, gently scraping his fingers up and down her back. “You know I’ll write the second that I’m out of here, and it’s only a short bit before you graduate and I see you again.”

“I know, it’s just…” Y/N sniffled, forcing herself to imprint the moment in her brain. She wanted to remember his scent, and the way it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and the sound of his voice. Perhaps it was cheesy, or overdramatic, but Y/N could feel her heartbreaking by the second, and holding onto ever piece of him that she could was the only thing keeping her together. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling.” George chuckled softly. He pulled back slowly, planting his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You’ll be out of here before you know it, I promise.”

“You’re right, I know.” Y/N sniffled, wiping at her tears before finally meeting the boy’s gaze. The look he was giving her made her knees weak, and she found herself wanting to spill all of the contents in her heart to him.

He studied her face for a moment longer, but then Fred was calling his name and they both knew it was time. He gave her shoulders a soft squeeze and pulled her into a hug one last time, placing a kiss to the top of her head. Nothing further needed to be said, so he gently ruffled up her hair and gave her a reassuring smile, before turning back towards Fred and beginning to walk away.

The moment was ending, he was really leaving, and she hadn’t told him how she felt. Her heartbeat started to pick up, and her palms began to feel sweaty, because it felt as though it were now or never. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.

“George!” She called out, causing him to halt and whirl back around.

“Yeah?” He smiled warmly at her, a few paces ahead.

As she gazed into his blissfully unaware chocolate brown eyes, she found that she just couldn’t. She couldn’t drop this on him, not on one of the most important days of his life. So, she bit down on her lip before shaking her head and forcing a smile.

“Give us a show, yeah?”

“Always do.” George winked.

And just like that, he walked away. And Y/N was left feeling entirely empty.

First thought when I wake up

Is “My God, he’s beautiful.”

So I put on my make-up

And pray for a miracle

Months had passed since the fateful day that the Weasley twins left Hogwarts behind. Just as Y/N had predicted, her time left at the school dragged on horribly. Umbridge only seemed to get worse, even in the twins’ absence, and George was no longer there to comfort her. Still, she pushed through.

After graduation, Y/N was quick to get a job at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, figuring she’d save up her money while she determined what she wanted to do. It wasn’t the worst job, but with the Wizarding World getting darker by the day, she felt constantly in fear. Still, George was close by, and she once again had him for comfort.

Most nights she’d crash on the twins’ couch, finding it easier to get up in the early mornings and go in to work than staying with her parents in the suburbs. Which usually meant waking up to George preparing breakfast, sleep thick in his voice and his hair still messy. And Godric, was he beautiful like that.

“Sleep well, darling?” George rasped out, a sleepy smile on his face. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as a small yawn left her lips.

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, leaning in the doorway of their kitchen. “You?”

“Pretty good.” George grinned, sliding a mug of tea down the counter towards her. Like always, he had made it perfectly to her liking. Y/N cupped the mug in her hands, letting the warmth slowly spread throughout her body and wake her up. “Think I might stop by the cafe on my break, pick up some pastries and coffee.” Just as he finished his sentence, Fred tiredly stumbled into the kitchen.

“You can just say you want to come see me, Georgie.” Y/N teased.

“It’s not just you he wants to see.” Fred winked at the girl, causing her brows to furrow.

“Oi, shut it, Fred.” George glared at his brother.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t told you about his little crush?” Fred smirked, ignoring the daggers being shot his way. “Elizabeth, that girl that works with you. Georgie fancies her.”

Suddenly, even the mug in Y/N’s hand felt ice cold in her grasp. Quickly, she placed it back down on the counter, fearing she would drop it and let it shatter to the ground. A bit of hot tea sloshed out of the mug, scalding her hand and forcing her mind away from her breaking heart.

“Shit, are you okay?” George had already hurried towards her, but Y/N was quick to brush him off.

“‘m fine, I, uh, should just go get ready.”

Y/N didn’t give the boy’s time to question her change in demeanor, but rather quickly gathered her overnight bag and hurried to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She cast a silencing charm before slowly sliding down the wall, allowing herself to sob freely.

Just as she always knew, she’d never be what George wanted.

I could tell you his favorite color’s green

He loves to argue, oh, and it kills me

His sister’s beautiful, he has his father’s eyes,

And if you asked me if I love him

I’d lie

Y/N felt in a daze that entire day at work. She made drinks, rang customers up, and wiped down counters, but she was unable to think about anything other than the revelations of that morning. Of course, Elizabeth was the only other person working with her, and while she normally adored shifts with the girl, she couldn’t find it in herself to even crack a smile at her. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault, of course, and she would never purposefully take it out on her, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to try that day.

When lunch time rolled around and Y/N knew George would be arriving soon, she busied herself with meaningless tasks, intent on avoiding him and saving her heart any extra heartbreak, at least for the time being. She offered him a small smile when he entered, then ultimately let Elizabeth take his order.

As they chatted, Y/N noted the way he lit up with every giggle he pulled from her lips, and she swore she could hear her heart shattering. When he finally left, coffee and pastries in hand, he called out a quick goodbye to Y/N, but she only offered a small nod in return.

“Godric, he’s charming.” Elizabeth sighed, coming to lean beside Y/N. “You two are friends, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Y/N didn’t look up from the sugar packets she was organizing, watching as her hands shook slightly.

“Well, tell me about him!” Elizabeth urged, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Is he seeing anyone?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, finally forcing herself to look up after finishing her task. “What do you want to know?”

As much as it killed her, she knew what she had to do. George deserved to be happy, and she was his best friend, so she had to help him get there. George would never want her the way she wanted him, and maybe seeing him with someone else would help her get over that fact.

“Anything. Everything.” Elizabeth beamed, her perfect smile on full display.

“Well…” Y/N sighed, gathering her thoughts. “He has a twin, Fred, and they run the joke shop that just opened down the way. He’s a middle child, sort of, I mean Fred is technically the middle child but that’s just because he was born a few minutes earlier. They’ve got three older brothers, then a younger brother and sister. His favorite colors green, but if you ask him he’ll say it’s orange because of his hair. Um, he was shit at potions, but I think that was just because he hated the professor, because really he’s a genius. Oh, and he’s the funniest guy I’ve ever met, which I tell him all the time but cannot say in front of Fred. I don’t know, I guess he’s just about the best person I know, honestly.” Y/N sighed, finishing her rambling with a forced smile.

“Merlin,” Elizabeth stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. “Sounds like you’re in love with him.”

“No, really I’m not. We’ve just been best friends forever.” Y/N laughed, the lie tumbling easily from her lips.

Because that’s what she had to do, that’s what she’d always done. To keep George in her life, to make things easier, she kept her feelings close to her heart. And no matter how much it killed her, she would continue doing it. If that’s what it took to see George happy, that’s what she’d do.

She’d lie.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15 @mischiefisbeingmanaged @gcdricreads @destourtereaux @thisismysketchbook @george-fabian-weasley @evermoreweasley @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @sunshineandshadowss

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley

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pretendingboyfriends · 3 years

Note

73 like some kind of early morning situation

anon: 15 & 32 sorry I don’t have much of a plot idea. Dad Harry is also great if that helps. Sorry again for being so vague

73. Needy, Clingy Sex, 15. Breeding Kink, & 32. Dirty Talk

Soft, early morning light seeps through the blinds of your bedroom windows, falling over the bed like little droplets of water. Harry’s arm is wrapped around your waist as you lie on your back, his face buried into the crook of your neck. His breathing is deep and steady, soothing in the way that you can almost feel the peace and serenity emitting from him.

You glance to the side to catch the glowing numbers on your bedside clock that read: 5:13 AM and you sigh. As parents, early mornings are the only bit of peace you’re able to get anymore. Once the clock strikes 7:30, your sweet, energetic little boy will come bounding through your bedroom door, begging for breakfast.

Of course, you wouldn’t trade him or those moments for the world, but sometimes you’d wished you had a calm child, one that still comes to your door every morning, but knocks gently instead of screaming at the top of their lungs. You blame Harry for his behavior, of course. As a child, you were virtually an angel, well behaved in every way, but from what Anne has explained to you about your husband, he was quite the opposite. He craved attention from his earliest days and constantly would be found making some sort of a nuisance just like your three-year-old son.

The soft sound of a grunt coming from Harry pulls you from your thoughts and you glance down to find that he’s looking up at you, eyes puffy with sleep and hair falling over his face in unruly curls.

“G’morning,” He croaks, lips pressed to your chin for a moment before he moves to press a quick peck to your lips.

“Morning.” You smile, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his curls in an attempt to untangle them and move them out of his face.

“S’early,” He squints, squeezing his arms around you tighter.

“Mhm,” You hum, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

He rolls you over, wedging himself between your legs as his arms rest by your head, caging you beneath him. His lips find yours within moments, drawing slow, sweet kisses from you while your hands cup his face and his stubble scratches your skin.

“What were you thinkin’ about?” He mumbles between kisses, brushing his nose against yours when he pulls away.

“A few things,” You hum in response, thumb gently massaging his cheekbone.

“Mind sharing?”

You chuckle, dropping your hand to your chest. “Just thinking about… having another one,”

His eyebrows raise in realization. “Another…?” You nod to confirm his assumptions, biting back the smile creeping along your face. He nearly squeals with excitement, pressing kisses all over your face and neck as he wraps his arms around you. “Can we? Right now?”

You shrug. “If you’re up for it,”

“Oh, I’m up for it.” He smirks, giggling devilishly at the double meaning. You roll your eyes when you feel him press his hips against you, rubbing his morning wood against the inside of your thigh.

“Get on with it, then!” You demand with a chuckle, pulling at the waistband of his shorts and letting them snap against his skin.

“Alright, alright, m’coming!” He scrambles to yank his shorts down his legs just enough for his cock to fall out, slapping against you heavily. His fingers curl beneath the waistband of your panties, hastily tugging them down your legs to reveal your glistening sex. Just thinking about having another baby with him has you soaked and you suddenly feel desperate to have him buried inside of you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

He presses a searing kiss to your lips as he lines himself up to your entrance, pausing for a moment to adjust your legs, hooking them over his arms to lift your hips into a different position. Finally, he’s sliding into you completely bare for the first time in months and the sound that leaves you is a mix between a whimper and a groan as your fingernails dig into his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck-” You murmer as he slides in completely, hips pressed flush against yours.

“S’good, yeah? Like feelin’ me bare?”

You nod breathlessly, curling an arm around his neck to bring him in for another kiss. “Move, please,”

He complies to your request, lifting his hips slowly before pushing back inside of you with a harsh thrust, quickly building his pace.

“God, so fuckin’ good to me, darling. Love you so much,” He grunts, pushing in and out of you so that all you can hear is the wet sound of his hips slapping against yours.

You’re clawing at his back desperately as he fucks you, one of your legs curling up around his waist to pull him closer. He pauses for a moment, sitting up slightly and grabbing both your legs so that he can hook them over his shoulders. The new angle is heavenly, making it so that his cock brushes directly against your g-spot and you’re trying in vain not to moan too loudly.

“S’that the spot, hm? Right there?” He smirks as he thrusts again and again directly against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you.

“Yes, god- fuck, Harry,” You moan, dropping your hands to grip the sheets beneath you.

“Need me to fill you up? Want me to give you another baby?” He taunts, hands gliding from your thighs to your t-shirt covered chest, lifting the cloth to reveal your breasts bouncing with each thrust. His large hands grip your supple breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples sends a shiver down your spine and you whimper, bottom lip slipping between your teeth. “Can already tell m’gonna cum so much.”

“Please,” You gasp, lifting your hips in time with his thrusts. He leans forward, planting his hands on the mattress by your head before he begins to slam his hips into yours at over and over again, the head of his cock brushing directly against your g-spot every time. “Oh my god, don’t stop!” You yelp, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back against your pillow as he pounds into you.

Harry groans. “You close? Y’gonna cum all over my cock?”

You’re nodding frantically as he continues his brutal pace, reaching down to rub your clit and bring you to your orgasm. He thrusts particularly hard into you, unexpectedly sending you over the edge with a gasp from your lips. He’s smiling down at you as you cum, his pace unwavering so that he can reach his own orgasm.

“Please cum for me, Harry,” You moan. “Need you to fill me up. Give me another baby, please.” And with that, he’s toppling over the cliff and into the familiar pool of utter bliss.

Once both of you have come down from your pleasure-filled highs, Harry pulls out of you, making sure to lift your hips so that his cum doesn’t seep out of you.

He smirks up at you. “Think we did it?”

You chuckle. “Feels like we did.”

#anon #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #smut #my writing #blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fluff #dad harry styles #dad harry

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hufflepuffhollander · 3 years

Text

drive-in: tom holland one-shot

a/n | in honor of hitting 700 followers and also getting my real life heart broken and needing my unproblematic fictional boyfriend back, here’s an oldie from the drafts.✌🏻 enjoy kiddos

cw | language, angst, a lil smut, teasing banter, fluff! 1.5k words.

“Mmm, darling, let me at you,” Tom mumbled against your lips as you lightly squeezed his shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the hem of your shorts, trying to wriggle them down. Just as he’d made some progress, you heard a loud snicker on the other side of your door.

You pulled your face away from Tom’s and averted your gaze to the front of the room, where you could see two pairs of socks in the crevice between the floor and the door, standing on the other side. Without letting you dismantle from him, he grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at the wall. “Fuck off, you pervs!” The kid-like chuckles coming from the socks continued.

The sudden interruption had killed the mood, so you just sat in Tom’s lap on his bed and laid your head against his chest, sighing. “Can’t they get a job?”

Tom combed a hand of fingers through your hair. “They do have jobs; they’re professional cockblocks.”

“And they need to work from home?”

“Everybody does, baby. We’re all stuck inside.”

“...right.”

You had to keep shifting around on Tom’s lap, uncomfortable from the sudden lack of pressure of his hands wandering over you. He had just gotten back from a press tour, you’d barely had any alone time with him since—and you were both getting pretty tired of not being able to rip each other’s clothes off like you’d wanted to since the moment he walked through the front door. Finally, you have a couple minutes to sneak away from the roommates you’re stuck quarantining with, and what do they do but follow you to Tom’s bedroom like absolute creeps. Creeps that seem to have a vendetta against you getting off. You’d spent too much time hanging out with them while Tom was gone, and now they were far too comfortable meddling in your personal life.

“How long do you think it’ll be til we’re actually alone again?” you asked, tracing over the freckles on his shoulders.

“I have no idea,” he sighed, falling back onto the pillows. “Who knows how long this will all last.”

“We might have to get pretty creative then, because I’m getting a little-”

“Thirsty?”

You smacked Tom’s arm as he giggled at you.

“I was going to say impatient.”

“So...horny.”

You pouted at him. “Can you blame me for missing you?”

He kissed your cheek and then your nose. “No, love, I missed you too. And if those idiots weren’t within earshot, I would’ve already had you screaming my name three times over by now.”

You kissed him back. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Long, countless days went by, the two of you stuck inside with Harrison, Tuwaine and Harry, trying to find a balance between friend time and couple time but failing miserably. The boys had made a bet behind your back on how long they could go before hearing you and Tom having sex through the walls, and they took their gambling way too seriously. It had been too long.

Seeing an ad for a distanced drive-in movie night being hosted at a nearby park, you jumped on the opportunity, convincing Tom to come with just so you could get out of the house. The night finally came, and you flicked off the group of boys as they shouted after you for leaving the bubble, more than ready for a good old fashioned date night.

“They really do hate us,” you chuckled as you zoomed away.

“Nah, babe, they love us—they’re just jealous we didn’t invite them.” He placed his hand on your own and squeezed it, playing with your fingers for the extent of the drive to the park, just as excited as you to get some one-on-one time.

You cozied up in the backseat of the car with Tom, wrapped in fuzzy blankets you’d brought with and watching Titanic on the large screen set up in the grass in front of where you parked. You were intently focused on the movie, as it was one of your favorites, but Tom spent half the time looking at you, feeling you breathe, smiling at the top of your head nestled into his arms.

Up on the screen, Jack and Rose were in that carriage car on the boat, finally getting their big sex scene, starting to steam up the windows. You turned to Tom as you felt him laughing and shaking his head at the movie.

“What’s so funny?”

He pointed at the screen like the characters would be able to hear him. “So unrealistic, isn’t it?”

“Not really, people have sex in cars all the time.”

“No, no, I mean the windows. How did they get so foggy so fast? There’s no way that happens in real life.”

You were suddenly very interested in what Tom had to say and raised an eyebrow as you spoke. “Tom, have you never gotten laid in a car?”

You could see him turn pink with embarrassment through the light emanating off of the movie screen. “I have no comment.”

You nudged him and started to giggle. “Oh my god, you totally haven’t.”

He made an overly dramatic defensive expression at you. “And you have?”

“Actually, yes.”

Tom’s eyes widened a little as he saw where the conversation was headed. Maybe he’d brought it all up intentionally because he felt so deprived of your body, maybe not—but if he had, he was a damn genius, because it was working.

“And it does get that steamy, if you’re doing it right.”

“I guess I’d just have to see for myself.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you climbed onto him and firmly planted your lips on his. It usually didn’t take much for him to get you excited, just his husky voice and the right lighting; you hadn’t realized until now how pent up you were.

“God, take your clothes off,” he huffed out, wasting no time in getting to work nipping over your skin as it was revealed.

“Charming,” you laughed, working your hands up his torso to get his shirt off too, Tom wincing as you did.

“Oooh, y/n, your hands are so cold!”

“Deal with it, Holland, I’ve waited too long to be stopped by cold hands.”

Tom was getting more riled up by the second, pushing you into the back of the driver’s seat behind you and speaking impossibly low in your ear. “I need you bad.”

“Take me then.”

You’d managed to get practically naked after doing some pretzeling in the backseat, Tom pulling you on top of him again. You tried to get into it but it didn’t last long—the seat was too close to your knees for you to get at a good angle, and you had to duck so your head didn’t hit the roof of the car.

“Okay, maybe lying down-?” Tom pushed your back into the seats, hovering on top and immediately sinking himself into you the moment he got the chance. You took a sharp inhale and already felt a dizzying high.

“God, finally...”

Tom took a few slow, heavy thrusts into you. “Missed you so much baby,” he leaned down to kiss you, your bodies already sticky with sweat from the heat in the car.

Tom suddenly stopped his rhythm and made a face, trying to shift himself around. “What’s wrong?” you asked, whining at the loss of him.

“I barely have room to move my legs,” he groaned, your fingernails still claws on his biceps, begging him to come back.

“Make it work? Just don’t stop fucking me, please,” you pulled his neck back down to bite his bottom lip, knowing that always drives him crazy.

“Fuck, I know, let me try something...” he found another sweet spot and was suddenly filling you up again, his flushed breaths and small mews making you smile underneath him. It wasn’t graceful, but you made it happen.

You came together as Jack and Rose professed their love for each other, making the romantic scene all too fitting. Tom moved to give you space to sit up, putting his face in his hands and sounding defeated. “Car sex looks a lot easier in the movies.”

You giggled at him and put your clothes back on before someone peeped into the now-clouded window. “Told you it gets steamy.”

Arriving back home later, Harrison and Harry sat at the kitchen table looking like two angry parents about to lecture their teenager on keeping curfew. They stared as you and Tom came in together with arms wrapped around each other, skin looking happily flushed, faces practically glowing.

“What’s got you two lovebirds so happy?” Harrison asked.

“Oh, it was just a really good movie,” Tom smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to his bedroom. “We’re wiped. Goodnight!” he promptly shut the door and laughed with you at Harrison’s puzzled face.

Harry walked over and peered down the hallway. “Goodnight? But it’s barely past sundown-”

Harrison patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you might owe me a few quid, bud.”

Harry stayed confused. “Why?”

Tuwaine appeared from his room, pulling his gaming headphones aside to yell his reply down the hallway. “They fucked, you div!”

Harry connected the dots and looked like he was going to be sick. “Ugh, gross! That’s my brother!”

moots & taglist if y’all still exist:

@peterspideysstuff @duskholland @sinisterspidey @ladykxxx08 @bothlovinglyandhatingly @tinyyoungblood @harrisonsoceaneyes @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @we--are---not--afraid @danicarosaline @bunbun9396 @sad-thinker-over @spideymoe @words-to-accomplish-something @thenoddingbunny-blog @iriaaarb @hellsdragon @cap-marvxl @tomshufflepuff @itstaskeen @writertoo18 @ethereal-beauty-p @sufwubi @quaksonhehe @biebsmylife95 @fermuda2 @dorbiksbitch @jejegu @holyfrickfracks @iconic-hes @parker-hollandx @keithseabrook27 @sovereignparker @mlmarint @bangtanfancamp @quacksonholland @cosagach @hedwigprewett12

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tomholland #tomhollandoneshot #tomhollandfanfic #tomhollandsmut #bye again

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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years

Note

Imagine Harry learning to play the guitar after the war and Draco finds out when they start dating and is obv a slut for it. Anyway what I'm here to beg for is sexy-guitar-player-Harry smut please and thank

first of all nonners I’m so sorry this took me lit rally 59 years to answer!!!! when I saw it in my inbox last week I was abt to answer n be like yes. this. And then realized it needed to be written and got sidetracked w the first himbo harry installment but here it is now and let me just SAY this trope is my new FAVORITE thing in the world oh my goddddd when I tell u the way I’ve been yelling to glows and cielia abt it 👁👄👁

highly recommend listening to wonderwall when it comes up to Complete the Experience. hope u enjoy ❤️

“I’m sorry, he what?”

“Yeah, he’s really good,” said Weasley. He nodded towards the acoustic guitar hanging on the wall; Draco had taken notice of it the first time he’d seen Harry’s flat but never paid it much mind after that, taking it for decoration, or perhaps an unused gift. “He’ll play if you ask him. He doesn’t like showing off.”

“Which is silly,” Granger said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve told him, just because he’s good at it doesn’t make it showing off. I wish he’d play for people more often.”

“He has literally never mentioned this to me.” He felt utterly stunned and completely cheated. He tried to picture it and couldn’t. “How long’s he been playing?”

“Picked it up after the war. It was kind of funny, actually --” Weasley started saying, but Harry came back into the room -- still pulling his shirt on -- and he broke off, giving Draco a significant look that told him to bring it up.

“Harry,” said Draco imperiously, to which he received two raised eyebrows as Harry fell into his favourite armchair and pushed a hand through his still-damp curls. Draco matched his expression and glanced at the guitar. Harry followed his gaze, looking genuinely confused.

“What, what is it?”

“When were you going to tell me you play?”

“What, guitar?”

“Yes, guitar.”

He shrugged and grabbed for one of the beers on the table, wandlessly magicking the cap off. “I dunno. When it came up, I guess.”

“The way your friends tell it you’re quite good.”

Harry gave Weasley and then Granger a sour look; both of them gave it right back to him, which was, admittedly, amusing.

“I can play all right,” he said vaguely, and took a swig of his drink. It did make some sort of sense, now Draco thought about it -- the tips of Harry’s fingers were far, far too calloused to have been just from casual Quidditch and Auror training.

“You know, Harry, it actually comes off as more pretentious when you act like this,” said Granger. Weasley snorted. Harry glared at her. “Just play for him, won’t you? And us too -- it’s been ages.”

“Yeah, what’s that Muggle song you play sometimes that I like?” said Weasley.

“I dunno, I’ve played a lot of Muggle songs.”

“He means Wonderwall, Harry,” said Granger, grinning. Harry finally smiled too, and although their little Muggle joke was lost on Weasley and himself he was glad to see that it had apparently been the prodding Harry needed to give in. He set his beer back down and went to get the guitar; something about the way he threw the thin and fraying strap over his head, the way his hands went effortlessly to their places, was unexpectedly attractive. The left one curled easily around the neck of the instrument, heavily-roughened fingers finding their odd positions on the strings, something Draco had always thought looked very painful.

He plucked a few chords and then began fiddling with the knobs at the head of the guitar, tuning it in what was clearly the Muggle fashion, which against his will left Draco completely fascinated. Having no musical inclination himself, he could make nothing of the process except that Harry apparently heard the discordant notes in there well enough to be able to fix them, and finally when he brought his thumb down across all six strings it sounded as sweet and clear as if it had been done by magic.

“Course he likes Wonderwall,” Harry said to Granger even as he began playing, fingers shifting and moving and contorting to create the notes while he strummed softly, effortlessly, and the music crawled over Draco’s skin and inside of him. “I remember Dudley listening to it, like, what … summer before sixth year? On the radio constantly.”

“Sounds about right,” said Granger.

Draco had stopped paying attention to what they were saying, though. Either because the music itself had something haunting about its melody or because it was Harry playing it, or perhaps a combination of both, Draco felt a pit of emotion form in his chest to round off the edges of his growing arousal.

And then he started singing, and Draco swallowed very hard. Granger dropped a head onto Weasley’s shoulder and watched with a tender expression, Weasley similarly enamored. Harry had his eyes on his hands for the most part, closing them a few times throughout, looking as comfortable now as he did on a broomstick.

Only three months of official dating had not prepared Draco for the flood of emotions he now felt, yet the most pressing matter had become the semi trapped uncomfortably in his trousers. He wanted those talented fingers in his mouth, to feel the callouses on his tongue and taste Harry on them; he wanted to feel them on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and hip bones, to have them buried so deeply in his arse that he forgot where he ended and Harry began.

Of course, he had to keep this to himself for the next hour, until he was able to get Granger and Weasley out of the flat. And once he did, he didn’t bother dragging Harry to his bedroom -- Draco pushed him up against the front door that had just closed behind his friends and hauled him into a kiss that he felt Harry grinning into.

“I thought you seemed tetchy,” he muttered, hands dropping to Draco’s hips. “Oasis really does it for you, huh?”

“What the hell is oasis?”

“The band who does the song.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the band who does it for me.” He kissed Harry again, maybe a little too hungrily, and dug a fist into his side when he started laughing. “Shut up, why the hell didn’t you ever tell me you played?”

Harry pulled his head back, looking at Draco with an arched brow and an infuriating smirk.

“What do you mean, ever? We’ve only been together three months, it didn’t come up.”

“God,” Draco muttered, and now he reached down and pressed his palm against Harry’s cock, pleased to feel how hard he was in spite of his ruthless teasing. “You’re so annoying.”

“Well if I’d known how randy it would make you I might’ve played for you a long time ago.”

Having had quite enough of Harry’s particularly sarcastic brand of wit, he ignored this last and reached for one of his hands, removing it from his own hip and bringing it to his lips. It was extremely satisfying to watch the smirk disappear from Harry’s face when he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth.

“Bit fetish-y, isn’t this?” Harry said breathily, eyes wide as he watched, looking half amused and half awed. In retaliation, Draco took another finger into his mouth and slid his tongue between them, tasting soap and salt, feeling the callouses on the tips of his fingers and letting that sensation grip his insides like an iron fist. “Jesus Christ,” Harry groaned; his free hand went to Draco’s jaw, holding him steady, and with a truly outstanding audacity began fucking Draco’s mouth with his fingers.

They dipped bluntly past his uvula, scraping the back of his throat so he gagged around their intrusion. Saliva built with an excessive speed that had it drooling out of the corners of his lips and coating Harry’s knuckles. Draco closed his eyes and let it happen, opening his throat against the relentless assault and curling his hands in Harry’s shirt just to steady himself.

They were gone too soon and Harry’s mouth replaced them, much gentler but still with a tangible sense of urgency about it.

When he broke away, he said against Draco’s lips, “Like my fingers, do you?”

Draco merely nodded, feeling their wetness against his cheek.

“Then turn around,” said Harry, “and I’ll fuck you with them.”

Draco let out a soft, embarrassing whimper and let Harry spin them around and press him against the door, cheek-first. He undid his flies himself and Harry tugged them down his legs and off his feet, allowing Draco to spread them slightly. Harry’s fingers were there immediately, sliding slick between his cheeks and over his hole. The memory of Harry’s hands on the guitar was still so fresh, his fingers changing chords effortlessly, sacrificing them to blisters and callouses and roughened skin for the music they created, and Draco closed his eyes against a fresh wave of arousal and another pang of emotion.

“You really are incredible,” said Draco, biting back a moan as two of those dexterous fingers slipped inside of him. Harry fucked him with them slowly, carefully, seeking out his prostate and angling for it each time once he’d found it. Draco turned his face to press his forehead against the door, eyes still closed, nails scraping wood. “And I like that song.”

“It’s a good one,” Harry agreed. His hot breath caressed the back of Draco’s neck, fingers pumping, his other hand back at Draco’s waist. “I have a million more I’d love to show you.”

Draco didn’t bother trying to find his voice again: instead he pushed back against Harry’s driving fingers, everything that wasn’t the relentless stabbing against his prostate driven from his mind. His neglected cock slapped against the door with every thrust, the red and irritated head dripping pre-come against the wood. Only half conscious of the decision to do so, he wrapped his hand around it and pulled and squeezed and zeroed in on the bursts of pleasure radiating outwards from inside his body until it all spilled over and he came in great pulses, gasping for breath while Harry kept at it.

The fingers slowed as he reached his peak and began coming down but they didn’t stop, nor was his prostate given much of a break. Harry reinforced his grip on Draco’s waist and kept pumping, a steadier rhythm that nevertheless rubbed and prodded at that little bundle, making his nerves tingle and fizzle and scream out their overstimulation.

“Harry,” he said weakly, knees buckling. “Please …”

It could have been comical the way Harry followed his movement as he slid down the door to the ground, except it wasn’t. It was infuriating, actually, and felt at once like more than he could possibly handle and exactly what he needed. His forehead and his hands went back to the wood, bracing himself as Harry, kneeling behind him, continued fucking his beautiful, merciless fingers and stimulating Draco’s overworked prostate.

He pushed a third one in alongside the other two and Draco was shocked to feel a hot tear leak out of the corner of his eye. Harry crooked them expertly, with all the confidence and surety of someone who had done this a million times, could do it in their sleep, as if it was not the guitar strings but Draco’s body he was strumming now, an instrument fine-tuned to his own particular cadence and rhythm, which he and no one else could play quite right.

Lips parted, hot breath echoing off the door and back into his face, Draco allowed himself to be taken apart with the same ferocious intensity he’d seen Harry use on the guitar. Each stroke brought him back to full hardness, each stab against his prostate made his nerves sing a tormented chorus, drowning out the pain of the wooden floor against his bare knees.

“Shit,” Draco choked out, “I’m gonna come again …”

“Well that’s the idea,” said Harry. His voice was full of that same witty and well-meaning sarcasm Draco liked so much, even when it made him feel like punching him. Snatches of the song came back to him, Harry’s voice when he sang it, the expert shifting of his fingers where they pressed and plucked at the strings like he was making love to them. It was all so very much.

He came a second time without even bothering to touch his cock, because he just didn’t fucking need it. His body thrummed and vibrated like a snapped rubber band while Harry coaxed him along his high and back down again. When he finally pulled his fingers out he leant forward over Draco’s back and kissed the side of his neck, then the corner of his jaw.

“You know you make much lovelier sounds than the guitar, just so we’re clear,” he said, and Draco, with what strength he had left, shoved Harry and watched him fall sideways laughing.

#anna writes #I LOVE THIS TROPE 🗣🗣🗣#drabble #drarry fic

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1025cherrystreet · 3 years

Text

order for me, please?

y/n is too anxious to order for herself at a restaurant, so harry does it for her.

disclaimer: did not proofread this, nor do i really like how i ended it. very much rushed, very much lost the plot i feel lmao. any feedback is appreciated!!!

warnings: talks about anxiety quite a lot, other than that just fluff. kinda short soz <3

Harry rubs soft circles into your side while you're cuddled into him on the couch. The light coming in from the window casts a yellow glow into the room, little rainbow beams decorate random spots in your living room from the glass.

You've been a bit anxious today. The worst part of it is that you have no clue as to why you've been so anxious. Nothing particularly stressful has occurred since you woke up, but your heart hasn't stopped racing, your breathing has been quite shaky, and your palms are clammy. Some days are just harder than others, you know this, but it doesn't dismiss the fact that it's still difficult to even get through the day sometimes.

Since the moment you woke up in Harry's warm clutch this morning, you felt off. That uncomfortable feeling in your tummy and the constricting nails that seem lodged in your throat were a not-so-warm welcome when you opened your eyes.

Having anxiety and knowing how hard it is for you, you know how hard it can be for the people around you as well. You felt guilty. You felt guilty because today was one of Harry's days off from work and he doesn't get many of them, always so busy. You didn't want to ruin what was supposed to be a good, relaxing, fun day.

But, when Harry wished you a good morning love, and you had opened your mouth to speak with glossy eyes, only to have the words get caught in your throat, he knew today wasn't a good one.

However, because Harry is such an amazing person and boyfriend, he knows how to go about handling your anxiety. He knows you. He knows that you just need a cuddle and a slow day with tea and a good meal. He knows when you start to get really worked up, you listen to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac because it reminds you of a sweet childhood memory. He knows you don't want to do much talking, but rather more watching TV. He knows you like to distract yourself on your bad days...and he knows how to do so.

So, after spending all morning and into the afternoon having tea and breakfast and taking your meds (along with a short cry), you're now cuddling on the couch mindlessly watching a movie. It's quiet in the house, the only sound coming from the television (and maybe your heart beating if Harry got close enough), but Harry swears you could be able to hear his thoughts from a mile away.

He worries about you sometimes. As does everyone who loves someone. He's never loved someone as much as he loves you and it scares him sometimes. He's not scared of falling out of love or deciding you guys aren't the best for each other, no. He's scared of not being enough for you. He knows you tell him that he's the love of your life and that he will always be enough for you, but a little part of him is scared that he might not be able to take care of you. Now, he's not saying in any way, shape, or form that he's not capable of taking care of you, because he can! He's just scared he might mess up and make your anxiety worse. He hates seeing you so out of it.

You're always the sunlight in every room, always smiling and so loving. You care so deeply for everyone around you, he admires it. He admires you. He loves you, so he hates that your mind can be mean to you at times.

See, his troubles with anxiety are far different from yours. Gratefully, his anxiety is more rational (still troubling, just more rational!) ... which is the complete opposite to yours. Your disorder is so irrational and crazy that, more often than not, you get so frustrated with yourself. Your brain makes up problems to be there that aren't there. You worry about nothing and everything all at once, feeling like you never get a break from the mental toll it has on you.

So with that, Harry hates seeing you so anxious. He knows you're so vulnerable and fragile in this state that he doesn't want to make anything worse for you, he wishes every day that he could just take all the worry and bad thoughts from your head and put them on himself instead, as long as it meant that you'd be your happy self again.

But, he knows that's not possible. He also knows that's it's okay to not be okay all the time, so he packs his wishes back into his brain and cuddles you closer. Hoping you can feel his love reverberate off every surface of this house to you.

Oddly enough, you almost feel as if you can. In your simultaneously busy yet silent mind, you can make out his affection in every circle he draws onto your skin with his fingertips, in every warm cup of tea he makes, and every sickly sweet kiss he presses onto your lips, forehead, and cheek. You know he loves you and you hope with everything that he knows you love him just as much, if not more.

With that thought running through your head, you turn to place a kiss to his chest, lightly tracing the butterfly (moth?) tattoo through his shirt. A content hum sounds from his lips and he squeezes you tighter before kissing the top of your head.

"I love you," He whispers, as if not to disturb the comfortable silence created in this space.

"I love you more," You whisper back, the tea earlier melting the nails in your throat just a little.

***

"Does Carrburritos sound good, lovie?" Harry asks, waiting on the edge of y'all's bed for you to finish getting ready.

Carrburritos is your favorite restaurant ever. Of course, you know that's why Harry chose it and the thought of him doing something as simple as that melts your heart at how sweet and thoughtful he is.

"Yeah, thank you, bubs." You respond softly, still in the fragile state you were in earlier, albeit definitely feeling better. You make your way to the edge of the bed where Harry is, slotting your body between his legs and bringing your hands up to play with the little curls on his neck.

"Alright, love. If you're ready to go, we can start to head over?" He asks, rubbing his big hands up and down along your sides.

You nod, leaning into kiss him. It's short, but your lips melt against his and no matter how many times you've kissed him, every single one still feels as magical as the first time.

The two of you get to the restaurant in 15 minutes time, settling at a table close to the window, in more of a quiet area. You feel better than you have all day, but the loud noises and the people in here are making your heart rate spike just a tad.

You and Harry talk softly about random topics, nothing about work or anything too heavy because you don't think you're able to handle that right now. You giggle at the jokes Harry will slip in ever so often and his face lights up at the sound, loving that he can make you feel comfortable after having such a hard day.

When the waitress comes by to get your drink orders, your leg starts bouncing a mile a minute under the table. You rehearse the five words just a sweet tea, please, over and over in your head for when she gets to you. Somehow, you manage to squeak out the order, avoiding eye contact as a nervous habit, but now that you realize you're doing it, the fear of coming across as rude now terrorized your mind. But, before you could do anything about it, the waitress walks away.

"You okay, baby?" Harry can sense your nerves, practically seeing them coming off of you. He reaches his hand across the table to hold yours, rubbing his thumb along your hand.

You just nod, trying to calm yourself. You're being so silly, you think to yourself. What? You're really about to cry because you forgot you have to talk to the waitress to order your food? It's a small encounter, you don't understand why your head makes it such a difficult task. You start to get frustrated with yourself, almost bringing tears to your eyes.

"Hey, tell me what you need, darling?" Harry coos, ducking his head to get in your line of sight since you've been stuck staring at the table top for the past few minutes.

You clear your throat in hopes to push down the tears and diminish the scratching feeling in your throat, although, it didn't do much.

"C-can you..." You huff, now frustrated that you can't even speak, "can you please order for me?" You glance at him, but not holding your gaze long before looking out the window at passing cars. You feel so stupid asking him to order for you. For fucks sake, you're not a child. And you can't tell if it's worse or better that you know he's going to have no problem ordering for you (or doing anything for you, for that matter). He'd do anything for you in a heartbeat.

A soft, loving smile pulls on his lips before he speaks.

"Of course, my sweet girl. It's no problem at all, you want what you normally get?" He asks and you offer a gentle nod.

If he's being honest, he actually likes you depending on him like this sometimes. Not to say that you need him to do everything for you, because you're more than capable, he would like to add! But, knowing that you're comfortable and trust him enough to be so open with him and ask him to do certain things for you makes him feel so...valuable? Maybe that's not the right word he'd like to use, but he just loves that he can do something for you to make your life easier. Your joy brings him joy.

When the waitress comes back, Harry orders for the both of you. Your heart could explode with the amount of adoration you have for the man sitting across from you. He just... gets it. He gets you.

So, with full bellies and calmed nerves, the two of you make your way back home and get settled in y'all's bed to cuddle for the rest of the night. Sprinkled thank you's and sweet kisses are shared while the two of you share warmth under the dozens of blankets adorning the bed.

"I'm sorry I wasted your day off, H." You whisper out into the air.

Pressing a peck to your shoulder, Harry tugs you to turn so you're facing him. He shakes his head, "Y/N, you didn't waste my day. Always perfect with you." His big hands squeezing lovingly at your waist as if he's trying to transfer his love for you to you.

"Look at me," He says when he catches your eyes cast down at his tattooed chest. "You will never, ever, be a burden, lovie. I know y'feel like you're botherin' me, or everyone, by jus'existing, but you've got it all wrong. Baby, I hate seeing you so anxious, and I know you can't control it, but tha's not gonna stop me from doin' everythin' I can to make you comfortable...and loved."

Your face breaks out in, probably, the biggest grin you've had all day at his assurance.

"I always feel comfortable and loved with you, H."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #hshq #hs #harry #y/n #fluff #fine line #hs1 #anxiety #writing #1025cherrystreet #fanfic #fanfiction

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jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Waterfalls

A/N: We had so much fun writing the last one that we decided to do another one 👉🏼👈🏼This is another prompt from @majorharry’s 20k fic celebration! (congrats again cass, we lysm) we used prompt 40 “Cover up, please.” a nice little smutty possessive harry moment for you all in contrast to the last one ✨ - n + d

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send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, exhibitionism, daddy kink, spit kink

word count: 3.3k

“Cover up, please.” Harry muttered, clenching his jaw noticing the stares coming over to them. It was to Y/N though. The pool party was a good idea in theory but once he realized people were going to see more of his lover in general, he felt that little (big) possessive head of his rear and he felt feral, a little bit. He didn’t like other people looking. Simply put— she was his. Of course she was her own person. Independent. She didn’t need him, but she chose to be his and that was the best damn thing that has happened for him. Adding in the fact that yes, Y/N was the most beautiful person he had ever experienced, he knew other people could see it too. Most of the time? He loved it. He showed her off to many people. But when she was showing so much skin and people’s minds would wander... he did worry. He didn’t like people imagining what her skin felt like or how it felt to grab his waist or how beautiful her shape really was. Harry took her cover up and scowled, holding it up to her. The roll of her eyes made him whine, pulling her further into his body. “No. Don’t want ‘em staring too much.” His large hands covered her ass, pouting slightly.

“Baby...” Y/N chuckled, looking up at him with her brows raised. She knew he had a tendency to be possessive, but it was something she thought of as no big deal. He was just protective of her, wanted to assert his dominance over anyone who thought about putting the moves on her. But this? She didn’t realize this would cause it to flare up. “We’re at a pool party, what’d you think I was going to wear?” She asked, pushing a few pieces of hair away from his face in an attempt to soothe him. “No one is looking at me.” Y/N pecked his lips a few times, “and if they are, they can clearly see you’re with me, no?” She wiggled her bum a bit in his hands. “Let’s go swim hmm?” She suggested, thinking that if she was in the water then she would be covered up in theory. “It’s way too hot for me to be wearing anything else.”

“Fine. At least in the water they can’t eye you up.” Harry glared at a group of younger guys looking her up with a near snarl on his face. No way in hell. He didn’t know where exactly this type of possessiveness came from. He usually was quite cool and collected, only having his moments sometimes. But today it was ten times as bad. He was truly unsure as to why besides the fact that she looked fucking incredible. He walked with her to the pool and laughed when she decided to jump in without him, Harry following shortly after. This was someone’s fancy house party and they had a sick pool. One with a water fountain and one of those pool bars and shit. But Harry was more focused on getting to a place where he could be with her alone. Before they’d made it to the pool, she had her cover up on and talked to people, Harry’s arm around her shoulder. They’d met up here after a long day of classes and hadn’t seen each other all day.

Y/N pushed her hair back as she came up from underwater, adjusting her bikini top so that nothing was falling out before she swam over to Harry and took his hands. “Come deeper.” She mumbled, pulling him further into the deeper end of the pool where it was less crowded. She’d missed Harry today and though they were at a party, she felt like she could take a few minutes to spend some time with her man. They both worked really hard and whenever they had spare moments they always found ways to make them count.

Once they were in too deep she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, tangling her hands in his hair to get it wet. Harry looked incredible like this, granted he always did. Y/N couldn’t help but think that part of it was because he was looking at her like she was the last meal on earth. She swore he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since they got here.

“Look so good today. Always look phenomenal but... just have a glow.” Harry commented, feeling a sense of serene come over him while she had pet over his hair and got it wet. Harry moves them to a little shelf in the pool wall, perfect for him to sit on while she clung to him. “Been missin’ you all day, bunny. Wanted to kiss you first thing but, everyone else tries to steal your attention away.” He pouted. It was a needy day, which was pretty rare considering his natal chart, but it happened. Especially because he felt so stable with her. Never had he had an easier relationship. She made everything feel at ease. He really did love this girl. “Want to be selfish with you for a little bit. Can I have my kiss hello before someone comes n’ interrupts us?”

“Thank you, angel..” Y/N felt herself grinning wider and wider. She loved when Harry got like this. She loved seeing him get all soft and sweet and needy for her attention. Y/N knew most of the time I was her bugging him for his attention, but this was a welcomed change. “Mhm...“ She hummed, leaning in to press a sweet and gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn’t long before that one gentle kiss turned into a slow and steamy one. Y/N expected it though, continuing to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The slight scratch of his facial hair was something that was new, but she didn’t mind. It just reminded her that Harry was growing into this beautiful man that she loved. She pulled back hesitantly, giggling as he chased after her lips and nuzzled her face in his neck. “Missed you...” Y/N mumbled against his skin, “Didn’t mean for people to steal me away... forgive me?” She licked at the most sensitive spot.

“S’okay. You’re just so desirable. Everyone wants to be around you. Don’t blame ‘em. But you’re mine.” Harry felt even more safe with the cover of the water to hold her ass, keep her close to him. The kisses on his neck had him sigh to himself. She loved to kiss and lick at his neck a lot, thing between them both, something he loved too. He was incredibly sensitive there and he felt good whenever she decided to treat him to some affection there. “Sometimes I don’t like Sharing you with everyone. They know you’re mine but still look at you like you’re available n’ if I was a bit more aggressive I’d probably call ‘em out on it. But I’d rather sit and get kisses from you than get in a fight.” He sighed, leaning his head a bit to the side. “You have a good day otherwise?”

“Yeah?” Y/N smirked to herself, he’d rather get kisses from her than get in a fight. “You’re such a good boy, hmm.” She teased, nipping at his skin just a little bit. “I am yours, don’t have to worry so much. Know I’m only ever going to want you, yeah?” That much was true. She hadn’t even looked at anyone else the way she looked at him. He was everything she could ever want or need from a man and it seemed that he felt the same about her. They’d been together for a few years and yet they hadn’t really left that honeymoon phase. “My day was alright... same old stuff. ‘S better now though.” She hummed, clearly her mind was somewhere else. There was just something about Harry being so possessive and needy that made her feel desired... wanted... Honestly, that’s all a woman really needed to get turned on.

“Good.” Harry took her in and could read her face. It was obvious, because he knew her. She was aroused. Horny. Whatever you chose to call it, she was wanting touches and biting her lip, looking at him with a little bit of a lost look. It was then he decided to swim them over to the waterfall area, letting themselves get wet as they moved through it. Thankfully it was empty, a small area behind it went deeper and he felt the mischief light up in his eyes.

“You’re shit at hiding when you’re horny.” He chuckled, pressing her against the wall of the faux cave. “Completely shit. You’ve got the drunk eyes and you keep stroking me.” It was making him smug as hell but he knew she wouldn’t really care. “What’s got you all turned on then?” He ran a hand under the water to grip her waist and tug her closer to him, adjusting their stance. “I’d like to know what’s goin’ on in my girls head.”

“Who said I was trying to hide it?” Y/N said as a matter of factly, looking up at him with those ‘fuck me’ eyes that she knew she was horrible at concealing. Wasn’t that the point though? Wasn’t the point for him to know whenever she needed him? He always took good care of it, she never had to touch herself. He was always there to help. She wished she could just strip them both naked in this pool, wished he would make a mess of her and make her feel breathless for the rest of the party. Y/N wasn’t opposed to doing things in public, they’d done it many times before. It was a different kind of rush. One she couldn’t explain. “Like when you get all protective of me..” Y/N told him, “like when you’re needy for me... makes me want to climb you like a tree.” She couldn’t be any closer to him at this point, that familiar throb appearing between her thighs. “‘s fucking hot.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you were so hard for me when I got possessive over you.” Harry smirked. It probably was because it was rare that he got so openly needy or annoyed at the attention she got because he wanted all of it. “M’glad you think it’s hot.” He found himself at her neck, returning the favor of kissing her neck. “But I can’t leave you all horny n’ not take care of you. What kind of boyfriend would I be?” He cooed.

“A bad one...” Y/N hummed in response, letting out a happy sigh as he kissed at her neck. “but you’re the best...” She told him, leaning into him as his hands began to move.

His fingers wandered south, finding the bit of swimsuit covering her cunt, smirking when he could hear her let out a shaky gasp. The water from the waterfall and the music and commotion from outside the party was loud enough that he wasn’t worried as long as they kept it down a decent amount. “Mm. That’s my girl, s’what I want. Do you want to cum?” He questioned, nipping a bit harshly at the joint of her jaw and neck.

“Yes. I want to cum. Please.” She pleaded in a whiny tone. “So bad, please... can I?” Y/N huffed, gripping a little tighter at his hair and feeling another shaky breath escaping her. She wanted relief. She knew he would give it to her, but how? Her free hand rested against his shoulder, that little bit of height difference making her quiver. There was just something about him looking down at her, all wet and hungry for her. His fingers tucked so perfectly between her folds. Even the slightest shift had her wanting to whimper. They were in public though, she needed to be quieter.

“Course you can, baby. M’not gonna let you suffer like this.” Harry murmured, pressing his fingers against her to rub a bit. Get her warmed up. To be honest, public shit got them both off. It did, and it was hot. He had taken her in the car, fingered her in a taxi (making sure to tip well), in many club or pub restrooms, as well as various other places. It was the rush.

“Gonna let me make you cum in the pool? In front of all these people? Such a naughty little thing.” Harry chuckled under his breath. “Love when you get all dirty for me. Can’t even wait till we get home, jus’ wanna cum all over my fingers.” He rubbed over her clit a bit harder, licking over her jaw.

A squeak of pleasure came from her, her hips jolting forward to get more but he knew just what to do. Slow and steady, perfectly pressured movements against her most clit. It was perfect, but she became ravenous once she had a taste. “Thank you, daddy.” She breathed out, her hips starting to move in sync with his fingers. “Yes!” She squeaked out once again, giggling knowingly when he said he loved when she got all dirty. He had given her the nickname bunny for that reason. Y/N fucked like one. Hard and fast and needy. It was good for the both of them, he liked to tame and she liked to be tamed. “Wanna cum all over your fingers daddy, want to make a mess for you, like a good girl.” Y/N told him, biting down on her lip to hold back a moan. She was looking up at him, keeping eye contact as he moved his fingers and felt his cock begin to harden against her stomach.

“Daddy...” She whined, brushing her front up against him just enough. Y/N felt overwhelmed with need, his fingers felt so good. She looked up at him and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue just enough. He knew what it meant.

“Oh? My dirty lil’slut.” Harry grinned before he leaned over, spitting into her mouth. They didn’t do it every time, but it was an immediate cock tease when she wanted it. He loved her so much, especially because of how damn compatible they were. “Wanting me to spit into your pretty mouth n’ finger your cunt when all these people are around. Getting all wet because m’needy?” He let out a chuckle. “Course. You’re just my dirty girl. I love it so much.” He gripped her chin, opening her mouth again to see her eager tongue before he spit into her mouth again. She clenched and he could feel how hot it got her, pressing one finger in. A harsh whine came from her mouth, eyes closing, which had his attention. “Shhhh. Do you want them all to hear how much of a slut you are for me?” He asked, a bit condescending— he knew it made her wet— waiting for her to respond.

“No, daddy, I’ll be good.” Y/N whimpered quietly, feeling her cunt pulse at Harry’s words and actions. He always got her this riled up, it was never just a little bit. No, they were very much all or nothing but that made things extremely fun. “Please— don’t stop.” She whimpered out thrusting her hips forward. Y/N loved whenever he spat in her mouth. She felt like it was an unspoken dominance thing and it never failed to have her sopping wet. Of course they were in the water, but there was a clear difference between the water and her slick. Harry’s fingers moved so well, she knew she couldn’t have gotten any more soaked than she was. Another moan threatened to escape her but her own hand flew up to cover her mouth, biting down on the skin in an attempt to muffle the noise. She kept eye contact with Harry, feeling her knees growing weaker with every brush against that sweet sweet spot.

“Mmm.. I don’t know.” Harry cooed lowly. “I think you do get off on it. I think it makes you wet to think about everyone knowin’ how dirty you are.” He grinned, feeling her clench around his fingers again. Oh, yes. She absolutely did. They’d been together long enough for him to know exactly what she liked. “C’mon.” He breathed against her mouth as he fucked his fingers into her. “Admit it. Tell me how much you want them to know how dirty you are.” He was taunting her for sure but she seemed to like it, her soft little whine and whimper against his mouth as her hips bucked into his hand. When she hesitated, Harry let out a tut and shook his head, sliding another finger into her. “M’not asking again, baby. Tell me.”

Her hand moved from her mouth to grip at his bicep for stability. Y/N whimpered against his lips, feeling the orgasm building within her stomach. Harry was doing it on purpose, he loved the power he held over her, knew that he had her in the palm of his hands all desperate for relief. Y/N was too scared to speak, she knew she couldn’t keep quiet for much longer especially with how perfectly his fingers were moving inside of her. She looked up at him blankly, letting out a pathetic closed mouth whine.

“Yes, daddy! I do want them to know! I want them to know I’m a dirty slut for you!” She gasped at the feeling of now three fingers inside of her. “Make me feel so good, want everyone to know! Want everyone to know because they can’t have you! You’re mine.” Y/N was damn near tears at this point, bouncing in sync with his movements, begging to cum. “I’m so close daddy, please?”

“That’s my girl.” Harry grinned smugly. Harry loved making her admit those things, loved having her give in to him. A kink, maybe. Whatever that would be. “Cum for me. Let go.” He nipped are her skin, thrusting his fingers harder into her cunt and felt as she finally let go. His hand coming underneath her ass, holding her up as her body trembled and she let out the prettiest whine. There was nothing prettier than watching his girl cum. Nothing. “That’s it baby.” He continued thrusting his fingers in, curling them a bit to make her shudder. Keeping the orgasms going was the best thing ever, feeling her lose it on him.

Y/N felt like she couldn’t see straight, had proper stars in her eyes. Nothing could ever explain the true feeling of bliss that came after a release so sweet. She was panting, out of breath, trembling under his touch. Her eyes slowly closed as she attempted to catch her breath, fully leaning on him for stability. It was silent for a few moments, only the sounds of her heavy breathing, the water falling down, and the sound of the music. Y/N couldn’t have imagined it to have gone any better. She pressed soft kisses to his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling herself relax.

“That was so good...” She mumbled against his skin, “so fucking good.” She let out a chuckle and moved her hands up to cup his cheeks, pressing a sweet and loving kiss to his lips.

“Mm. I love you, sweetheart.” Harry murmured, pulling his fingers from her and gently adjusting the bathing suit bottoms so she was covered again. There wouldn’t be much clean up thanks to the water. “Now.. how about we go off and grab some drinks? Yeah? Can sit in my lap while we dry off by the bonfire.” He suggested, brushing a bit of the wet hair from her face away.

God, did he love her. Who knew having a bit of possessiveness would get them this far?

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

A/N: This was very fun to write! we did get some requests to write some filthier stuff so consider this the beginning 😅and again, congrats to cass!! - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #majorharry20k #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry writing #harry styles blurb

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ronalddear · 3 years

Text

Experiment.

hey! this is a little one-shot into some DH tent angst (really doesn't get better than that) this is my first time writing any fanfiction at all so bear in mind that this is very armature.

I've been thinking about this idea for a couple months now and it's officially my headcannon replacement for the Harry-Hermione dance scene in DH, which i'm not the biggest fan of. I've already rambled on a bit but please feel free to reblog and comment your opinions and possible improvements!

The ground was inexplicably hard where Ron stood, the canvas tent behind him violently thrashing through the harsh night wind. Perhaps his thin shoes were wearing out after years of being hand-me downs, or months of endless use while they aimlessly trudged around Britain.

Ron knew though, that he was just tired. He didn't know how his shoulders managed to sag with exhaustion while remaining tense in discomfort but that's how he's been since he woke up in that god-forsaken tent.

He checked and re-enforced the wards, something that he was insanely adamant about after returning, paranoia finally setting in. It was constant at this point, hunger had become somewhat familiar and his fingertips were always a faint purple.

Not that he was complaining, he had Harry and Hermione within arms and ears reach now and he could not possibly ask for anything more.

"Ron! Dinner!", Harry's voice rang through his ears, disrupting his thoughts.

Shit. He had done it. He wasn't aware how long he had been wallowing outside and he was sure the porridge he had taken his time making for the three of them had overcooked on the stove.

He could picture Hermione's look of disdain clearly and cursed himself, not wanting her to get more mad at him but also acknowledging how he had wasted their already near non-existent supply of food.

"Merlin, I'm sorry! I'll try and find something else to-" he began with pace and halted halfway through.

Harry stood expectantly in the tiny living room area in front of Hermione who was neatly sat on their tiny couch. Harry's hands were raised excitedly yet awkwardly in an 'L" shape gesturing towards the worn table where Hermione's books usually lived.

Except there was a small space cleared, and it was occupying a small plate which had about 4 stacks of bread, with jam doused in-between and on top, with the wand that he had given Harry stabbed in the middle, a tiny flame at its tip.

Bloody hell it was a birthday cake.

"My birthday already?" he mumbled, still in awe of the poorly presented but beautiful stack in front of him.

"Well-"

'It was yesterday, I checked the calendar this morning." Hermione cut Harry off shortly, her eyes shamefully anywhere but Ron.

"Oh" he said, wishing so desperately that she would just look at him.

"Come on then mate, make your wish, because I'm not bloody singing" Harry encouraged, his eyes shining fondly at Ron.

With a soft chuckle, he sat on the ground at the table, feeling Harry follow next to him. He blew out the 'candle' softly, not even thinking about his wish, there were simply too many.

Harry gave a low whoop and reached over Ron with a knife and fork and haphazardly cut the cake into thirds.

When Hermione's eyes finally reached his, because yes, he had not taken his eyes off her, his stomach gave a jolt and a small smile graced his lips. Her lips however were still set in the line that she had been giving him for the past couple weeks but her eyes were so gentle and loving, almost unwillingly so, as if she was trying so very hard to be mad. After Harry hurriedly plated their shares and they began eating, a small lump began forming in Ron's throat. He willed himself not to cry, it was just sodding jam soaked toast after all.

He looked up at his two best friends as they ate, observing as Harry scarfed down his portion and as Hermione ate slowly, taking sips of her weak tea in between, knowing it was far too sweet for her taste.

"Wish we could have given you a gift." she said so softly, that he had taken a few seconds to register that she said anything at all.

Her eyes were still on her plate.

"Don't need one", he murmured, hoping that he sounded earnest enough that it could translate how very thankful he was.

"Really?! You sure?", Harry said, and Ron swore for a second that it was eleven year old Harry speaking to him. It was evident that the boy was prone to sugar rushes, even if it was a tablespoon of old jam.

"I have all I need.", he said, voice steadier this time, flashing a grateful smile at him, which was returned.

"Really? Not even a special birthday snog Ron? Because if you want I'll do it again-"

"Harry I'm fine! Merlin's Beard!', Ron interrupted Harry's rushed teasing with loud laughter, Harry's roaring laugh following close behind.

"Wait what do you mean again?" Hermione chanced at Harry, her eyebrows furrowed inquisitively and mouth adorably agape.

Breaking their giggling fit, they both turned towards her , eyes widening at the exact same time. It was then Ron realized that there was soft music playing, presumably from the wireless that was on the table. Has it always been on?

'Nothing don't worry."

"Nothing!"

Harry had followed Ron with the most non-convincing 'nothing' he had ever heard. Sensing what was about to happen, he suddenly felt the strongest urge to slap Harry on the back of his head.

"No no, you said again" Hemione retaliated, her eyes wide as ever, it was the most lively Ron had seen her for months.

"It was once in fourth year!"

'Don't worry about it Hermione, it's fine."

Ron's head snapped toward Harry cursing the stupid sugar in the stupid jam that apparently made Harry, quite frankly, very stupid.

"Wait wait! what?!" Hermione was energetic now and had fully swiveled to face them both.

Realizing that he physically could not lie to Hermione straight to her face, he accepted his fate and both boys began rambling at the same time, Harry excitedly, Ron bracingly.

"Look after the Yule ball-"

"This is rather depressing actually-"

"Shut up Ron, you liked it."

"I don't recall saying I didn't-"

'Anyway, after the shit-show that was the ball, y'know, we wanted to see if-"

"Oh my god I can't believe we're actually- We said we wouldn't tell anyone!"

"Bit late now Ron, anyway, we wanted to-'

"To see if what?!" Hermione gaped at them both, she was clearly teasing now, after seeing Harry's frantic (and hand waving heavy) storytelling and Ron's hair to toe blush.

"Just experimenting-"

"Just for fun!" Harry interjected.

They turned towards each other, eyes wide and then proceeded to practically scream at Hermione.

"Just for fun!'

Just experimenting!"

Great. Now they've switched excuses.

Hermione burst into loud laughter, after much suppression. It was, by far, the most beautiful sound Ron had ever heard and he wished for it to never stop.

This unfortunately, did not halt his maroon blush or the clearly embarrassed look on his face, which made her laugh even more. The second he took a glance at Harry and their eyes met they erupted into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, Harry doubling over and Ron throwing his head back. Drunk on laughter perhaps, Harry leaned over to the wireless and increased the volume, a slow yet rhythmic song filled the small tent.

"Let's have a ball yeah? Like last time?' Harry said, eyebrows wiggling suggestively on the last part, causing Ron to start laughing again, completely red faced.

Hermione struggled to breathe giggling as she looked on at them clearly trying to ballroom dance and failing miserably. The form was so bad no one was sure who was leading at this point, Ron's shoulders much too stiff and Harry's hands much too loose around Ron's waist. They were jumping around madly in the tent laughing harder than ever. Hermione managed to tease once more through gasping breaths,

"Should I leave before you start snogging or-"

"Oh shut up you!", Harry exclaimed, accompanied by a rude hand gesture and Ron simply stared at her and grinned.

'Come join us then', Ron said, holding out his hand for her.

She pretended to think for a moment before getting up, the thin blanket around her laid forgotten on the couch. They rotated for a couple moments, Hermione taking turns in being spun by Harry and Ron, all three of them a giggling mess, their threadbare socks squeaking on the wood floors.

Ron and Harry began a much too rough slow dance once more and Hermione was lightly swaying on her own before standing behind Ron, wrapping her arms around his stomach and tiptoeing her furthest, her nose barely reaching his shoulder. Effectively sandwiched between the pair of them, Ron was thrashing widely in attempts to throw them all off balance, cheeks impossibly red. The lump that was in his throat earlier had developed into free flowing tears and sniffles and he didn't care to stop them.

It didn't bother him because he knew he saw Harry's watering eyes and wobbly smile and felt Hermione's soft sobs through her giggles.

It was definitely the sugar or perhaps the sheer sadness of it all but for a moment they were still children who didn't have any worries or wars to fight on their own. Hermione nuzzled into Ron's back, still giggling, and placed a shy but firm kiss on his jumper-clad shoulder. He reached behind him for her hand and gently pulled her to the front, now spinning both Harry and Hermione, his heart glowing with joy. He tugged her towards him and gave a soft, chaste kiss to her hairline. Now both giggling, they seized Harry and planted two very hard kisses on his cheeks from behind, startling him enough to let out a disgusted squeak and he roared with laughter as he wiped his face on his jacket.

It was insanely messy but it was perfect. So perfect that Ron didn't care that in the morning he would have to second guess if Hermione was even close to forgiving him or that Harry would brood all day about the Hallows and be distant from them both, a war on their shoulders. He was with the two people he loved the most and for that he was thankful.

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aquaticstyles · 3 years

Text

unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

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mr-walkingrainbow · 3 years

Note

battle for abimel? i want a power showdown.

BATTLE FIGHT WITH POWER SHUT DOWN HERE WE GO!!

Basically OverWitch + I guess the rest of the charmed ones, face the new demon of the day, the Cancellor, which nullifies any power thrown at them.

They have to really think hard to figure this one out.

But like, mainly gay OverWitch.

“Ugh,” Macy groaned audibly for the fourth time in the past two minutes, “What’s taking her so long!”

“Ok could you tone down the whine today?” Mel replied exasperatingly, “It’s not like Abby lives next door. And she can’t orb like Harry. It takes time to get here.”

“Yeah and by the time she does the DotD will be long gone!” She stated in annoyance.

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I think the demon of the day can wait for a few minutes. I doubt their in a rush for a Appointment at the nail salon.”

The eldest huffed, “Yeah but Abbys just taking forever!”

“You rang?”

Everyone turned to the source of the voice, which oddly, seemed to be nix.

But more understandingly, smoke started to swirl, practically a mini tornado, until it took the form of Mels beloved.

“Abby!” The Latina cheered, running over and giving her girlfriend a hug.

“Hello lovely,” Abigael grinned, before smirking in Macy’s direction, “Now what’s this about me being slow? Shall I remind you how long it took you and Witchbanger to actually bang?”

Macy made a squawk of protest, while Harry looked on in mute surprise.

“Witchbangers new.” He commented, although Mel couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or curious.

Abby gestured towards him with a flourish, then nodded towards Macy, “Well, this pile of nerves is Whitebanger, only fitting we have the other half.”

Harry seemed to nod in numb acceptance, before turning back to the gadget in his hands.

“Now that we’re all here, I introduce, the Cancellor !” He waved his arms dramatically for the reveal, the gadget projecting a hologram of a dark woman in a white suit.

Maggie stared blankly, “the counselor?”

Harry looked a bit miffed, “No, the Cancellor.”

Macy tilted her head, “The chancellor?”

“NO, lovely, the CANCELLOR.”

Mel narrowed her eyes, “Cancer?”

Harry gasped for breath, “-wha- how?? It’s the CAN-CELL-OR.”

Abigael smirked, snickering lightly, “Oh Harold, why didn’t you just say so?”

Everyone offered nods of agreement while Harry sputtered for words.

Macy graciously took this time to step forward.

“As my dear was beginning to, ahem, say?” She broke off to give the sputtering whitelighter a concerned look, “This is apparently, in fact, the Cancellor. They have the power to nullify or ‘Cancel’ any powers used against it.”

“Oh but who needs powers when your in the middle of fighting a bloodthirsty demon!” Abby snarked typically.

Mel would normally scold her for such a comment, but found herself cracking a smile at the humor of it.

Macy looked annoyed, but shrugged it off, “As I was saying, something good to note, the Cancellor takes the form of whatever it nullified last, so it might not look like this. That’s just the last recorded form.”

She gestured to the regal woman in white. To which Abby purred delightfully.

“At least it’s last participant knew how to dress well.”

Mel shot her a glare, giving her a slap to the arm.

“What?!” The Britt squeaked. She just rolled her eyes in response.

“Aww,” Abby cooed, wrapping her arms around Mels smaller frame, “Is someone jealous of a power taking, identity stealing demon of the day?”

The Latina grumbled a bit, embarrassed of the blush that had indeed made its way across her face.

“No.”

“Oh I think you are.” The later whispered, “But don’t worry my love, no matter how amazingly dressed someone is, they cant even manage to come close to your overall beauty.”

Mel blushed again, this time for an entirely different reason. And a bit bashfully, she turned and gave Abby a chaste kiss.

“I hate you.” She stated grumpily.

“Love you too grumpy.”

“Ladies,” everyone turned to harry, who had finally recuperated, holding an Orb, “Will you generously accompany me to fight a fashionable identity stealer?”

“Oh Harold,” Abby sashayed forward dramatically, “I thought you’d never ask!”

Macy growled jealously while Mel shared a secret laugh with Maggie. The two of them had slowly found Abbys wit more humorous then insulting.

Harry threw the orb, the Group proceeding to jump through it into a wide circular stone covered room.

“Where are we?” Maggie questioned, peering around, their seemingly was only one entrance, a small archway carved into the surrounding rock. Leading into another room.

“We’re in the Cancellors Lair, that ark leads to the cancellor.” Harry answered informatively.

Mel was confused, however, “If so, how do people get in?”

“I think I have the answer to that.”

Everyone turned to Macy, who was staring at the ceiling. They followed pursuit, only to find their room was not really a room, but the bottom of a very deep pit.

“What a treacherous trap.” Abby seethed respectively, if possible, “Some loner demon falls down the pit. And if they survive. The Cancellor can steal their powers and harvest their body.”

“No… no that can’t be?” The youngest stated sadly, ever the empath, “Some have to escape. What about the innocent humans who fall?”

“I guess some could escape,” Abigael reasoned blatantly. If they realized where they were before the Cancellor found them. They would have to have some type of powers that could propel them upwards, like smoke phasing. Because no lucky Jim could climb these walls. Their smooth as stone.”

She wasn’t wrong, Mel found herself absentmindedly feeling the slick walls with her hand.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned to see her girlfriend smiling at her bashully, and hand held out.

“Head in the Clouds my love?”

“Yeah,” the Latina grinned, taking the britts hand, “Thanks for always finding me.”

“Oh why of course!” The hybrid proclaimed, “What else is a loving girlfriend supposed to do?”

“Oh you know, fight demons, slay monsters, make out from time to time.” She monologued coyly.

-“while I’d love to hear this agonizing conversation,” Macy interrupted, “We have a demon destroy.”

Both of them rolled their eyes, but gladly shared secret smiles.

The ragtag group of magical beings entered the room. Nearly immersed in pitch darkness.

Mel felt Abby take her hand, and she tried to send soothing vibes, squeezing it to show she understood.

Abigael wasn’t a fan of the dark, it wasn’t cause she was afraid of it specifically, moreover, it reminded her of being locked in the crate. And mentioned it made her feel quite claustrophobic.

A lot of her fears spiraled from the singular subject of her childhood. It didn’t make them any less valid, however.

“Macy.” Mel whispered in the dark, “A light please?”

“Since when are you afraid of- oh.”

Her sister caught on, a tad second too late. But thankfully, mentioned nothing when the room was engulfed in flames. Just sending Mel a understanding nod.

Abby may get on Macy’s nerves, but she truly did care about her overall well-being.

“Oh thank you Lovely, now we can see where the Cancellors coming from.” Harry commented, subtly driving attention away from Abigael.

The Latina still could see the flush on her girlfriends face. And squeezed her hand again. Trying to say it was ok through touch.

Annoyingly, even with Macy’s flame, the room was not very bright. And from what Mel could see, it was another circular room, but with a domed ceiling, and vine-snaked walls.

Everyone sorta teetered around, peering closely at the cylinder wall, some parts holding ritualistic type carvings underneath the vines.

“How interesting.” Abby mused lightly, tracing a line finger in the indentions.

Mel winced slightly, as the light behind her got abruptly brighter.

“Hey Mace, good job with the light! Didn’t know you were practicing.”

“Mel…” Macy’s voice sounded nervous and halted, “Mel that isn’t me.”

“What do you mean who else would it-“

She cut off, as everyone turned to the center of the room.

Somehow, submerged in the darkness, a middle platform was completely unseen.

But now, from a spotlight coming from nowhere, it was illuminated in a ghostly, nearly theatrical glow.

And on top of that platform, posing dramatically, was the Cancellor.

Maggie scrunched her nose, “Wait… is that-“

-“LIL NAS X?!?” Mel exclaimed abnormally loud.

Her brain was completely shot. How could this be possible. This shouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

But yet, it was, no one else rocked Red dreads, tiny black & white boxers, and thigh high leather boots then the number 1 black gay pop artist.

Macy looked thoroughly confused, “Who..? And are you sure that’s him?”

“I thought he looked familiar.” Maggie mumbled to herself.

Harry’s eyes were bugging out of his head, caught between staring and trying to give the Cancellor some privacy. The bulge in his CK boxers leaving nothing to imagination.

“No that’s definitely him,” Abby purred, practically hypnotized, “No one wears those raunchy underwear but him.”

Mel blushed jealously, “He’s gay Abby. As in into penis.”

Abigael jerked her head, trance broken as she gazed at her pouting girlfriend.

“Aww,” she cooed once again, leaning in close, “Is someone jealous of a LilNausex clone?”

The lesbian flushed, hating how adorable Abbys mispronunciation of his name sounded in her accent.

“It’s Lil Nas X.” She stated huffily.

Abby frowned, just a tad, “Oh come on Lovely.”

“Don’t lovely me!” Mel denied stubbornly.

It was a bit childish, yes, but right now the Demon straddling a chair from literally nowhere was undeniably hot for the Men lovers in the room. And she was green with envy.

“Oh you should know by now,” Abby whispered, her tone seductive and lovely, “Your the only one I want to see in those flamboyant boxers.”

Mel hated how much she was turned on right now.

“Also,” her girlfriends voice was now soft, “No matter how much I may ogle or tease, you really are my one and only love.”

Ok, now she could love her again.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

“Not to break up this repetitive conversation,” Macy once again interrupted, “But how is ‘Lil Nas X’ in the room?”

“Yeah,” Harry piped up finally, “He’s human. And it’s not like he’s killed and stolen the crown, and powers of some random leader.”

“OH MY GOD.” Mel screeched, going straight back to mortified.

“I THOUGHT THAT WAS JUST IN THE VIDEO!?”

Everyone turned to her for an explanation, while she blushed from the heavy gaze, and sexual nature of the rationale.

“I-In his recent music video,” she whispered meekly, “he kills satan and steals his power.”

Her blushed increased dramatically at the implication.

“Not that I’ve watched it or something.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Abby whispered with a devilish attitude, “I’ve watched it plenty enough for the both of us.”

“Basically he stripper poles his way down to hell, does a Lap dance for Satan himself, and then proceeds to kill him in the middle of the throws of it. Ergo stealing his crown. And then his powers. We avid fans all assumed it was apart of gay pride and acceptance and sticking it to the homophobes. Turns out it’s that, and becoming all powerful.”

True to their personality. Mel loves what Abby says, Maggie nods appreciatively and nonchalantly, while Macy and Harry look seconds away from dying of pure awkwardness.

“Um, why isn’t he saying anything?” Maggie points out. The sexy demon staring at them all unblinkingly, thoroughly creeping them out.

“Maybe the voices doesn’t carry when he takes the form?” Macy suggests, “So he tries to hide it by not talking? False sense of security?”

Lil N’as Cloné then opened his mouth, revealing a large jagged set of teeth, jaw unhinging slightly.

“Or!” Maggie says with a state of panic, “He was just waiting to eat us alive!”

The demon crouches low, nearly spider like. Swaying from side to side.

“Ladies! Backs to the wall!” Harry announces, “And make sure to show some type of power, we don’t know how long the transformation takes, so we need to keep track on who still possesses them.”

Mel needs no second affirmation, grabbing Abbys wrist and yanking her back.

“Mel?” She looks outraged, “We need to fight it!”

“Yeah we’ll I can’t fight it if your powers are stolen and need someone to protect you!”

Abigael huffs, “I can take care of myself Melanie. See?”

She holds her hand up as if to summon a flame.

Head jerking when none appears.

Her expression changes to one filled with fear and confusion, “Bloody hell??”

Abby continued to unsuccessfully summon a flame, hand whirring to a blur.

“Mel!” She exclaimed in a frenzy, “Mel, it’s not working, why isn’t it working? To hell with this!”

“Hey! Hey,” the Latina soothed, rushing to place a hand on her arm in a calming motion, “Carino it’s ok. Don’t panic. The lil n’as dude just took your powers assumingly.”

“Are you sure?!?”

It seemed kinda like a controversial question to ask; considering she couldn’t activate her fire powers, but Mel understood it was from fear rather then logic.

“Well, try to smoke phase.”

Abby nodded tentatively. Raising her hands once again.

The very tips of her fingers produced ashy whisps, but aside from that, their was nothing.

“Your smoking.” Maggie unhelpfully stated, as she edged towards them.

“Why thank you Captain obvious!” Abby snarked bitterly.

The brunette looked concerned, glancing at the Latina instead, “Mel, what’s wrong?”

Abby was outraged, “Mel?! I am RIGHT HERE y’a know, if your just gonna stand their like a blathering idiot you might as well-“

-“She’s been cancelled,” Mel interrupted blatantly, witch just a tad of irritation at her raving girlfriend, “Her powers aren’t working and she’s lashing out.”

Maggie shrugged, “Naturally.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NATURALLY?! I have a RIGHT to be upset I-“

-“So you sure their fully gone?” Her sister continued, “I never saw the Cancellor do anything? And he still looks like Lil N’as!”

Mel turned back to the center, brows furrowing at the now empty stage.

“Where’d he go?”

The dead silence, and lack of demon, filled the room with an eerie unsettling vibe.

“Mel, I don’t like this.” The empath warned.

She didn’t either.

“MACY!” The Latina called out, “WHERED HE GO?”

Macy looked just as panicked, probably even more, “I DONT KNOW! HE WAS JUST HERE?!”

“Oh for gods sake! We should rejoice for all I care! I’m the one with my powers gone and if you would STOP bloody ignoring me id-“

Mel whirled around, placing one finger in front of Abbys lips, the other hand firmly around her waist.

“Abby. I love you. I know your freaking out right now. But please, can you refrain from ranting till we leave?”

Abbys eyes were both murderous and loving, and softly, Mel kissed her until it changed to a lightly irritated.

“Better?” She puffed quietly.

The Britt nodded silently, blushing lightly at the affection showed.

Mel scrunched her eyebrows, briefly seeing the abrupt look of horror sweep it’s way across her girlfriends face.

“What’s wr-“

-“MEL LOOK OUT!”

Abby had shoved her aside roughly, the witch groaning as she hit the ground, but enough adrenaline rushing through to allow her to roll to her elbows.

She glanced up, Just in time to see a dark shadow drag Abigail to the the darkest parts of the room.

“ABBY!” She screamed, arm outreached and terror in her eyes.

“MACY!” Mel barked, “MORE LIGHT.”

Her sister didn’t have to be told twice, “ON IT!”

Immediately, the softly glow from Macy’s flame turned into a raging fire, illuminating all that it could without burning something.

Dead silence followed.

Maggie gasped, “Oh no.”

Standing before them, with the shadows gone and dust settled, was two identical Abigael Jameson-Caines. Each with matching clothes and injuries.

“By all things science.” Macy blanched.

“The Cancellor has taken Abbys form!” Harry informed quickly, “Ready yourself for an attack from either one.”

Mel rose to her feet on shaky limbs, reading an icicle from the air particles around her.

“Alright,” her voice was steady, although she wasn’t calm in the slightest, “One of you is the hot pain in my ass who I love dearly. And the other is a cannibalistic identity stealer. So. Who’s who.”

Immediately both of them rushed to ensure her trust, voices perfectly identical.

“I’m the real Abby!” The one on the right said.

“No!” Lefty said, “Don’t listen to them I’m the real Abby!”

[Authors note - Right side Abby will be in bold.

Left side Abby is in Italics.]

“Their perfectly identical,” Macy stressed, “How are we gonna tell them apart?!”

“Their must be a logical way to solve this.” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Come on guys, really?” Maggie shot them a glare, Mel seemed to catch on, “It’s easy really.”

“We quiz them.”

After a quick group huddle, and their bearings regain, they were ready to give a life or death quiz.

“Alright Abby clones,” Maggie narrated, “We’ve each prepared a question, something only the real Abby should know. Based on your answers, we will decide if your truthful or not.”

“Great just don’t dose me with truth serum while your at it.” Both Abbys snarked in complete unison, before shooting matching scowls at the other.

Maggie looked drastically discouraged but the display, voice wavering.

“U-uh, um, y-yes. Questions. H-Harry your up.”

The man walked up a few feet, nervously wiping his palms against his button up.

“Alright, ladies,” he gave his habitual gentlemen nod to the two of them, “When one of you invited me over for dinner, what was the main course?”

“Duck!” Righty said immediately. Grinning proudly.

“Hey! That one was too easy!” Lefty argued, “Duck is the best meat for a date! Everyone knows that! Not to mention I gave Harold a massage beforehand.”

“Of course it’s the best! What else would you eat, bloody chicken like an uncultured heathen?!”

Righty paused to glance at Harry, “Uh, I get the point for that one right?”

Harry looked overwhelmed, panic evident on his face.

“Uh, um. Undecided!” He then quickly scampered to the back of the pack, face flushed while doing so.

“Completely identical.” The Whitelighter whispered to no one.

Macy shrugged, “Guess I’m up.”

She approached the twins glancing at either with an impassive face.

“Let’s see, what’s Abbys favorite nickname for me?”

“Whitebanger.” The two answer in synchronized perfection. Shooting yet another glare at each other.

Macy looked tired, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Of course that one was too easy. Any Abby could apparently answer that in her sleep. Let me think of a harder question.”

It wasn’t long before her poker face soon returned. Leveling them up once again.

“When You fake poisoned yourself, what was that one question that was actually subserviently a dig on me?”

“To spoon!” Left jolted, “I asked you to spoon!”

“Actually! I asked her if she was the big spoon or little spoon.”

“Well excuse me for messing up one tiny detail! At least I got the spoon part before you!” Left rolled her eyesz

“Well mine was actually accurate, so yours doesn’t count!”

“Yeah it does!”

“Does not!” Right argued.

“ENOUGH!”

Macy had both hands out, face strained, “You two need to stop arguing so I can think!”

The clones shut up, as she stormed back towards the group, shaking her head.

“They share a freaking mind.” The eldest stated bitterly.

A few minutes passed as they waited for Maggie to step up. Who looked severely intimidated by the task at hand.

Mel coughed, “Maggie it’s-“

“I KNOW!” The Latina shrieked, “GIVE ME A SECOND!”

“Okayyy!”

The youngest took a couple very hesitant feet forward.

“Hello!” She waved awkwardly, “I’m Maggie -wait ugh, Abby already knows that of course! Gosh stop talking to yourself and think of a damn question!”

She bit her lip nervously, looking at them with a fearful expression.

“Ok, um. Let’s see. What’s some things Abby likes to do?”

“Oh that’s easy, Alcohol, Mel, making Macymorts life miserable!” Righty laughed to herself.

Mel ignored the fierce blush that rose to her face at the implication.

“But that’s easy,” Lefty sneered meanly, “I like to do many things, all which someone could easily guess.”

“Pray tell, tell me how you could ‘guess’ I like those things?”

“Well I-“

-“Ok!” Maggie squeaked, “Another question then!”

She then proceeded to flounder for a few moments. Hands waving rapidly in anxiety.

“Um, ok then. Who’d you save my life from?”

“My brother.”

“My half-brother, Parker.”

The answers seemed to be the same, yet lefty seemed to be happy with how specific she was.

Maggie, however, had paused. Eyes narrowed at the two, caught in a thought.

“Maggie?” Mel whispered, “What did you see?”

The Brunette jolted, plastering a fake smile on her face, “Oh nothing! Just a trick of the light!”

Mel grabbed her arm once she returned closer to the group, “Pfft, trick of the light my ass, you saw something? What was it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, “It was something about how they said it. They said the some thing, yet one sounded right, and the other wrong?”

“But how is that possible?” Macy interject lowly, ever the logical person.

“I don’t know!” Maggie whined, arms flailing, “It just was!”

“We’ll don’t stress,” Mel soothed, “We definitely have something by now from other questions.”

“We definitely, do not, have something from any of these questions.” Harry muttered a few minutes later in a group huddle.

“Maggie,” he glanced at the youngest, “Were you able to get anything, you know, empath wise?”

Her gaze snapped to his, a bit of fire in her pupils, “Don’t you think I would have said something if I did?! It’s hard enough that their identical, but their emotions are too! The Cancellor apparently has the ability to copy someone completely! They know everything about the other, because they know it themselves!”

Mel gasped, realization hitting her in a flash, “Oh my god Mags, that’s it!”

Maggie looked confused, as did the rest of them, “What’s it? What did I say?”

“I can’t be something Abby already knows,” she explained carefully, in a deep whisper, “If it’s something she already knows, the Cancellor can immediately pick up on it. He has a copy of all her memories! It’s gotta be something she doesn’t know, or, Moreover, something we know that can get a honest reaction she doesn’t know she makes.”

“But that’s practically impossible!”

“Don’t say that Macy, it’s not impossible if your the girlfriend of Abigael Jameson-Caine!”

Mel pulled from the group, walking up to the two with a confident swagger.

Both, of course, seemed a bit taken aback by her bold demeanor.

“Ok Siamese freak from hell,” she grinned, cracking her knuckles, “Your in my court now, It’s my turn to ask the questions.”

“One of you is the woman I love, and the fact she’s currently having to take a quiz for her life is sickening, so that stokes the fire of hate I have for whoever is causing this. And once I find out who is it, I promise you will regret ever messing with us, and mi Cariño!”

Mel let her monologue be a distraction, gradually advancing forward as she spoke. Until she was directly in front of them.

“Now, it’s time for your final question.”

She stared them in their chocolate orbs, lingering over the right one. Mel couldn’t understand it, but she felt as if the righty was the true Abby. Even with no proof. Their was just something in her eyes.

“Can you kindly hold you hands like this?”

The Latina then proceeded to hold one hand up, baring the wrist, the other slightly bellow, pressing on a very specific patch of skin.

The two were confused, both tilting their heads to the side slightly, in a way Abby would commonly do when she was thinking.

Mel let her hands drop to her sides, watching like a hawk as the complied. She could feel the groups eyes on her, and was desperately praying that this worked.

A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Perfectly identical.

Then, it happened. The Abby on the right legs swiftly crumpled.

Mel rushed in, and in one move, caught Abby with one arm. The other, which had been hidden from sight, stabbing the duplicate with a quickly formed air icicle.

The demon gave a feral screech from the weapon embedded in its chest, clawing at it weakly.

The group watched in awe as it switched between numerous forms, one which of was lil n’as, the others it’s countless victims.

“How?” It gasped hoarsely, “I’m completely identical.”

“That’s where your wrong!” Mel smiled proudly, “You see, in a way, you were identical. You knew everything Abby did because you could copy her mind! But what about something she didn’t even know of? Like the fact that from years of being put in shock cuffs consequently damaged the nerve in her right wrist? That when pressed, would cause her to pass out?”

“But how?” It wailed, “She would have known!”

“Except she didn’t!” The Latina cradled the unconscious body gently, kissing Abbys crown lightly, “I only found out by accident. And she didn’t remember a thing about it when waking up. I didn’t want to worry her, so I just stayed quiet. I soon understood why it happened due to her trial. But as a demon who can only copy what the person knows, you wouldn’t have.”

The creature let out a few more pitiful whines before crumpling to ash and dust.

“MEL!” Maggie shrieked in happiness, giving her a gigantic hug, “That was AMAZING! How did you figure it out?!”

“Just by what you said,” she answered honestly,” Their emotions were the same, and physically they were too. But the body is an amazing thing, and it does many things were not even aware of!”

“That is factually correct!” Macy complimented with a smile.

“I suppose this calls for a celebration when we get home, err, when do you think she’ll wake up?” Harry gestured to the peacefully resting girl.

The lesbian grinned softly, “Oh, any moment now. It only knocks her out for a minute or two.”

“Oh!” Maggie perked up, “I just remembered what I noticed about her response!”

Everyone stared with great interest.

The youngest smiled, “Abby called Parker ‘Brother’. Even though he’s only half related, she always adressed him as her brother. I guess the clone thought we wanted more specific.”

“She truly is just that amazing.” Mel noted warmly, lips parting when she felt Abby starting to stir.

The group took this as their key to leave, telling Mel to meet them back in the other room.

She nodded, expression soft when Abigaels eyes fluttered open.

“W-what happened? D-id we do it? Is it gone?”

“Gone Cariño,” Mel cooed, smoothing the stray hairs off her face and stroking her forehead just the way she liked, “All thanks to you my love.”

“Me?” Abigael questioned, “What did I do? All I remember is, ugh, I have a killer headache, I just remember doing some weird hand signs and then darkness?”

“Oh my love, you were yourself! Undeniably, and amazingly yourself. And no Lil N’as, fancy identity stealer could ever imitate you perfectly. For theirs only one of you. And for that, I am greatful.”

“Why?” Abby arched an eyebrow, smiling erotically, “Because I’m too hot to handle?”

Mel scoffed, chuckling despite herself, nearly dropping her girlfriend in the process.

“More like because i can barely tolerate one of your personality!”

The Britt pouted slightly, “Your mean.”

“Oh am I?” She leaned in and kissed her pouty lips, “No but actually? It’s because I’m reminded to never take you for granted. I only get one of you. And it be the worst mistake of my life to waste it.”

Abbys lips turned to a fond smile, “And their you go again, making me feel things and generally be a better happier person.”

“Oh the audacity of myself!” The witch smirked.

“Ugh, I hate you!”

She grinned, “Love you too.”

42 notes · View notes

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Note

I want italyrry to RAIL ME well actually any Harry but especially italyrry in that tank top after his run like sir please TAKE ME

Can you imagine him walking through the door of your rented villa all breathless and sweaty, setting the keys down in the small ceramic bowl near the entrance and carefully removing his earbuds, putting them in their container and setting them down beside the platter.

You can hear him treading down the corridor that leads from the front door to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing lightly against the cement and porcelain tiles, his sharp exhales of exertion unmistakable.

You retrieve a water bottle from the fridge and dampened a cloth under some cool running water, drifting over to him as soon as he crosses the archway into the room.

His voice is wispy and raspy, throat barren and lips slightly chapped, but he gives you a weak smile nonetheless. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi, trucker.” You quip playfully, removing his crude cap off his head and tossing it onto the counter, ruffling his matted hair to air out some heat.

“It was a gift from Jeff!” Harry exclaims defensively, a grin toying at the edges of his flushed lips. “Would be mean to throw it in the bin.”

“Mmhm.” You plop the water bottle into his awaiting hand, combing stringy curls away from his forehead as you reach up to gently drag the wet towelette across his ticking jaw and down his flexing neck.

Harry unscrews the cap of the drink with a faint crack, shrugging his brows nonchalantly as he tips it back, taking large gulps. His lashes flutter at the sensation of the chilled water running over his dry tongue and parched throat, humming softly in appreciation. You wipe across his defined collarbones and along his temples, ducking under the thin straps of his muscle tank to get across his shoulders.

He can see you trying to keep a straight face, which results in a light smirk coaxing his dimples into place, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards around the rim of his beverage.

Harry draws the water bottle away, twisting it shut to set it down as he leans his forearm onto the edge of the kitchen island, biceps rippling and pectorals heaving. You carefully fold the cloth over and start scrubbing behind his ears, trying to ignore the way he’s eyeing you smugly over the crests of his colored cheeks, blushing nose sniffling lightly in a cheeky manner. You can’t help notice that his skin is tinged the exact same shade of cherry red from the night before, when he’d worked up at sweat for a very different reason.

“Think you can get my chest and back next?” He murmurs lowly, bottom lip strung between his teeth to keep in an arrogant chuckle.

Your gaze momentarily flickers to his, heat pouring into your face as he blinks at you all sultry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “Sure. Shirt off.”

Harry grabs onto the back of his collar, hauling the grey Nike tank over his head, tanned muscles contracting and expanding with his movements. He drops the crumbled top onto the table, taking a slow step forward so you can have extended range across his body. His tone is dripping with condescending amusement. “Thanks, darling.”

You clear your throat lightly, rubbing the towel over his chest as he had requested, feeling it stutter beneath your touch. You swipe over his stomach, watching the way his butterfly tattoo expands with his gradual breaths, tummy twitching and abdomen tightening. The warmth in your cheeks rises in intensity.

“Turn around.” You murmur, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes, well aware that if you were to look at his cocky expression directly, he’d immediately be able to tell how easily he’s playing you.

After an elongated pause, Harry obliges, spinning around slowly on his heel. You have to bite down onto your tongue to keep from making a noise.

His broad back just looks so fucking tempting, covered in a thin sheet of shiny sweat, rising and falling with his deep breaths. His tendons are taunt under his sun-kissed skin and the second you set the cold cloth onto it, his entire spine shudders under your palms, a hiss streaming through the crack in his teeth.

Harry’s deep voice comes out thick and barely sheepish. “Sorry. Felt good.”

You somehow manage to keep your response steady. “S’fine.”

You begin to work the towel over the extent of his back, cleaning up the stickiness leftover from his jog. Halfway through, he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder, a sly simper obvious across his lips as he gifts you a lingering once-over.

You raise your eyebrows at him in a silent question, halting your actions.

“Give me a kiss.”

Your eyes go half-lidded, tone humorously flat. “You’re sweaty and gross. Let me finish this and then maybe you’ll get one.”

“If I wanted one later, I would’ve asked later.” He snaps with a joking edge, turning to once again face you fully, your hands falling away from his back. “I want one now.”

“I’m not going to kiss you right now, you smell like a dirty gym sock.”

Harry wraps his long fingers around your wrist, tender yet firm, tugging you closer until his bare chest presses against your clothed own. His words come out as a rumbling whisper. “You didn’t have a problem kissing down my sweaty chest last night.”

Your cheeks feel like they’ve been set aflame. “That was different.”

Harry lists his head to the side, the gold specks around his pupils dancing coyly in the sunlight that filters through the open balcony doors of the villa, his chestnut ringlets swaying in the faint draft. “How so?”

You open your mouth to answer, only to realize he’s stumped you. There’s truly no difference— no solid rationalization, and he knows that. He just wants to see you fidget.

After a few more seconds of rummaging your brain for an acceptable answer, you gradually shut your jaw in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Harry scoffs, left hand finding its way onto the curve of your neck, lips jolting when he feels your pulse spike under his palm. His other hand coasts onto your hip, squeezing jestingly and yanking you further into his body. “Just one, yeah? Missed you while I was away. You’re not gonna leave your poor, lovesick boyfriend hanging, are you?”

The exaggerated puppy eyes and blubbering pout he puts on causes your eyes to roll up towards the ceiling. “Dumbass.”

Harry releases a boyish giggle that makes your stomach knot. “You can call me all the names you want as long as you kiss it better.”

“Moron.”

“Sure.”

You slowly teeter forward onto your tippy toes, reaching up towards his face. “Idiot.”

An entertained grin buckles his splotchy cheeks. “Absolutely.”

You bump the tip of your nose against his chin, quirking a single brow up at him suggestively. “Asshole.”

His gaze falters from your own to your mouth, tongue peeking out to lick at his itching lips, eyes hungry. “Ouch.”

You ghost your cupid’s bow over his own, the breath of your words burning his skin. “Prick.”

“Okay, that one stung.”

You snort yourself into a round of airy laughter and he mirrors the gesture, leaning down to finally button your mouths together. Your shared giggles make the kiss messy and fun, his mustache and beard prickly in the best way imaginable. He tucks his thumb underneath your jaw, using it to tilt your chin higher to get a better angle, the digit then running gently across the slope of the structure. A hot glow swells in your chest at the action, your hands instinctively wrapping around his strong, bare shoulders, his flesh still slightly tacky from the drying sweat.

The hand resting on your waist drifts over the dip of your spine, his forearm then completely tying around the small of your back. He maneuvers you until you’re pressed against the edge of the kitchen island, wedged between the front of his thick thighs and the marble counter. He peels away from your eager mouth, pasting sloppy pecks down your throat, the thick hair across his face leaving a small rash in its wake. You card your fingers into the baby curls along the nape of his neck, spinning them around your knuckles, easing out a soft groan on his behalf that pools along the crook of your jugular .

You scratch at his scalp, his shoulders giving a swift shiver as a result, his next sentence garbled and almost drunk. “Going on this run was a great idea.”

You tug at his curls until his mouth is once again level with yours, sewing them together and grinning into the desperate kiss. You lick along his upper lip, jumping a tad when he teasingly bites into your bottom one. “Maybe it was.”

A minute or so goes by, full of more needy suckling and rough nipping, and then Harry breaks away for air. He poses his damp forehead to yours, the jade in his eyes electric with newfound energy, voice a low and heavy croak.

“Why don’t you come take a shower with me, hm? You can help me clean up the mess I’m about to make.”

#drabble

579 notes · View notes

syalmazhafira17 · 3 years

Text

Ever Since New York

A/N: Hello! This is my first HS fanfiction for the Playlist Fic Challenge hosted by @harrystylescherry. I didn’t specified any Harry era, you could imagine any Harry era you want to! I think this is also a reader insert fanfic, but well, hopefully it does. The pronoun I use here is she/her. I know this is not the real meaning of the song, but the actual meaning of the song triggered me myself, I didn't like to write about it, I'm sorry. If there’s any mistakes, please let me know because English wasn’t my first language. And if you’d like to give me reviews or talk to me, you could absolutely do it! Happy reading! XOXO, Syalma

Word Count: 5.1k

TW: car accident

“I’ve been praying ever since New York” – Ever Since New York

Things started in a place. And for Harry, it was New York.

New York City might not be the most romantic city in general public, but for the Harry Edward Styles, the city is a gift for him. The sweetest memory started here, in the city. When every now and then the city was always busy, but he found comfort in the middle of it. Something he previously never thought to find about in this city.

///

He was just shuffling through the crowd in Times Square. It was at night in the busy hour. He was wrapped in a thick jacket and sunglasses, and everything was so packed, even people, and anyone barely notices him. Which he was thankful about, because it was already a tiring day for him in the studio. It’s already late in his opinion and all he wants is jump on his bed right away. Or maybe a cuddle, even, only if he has someone to cuddle.

The thought stuck in his head, and that night, God given him what he wishes quietly. He bumped into a girl in the Metro. The girl turned around, rising her eyebrow in confusion. When she saw him, she started to freak out. Her head already in a negative view. She step aside a little, giving a space between him and her. He wanted to mumble an apology, before realizing the girl already stepping away from him.

She looks like she’s a college student, he thought. And before he knew it, she snapped her eyes at him alarmingly. He knew she can’t see his eyes staring at her like a lost puppy found its owner, but it surely already makes way to her instinct.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away, locking his eyes at the ceiling of the Metro track.

He didn’t know, that ever since that day, she will be stuck in his daydreams, and out of the blue, making way to his songs and writings.

Ever since the metro, she’s all he thinks about.

///

Their faith tied together again. It’s lunch time and they both met again in the restaurant.

She was looking around the place to find one single unoccupied chair. Her eyes fell on two, one in front of a smoking men and one in front of the curly-headed men. She hates the smoke, and for the sake of it, she makes her way through the table.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to disturb your lunch, may I sit here by any chance?” she asked. The men turned around. He looks right back at her, with bright green eyes and hazelnut curls on top of his head. A moment of silence as Harry regains back his memory of the Metro girl he bumped into.

“I’m so sorry, if you didn’t want to. I’ll find another seat,” she brought her tray away, walking to the opposite direction from the table.

“Hey, um, I didn’t mean to. You can- you can seat here,” he nodded, chewing his lips. He has been thinking about her for some times, once he already got the girl, he messed it up by just looking at her.

“Oh— thank you so much!” she smiled brightly as she turns back to the table and set down her food tray.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before he speaks up after a war with his gut.

But she did it first.

“I’m sorry, but you look familiar, have I met you before?” she asked.

His mind glued at her until he forget to answer it until she cleared her throat in a code to snap him back to reality.

“Eh, sorry, sorry. Yeah, we’ve met before. In the Metro, the men bumping at you at busy hour,” he scratches the back of his neck, like he always do when he was nervous.

“New York is really a city of possibility. Who knows I bumped into Harry Styles on a Metro?” she laughed. Harry’s smile makes its way back to his face. There’s something about this girl he was very fond of.

“You know…me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Of course I do. Like everyone else. I’ve been a fan,” she nodded.

“You didn’t, don’t get me wrong, look like one,” he stared at her. He wanted to hear her way of saying ‘I do’ in front of their families and kissed in front of everyone. With him.

“Well, I am. Not all fangirl looks like they are a fan, aren’t we? But yeah, I’m a fan. Dying to get a quick snap of you, but I figured you will quickly find my phone’s camera lens as soon as I snap it, considering your sixth sense of it and me sitting only separated by a table, so that might not be a good idea. And yeah, maybe I look calm outside, don’t be tricked by it. I freaked out inside,” she laughed. There’s something about the way she talks that makes him mesmerized by it. He gulped down.

“Do you want a snap?” he offers. Her eyes look back at him in shock. She slowly nodded. She offers her phone, but he already pulled out his.

He snap their picture quickly before he sends it.

“Do you have an Apple product phone? So, it will airdrop?” he asked.

“Eh, no, I have an Android, but I have my iPad with me. Give me a sec,” she pulled out a device from her backpack. She turned it on and Harry sends the picture to it. He glances at the name of her device. y/n’s iPad. y/n. A name he will remembers.

Looking at him glancing at the name of her iPad, she suddenly realized.

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m y/n,” she offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Harry,” he giggled.

“Hi Harry,” she said, in a soft tone, that makes him wanted to listen to it for the rest of his life. They both laughed and continued their food.

Ever since the restaurant, he wonders if their faith will collide once again.

///

“Hello, um, no, that’s…probably not a good tone, you have to use the perfect charming tone. Not too low, not too high, not too fast, not too slow. Hey. That’s too informal,” he chippers in front of his bathroom’s mirror.

He didn’t know how much luck he could get right now. He got her phone number, for some weird connection only God knows exist. She was one of his mates’ old friend. Her contact was buried beneath his’ phone for ages and he managed to pull that out of his contact and have the courage to save the number in his phone and gave the girl he met by coincidence a call in one fine Saturday night. And managed to croak out a question in the middle of his nervous state on that simple call.

And fast forward a week, here he is standing in front of the mirror, practicing his line over and over while his nervousness ripping him off little by little. He doesn’t know how he have this whole luck of her.

His phone suddenly rang, snapping him out of his thought and sprinting to his phone as quick as possible. He pulls up the green button after glancing at the caller’s ID.

“Hey, Harry,” she greeted. Her voice ran down his spine and gave him a comfort he never felt before with anyone else.

“Hello,” he said. A dead silence for a moment before she continued speaking.

“Um, I don’t know if I disturb you, I’m so sorry if I do, but I’ve been waiting for about 45 minutes, and I wonder if you will go on the date or cancel it? Because if you want to cancel it, then it’s okay. I’m just checking.”

Harry looking up at the clock on the wall. The clock showed him the time that felt like a slap at his face. And her soft voice asking him in concern make him regret his own feeling. He was supposed to be where she is now an hour ago, he planned on coming earlier than her to make a good impression, but now he’s late, like really late. There will be no way she’s going to forgive him nor agree to go on the second date with him.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I– I just lost track of time, I’ll be there in a sec,” he stuttered. He push his phone to his pocket, ran to his keys, and flung himself to his Range Rover and hit the road as fast as the law allowed him to sped up.

He arrived in the span of 15 minutes from her phone call, panting and sweating, as well as nervous and panicking, scared to look at her face once she pulled up to the passenger’s side of his car. She raised an eyebrow before touching his bicep softly to distract him from his thoughts.

“Harry?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

“Uh- yeah, I’m okay,” he nodded quickly.

“You look pale and sweating,” she examined his face.

“I’m great, that’s just…my natural features,” he tumbled over his words. “Shall we go?”

“It’s okay if you’re not feeling good, I could just go home,” she looks at him with a concerned face.

There will be no way he will let her let out of his grasp. He was already in the edge of not getting her by forgetting the time, he won’t let her go home alone this time.

“I’m perfectly fine, we’ll go to one of my favorite restaurant,” he stated, the thought simply giving him a new pump of confidence.

“Oh, alright, we’ll go then,” she relaxed to the seat and buckled herself. He drives through the night glow of New York with Brooklyn Bridge and Miss. Liberty watching him. Watching quietly as Harry Styles trying his best to get the girl he dreamed of by picking up the rest of the pieces left about him in her that he already broke. And this city being the quiet paparazzi recording every step of him got the love of his life.

Ever since the date, he knew he will do anything to be with her.

///

He shifted in his sleep, making himself a little more comfortable, while scooting further to her arms. She wrapped her arms around his wide form graciously, mumbling something before inhaling his scent to soothe herself to go back to sleep.

They tangled together in her bed, sheets crumpling beneath their bodies. They didn’t need it anymore; each other’s warm presence was more than enough to keep them safe and sound in the summer night.

They have been official for a couple months now, 7 months to be precise, after him, being a nervous wreck having the courage to ask her to be his and his only. He was nervous, sweat covering his palm, and his voice trembling as he asks her. He doesn’t know how he did it, but he did end up driving home with her hand in his and a thin layer of her lipstick left on his lips. And when he got back to his own place, he screamed from the balcony to the busy road beneath, doesn’t even spare a glance at pedestrians looking up at him weirdly, or the fans started to clicking their cameras up secretly, or paparazzi recording him. In his mind, the world was just him and her.

His eyes flicker open, looking up to her, who sleeps peacefully. He stays there and just watching her breathing rhythm. He loves it when she got into peace like this, with no crease between her brows or an upset face painted on her beautiful face.

“Are you going to creepy stare at me forever or tell me what time it is?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“Both, it’s around 1 in the morning darling,” he said sweetly, kissing her shoulder.

“Great! Now tell me everything you wanted to ramble on,” she said jokingly.

He knows she was joking, but he did anyways. He spoke up.

“I want babies, to cuddle! To squish their little chubby cheeks. How cute would that be? They will have green eyes and curly hair like I do, and they’ll have tiny smile that looks like yours! And we’ll squish their tiny faces and kiss them and we’ll spoil them with so much love and—and—and—Gucci!” he giggled after the word came out. Of course, Harry’s staple, Gucci, will be on the list of his babies.

“And we’ll put them in bear onesies I saw on Pinterest the other day! And we’ll paint the walls soft yellow, and we’ll get to cuddle them in our arms at night, and they will squirm in our arms, and when they wake up hungry in the middle of the night, I’ll come to them so you’ll sleep. And I can stop my work while they were little, could almost be packed in the suitcase I brought on tour! And when they got old enough, we’ll go around the world and they’ll meet a lot of people, will see the world in real life. And then…they’ll grow up,” he ended his ramble about babies in a sad face, realizing babies could grow up too, and they will not be so little anymore.

“And then, you’ll make more,” she ended the whole story for him.

“You? Why not— oh yeah, I’m sorry,” he looked down like a sad kitten. “We never talk about this before.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. We’ll be a little family, with babies like you want, yeah? Their little faces and cheeks, want to squish and kiss them already,” she fixed her words. He looked up at her again excitedly.

“And we’ll have kittens! Cute little fur balls in the couch!” he continued on.

He continues to talk about kittens. How cute they were, how many will they have, and how he will fed them.

“I love cats lots, but not as much as I love—” his eyes widen after he realized what he just said.

“I love…?” she didn’t have a single clue what he was about to say. And he was thankful for it. “Babies?” she guesses.

“No,” he shook his head.

“So…what?” she furrowed her eyebrows. “Working in the bakery?”

“You, I love you,” he finally decided to risk it all and said the three words that have been stuck in his mouth for the past months.

“I…Harry,” she said sternly.

“Yes?” he looked up at her like a scared kitten.

“Are you sure about those words?”

“With my whole heart, darling.”

“Like sure, sure?”

He nodded quietly.

“I love you, too,” she whispers right to his ears and kissed his pink lips.

His cheek and his nose flushed red. He couldn’t believe that he just did it.

Ever since that night, he knows he wants to spend evermore with her.

///

He was in LA again. Not staying in New York. It’s the fifth time he did it, with no preparation call, but just a quick text once he arrived. Leaving her confused for a moment before processing her boyfriend’s quick news. She was already living in his New York apartment he purchased for both of them, but he was barely there. At bright days, he spent it with his guitars, music, and studios, and at night he conquers the music industry concert. At weekends, he was busy to move around the world, too busy to text his girlfriend about his plan and whereabouts.

Today, she had enough of it. She stormed out of her class with angry fingers pressing the buttons of his number. Those all because he already sent the text ‘In LA babe, don’t wait x’. But who wants to wait for a week before he came back to NY, gave her a proper talk about his plan, and if he remembered about him having a girlfriend, plan on a date afterwards?

First call, doesn’t get answered. Second call, to voicemail after a few ringing. Third call, straight up to voicemail.

She grumbled beneath her breath, cursing, before trying again. On the last ring, he finally picks up.

“Hello, babe, have you gotten my text?” he asked.

“No, you come home tonight, or I’ll leave,” she said sternly. She doesn’t want to look scary by the people she met in the hallway, but her eyes says otherwise. But she didn’t care much. She cares about the fact that her lover just left her with a short text.

“Hey? What’s wrong with you?” his voice turned from bouncy and happy to a stern confused one.

“You’re the one that needed to be asked that way,” she scolded.

“Darling, I’m not going to be in the joke right now, I have some big stuff to do,” he frowned.

“OH, your girlfriend you just left in New York wasn’t a big stuff? Okay, don’t expect me to wait a week alone in that bloody apartment,” she huffed before hanging up as quick as possible, making sure she did it as he speak up explaining his problem.

He cursed underneath his breath when the call line got cut off. Jeff, reading his face, looked over.

“You okay, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just…y/n acting up,” he mumbled.

Jeff didn’t answer, he just nodded before speaking to someone on the other end of his own phone call. While Harry tried his best to not thinking about his upset (and alone) lover back in New York, he just…failed miserably. At the time the clock strikes midnight, he gave up to his feelings and book a ticket back to New York.

He got into the plane at 3 AM, bouncy and a nervous wreck. He was scared of what might y/n does. Breaking up? Almost a bit dramatic, but doesn’t make it zero possibility. Mad at him? She does now. No need to wonder. Leave the house? She probably plan to right now. Driving at midnight and blasting sad songs in her car? Not Harry’s type, but hey, y/n is y/n. She could be doing that at this very moment. Getting drunk in a dive bar with her college friends? She was barely past drinking age, and she doesn’t like alcohol much, but everyone seeks comfort when they fight with their significant others right? Stress eating on McDonald’s drive thru or eating a tub of ice cream, crying over a random TV Show? It’s nothing bad compared to other possibilities, but he doesn’t want to know it was because of him. Because in each possibility, he imagined her crying and mad at the same time.

And when he dropped his bag at their apartment, the first view he saw wasn’t a crying y/n, an empty house, a drunk version of his girl, or a girl crying with an ice cream tub or McDonald’s packaging. Instead, she curled up into a ball in the sofa, must have been fallen asleep at some point at night, blanket messily covering her figures, and the TV playing a random bad TV Show. He went immediately soft by the sight in front of him, but he quickly remembered about his problem.

He didn’t want to wake her up and as bad as he wanted to curl up in the sofa and scooping her in his chest (because he know she won’t even think twice to push away whoever cuddle her without her knowing) so he went to the bathroom and cleaning up himself a little before moving to kitchen and made some coffee.

She woke up 30 minutes later, squinting at the light before fully aware of other people existence in the apartment. Her hazy mind translates it as a stranger, but once he dropped a pan and cursing, she knew it was Harry.

She pushed her feet against the carpet and walked towards the kitchen.

“Oh sorry, sweetheart, did I wake you?” he asked.

“Care to come home, Styles?” she didn’t even bother to say hi or answer his question.

“Love…I’m sorry,” he plead.

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m pretty fine alone here, with no company, and with my non-existence physically boyfriend,” she said sarcastically. “He was busy being a company to everyone until he forgot to be a company for his own girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t…I’m sorry, can’t you forgive me? I texted you, I let you know where I am,” he argued.

“That’s okay if you don’t,” she said before taking out her cup and filled it with water carelessly. “I’ve had enough of you anyway.”

It hits Harry harder than he thought it intended to be, so he grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him, even with a disgusted expression.

And that night, they ended up cuddling on the couch and watching The Notebook with a huge tub of Haagen-Dazs in the middle of them. Half finished, with two scoops stuck out.

Ever since that day, he knew and promised he didn’t want to hurt her in anyway.

///

“Are you Mr. Harry…?” someone at the other end of his phone called.

“Who are you? What are you doing with her phone?” he asked aggressively. He felt sick since he woke up this morning, all he wanted was her to cuddle up against his chest.

“I’m Doctor Alex, and I’m from Brooklyn Hospital Center, are you Harry, sir?” he asked once more.

“What happened to her?” his heart sinks. He didn’t even confirm his name.

“I need you to calm down, sir,” the doctor finally gave up, assuming by himself who he was talking to was really the Harry in the girl’s emergency contact.

“What happened to my y/n?” he asked, rushing out of his bed, threw the comforter off his body.

“I’m sorry to inform you this, but you are the emergency contact in this phone. The girl, the owner of this phone, has been in an effective car crash. No relatives or friends with her during the accident,” the doctor explained briefly. “She’s in coma.”

Harry didn’t answer. His heart sinks, his soul felt like just left his body, his stomach dropped, he froze in place, he couldn’t believe the news, he didn’t want to. He wanted to wake up. Maybe this is just a bad dream, and when he woke up he still has her safely tucked in his arm, and smiling at him. And she will kiss his stubble as he stirs from sleeping, and they will stay like that for 15 minutes before the band called him and yelling from the other line about ‘discipline’ and ‘you lovebirds should’ve kept a clock to see the time’.

He hung up his phone as quick as he could and threw himself to his car.

He drove through New York City street in full speed. He doesn’t care about the laws he broke, how many tickets he will get once a police officer caught him. His mind got clouded by the doctor’s words. This time, Brooklyn Bridge and Lady Liberty watch him, not aiming for a girl’s love, but to aim a hope she will be his forever, not with a tie of marriage, but…he doesn’t even want to think about it anymore.

He parked his car messily and sprint to the front table.

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles. I’m…the girl in the car crash, I want to see her,” his mind can’t even form a perfect sentence.

“Sorry sir, who are you to her?” she asked.

“I’m her…her…boy-husband!” he almost yelled. The nurse knew he wasn’t even her fiancé, but from the panic in his voice, trembling frame, and a mess he is, she finally let him.

When he met her, she was inside a glass room, he wasn’t even get to be in the same room as her. He just watched her breathing heavily with an oxygen tank, the only thing that kept him believing she is alive is the beeping loud noise of machines stuck on her body. She looks miserable, bruises all over her body, casts on her arm, bandages, she looks so…fragile. He just wanted to scoop her up into a hug and kiss her, tell her she’s going to be okay, they’re going to have babies like they always dreamed of. They will have their first house, they will watch their babies grew up as much as he hated the fact that babies will get older one day, they will be old people in their 70s, but she will be the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in her 20s. But he can’t right now, and he felt helpless.

It has been almost 7 hours since he arrived and he doesn’t even spend a second take his eyes off of his girl. Nothing progresses much, but he knew she has to survive. So they could pursue their dreams together, just like they always talk about. At this point, all he wanted was for her to flicker her eyes open and look at him. And he will do the rest, he will pick her up whenever she wanted, he will kiss her, he will give her all the affection he has, he will give her all the love he has even until his heart bleed, he will hold her so tight so she will be always safe no matter the circumstances. He will do anything for her to just open her pretty eyes and look at him.

“If you aren’t going to eat something, you won’t be able to take care of her, um, later,” one of the nurses tap his shoulder. The crack of her end of sentence made Harry gulp down a lump in his throat. She knew her condition better than him. And he knew it, the crack on her word of ‘later’ doesn’t got missed by him. He nodded, the nurse’s words are true, she needed him to be okay.

So he took his time to go to the bathroom and wash his face, looking at the tiredness in his eyes, and he took some time to grab something from the cafeteria, a weird looking bread, looks like have been behind the glass display for ages, but he couldn’t care less. He shoves the bread to his mouth while running to get to her place.

“Sir, are you Harry?” a doctor rushing to his side. Suddenly he felt so empty. The panic in the doctor’s voice, his pale face, Harry doesn’t want to imagine what had happened to his girl.

“You might want to talk to her, she is going to be rolled to the operation room,” the doctor said.

Suddenly Harry felt weak in his knees. The bread feels like its going to threw itself out. He took masks and some weird gown the nurse handed him, and he rushed to her side. The beeping noises louder now he’s inside the room, but the only sound he could hear right now is her troubled heavy small breathing.

“Hi, darling,” he walked towards her with shaky limbs. “They- they said I could talk to you right now, I have weird feelings about it, but you are going to be fine. I- I will propose and we’ll have cute babies like we always talk about. I won’t leave your side again. We- we’ll have our happy ending.”

He kissed her cold fingers. It’s like the world were just the two of them again. No one around her. No weird beeping noise from the computer. No Harry Styles the popstar or y/n y/l/n the college girl. Suddenly they are just Harry and y/n again. Just both of them. In the room. y/n fighting for her life, and Harry, as helpless as he look like, helping her subconsciously.

“y/n, sweetheart, I don’t know if you could hear it, but I’ll be with you. I’ll be here, I’ll be by your side, you don’t have to be afraid, because your Harry will be here, honey. No matter how deep you fall, how hard the challenges, how hurt I will got, I’ll always be there for you. Your Harry will protect you, if it’s cold or hot, if it’s dark or bright, I’ll be by your side, kiss every single tears and cuts it will cause, and you don’t have to be afraid nor alone anymore. Because your Harry will be there for you. Always.”

And then he rolled out of the room. Out of Harry’s grasp, no matter how hard he tried to keep her close. She had gone to the room where her life will be on the thin border.

And Harry, with tired eyes and shaky breath, ran to the empty room outside the glass room and cried. Cried like he never did before. Cried until his tears dried. He dropped to his trembling knees.

“God, I-I know I barely talk to You. But this time…I beg You, please don’t let her taken away from me. I know she will be in no more pain, but I’m too selfish for it, I can’t live without her. I can’t function properly without her. I know I didn’t treat her the best before, but give me a second chance to take care of her. To smell her scent again, to kiss her hairline, brush her hair, give her all I could give, give her all the comfort she needed, give her all my love until my heart bleed. Just…give me one more chance, and I will treat her better,” his shaky voice somehow formed a proper sentence. His cheek wet with stained tears. His breath hitched. His chest felt heavy. He doesn’t even know who he is, when his girl still in the room. “Let me take one more chance to call her mine,” he let out a hitched scream.

After a long waiting and more tears spilled, when the clock told him it was 9 PM, she rolled out of the operating room. He jolted up. Indistinct chatter makes his head felt dizzy. But his main focus was her on the bed.

“Is she okay? What happened?” he could hear his voice yelling those to the medical workers, but he doesn’t even remember saying that.

“Sir, you need to calm down,” a voice called.

“No, no, I don’t need to calm down. I need to know if she’s okay!” he screamed.

“Sir, you have to,” the voice called again.

“Tell me what happened to her, tell me if she’s okay!” he yelled once more.

“Sir, take a deep breath and you’ll get to meet her,” the sentence made him stopped and slowly turned around. His eyes begging for explanation.

“Tell me how she is,” he whispered brokenly.

“She’s…you might want to see her, she might want you to talk to her,” the lady doesn’t even told him how she’s doing. And he knew it. He has only a few percent chance to have her wrapped back in his arms. And only God will gave him it.

The lady (soon he realized she is a nurse), lead him into a room. Not a glass room like she used to be placed, but a more private room, but it doesn’t make him feel any better because she was limp on the bed.

He walked in with shaking legs. The door closed behind him, and his knees gave up. He dropped to the cold floor of the hospital and cried for God knows how many times he had cried. His voice cracked. “Give me one more chance to love her again.”

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles one direction #harry styles x you #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #my writing

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kidney9-9 · 3 years

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Time Trap (Peter Parker)

Happy Halloween! I hope you’re all enjoying today! This is a witch!Peter Parker smut oneshot, and I wanted to add a note before you read it. The magic described in this is similar to movie magic, and a lot of the terms I use are just words that you’d hear in fantasy/magic movies or shows like the Harry Potter series, Hocus Pocus and etc. Peter Parker and Reader are of legal age in all my stories, please read the warnings before you read. This oneshot is set after Endgame, everyone is still alive and well.

Masterlist is linked in my profile, as well as the google form to join my taglist. You can either fill out the form or send in an ask. Tags are in the reblog, and requests are opened.

witch!Peter Parker x non-magic!Reader (Smut with plot) (Strangers-to-Lovers) Warnings: Descriptions of magic, fire, ashes, entities, curses, swearing, smut, sub!Peter, dom!Reader, oral recieving (male), magic blindfold, pet names/nicknames, floating sex, table sex, unprotected sex, teasing/edging and aftercare Word Count: 6.5k

You adjusted your jacket as you glanced into the mirror momentarily. There was a company party tonight in a new restaurant, and you were hoping to somehow get good news about whether you’d be promoted soon.

You had on a black dress to celebrate the night of Halloween, and you had some heels on as well, just a regular old pair you use for work. You really didn’t want to go; you’d rather want to stay at home and binge scary movies with a bucket of candy by your side.

You stepped out the door, locking it and tossing it into your purse before you glanced down to your phone, noticing the time. You were a bit early, but you wanted to make sure you were on time in case you hit traffic. The restaurant was farther away than you thought it would be. It was almost in the middle of nowhere, past a few warn down streets about thirty minutes away.

You got into the car, glancing into the mirror as you fixed your hair. You started the car, and buckled in, turning the music on to your favorite station. You nodded along to it, smiling slightly as you past by some of your favorite shops, realizing you needed to get some Chapstick soon. You didn’t have any time to stop though, and instead continued to drive, getting closer to the restaurant.

It was almost twenty minutes later when you get there, and you felt as though it was only a few seconds because of your music. You got out the car with a sigh, quickly grabbing onto the paperwork from the other seat, and pushed it into your bag.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be talking business tonight or not, but you needed to be prepared. There was a dull sound of music coming from the restaurant and you groaned, not wanting to deal with it.

Before you walked in, you glanced down the alley curiously, realizing you had a lot more time than you thought. When you saw a glowing yellow light appear down the alley, you furrowed your eyebrows, wanting to see what was there.

Now, if you had common sense, you wouldn’t go down an alley, but you shrugged off all the warning sirens going off in your head. The light had brightened considerably, causing you to squint your eyes together and pause, looking behind you. The alley was empty all around, just a few trashcans and some old junk on the floor.

You felt an odd sense of comfort as you walked closer, and when you realized the lights were cute fairy lights hung around a wall, you let out an amazed laugh. They were adorable butterflies, and you swore they were real. The string around them was glimmering as well, and you giggled when a butterfly spotted you.

You hesitantly put your hand near the butterflies, feeling shocked as one landed on your arm. That’s when you noticed the door behind all the butterflies, and you let out a gasp as one of the butterflies walked up your arm slowly.

It was magic, you just realized.

It’s been a while since you last saw magic around here. The city you lived in had grown away from its magical roots, instead opting for an advanced humanistic way of life. You were born without magic, but you always found it incredible. There were magic lessons at school, but you only got to take the history of magic since you couldn’t preform anything. None of your family was able to do magic. And you only had one friend who could, but it was a hard task to even cast a spell. Unfortunately, you hadn’t seen as much magic as you’d like here but you had a special feeling about behind the door, with the butterflies.

The wall was covered in greenery as well, potted plants were on the floor and as you knocked on the door, it opened slightly. You realized it was a shop as you glanced up, seeing the bell ring as you walked in. Plants were strung up on the ceiling, vines hanging down above you in various beautiful colors. You awed up at them, twirling around in a slow circle as you stared up at the luscious plants, furrowing your eyebrows as you saw some that you didn’t recognize.

Your attention went down to the bookshelves, to the side of the room when you noticed they also towered up to the ceiling. You gasped in wonder at the variety of books, seeing some with marks or languages you’ve never saw before. You walked towards it slowly, still taking in the shop, and reached out for one of the books. You slid one out, noticing the dust on it, and scrunching your nose up in disgust from it. You quickly blew the dust off, coughing when you breathed some in.

The label was something you couldn’t tell, it was in another language, almost resembling ancient runes. As you slowly opened the book, you flinched, glancing up when you heard a shout. “Hey!” He yelped out, and your eyes bulged back to the guy.

Fuck, he was… attractive. Way more attractive than most of the guys you’ve seen here. You felt yourself freeze as you stared back at him, suddenly self-aware that you probably shouldn’t have been here, even though it was a shop.

“…Hi.” You replied after a pause, before glancing down to the book as you felt it burn up in your hands. If you weren’t already shocked, you felt insane, dropping the book instantly as it flew into flames, almost catching your skin.

Regret and guilt pummeled into you, as you and the guy watched the book burn up onto the floor. The flames were bright blue, and only in a specific area and you gasped as ashes flew up back into your hands. Shit. If you learned anything in those history of magic classes, it was that anything that’s even close to that, it’s powerful.

What you just caused was a disaster.

“I- who the heck are you? What book did you just touch? How’d you get here?” Peter rambled out as he rushed across the store frantically. Your shoulders lifted slightly in shock as you gazed down into your hands, watching as the ashes swirled magically in circles over your palms.

“Me?” You paused, pushing out. “Nobody- yeah, no one I think, um.” You stopped again, shaking your head as he stood close to you, furrowing his eyebrows in anger as he realized what book you touched.

“Do you know what you did…?” Peter questioned, voice trailing off in fear as he wondered how in the world, he was going to fix such a thing. You shook your head back at him anxiously, feeling the ashes trail upwards, following your veins on your arms.

“Please help- what is this thing?” You whimpered out as it spread upwards, crossing your elbows. You couldn’t even more your arms anymore, the ashes paralyzed them as it moved towards your head slowly. He sighed, wiping his head as he thought of what he should do.

“How come you don’t know what this is? You just cursed yourself and- and the rest of the area!” Peter scolded you, stuttering as he kneeled, trying to find if there was any more ash on the floor. It seemed to have all drifted to you, floating around you and on you.

You felt your nose wrinkle back at the guy, “I don’t know what this is! What do you mean I cursed myself and the area? What do you mean by area?” Your voice raised as the ashes drifted up to your shoulders.

In an instant, Peter smacked both of your hands, getting you out of your paralyzed state, and causing the ash to fall back onto the ground. He shook his head as he sighed again, “You just released an entity that stops time. That entity is clinging onto you, but it can’t stop the time in here because of the protection spells I put up. But, outside, everything is paused because of you now.” His explanation made you tilt your head and feel dizzy.

You denied it instantly, “You’re just messing with me! It’s just- it’s a stupid gravitational trick you use, isn’t it? Aren’t those illegal now?” Your mind spun as you tried understanding what just happened as Peter rolled his eyes back to you.

“No, it’s not. And by area, I mean everything within the city limits. Protection ruins are surrounding in the city limits, there’s no way it could get past them.” He described, raising his eyebrows as he wondered how long he would be stuck here for. He couldn’t go outside, because the curse would affect him instantly.

“Why aren’t there ruins in here then? How did we not get affected?” You asked, taking a step back as the dizziness doubled. You leaned up against the bookshelf causing him to flinch and tug you back. His hands surprised you from the warmth as he pushed you against the wall to lean on instead. He walked back to the bookshelf, shuddering as he tried looking for something to solve this.

“Ruins within a city’s limits will cause disruptions. Protection spells aren’t very effective unfortunately. A curse will bump around to somewhere a place isn’t bounded with a protection spell that’s made for the curse.” Peter explained, closing his eyes in irritation.

“And because magic isn’t as… well known here anymore, protection spells for such a specific curse isn’t seen here- except for my shop because I was holding the curse.” He finished up. You let a noise of surprise, turning your head back around to the door.

“Can’t we just open the door then? To let the protection spell, go throughout the city?” You whispered, already knowing the answer. It wasn’t possible. Protection spells didn’t have such a wide area of protection, instead just in a room that it’s placed in, or on the person.

Silence poured between the two of you for moments after that. You didn’t know what to think of, but everything was spilling into your mind, ranging from boring moments in a morning, to just before you walked in here. You stopped though, once the guy spoke up again, “I’m Peter Parker, by the way.”

You nodded back to his introduction but couldn’t find yourself to smile, “I’m Y/n… I’m not a witch.” You shrugged back, causing him to let out an unamused chuckle.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t see you at the weekly secret witch club.” He responded, making your eyes widen, “There’s a secret witch club?!” You asked, dropping your jaw in shock but then you pouted, realizing he was joking. If there was a club, it wouldn’t be secret.

Peter let out a laugh back to you, trying to stay on the more positive side of this. It wouldn’t be good to be stuck in here with someone you didn’t like, and he had a feeling it would be awhile before either of you would be able to leave. If only he had a portal to Tony’s home, it would’ve been solved already.

He had no idea if he had the ingredients to even make such a powerful spell to break the curse and drag the entity back into a hold. It didn’t matter if it was a book, or a toy, it just had to be something that was strong enough to keep it in there. When you opened the book, it instantly broke the spell, which Doctor Strange had given him as a lesson.

“Be safe with it. I don’t want to hear you froze time. If you keep it closed until I come back, you’ve learned your lesson.” That were his exact words to Peter, which Peter didn’t exactly fail- but you were the one to open the book. The blame would still be put on Peter though, for not being out in the shop at all times, and for having such a book in a public bookshelf.

It was fair for him to think it was safe to put it there since not many people come here. And those who do, know exactly what that book can hold. It was odd that you found your way into the shop. You were the only one that wasn’t a witch that’s come through the door.

“Do you want some coffee? Or a sandwich?” Peter asked, pushing himself out of his thoughts as you cleared your throat. You bit your lip before opening your mouth to answer him.

“…How long are we going to be here for? A few hours?” Your questions made Peter’s eyebrows raise. He huffed out a short breath, as he walked closer to you.

“Weeks, at least.” His whisper made you shiver in terror at the sheer amount of time. How would people from outside the city limits even be in contact then? You gulped, realizing the protection ruins on every city was essentially a protection for those outside the city- and a trap for those in it.

“What the fuck!” You spilled out, jumping slightly. Peter nodded solemnly, before he walked towards the back of the store, where you first saw him. You nervously fiddled with your hands before you followed him, “So that sandwich you were talking about?” You called out, knowing you needed to get a handle of the place, and figure Peter out if you’d stay here for so long.

The guilt hit you as you chewed on the sandwich Peter magically made. That was one concern out of the way, that he could conjure food and water out of nowhere while the two of you were stuck in here. You didn’t even know how to trap the entity and start time again, but Peter explained it to you while you were eating. You kept thinking about if you didn’t decide to go down the alley, you would be hearing from your boss if you would be promoted soon.

The next few days were a blur, and you tried to avoid Peter like the plague, even though you really did enjoy his company. You felt too embarrassed that this mess was all caused by you, and you could remember how angry he was when that happened. You didn’t want to upset him even more. He let you use his bedroom in the meantime, as he started studying and trying to fix it. He even let you wear his clothes, which you were very thankful for. They were really comfortable on you.

You didn’t know where he slept but you hoped there was a comfortable spot for him. You were practically a ball of guilt and regret that you stole his room, basically invaded all his things. There wasn’t a room that you haven’t wandered into here, and his room was your favorite part of it all. It was beautiful, floating candles would drift around you as you laid in the bed, instantly relaxing you even more into a deep sleep. There was dull light from the sunset steeping in from the tall windows above you, but you noticed because of the glamour Peter casted before, all of this was disguised in the alley.

The main colors of his store and the room were red and gold, but greenery stuck out, and plants were almost everywhere in the back. It was interesting to see absolutely everything, and you realized how much fun it would be if you were a witch.

And Peter himself… you were amazed by his beauty every day you saw him. His hair was a dark golden brown and his curls- you found yourself wanting to reach out to run your fingers through them a lot. His smile was kind and adorable, but you didn’t see it often because you tried to avoid him most days. Sometimes you tried to prep yourself up, to apologize but it was so difficult. You had no idea what kind of life he lived other than the fact he was a witch, and you wanted to know more, but you didn’t want to push him.

Today you wanted to try out with small talk with him, or just some simple questions like “How are you?”, that would be easy to ask. You didn’t know if going even further would be the greatest idea, but you’d see after this conversation.

“Hey Peter.” You greeted nervously, leaning against the doorway into the dinning area. He hummed back momentarily, distracted by the book he was reading before jumping in his seat, realizing you were there. He grinned to you slightly, and you smiled back, trying to stay positive. His outfit today made you gulp, finding it more than just attractive.

“Uh, hi, how are you?” He questioned, biting the tip of the pencil he was holding onto. You pouted slightly, hearing the question you wanted to ask him first.

“I’m okay, but,” You paused, quickly rambling out, “I’m really sorry about what I did, it wasn’t right for me to do that, and I want to- you’re just a kind person and I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have come in, and now,” You stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as you saw a rose dip down from one of the ceiling plants and opening up in front of your face.

“Woah…” You trailed off, not seeing how Peter stood up, smiling brightly at the scene. He chuckled as you reached out and touched the beautiful rose, watching it change colors at your touch.

“Do you like it?” Peter asked, enjoying your reaction.

Your eyes momentarily went to his, nodding excitedly, “How is this even possible? I thought plant magic was hard to learn…” You spoke up, bringing the rose down to your nose to sniff it. You tried not to tug on the stem so much, in fear it would hurt the plant.

“I had a mentor back in high school actually. He taught me everything I know.” Peter responded, voice dipping down slightly as he was reminded of Tony. He tried calling or reaching out to him so many times within the past few days, but he got no response. He had a feeling that he was out on a mission, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Mentor?” You replied after a few seconds, gazing back to him. Your attention was fully on him now and he blushed, seeing a few more flowers had dropped closer to your figure, behind you. It had been awhile since he’s stayed with someone for this long, but he still wasn’t used to you being here. You were now just speaking to him, and he was excited.

“I- yeah, Tony Stark, maybe you’ve heard of him?” At the mention of Tony Stark, your jaw dropped. Tony Stark aka Iron Man? A witch? He was one of the people that supported the growth of humanity without the use of magic. You were surprised at the thought.

Peter chuckled at your reaction, “Yeah, he taught me everything when I lived in Queens.” Your eyebrows furrowed at Queens, quickly connecting the pieces together of Spiderman sightings. It was quite a shock to you and so many others when Spiderman stopped crime fighting in Queens, and started here instead, and now you knew who he was…

Hold the phone – you were speaking to Spiderman right now, who’s a witch.

“Peter! You’re Spiderman? Wait that makes no sense, why did you even come here?” You rambled out, stepping closer to him curiously. He nodded back to you, shrugging internally about the fact you found out. Sure, it was supposed to be a secret, but he barely worked as Spiderman now anyways. He had trouble after the last war from almost losing everyone and took a seat back on the whole Spiderman act. Instead, he focused more on witchcraft, and eventually opened shop here.

“Yeah, uh, you know just wanted to catch a break,” He tried to shrug it off, but you let out a surprised laugh, smiling widely.

“That’s insane! Are there any other things I should know about?” You asked, quickly forgetting your shyness and worry about pushing his boundaries. Peter was happy to see you opening more to him through this conversation.

You stepped closer when you noticed a flower had landed behind his ear, and you giggled at it. Peter’s eyes widened momentarily, feeling your hand reach forward and gentle brush past his ear, and blushed harshly. You didn’t notice, instead you brought the flower up to him, watching as the bud opened together.

“It’s so beautiful…” You murmured, trailing off and away from your excitement from before. Peter smiled as he gazed at you, “Yes, very.” You glanced back up to him, face softening as he smiled even more.

“There is actually something you should know. If all goes well, the spell should break within the next two weeks. I need to prepare the things for it.” He spoke up, instantly leaning away from you as he felt his face heat up even more.

You were so very beautiful, and he reacted like that just by one conversation with you. He couldn’t believe it, and he hoped you didn’t notice his embarrassment.

You nodded back to him, glancing back up with a smile. “Does this happen often? On a less dramatic scale?” The question made him laugh out of surprise, shaking his head.

“I think this is one of the most dramatic things that have happened… do you walk in alleys often?” Peter joked back to you, making you groan and shake your head. You were thankful you could talk to him right now.

“Mm, only if there’s pretty boys there,” You instantly replied, before clasping over your mouth. Shit, you really didn’t mean to say that. You groaned, closing your eyes and sat in the chair as Peter gazed back to you with a shocked expression.

“You think I’m pretty?” He whispered after a moment, turning a light pink as he turned away from you, trying to get the color out of his face. He walked back to the other chair, across from you, glancing away as you peeked back at him slowly.

“Are- are you blushing right now?” You giggled back, trying to recover from your slip up. Peter’s eyes widened as he denied it, sliding the book back towards him, “No! That’s just the lighting, you know.” His shirt was causing the blush to look even brighter than it was as well, making you smile more.

You giggled even more as he pushed the book into his face, finding it cute that the both of you were embarrassed. “Do you always blush when people call you pretty?” You mumbled after a moment of silence. Peter dropped the book as he gazed back at you, turning even a darker color.

He grinned back at you, playing along with your game. “Only when a pretty girl tells me.” He used your words against you. You laughed out of surprise, shaking your head and leaned your face into your hand after you propped your arm against the table.

You were much closer to him than before, as you leaned in, and his eyes widened slightly. “You think I’m pretty?” You used his words this time, murmuring them as you gazed back, letting your face soften from the laughter. Peter let a smile beam through, as he pulled his chair closer to the table.

“Of course, I do, you’re perfect.” He responded. You both knew what he said was a lie, he barely knew you, but you decided to fuck it anyway. You leaned in, closing the distance as your lips barely touched his.

He could feel only the fainted outline of your lips on his, causing a shiver to go through him. “May I kiss you?” You whispered slowly, glancing up to his eyes before gazing down to his lips again, close to fluttering your eyes shut. Peter didn’t bother responding, instead, opting to kiss you instead. His lips moved against yours in an instant, memorizing every feeling he got from your lips.

Your eyes shut as you moved your lips against his in a slow and passionate way, bringing your hand around his head to pull him closer. His tongue slipped out, licking across your bottom lip in a slow movement causing you to open your mouth. His tongue met yours as the kiss got sloppier, and your fingers curled into his hair, tugging and playing with it as the kiss deepened even more.

Peter’s hands frantically pushed away the book on the table, between the two of you as he pulled away from you. He breathed heavily, standing up as you gazed at him with lustful eyes. You stood up after him, as he walked around the table, tugging you close again.

His kisses were rougher this time, and one arm moved under your shirt on your backside. You gasped at his hand, and pushed yourself closer into him, finding your position back into hair, and behind his neck. You slid up onto your tiptoes in amazement from his kissing, as he sloppily found his way down your neck.

His tongue swirled around your sweet spot on your neck, sucking it loudly and causing you to clench your eyes shut even more. You shifted your legs together as you felt a warm sensation spark down to your core.

You took a risk and grinded against Peter, pushing him back against the table. Peter gasped against your neck, as you pushed him to sit on the table, sliding in between his legs and tugging his head up to kiss you again.

You grinned into the kiss when you heard him whimper as you hutted your hips against his. It was only after a few minutes of kissing you felt his boner poke against your core as you grinded again. You let out a sigh into the kiss, pulling away to breathe and you let out a slow chuckle at Peter’s puffy lips and dazed look on his face.

“You good there, babe?” You whispered, wanting to make sure he was still okay with this. You wanted consent before you did anything else, it was something important to you.

Peter’s face was pinkish as he gazed back up to you, “Yeah, I- woah, yeah.” He mumbled back, dragging you back in for another kiss.

You giggled into the kiss, moving a hand down to his crotch, and smoothing your hand over it. You hummed as he gasped against your lips, eagerly kissing you even more now. You unzipped his pants after struggling with it for a few seconds, and pushed your hand underneath his boxers, instantly feeling the warmth of his skin.

You let out a slight moan as you felt the size of his cock in his pants, and you gently pulled it out. His cock hit against his shirt, causing the both of you to break the kiss, to get his clothes off.

You and Peter laughed quietly in excitement as he tugged his shirt off and you slid his pants down, taking off his shoes as well. You made sure to slide your hands all over his skin, drifting your fingers close to his inner thighs, and smiling as you heard his breath hitch at your movement. You smiled, sliding your hands back up, but passing his aching cock to tease him a bit.

“Please…” Peter trailed off, choking a moan out.

You grinned back to him, kissing up his neck as you whispered, “Please what? You got to tell me what you want like a good boy.” He nodded back to you, enchanted by your words as if you were the witch here instead of him.

He ate up every action of yours, answering your question, “I want you… to touch me, please.” He whispered, feeling slightly shy. You smiled to him, moving back to kiss his lips again and sighing in pleasure.

You wrapped a hand around his head, picking up loads of his precum and sliding a finger up and around teasingly. You then pushed your hand down, after you collected lots of precum to cover his thick cock. You pulled away from the sloppy and slow kiss and bent down slowly, “Is this okay, good boy? Do you want me to kiss you here?” You questioned, using a soft voice.

Peter’s head tilted back as he nodded and groaned out, “Yes please!” You grinned at his reaction, seeing the sweat trail down his abs. You used another hand to drift a few fingers into his skin, pushing in random shapes before you gave his cock a kitten lick.

“Oh, you’re doing so good and you’re so responsive, baby. I love it, I want to hear more. Tell me exactly what you want me to do.” You responded, moaning against his cock as you give him a long stripe from his base and back up to his head, before swirling your tongue again. You kissed the vein slightly, before you trailed back to the tip with your tongue again.

“I want you to do that- I want you to swa- swallow me please.” Peter cried out, stuttering in lustful desire just as you widened your mouth and pushed down. You went as slow as possible, moaning for exaggeration. Peter shuddered as he felt your moan vibrate through his cock, sending him days of pleasure.

“Please- fuck- you’re so amazing- oh my.” Peter rumbled out just as your eyes started to water from his cock hitting back against your throat. You moaned again, noticing his reaction and started to pump the rest of his cock that you couldn’t reach with your hands, drawing the spit out of your mouth.

As you gazed up to Peter, you could see shimmers drifting around him in gold and pink, and purple, you couldn’t tell how many colors there were, but it was wonderful. It painted against his expression, bubbling up even more as you etched him closer to his orgasm.

Just as he was about to burst through, you pulled your mouth and hands away, leaving him high and stranded. “I- shit, I was so close,” Peter cried out, gazing back at you. A laugh bubbled out of you and you shook your head, “I never said you could cum, baby.” You responded.

Peter shivered in excitement back as he felt pleasure course through his body even more with your words. He’s never experienced anything like this before, but this was the most he’s ever enjoyed himself during sex. It was incredible.

“Please come here,” He asked, softening his expression as he saw you sit up. Spit was all over your face, but he didn’t care as he pulled you in for another kiss. This one was more of a desperate kiss, passion seeking for more, he needed it. You couldn’t help but moan as his hands slipped under your shirt again, trying to find a way to take it off. He ripped it instead, and you gasped, giggling slightly.

He pulled back, “I want to make love to you, please I need you.” He paused, searching in your eyes. “Please, I’ll be your good boy.” He finished, and you gasped at his words. You unclipped the back of your bra, wiggling it off, tossing it onto the floor.

“Babe?” You asked gently, grinning as he gazed at you intently. “How do you feel about wearing a blindfold?” The question made his ears burn a dark red and he nodded as he let out a small whimper.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot. Uh- wait, here.” He responded, glancing back across the room, and raising his hand up as if to summon something. You glanced over to the area he was pointing, and your eyes widened in surprise as you saw a ribbon drift in the air, your way. The ribbon was from one of the clustered tables in the corner of the room and you gasped as you felt the fabric, noticing how soft it was.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything softer and as you smiled back to Peter, he let out a chuckle. You leaned over him, tying the ribbon softly but securely over his eyes. You giggled as you held up three fingers in front of his face, “Mm, be a good boy and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.” You whispered, tickling close to his ear.

He shivered again, randomly guessing, “Eight? I don’t know, I can’t see.” He explained, and instantly he felt your hands placed on his torso. You pushed him all the way back on the table, kissing his shoulder a few times before you pulled back and took the pants off your body, including the socks and shoes.

“I- oh my.” Peter stuttered, as he felt your bare legs climb up near his body. You smiled, before leaning down and licking at his neck again. “I wish I could see you, but I already like this idea a lot.” He admitted, as goosebumps raised on his body as he felt you push one leg over one side of his body.

He truly couldn’t see anything, so once you kissed his ear, he gasped. It was one of his most sensitive spots, instantly shivering and groaning as you nibbled down. “Ba-babe?” He let out, moaning as a hand went down to his inner thighs again.

“Yes, baby?” You answered, kissing his cheek a few times, passing his lips this time. “Is it, um how do you feel about floating?” He stuttered, almost unable to talk.

You let out a confused noise back to him, but instead of talking this time, he just went for it, feeling his body float up in the air, bringing yours as well. You gasped in wonder, eyes drifting all around you and back down to Peter. Your pussy throbbed even more in desire, making you ground down against his torso, and making Peter groan out loud, “Oh fuck!”

Your movements turned both you and him on even more as you pushed yourself off him completely, as you continued to float in the air. Your hands went back to his aching cock, twirling your finger around his tip.

“Am I making you feel good, baby?” You whispered making Peter to moan loudly. He tried reaching out for you but couldn’t find you, instead you giggled as you let go of him again, causing him to curse.

Just as he was about to say something, your lips captured his, swirling your tongue out as he cried against them, needing more. You smiled, “Are you ready?” You asked him slowly, pulling away from his lips, he could vaguely taste himself on you.

He nodded, reaching up for the blindfold and ripping it off before chuckling, “I couldn’t take that anymore, I need to see and feel you.” He explained. You nodded back to him, wrapping your legs around him before sliding down to his cock.

You aligned yourself with his cock, breath hitching as he slowly slid into you, stretching you out. Oh fuck, it was incredible, you moaned loudly as he bottomed out in you. “Peter- woah,” You sighed out, getting used to the stretch. Peter nodded along with you, not finding the words that can describe the wonders of this feeling.

“I can be in you all day, you’re incredible.” Peter rambled, sliding his hands behind your back, and pulling you closer to him again. You giggled as the two of you floated even higher in the air, as you lifted yourself up after you adjusted yourself.

You slammed down on his cock, choking out a moan as one of his hands went down to your clit, furiously rubbing and building you up even more. “You’re such a good boy.” You cried out, grinding down on his cock, and pushing yourself down to kiss his lips again.

Both of you shuddered and whimpered at the feeling as you started to go at a pace, with one of Peter’s hands guiding you as you pressed sloppy kisses into his lips. His fingers edged at your clit, circling over and over, rubbing fast as you gasped repeatedly, surprised and almost reaching your orgasm.

“I’m going to come soon,” Peter cried out, as your lips went down to his shoulder again, biting down. You spoke up, breathing out, “Yeah, same here.”

It was after a few more thrusts down on his cock when you felt your orgasm pour over you, and you instantly closed your eyes, opening your mouth in shock and pleasure. Your gasps and clenches around his cock made Peter turn over the edge as well, and he cried out, feeling your orgasm continue as his started.

His movements on your clit never stopped and he eagerly grabbed onto one of your breasts, pinching your nipple and causing even more pleasure to pore out of you as you came.

A few minutes later, you and Peter laid on each other, still floating up in the air. You felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in a while, and you were happy that you came here, even with the mess you caused. Peter felt the same, he wouldn’t take back any of your actions because just being in this moment with you was beautiful.

As you both floated down, whispering sweet messages to each other as the dazes of the orgasms slowed down. You reached off Peter’s softened cock, carefully to make sure he didn’t get hurt as you stepped off the table. You leaned back over to him, wiping his hair out of his face before kissing his cheek.

You walked slowly to the bathroom, making sure to pee quickly and wash your hands. You picked up a few towels, one that was dry and one that was wet with warm water, and walked slowly back to Peter, holding back a groan as the achiness hurt your hips.

Peter’s eyes were lulled closed but once you came back, he shifted, gazing up at you. “That was… really astonishing.” He mumbled in a daze back to you, as you started to wipe his chest, cleaning off the sweat. You slowly cleaned around his softened cock, trying to avoid contact, knowing it could be sore for him.

“Astonishing?” You giggled back, teasing him for his word choice. It was cute though, making you lean down and kiss his lips softly. You leaned back as you started to pat the areas dry, cleaning him off sweetly and trying to take care of him.

His face softened even more as a glow surrounded the two of you, “Yeah, it was astonishing.” He whispered back, and you turned to gaze at him as he slowly sat up. He pulled you in for a deep and slow kiss, and you pulled back, resting your head against his.

“Maybe we could do that again? We’ve got all the time in the world.” You giggled, causing him to let out a laugh. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your cheek again.

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