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adore-laur · 6 months

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DADRRY: PART TWO

— part one

——

The Styles household is missing a vital component this weekend. Harry isn't home, which is a rare occurrence, but duty is called at the most inconvenient moment. It had been a little after five in the morning when he received a blaring phone call from his boss. His snores had abruptly stopped as he fumbled around to answer the call before speaking groggily with a pinch to his eyebrows that would indeed induce a splitting headache.

You were still half-asleep when it happened, and all you can remember seeing was Harry running his hands over his face after he hung up. He then slid out of bed with a quiet groan and took a shower. It didn't take long for you to realize that he had been called in to work. His pragmatic side refused to leave the restaurant severely understaffed, and you understood his decision.

Before he slipped out the door, a minty kiss was given to the corner of your lips, and he whispered, "Love you." You later awoke to a cold and empty bed, and it felt uncomfortable without his warm body pressed against you.

It's a quarter after eight now, and you assume Harry will be done working after lunchtime. Your daughter will undoubtedly be confused about why he isn't here to cook a breakfast buffet and carry her down to the beach for a morning swim like he does every weekend. You're dreading telling her because she could throw a toddler fit at any moment, especially when sleepy.

With a suppressed yawn, you reach for your phone on the nightstand and text Harry. You'll try to make his shift less chaotic.

I'm sorry you had to go in today. I hope it goes by quickly. We'll see you when you get home! I love you.

You hope you can ease some of his frustration. He becomes grouchy when work obligations are thrown at him at the last minute, and working on a Saturday could be extra stressful since he doesn't know the weekend menu and preparation like he used to. Despite that, he's a professional, so you can count on him to push through and adapt.

Eventually, you start your day by walking to the balcony overlooking the coast. Your daughter will wake soon, so you bask in the soothing moment alone. Below the balcony is where all the beach toys live — floaties, buckets for building sandcastles, and even a foldable lounge chair Harry spoiled your daughter with on her last birthday. It's your family's subtle mark on the world, and it ignites a strong feeling in your chest. You built this life with Harry, from every little toy on the sand to the oceanside memories the three of you will always cherish.

Your reminiscing ends as the brisk morning breeze ripples goosebumps over your arms and legs. Your mind naturally drifts to the thought of Harry and how tomorrow will be his only day off before he has to pound out five straight days of work again. He's dedicated to his career and tries desperately to leave his stress at work instead of bringing it home, but you have a feeling he'll be spent today.

You hear soft footsteps padding down the hallway as you think of something you could do to cheer him up. You smile and walk back inside, meeting your baby girl's puffy eyes and lost expression. Your heart immediately crumbles. Harry is always the one to wake her on the weekends. After waking up, you'll often see them already at the kitchen table, either sharing a slice of buttered toast or creating faces on their pancakes using an assortment of fruit.

Kneeling to her height, you brush tangled curls out of her eyes. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I know Dad was supposed to wake you up, but he had to go to work. He'll be home in a few hours, okay?"

Her lips pout. She's currently in a clingy phase, so not seeing her dad when she usually does has her understandably upset.

You gently shush her to try and stop any forthcoming tears. "I know, sweetheart. Let's eat some breakfast, and then we can think of something to do for him before he comes home," you say, not wanting to deal with a meltdown this early.

She nods and sulks toward the kitchen, with you closely behind. You make frozen chocolate chip waffles with a lousy side of green grapes. It's nothing compared to what Harry would make, but it'll have to suffice. You sit next to her and cautiously watch her eat so she doesn't shove big bites into her tiny mouth. She still looks visibly upset.

The vacant chair across the table mocks you. It feels bizarre not having him here talking about the day's plans or what's for dinner. You can't remember the last time he had to work during the weekend. The restaurant's management has always been top-notch, and the employees are usually punctual, but there must have been someone sick or an unforeseen scheduling issue.

"Can you think of something to do for him?" you ask your daughter.

She silently mopes and picks at her waffle. You'll have to think for both of you.

You could have lunch made for him when he gets home, but you're not sure if he'd be hungry with being around food all morning. On top of that, he'll be exhausted and will most definitely want to take a nap. A better idea would be to visit him at work at the end of his shift. He'd appreciate it.

"Would you want to go and see him at the restaurant?" you suggest, stealing one of her grapes.

That gets her. Her eyes focus on you as she excitedly bobs her head. You grin and kiss her temple before cleaning the remnants of breakfast.

"I'm going to shower, and then I'll help you get ready," you tell her while lifting her out of the highchair. She gallops to her room without another word, clearly in a much happier mood than before.

You pull out your phone and ask Harry what time he works until. Since you want to surprise him, you send a vague text. You're not worried about getting a response soon, so you check on your daughter and find her playing with her toys, then head to the bedroom to take a quick shower.

After that, you're met with a new text message.

Harry: 1:30 or 2. Everyone is in a bad mood. The breakfast rush was a disaster. Someone called in because they were hungover. How are you guys doing? Sorry if she's cranky because of me.

You: That sucks. Only five more hours, though. And she's fine, just a little mopey. Have a good rest of your shift, baby.

Three dots immediately pop up.

Harry: Tell her I miss and love her. I'll call you during my lunch break if it's not swamped.

You: Will do.

You shut your phone off and find things to do around the house to make time pass faster — cleaning, playing with dolls, and even baking brownies. When it finally hits one o'clock, you pick out an outfit. It's not too hot outside, so you wear a long sundress that flows prettily. You then dry your hair and let it loose, knowing Harry likes it that way.

Entering your daughter's bedroom, you find her still playing with dolls on the plush carpet. A yellow gingham dress and white Mary Janes lay on her bed. You grab them, help her into the cute outfit, and then brush through her wild curls.

Once you both are ready, you grab your keys and head out the front door. You strap your daughter in the Volvo's car seat before settling behind the wheel. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, so you put on a Disney playlist for her to listen to on the way there.

When you eventually pull into the parking lot, it appears busy. You couldn't imagine working at a restaurant on a Saturday during the summer. Once parked, you unbuckle your daughter and hike her up on your hip before walking around the back. There's an employee door that leads to the kitchen without having to walk through the entire building. You've visited Harry on his lunch breaks before, even before you got married. When you first started dating him, you remember how he would wait outside in his chef coat, standing against the brick wall. When he'd spot you, he'd meet you halfway and trap you in his arms, kissing and hugging you until he had to clock back in.

Now, you walk through the door with a mini version of you and him clinging to your side.

The kitchen is bustling, the smell of sizzling meats and vegetables instantly invading your senses. Dishes clang in the sink, so you assume they must have just finished serving lunch. Everyone recognizes you by now, and they offer a friendly smile or wave before resuming their respective duties.

You scan the room for Harry but can't find him anywhere.

"He's in the employee bathroom," says a man you've seen before as he passes you. "He needed a break. The lunch rush was a nightmare."

If the breakfast rush was a disaster, and the lunch rush was a nightmare…

"Oh no," you mumble. It must have been bad for everyone today. "I'll go check on him."

You wander toward the bathroom door and knock twice. The familiar clearing of Harry's throat is muffled on the other side.

"Yeah?" he says hoarsely. His nose sounds plugged up. Has he been crying?

"It's me, honey. Can I come in?"

It's silent for a few seconds before you hear the lock turn. You crack the door open and step inside before turning and locking it again. When you meet Harry's gaze, your heart sinks. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, his chef coat is unbuttoned, and his curls fall over his forehead. He looks so worn out.

Yet it all goes away momentarily when he sees who you have on your hip. He gives the slightest smile before sniffling and taking her from you, hugging her tightly while her arms throw themselves around his shoulders. His eyes stay trained on yours, offering a nod as if to convince you he's okay.

You close the short distance and run your hand through his tousled hair. Your thumb then grazes the faint wetness under his eyes before you squeeze the apple of his cheek and give him a sympathetic smile. He leans forward and plants a tender kiss on your lips. It tastes like bell peppers.

"Are you okay?" you murmur with concern.

Harry sighs and says, "Not really. It was six hours of nonstop orders and running around. We're so understaffed, baby. Everyone kept pissing each other off." He sniffles. "I just want to go home."

"Are you done for the day? I can help clean up or something."

"I have to take the meatballs out for dinner service. They're almost done, then we can go."

"Do you want to help him take the meatballs out?" you ask your daughter. Her head snaps up with lightning speed, making you and Harry laugh.

"Yes, please," answers her soft voice.

Harry sets her down and takes her tiny hand before leading her out of the bathroom and toward the ovens. Sure enough, a large sheet of seasoned meatballs is cooking in one of them. "Four more minutes, and then we can take them out," he tells her.

She kneels in front of the oven, watching them closely. Harry smiles fondly and grabs a spare chef hat from under a nearby counter. He places it on her head and crouches next to her.

After admiring them for a while, you stand behind Harry and massage his shoulders. His head rolls back as he looks at you upside down, dazzling you with his handsome face.

Once the timer beeps, Harry carefully opens the oven and grabs two mitts, putting one on his hand and one on your daughters'. He slides the baking sheet out so he can grip the edge while he maneuvers her hand to grip the other side. With slow and cautious movements, they successfully set it on the stovetop. Harry quietly cheers and high-fives her, then takes their mitts off. She looks so proud of herself.

"I was thinking we could go to the supermarket and get ingredients for date night tomorrow," you say as Harry washes his hands.

"Yeah, we should do that," he replies, hanging up his chef coat. "I have some recipes saved on my phone."

His outfit is somewhat wrinkled—a cream-colored button-up untucked from grey trousers. After he removes his work shoes and slips on white loafers, he wipes a clean rag over his face to get rid of the buildup of sweat and grease.

"Do you want to ride with him?" you ask your daughter. "We're stopping at the store on our way home."

She nods and raises her arms for him. He picks her up and clocks himself out before escorting you to the parking lot. Harry buckles his girl in the Bentley while you get in the Volvo. He then saunters to the open driver's side window and casually rests his arms on it.

"Are my eyes still red?" he asks, rubbing them with his knuckles.

"Don't rub them; it'll make it worse," you say. "But they're not too bad. I'm sorry today was stressful, Harry."

"It's fine. Hopefully, management gets their shit together so I won't have to come in on my days off. They know my weekends are important." Harry stares into the distance and mumbles, "It's that idiot's fault for getting wasted the night before his opening shift."

"Hey, stop dwelling on it. The hard part is over. Now, you get to go home and take a nap. Plus, you have off all day tomorrow."

"You're right." He readjusts his footing and focuses intently on you. "By the way, I like your pretty little outfit."

"Thank you. Your clothes are so wrinkly."

He scoffs lightheartedly. "Wow. What a nice compliment."

"No, you look great," you say, backtracking. "It's just such a dad outfit."

"I guess that's better than when you say I dress like a grandpa."

"A cute grandpa." Before he can reply, you say, "Let's get out of here."

"'Kay," he says, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the car. "Bye, my love. Please drive safely."

You start the engine and crank up the air conditioner. "The store is literally a street away, and you'll be following me. I think I'll be okay."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Let me worry about you, yeah? Traffic was awful this morning."

"I know, I know. You, however, need to drive even more safely. You've got a baby on board."

"She's not a baby anymore."

"Don't say that. I'll start crying."

He laughs. "Please don't. Crying while driving isn't safe."

"I'm kidding. Sort of. Okay, we're wasting time. Begone." You wave him off and roll up the window, but Harry knocks on it offendedly.

You groan and roll it back down. "What do you want?"

"Uh, a kiss goodbye? Am I chopped liver to you?"

"You're so dramatic."

Harry leans in until half of his torso is through the open window. He puckers his lips, and you give him a searing kiss. He hums, satisfied, then gives you a peck on the cheek before retreating.

He always gets his way.

——

Shopping started wonderfully. It truly did.

Now, not so much. Your daughter is throwing a tantrum in the beverage aisle with wails and crocodile tears galore, all because you won't buy chocolate milk for her. You keep reiterating that there's a jug at home, but according to her, it's not the same. Harry is on the opposite side of the store, finding a specific type of rice needed for the date night recipe he picked out, so you're left trying to diffuse her outburst alone. You hope he'll heroically come down the aisle any minute.

Your skin feels hot and prickly as you attempt to calm her down, but she's stubborn like her dad. Usually, she'll listen, but there are scarce fits that she unleashes at full power. It's absolute torture enduring them while simultaneously trying to subside them.

No one really talks about the humiliating parts of raising a child. The most common example is dealing with tantrums in public places where everyone stares at you with subtle judgment.

It's almost comical how she plopped herself on the cold, hard tiles as she cried to no one in particular. An impulsive thought made you want to tell her that she was just embarrassing herself, but you resisted. There was no need to make her cry even harder.

Just in time, Harry comes speeding down the aisle with a frazzled look and a bag of rice in his hand. He takes in your defeated expression, then glances at the cause of it. He huffs — relieved that it's not an emergency — and crouches to her height.

"I told her I won't buy chocolate milk because we already have some at home," you explain, trying to blink back frustrated tears. "They're different brands, and I guess that's a massive problem."

Harry sighs while looking at your daughter sternly. He'll often take a soft approach, but you know this tantrum is worse than others. She rarely gets temperamental in public.

"That's enough," he scolds firmly. "We have some at home that you can drink, okay? You listen to your mother when she tells you no."

Her sobs weaken, yet her tears still fall. She sniffles and stares at you with those devastating eyes before choking out another raspy sob. She starts to run away, but Harry's paternal instincts have him standing with a displeased groan and catching up to her. He scoops her up using one arm and secures her over his shoulder so she can't escape. She begins squirming and screaming, causing you to tiredly run your hands down your face.

"All right, let's go," he says, his body practically a punching bag for her little fists and feet. "You're being a brat."

Harry roughly passes the rice to you and then takes her to the car. You release the breath you were holding and decide to just buy the chocolate milk anyway, so you don't have to deal with whatever that was again. You also find the other ingredients before heading to the checkout area to pay. The monotone beeping of the scanning gun keeps you from crying in front of the cashier.

Being a parent is draining. People warned you, but it's ten times harder than they make it out to be. Sometimes, you feel like a bad parent for not being able to control your child. You've had conversations with Harry about how he feels the same way. You know it's completely normal to feel guilt, shame, and insecurity, but it doesn't make those thoughts any less heartbreaking to conquer.

It's just one difficult day. You always get through it.

Once you leave the store, you spot Harry setting up a movie to play for your daughter on the small screen that's hooked to the back of his headrest. You don't hear any crying, so you assume he successfully calmed her down.

Harry eventually sees you in his peripheral and gives you the tiniest wave. You almost fall apart at his gentleness as you walk to your car. Your daughter probably doesn't want to see you right now, plus you don't want to set her off again, so you just get in the driver's seat and bite down on your bottom lip to keep the tears at bay.

After a few moments, you hear Harry's car door shut and footsteps walk closer. It's enough to make the first sob escape. Harry's attentive and caring nature can always break the dam if you're sensitive enough.

He opens the door on your side and immediately brings you in for a warm, consoling embrace. You let out soft cries in his arms, his hand cradling the back of your head as he shushes and sways you. His presence alone is enough to patch the holes made from today.

"She's good now," he murmurs, his cheek nuzzling the side of your head. "It's okay. We'll talk about it later. Let's go home first."

You nod, just wanting to be in the comfort of your own home. Harry reaches over your legs and opens the center console to pull out a small package of tissues he knows you keep in there. He takes one out and dries your tears while gently cupping your cheek.

"Today's been weird with you being gone. It's not your fault, but I guess we're not used to it. Sorry for crying."

"Hey, stop that," he replies quietly. "I cried, too. It's good to cry. What do we always say to each other? Parenting isn't easy, and we're learning every day. We're in this together, right?"

This time, you start crying at his loving words, and you can't help but start laughing at both of your messy states. He cradles the back of your head and kisses your forehead several times. "Are you good to drive?" he asks, his hands gripping the top of the car as his foot plants itself by your seat.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." You nod your head toward the grocery bags in the backseat. "I bought the milk so she doesn't hate me forever. Is she still mad at me?"

"I had a little talk with her. Told her to give you a big hug when we get home, so be prepared."

"Thank you for handling her. I love you."

"Love you more," he says. "I'm sorry for throwing the rice in your hands, by the way."

You wave him off. "Doesn't matter."

"Okay." The door begins to shut. "Drive safe."

"Excuse me, am I chopped liver to you?" you repeat what he said earlier. "Leaving me without a kiss?"

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth. "You've got snot in your nose, so I think I'll pass," he teases as he walks away.

"Hey! I kissed you in the gross restaurant bathroom after you were crying."

He just shrugs smugly. You grin and start driving.

——

After you arrived home, Harry took a short nap and later made a seafood dinner. Your daughter also gave you a bone-crushing hug, as promised, but you're sure it was only because she saw you bought the chocolate milk she wanted.

Now, you are all at the house's private beach area to get some fresh air. Harry puts swim floaties on your daughter's arms while you bring out her plastic sandcastle-building tools. The sky is a dull blue, and the coastal breeze is pleasantly warm.

Even when it's gloomy, your family feels like sunshine.

Once her floaties are secure, she runs into the ocean to splash around — she knows not to let the water rise past her waist. You set her tools by the shore and look at Harry with your hands on your hips, waiting for him to start the activity he came up with. He suggested that the both of you pass a football around for some reason, and you couldn't think of anything else to do, so you agreed. He's changed into yellow swim trunks, a blue tie-dye shirt, and black sunglasses on his face. His feet are bare, and he's holding a football. You don't remember ever owning one, so you have no idea where he grabbed it.

"Ready?" he calls out over the wind.

"Sure!" you call back, showing him your palms so you can catch it. "Please don't throw it too hard!"

"You act like I'm an NFL player. Stop stroking my ego, love."

"Just throw the ball, Harry."

He stances up and peers at you over his sunglasses as if to tell you to get ready. He brings his arm back over his head and throws it. It goes left and doesn't even reach you.

"Nice throw," you say sarcastically as you pick it up. "You're really giving Aaron Rodgers a run for his money."

Harry briefly scowls at your comment, and you glance back to see him jogging toward you. You try to run away from him, but he quickly lurches forward and lifts you. You squeal as he spins you around before setting you down and stealing the ball.

After twenty minutes of Harry's horrible football skills, the both of you decide to lie on the hammock close to the water. You and Harry can fit on it together, so you curl into his side as he throws one arm around your shoulder to keep you near. Lightly swaying in the wind, you enjoy the peaceful serenity of where you live. Your daughter is still in view, collecting shells along the shore. The waves rush forward and then retreat. The clouds hang low in a sheath of grey. It's a sight to behold.

Harry kisses your cheek softly before murmuring, "Wanna talk about earlier?"

"We probably should," you reply, propping yourself up with your elbow.

"Talk to me about how you felt," he says, taking off his sunglasses. "Lay it all on me."

You shift your gaze to your daughter. "I just... I know we've dealt with her tantrums before. But that one in the store was the worst one, you know? I've dealt with them alone when you're at work, and I know you deal with them when I'm gone, too. She's usually so well-behaved in public and I kind of froze when she threw a fit. She wouldn't listen to me no matter what."

Harry nods, paying full attention as you continue, "And I was embarrassed because people stared at me and probably wondered why I can't control my child. She's such a sweet girl, but it's those stubborn moods she gets in that frustrate me. I don't want to yell at her either because that will upset her more. Then I almost started crying at the checkout because I felt so ashamed that you had to step in to help. And I know we're a team, but I felt useless." You finish with watery eyes while watching your sweet baby girl pick up a seashell and place it in her little self-made pile of others.

Harry brings you closer and kisses your temple before responding in a voice that's just above a whisper. "Everything you just said, I understand entirely. I feel the same way sometimes. Remember when you were out with your friends, and I was home alone when she was just a baby? How I called you bawling my eyes out because she wouldn't let me hold her? She kept wailing, and I tried everything, but absolutely nothing worked. And I felt so shitty because my entire job as a dad is to take care of her, yet I couldn't even do that. I was so scared that she was done with me. But like I told you today... we're learning. We're in this together until she moves out and gets sick of—"

You kiss him mid-sentence. "Don't say that, please. She's not even three yet. I don't want to think about her moving out."

Harry squeezes your shoulder and says, "Sorry. But you get the point, yeah?" He slides his hand up your neck and through your hair. "You're the best mum. I'm so grateful you can come to me and talk through these insecurities. We're never too old to talk about it."

The sun peeks from the clouds, and you take in Harry's features, now basking in golden light. "You're the best dad and husband I could ever want. Thank you for being my shoulder to cry on and for always listening to me. No matter how big or small the problem is."

"I love you," he whispers, thumbing along your cheekbone. Did my sweet-talking give you flutters?"

"Oh, it's fluttering. For sure."

"I've still got the moves," he says, pumping his fist.

As you snuggle into his arms, your daughter prances over with a sand dollar in her palm. She clumsily clambers on top of Harry and holds it up to his face. His head retracts to look at it, and he smiles widely at her discovery even though she already has about seven sand dollars in her bedroom.

"For me?" he asks with exaggerated surprise.

She nods. "Because you had to work."

Your heart melts at her sweetness. Harry looks over at you and raises his eyebrows before looking back at her. "Yeah? Thank you, baby. And where's mommy's present for getting you chocolate milk?"

Her face drops, and she quickly climbs off before returning to her seashell pile. You laugh and hide your face in Harry's shoulder. Even through the hardships, you feel like the luckiest person on the planet every single day.

Once the sun sets, you all walk to the house and settle in the backyard. It's a spacious area with two reclined chairs and trees surrounding them, string lights strung across their branches. It's one of your favorite spaces. It's where you and Harry snag some alone time after your daughter goes to bed or where slow dances and conversations about the future happen.

Slow dancing still happens, but a certain little girl likes to join this time.

You venture inside momentarily and grab your music speaker, then head to your bedroom to steal one of Harry's old shirts for your daughter to wear as pajamas. It'll fit more like a dress on her, but she sleeps better with his scent engulfing her. Truthfully, you can't blame her.

Outside, Harry is letting your daughter look through his phone for a song to play. He helps her scroll through a playlist he created for sleep troubles. You unzip her dress and take it off as Harry helps maneuver her so you can pull the shirt over her head. She practically drowns in it.

Once she chooses a song, you turn the speaker on so his phone can connect. The flute that begins playing is familiar — "Constant as the Stars Above" from Barbie as Rapunzel. Harry sometimes hums it to her when he tucks her in at night.

He sets her down and lets her stand on top of his feet with her Mary Janes. They dance under the moonlight, Harry holding her hands above her head as he twirls her. She tiredly giggles, and you check your phone to see that it's way past her bedtime. You can't bring yourself to disrupt the moment, so you admire their special bond for the next few minutes.

When her eyes start drooping, you carry her inside and lay her in bed before calling it a night. Getting to wake up with your family tomorrow puts a dreamy smile on your face as you fall asleep to the sound of distant ocean waves.

——

Sunday mornings are medicine for the soul.

A delicious assortment of food is on the counters as Harry gracefully travels around the kitchen to flip pancakes on the griddle or crack eggs into the pan. He's entirely in his element with tortoiseshell glasses over his sleepy eyes and a white robe tied around his body. Your daughter sits in her highchair at the kitchen table, her curls sticking up every which way. She's in her own world eating dry Cheerios.

Whenever Harry passes by her to set plates or cups down, he ruffles her hair and kisses her cheek, sometimes even stealing a piece of cereal from her. She turns around with a pout before smiling because Harry playfully looks around the room and whistles nonchalantly like he didn't do it.

Once all of you are sitting down with plates full of Harry's five-star breakfast, you discuss plans for the day. Your daughter is spending the night with Harry's mother since it's date night for you and him. She's leaving right before dinnertime, so she'll still be spending a good portion of the day with the both of you.

Harry plans to cook Chinese food tonight, and you plan on getting him to watch The Bachelorette with you. He told you he was absolutely not doing that, yet you know that once it's on, he'll become engrossed with the drama. He'll pretend he doesn't like it but then bombard you with questions about who hates who.

It hits five in the evening fairly quickly and your daughter just left with no fuss. You hope she doesn't have another one of her temper tantrums.

Harry has changed out of his pajamas and into a white T-shirt with a baseball hat turned backward. He also has a bit of scruff from not shaving for the past week.

There are days when you look at his outfit and think he looks like a dad more than usual. Today is one of those days. He has a black apron tied around his waist as he boils water for the rice. You'll never get tired of watching him cook. He's so focused and delicate with his hands, whether chopping vegetables or sprinkling seasoning.

You sit on the counter and watch him. While he waits for the water to heat, his hands place themselves on either side of your legs. You smile as he slides his warm hand under your sweatshirt and strokes his thumb against your stomach. There are permanent stretch marks indented on your skin from being pregnant. You tried to get rid of them by using expensive creams and exercising. After a while, you gave up and slowly but surely accepted that your body helped grow and bring a child into the world, and there would forever be proof of it. Harry had helped tremendously with seeking acceptance. He never forced you to love the physical changes. He was the one helping you put on creams and looking for workouts to do with you. He never pushed you.

His thumb continues stroking your soft skin, and his eyes are zoned out on the floor. You wonder what he's thinking about.

"The water's boiling," you whisper to snap him out of his trance.

Harry stands straight and clears his throat. He pours the rice in, and your hand raises to scratch the stubble along his jaw. He tilts his head and kisses your palm.

Once dinner is done—two savory Chinese chicken and fried rice bowls—the two of you sit across from each other and dig in. As Harry chews, you notice he's off in his own world again. You nudge your foot against his.

"Where's your mind tonight?"

He blinks quickly. "Sorry. Were you saying something?"

"No, just observing you," you say with a soft smile. "You were daydreaming when you were making dinner, too. Just making sure you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm good. I just… wanted to talk to you about something before we go to bed. Nothing bad, I promise."

"We can talk after we watch The Bachelorette. That's more important."

He rolls his eyes and replies, "I guess I'll watch it with you."

The both of you clean up after finishing your meals, then head to the couch and tune in to the show. You've been recording episodes after they premiere since you're usually too tired after work to stay up and watch them in full. You're about halfway through the season, and this is the first episode you've been able to watch with Harry. Or, well, force him to watch. He hates all the crying and stupid fights. Not to mention how you always talk about how cute the guys are.

Your favorite contestant appears on screen, and you gasp. "That's Greg! Isn't he adorable? I want him to win."

"He looks like he finishes too fast," Harry comments flatly.

You scoff. "Looks like you guys have something in common, then."

"I will shut this off and delete the recording," he threatens under his breath.

"I'd divorce you. I'm not kidding."

"And leave me for Greg? You wouldn't."

You just huff and continue watching Greg get some action in a hot tub with the bachelorette. When there's a commercial break, you lay your head in Harry's lap.

"If you were the bachelorette and I was a contestant, would you pick me?" he asks after a few moments.

"No."

He pinches your side. "Liar."

"It's true," you admit honestly. "You'd try too hard. You wouldn't kiss me the first night to seem like a gentleman. And then another guy would steal your time away from me, but you'd be too nice to say anything about it."

"I would not," he argues weakly

"You're getting pretty defensive. I beg to differ."

"Whatever," he replies, scratching along your arm. "I'd sweep you off your feet, and then we'd get married. The whole nation would love us."

"Greg could do that as well," you tease, loving how he's getting jealous.

"Well, good thing we're already married and have a kid together. Unless you're planning on leaving me for him."

"Thinking about it," you mumble as the show comes back on.

When the episode ends, it's around nine. You still have dishes to wash, so you get up and fill the sink with soapy water. Harry is beside you in seconds to help, and you suddenly remember what he mentioned earlier during dinner.

"So, what'd you want to talk about?" you ask, beginning to wash cups.

"Oh, um, this is just something I've been thinking about lately. And I wanted to bring it up because it concerns both of us—you, mostly."

He's nervously spewing words, so you shut the water off and grant him your full attention. "Talk to me," you encourage, bumping your hip with his.

Harry exhales somewhat shakily. "When you were on the counter and my hand was under your sweatshirt... my mind immediately went back to when you were pregnant." He avoids eye contact as he scrubs a plate. "How much I loved it. The whole progression."

You know where this conversation is going. You've thought about it before. Dreamed, even.

"It's been on my mind for a while, you know?" he continues. "She's almost three, and I think having another one would be nice. Again, it's completely up to you. Pregnancy isn't easy, so it's just an idea."

"But you've been thinking about it for a while?" you reiterate for clarity. Harry nods shyly, drying the clean plate with a towel. "I've been thinking about it, too," you add.

Harry's head whips toward you. "What?"

"I feel ready to do it a second time. To be pregnant again."

He sets the towel down. "Seriously? For real?"

"It's a perfect time. We've got the money and space. I'm all in if it's what you want. I think she would love to have a sibling."

Harry inhales heavily and darts his gaze between both of your eyes. He then breaks out into a beautiful smile, rubbing his hand along his mouth. "Okay," he says. "Yeah, I want another baby more than anything. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

You grin while washing your hands. The dishes can wait until tomorrow. "We can start tonight. We're home alone, and the outfit you're wearing is making me hot."

"Yeah?" he says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Sweet. Wait, right now? We're doing this?"

"Yes, right now," you reply as you walk toward the bedroom. "C'mon, let's brush our teeth and get a head start."

Harry takes off his hat and catches up to you. When you glance back, he's nervously wringing his hands in front of him like a schoolboy, and it almost makes you laugh. After seven years together and experiencing the awkward stages of dating and then pushing out an entire child with him in the room, he still gets nervous about these things.

It reminds you of the time you told him you were pregnant.

——

You pushed the gift bag toward Harry, and he gave you a suspicious look paired with a smirk.

"Did I miss our anniversary or something?" he murmured as he opened the bag and pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper.

You shook your head and braced for his reaction. You'd been trying for a few months, and you finally got the answer that both of you wanted. The positive pregnancy test hidden behind your back felt like a ticking bomb.

Harry carefully unwrapped the present. His eyebrows furrowed as he unfolded an apron in front of him. His eyes ran over it, and then his jaw went slack. Written on the fabric was 'Daddy Duty,' and three pockets were sewn into the bottom to hold baby supplies while he cooked.

He stared at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. You just nodded your head and presented the stick from behind your back. He slowly stood, setting the apron on the coffee table, and walked over to you with his hands reaching out. He took the stick with a shaky hand, his other covering his mouth.

Staring up at the ceiling, Harry choked out something between a relieved breath and a sob. His arms instantly wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you into his warm embrace. He was trying hard to keep it together, but you heard his shaky inhales and sniffles. You were crying, too. You'd both wanted this for so long.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered against your neck. "I can't believe this. How far along are you?"

"I'll know at my first appointment next Thursday. I'll text you all the information."

"No, screw that. I'll take off work. I have to be there."

"Okay, we'll go together," you told him, secretly hoping he would say that. "Are you happy? I was so nervous. I didn't know how to tell you."

"Of course, I'm happy." He breathed exasperatedly, like he couldn't believe what you had just revealed. We're going to be parents. We're going to have a baby."

The both of you laughed against each other in disbelief. It was surreal, and it was all happening at the perfect time.

——

The thought of giving him another baby to cradle in his arms and to get up with at crazy hours in the morning leaves you yearning for it more than ever.

After brushing your teeth, you take your clothes off and don't waste any time taking Harry's off. You push him to make him lay back on the silk sheets before straddling his thighs, his tattoo peeking out from underneath his boxers. You grind against his cock, noticing he's hard already. Your hands spread on his firm chest as you continue rolling your hips.

Your underwear dampens, and Harry's hands grip your waist. He lifts his hips to relieve some pressure, his neck straining as he whimpers after every movement of yours.

You stop straddling him and slide his boxers off, his cock resting against his abdomen. You then take your underwear off and hike your legs over his thighs to hover over them again. This is the first time he's gone without a condom since you were pregnant, so you're nervous about the raw feeling.

"You with me, baby?" Harry asks breathily. "We're doing this?"

"I'm just gonna go slow so it doesn't burn," you say, lining yourself up.

He nods encouragingly. "We'll take our time. Let's make this good."

You exhale and slowly sink yourself into his cock. The stretch burns, but it still feels heavenly without a barrier. Harry groans as your hands grip his tense shoulders. His fingers flex on your hips when you take him all the way and begin rocking back and forth. He moans in response, his hips meeting the motion of yours.

You've missed this. You can feel every inch of his skin, and the contact is a pleasure like no other.

Harry decides to quickly flip you over so he can be on top. His forearms prop himself up as he starts thrusting at a faster pace. So much for going slow. His face is buried in your neck, and he places nipping kisses on it every so often, leaving love bites. You wrap your trembling legs around his body as he hits the deeper spots that have you arching your back against the mattress.

"Feel good?" he asks, his cheek resting against yours.

"So, so good. Don't stop."

The pit of your stomach forms a tight knot as he continues. He lowers one hand and stimulates your clit with his thumb as he roughly snaps his hips against yours, letting out salacious groans and whimpers into your ear. His body is warm like a personal furnace — it's burning against yours, and the closeness of your two bodies always leads to eruption.

"I'm almost there," you say, heat striking down your back. "Keep going… please don't stop."

"I'm close—God, I'm close. I'm with you, honey. Just tell me when you're ready."

You clench around him, and he pulls out and quickly gets behind you, pushing you to lay on your side. He thrusts back in, his chest pressed right against your back. One hand moves to grope your breast, and his other arm places itself above your head on the pillow to move some strands of hair off your forehead. The two sensations have you leaning your neck back against his shoulder and moaning loudly.

Your orgasm hits before you can warn him, and you cry out as his hips slow, riding it out before stilling and shuddering out his release. Broken groans are muffled into your neck as he asks, "Gonna make me a dad again?" You nod fervently at his question. "Yeah?"

You keep nodding until he's physically spent. He keeps his cock inside you, his body relaxing against yours. The both of you are breathing heavily, and you feel his cock soften, the feeling bringing you a strange sense of comfort.

"Think that did it?" he asks.

"I hope so," you answer. Harry repositions himself, his cock nudging inside of you. "God, you feel so perfect all the time."

Harry begins stroking his hand across your stomach, every so often giving you a gentle thrust that has you softly clenching around him. You're sensitive, but it's a natural response. When his hand starts rubbing circles around your stomach to ease the remaining pressure there, you smile giddily and think about getting to experience pregnancy all over again.

Harry eventually pulls out and kneels before you, hooking your knees over his shoulders. This is precisely what he did the last time you were trying for a baby years ago. Apparently, the position is supposed to help get one to stick, for lack of better words.

Harry begins whistling nonchalantly, and you start laughing hard because he's acting like he does this every day. He tries to give you a look as if to say what he's doing is incredibly serious business, but he eventually sputters a laugh. Now, both of you are giggling like maniacs.

After about five minutes in the position, Harry sets your legs down to put his boxers back on and then leaves. He comes back and provides you with aftercare—a warm, damp cloth, a clean pair of underwear, and one of the brownies you baked earlier today.

You eat your dessert while the ocean waves crash outside the open window. You get comfortable on his lap, and he circles his arms around your waist.

Tomorrow will mark the start of a new week. Your daughter will come home, and you all will make new memories together.

After tonight, it will hopefully be the start of another chapter.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #dadrry #dad!harry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur

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shiro-luvs-victor · 14 days

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This is just my impression so far on the MCs of Ikemen Series. I have seen posts about Ikemen MC not having enough spite, dumb, damsel and distress etc etc....and to some point I do agree with it. Even I made a post about MCs being overly positive. But at the same time I feel like this is done on purpose from the writers' part.

Let's just say it, the MCs are not really that relatable even though they try to make it look like that. MCs in these games are very kind-hearted for no reason, overly positive and lack basic common sense. For example, take this scene from Harry's story event:

Harry did mention to her before this that he can detect if a person is lying or not when he makes eye-contact. In the scene mentioned above, a person with common sense can easily tell that Harry lost on purpose. But for some reason Kate thought he lost because she was able deceived him. It is only later that Harry told her and Kate looked genuinely surprised. I don't think Kate is dumb. But I feel like the writers think we players are not that smart enough to distinguish between Harry's lies and truth. It makes me laugh some times.

I just honestly feel like MCs are portrayed this way so that we players could understand the game and its characters better. Like Paimon from genshin, who repeats everything in baby terms so that we could understand what we have to do (even if her screechy noise is annoying). MCs here are played by us, so when male characters has a plan that they don't reveal, MCs try to find out what their plan is so that we could understand. That's it. MCs are here just simplify the story to make us understand the character's better. They'll only ask the male characters what's needed to know right now and not anything extra. If it where a realistic MCs, she would ask more logical questions like:

Is Victor also cursed?

If Crown consists of only 'cursed' people and Victor went around to search these people, are there any 'cursed' people out there who rejected his request?

More questions on their abilities like: Can Harry still detect lies if someone closes their eye? Can Elbert trigger sad memories if a person doesn't have a sad memory? etc etc...

But we don't see Kate asking these questions.

I feel like the reason why we feel sometimes frustrated when MCs act in a certain way is because these MCs are not at all realistic. I'll never believe that someone with common sense did not try to run away after watching a murder happen. I'll never believe that someone with common sense falling into easy traps. Like this one scene from Silvio's story where, Silvio's daddy visits Rhodolite because his lost son is found and he also wants to know if Rhodolite King is dead blah blah blah...you guys know that story (I assume). Emma has to choose the next King without Silvio's dad knowing and they wait for Sariel's call. A servant comes to Emma's room to call both her and Rio. This servant itself is sus because Emma clearly states that she hasn't seen that servant before. When I read this, I immediately knew it was red flag. But even so, Emma and Rio ignores the red flag and goes with the servant and what do you know? They get kidnapped. The scene was very predictable. But it's so frustrating because, realistically speaking I think normal people would feel a little bit suspicious about the person given the situation. Maybe even question the servant. That's why I'm saying...I do feel MCs are not realistic enough. I don't think anyone is overly-kindhearted to the point that they would accept insults from the male leads and be like "I'm going to prove myself to you!". Normal people would just be like "fuck off!" and won't listen to their insults. No one is so dumb it fall into easy traps and no normal person is like "I will work hard to get to know them better." Majority of the people are way smarter and way selfish (not in a bad way though!). Many people have attitude, not everyone are kind to strangers. That's why MCs are not realistic, so there is no use in comparing MC to your personality or your intelligence. They are just tools for explaining the story in a simplified way and moving the plot forward. Because like I said, if Emma and Rio didn't go with the servant and get kidnapped, Silvio's story wouldn't move forward.

That's all. This no hate, this is just how I felt after reading quite amount of stories both in-game and on tumblr. MC's don't have much background because the writers don't really put too much thought about their personality. MCs are basically last on their lists. They just make sure that she's an adult, working woman (doing some odd jobs like a flowershop lady or something, because I've never seen a CEO MC), and they are very kind for some reason. They don't have family (except for Emma), they don't have a story, they don't have anything that impacts their personality. At least it would have been nice to see why a MC is so kind-hearted would be nice. But otome games' main selling points are the male leads. The male leads falls for MC's purity in their dark world.

#this is just my opinion #no hate at all #i do think mcs in ikemen games are fine #ikemen series #ikemen villains #ikemen prince #ikemen genjiden #ikemen sengoku #ikemen revolution #ikemen vampire #ikemen game #otome #otome game #ikemen mcs

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allthelovehes · 18 days

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Hardware Store Hookup*

Summary: Y/N just broke up with her boyfriend and kicked him out, she is redecorating her apartment and the guy who works at the hardware store just has something special to him.

Pairing: Harry x reader

Word count: 4.7K

Warnings: Smut!! Protected sex tho, oral female receiving, p in v.

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

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A/N: Ugh, these two are so cute and loving. Makes me wanna paint my house and find Harry at my hardware store.

Setting down the last box of his belongings in the entryway of her apartment building. Y/N feels bittersweet. This building has been their home for the last two years, but the second she found out he cheated on her she was packing up all his shit and moving him out.

“I don't understand why you won't just listen to me! We can work this out!”

“I'm done talking to you, Michael.” She responds, her voice void of emotion. “The apartment is in my name, and I'm paying the bills, you're out.”

Michael huffs and walks around her as if he's going to leave, but turns around and comes right back. She can feel his eyes boring into her and her skin crawls. He's trying to play the victim and she can't stand it.

“Fine, you know what? Just... just fuck it, Y/N. I don't even want to live with you, you're an ugly bitch anyways. I can find someone prettier and younger to take care of me than some fat cow.”

“You're an asshole, Michael. I never want to see your face again.” She replies, opening the door and pointing outside.

“Fuck you!” He spits, picks up his boxes and leaves.

She watches as he gets into his truck and pulls out of the parking spot before she goes inside and closes the door. As soon as she locks it she collapses on the floor and bursts into tears. A year ago Michael was her knight in shining armour, her soulmate, the love of her life. Now she wants to erase his entire existence from her memory.

***

A couple of months pass and Y/N feels like it's finally time to transform their home into her own. The couch was a gift from her parents when they moved in together and it's not even comfortable. It's also stained and ratty and she's ready to get rid of it. She's browsing Pinterest when a couch catches her eye, it's white and has a tufted back. It looks beautiful, so she clicks on the website and begins filling her cart with things for her new interior.

Shipping the pieces takes quite some time as they get delivered by truck and they schedule an appointment with you to make sure you're home. Still, three more weeks until her furniture is supposed to be delivered, so she decides to make most of the time in between and visits the hardware store for some paint.

The hardware store is surprisingly quiet and she has the aisle to herself. There are dozens of different brands of paint and it's overwhelming, let's not even get started about all the different colour options. She has an idea in mind, something warm, inviting and calming. Something that feels like home.

“Can I help you?” A voice says behind her and she startles, almost dropping the cans of paint she picked out.

“Ah, yes! Please!” She chuckles, turning around and looking at the man behind her.

He's tall, very tall, and wearing a navy blue polo. He has a nametag, 'Harry' written across it. He's got curly, dark brown hair, and his face is handsome and symmetrical. The thing that stands out to her the most are his eyes, they're a soft green, almost grey and they remind her of the sea. His lips look soft and pouty and she can't stop staring.

“You seem lost.” Harry smirks.

“Yeah, a bit, actually.” She chuckles. “I need paint for my apartment and I don't really know how much I'm gonna need or where to start. I just wanna do my bedroom and the living room.”

“Well, first, let's start by picking out a colour. Do you have an idea of what you want?”

“Oh, um, yeah!” She smiles, grabbing her phone and showing him her Pinterest board. “Something like this.”

“Ah, I see. A warm colour, that's good. And what are you painting over?”

“Well, right now it's a cream colour.” She explains, following him through the aisles as he looks at paint cards.

“Okay, so we'll probably want to stick with a neutral colour for the living room, because the natural light changes a lot. Here.” He hands her a warm yellow coloured paint card, “This one would look great, it's warm and it will compliment the furniture.”

“I love it.”

“And your bedroom, we'll do something more daring, because that's more of a personal space.” Harry smirks at her. “I think something darker to add some mystery, but with a pop of colour would look great, like maybe a navy wall with a bright coloured accent piece.”

“I have a yellow throw I'm planning on using. That's good contrasting colour, right?”

“Yes! Exactly! You can use the yellow throw to really add some warmth, especially during winter, and the blue to contrast that and create some depth.”

“That sounds great.” She smiles, her excitement growing. Harry is charming and his excitement for her project is contagious. “I can't wait.”

“Let's head over to the paint mixer, yeah?”

They walk towards the back of the store, where the mixing area is located. During their walk Harry asks her what her more about the wall sizes so he knows how much she'll need. She tells him everything he needs to know and Harry gets to work. The heavy paint buckets cause his muscles to flex and his biceps bulge. He's definitely a looker and she can't help but blush and tries to turn her attention elsewhere.

“There we go.” He smiles. “Let's go get some painting supplies and we'll ring you up, yeah?”

“Perfect.”

“How are you planning on doing this?”

“Hm?”

“The painting.” He chuckles. “Are you planning on doing it yourself or are you hiring a painter?”

“Oh, I'll do it myself, it's only the two rooms, right? I can handle that.”

“You can, absolutely.” Harry grins. “You're brave. Most women hire painters to do that sort of thing, or their boyfriends.”

“Oh, well, I don't have a boyfriend. I guess I'm just doing this all myself.”

“That's admirable. I wish more women were like you, not afraid of getting their hands dirty. You're going to be fine.”

“I hope so.”

“Trust me, you'll do great. And if you need any advice you know where to find me. I'll be glad to help.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She says. Harry loves that she calls him by his name that she clearly read off his name tag. “I appreciate it.”

“It's my pleasure, darling. Let's get you checked out.” Harry gives her a small wink and they head to the counter. He helps her lift all the heavy items onto the conveyor belt so his colleague can scan them. He normally wouldn't give this much attention to a customer, but he's drawn to her, she's different.

Y/N notices him staring as they load her purchases onto the conveyor belt and it makes her blush. She can't help but look at him and the way his lips move as he talks. They look soft and she can't help but imagine what kissing him would be like.

“Will that be all, miss?” His colleague asks, snapping her out of her daydream.

“Um, yes. Yes, thank you.” She smiles, handing her her debit card.

“I'll bring these to your car.” Harry says, lifting two buckets of paint and carrying them outside.

“Oh, thank you!” She smiles, grabbing the other bucket and following him. She knows he's giving her some kind of special treatment as he shouldn't be doing this, but she isn't complaining. She's not complaining at all.

He sets down the buckets next to her car, and she unlocks the trunk so he can place them inside. He turns around and looks at her. He wants to say something, anything, to her, but he doesn't know what.

“Do you have a card or something? So I can contact you if I have any questions?” She speaks up, feeling brave.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Harry grins, reaching behind him and pulling out a small note block. He scribbles down his name, phone number and writes hardware store employee underneath as if it's an official business card. He rips off the piece of paper and hands it over with a goofy grin on his face. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She chuckles. “I'm Y/N, by the way.”

“It's lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

“Likewise.” She grins. “Well, I have to get going. I still have to buy a few more things.”

“Of course.” He nods. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, getting into her car and driving off.

As soon as she's out of sight, Harry lets out a sigh and heads back into the hardware store.

“Hey, mate.” His colleague says. “What was that all about?”

“What was what about?”

“Don't act stupid. I've never seen you give special attention to a customer.”

“Shut up.” Harry chuckles, walking towards the back room. “It was nothing, I was just being nice.”

“Uhuh.”

Harry sighs, rolling his eyes as he starts to put away some equipment. He has no idea why he's so intrigued by her, she was just a normal customer, right? He thinks back to the way she blushed when he spoke, and the way she fiddled with her hands. Maybe he's just imagining things, but he's definitely got a soft spot for her. ***

She's spent the last few days painting the walls of her bedroom, as a darker colour needs multiple layers and drying times. It's finally time to paint the living room and she's excited. She's picked out the perfect colour and the weather is cooperating so she can leave the windows open.

She's put on her favourite music and has a cup of tea next to her as she paints. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she's wearing sweatpants and a sports bra. She's enjoying herself, and the room looks great so far. The colour is a bit darker than what she expected but she doesn't hate it. It's warm, and inviting and she's happy.

After a few hours her back and arms start hurting, so she decides to take a break. She grabs her phone and takes a picture of the wall and posts it in the family group chat.

She scrolls through her Instagram feed when she suddenly remembers the card that Harry gave her. She pulls it out of her pocket and enters his number in her contacts. She debates on whether or not she should send him a message, but decides to do it anyway.

Y/N Hey Harry, it's Y/N, the girl from the hardware store. I've finished my bedroom and I'm doing the living room now. The colour looks amazing, thanks again for helping me pick it out.

She sends the text and immediately puts her phone down. She can't believe she just did that. Did she sound desperate? Did she sound too eager? Is he going to reply? She's got no clue, and it's killing her.

“Get a grip, Y/N.” She whispers to herself. She shakes her head and grabs her cup of tea, taking a sip. She looks back at her wall and sighs, she's got a long day ahead of her.

The sun is slowly starting to set, and Y/N has just finished the wall. Her hair is still up in a bun and she's sweaty, but she's happy with the result. The walls look amazing, the colour is beautiful and she can't wait to show her parents tomorrow.

Her phone vibrates, and she grabs it to check the notification. It's a text from Harry.

Harry I'm so glad to hear that, love! I bet the colour looks lovely with the sun setting right now.

She can't believe he called her 'love' in a text, it's insane. He barely even knows her. But his message is sweet and cute and she's smiling like an idiot.

Y/N You'll have to come and check it out for yourself.

She stares at her phone screen for what feels like an eternity. She can't believe she just flirted with him. She's not even sure if he's single, and if he is, does he like her? He could be interested in someone else, or he could even be straight for all she knows.

Harry Are you inviting me over?

Y/N I'm not stopping you.

Her heart is pounding and her hands are shaking. She's definitely overstepping, but she's hoping it won't scare him off.

Harry I leave work in about 10 minutes. What's your address?

“Shit.”

Y/N Oh, it's 27B, Parkview Apartments.

Harry Be there in 20.

“Fuck!”

She can't believe he's actually coming over. She runs over to her bathroom and quickly brushes her hair and her teeth. Her apartment is a mess, and she's not wearing any makeup. She looks terrible and he's going to be here any second.

“Calm down.” She whispers to herself.

She walks out of the bathroom and starts cleaning up the living room. There are paint supplies everywhere, and she wants the place to look at least a little presentable.

A few minutes later she hears the doorbell and her heart almost leaps out of her chest.

“Coming!” She yells, rushing over to the front door and opening it.

“Hey.” Harry grins.

“Hi.” She smiles. “Please, come in.”

Harry steps inside and closes the door behind him. She looks stunning, despite the fact that she's wearing sweatpants and a messy bun, which makes him feel a little overdressed.

“Your apartment looks nice.”

“Thank you.” She replies, closing the window. “It's a bit of a mess right now, but I'm working on it.”

“Don't worry about it, I understand.”

“Um, would you like something to drink? Some water or beer or something?”

“A beer would be great, thanks.”

“Alright.” She nods, walking over to the fridge and pulling out two cold beers.

Harry sits down on the couch and watches her. She's got a few paint stains on her pants and her sports bra and he finds it endearing. He can tell that she's trying hard, and he's definitely charmed by her.

“Here you go.” She smiles, handing him a beer.

“Cheers.” He says, clinking his bottle against hers.

“To your apartment looking better than ever.”

“Cheers.” She smiles. “And to the man who helped make that possible.”

They both take a sip and stare at each other for a few seconds. Y/N has a feeling that something might happen, but she's not sure if it's the right thing.

“So.” Harry starts, clearing his throat. “What are you going to do now that the painting is done?”

“Oh, well, I'm still planning on doing a few other things.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I've ordered a new couch, and I'm thinking of getting a new rug.” She answers before Harry moves closer to her.

“So, you don't mind getting this couch a little dirty?” He asks her. Harry is blunt, but he feels the way she's looking at her. It's almost as if she's undressing him with her eyes, he can see the desire sparkling in them.

“Dirty how?”

“You know what I mean, love.” Harry smirks, taking another swig from his beer. Y/N doesn't know what has gotten into her. Normally she's not like this, not at all, but she wants him, badly. She's been craving him since the moment she saw him, and she's tired of denying herself.

“Yes.” She whispers. Harry doesn't reply, instead, he leans in and captures her lips with his own. The kiss is intense, full of lust and hunger. Y/N has been waiting for this and she's not going to waste the opportunity. The last couple of months with Michael have been stale, she's been missing this exciting feeling deep within her.

Harry pulls her closer and kisses her harder, his hands wandering over her body. Y/N moans into the kiss and straddles him. He grabs her hips and pushes her down on him, creating delicious friction between them. Y/N can feel him growing harder and his bulge pressing against her core. She wants him, and she wants him now. Harry breaks the kiss, and Y/N whimpers at the loss.

“You're a very good kisser.” He murmurs. “Are you always this good, or am I just lucky?”

“I don't know, maybe you're just lucky.” She teases, grinding down on his cock.

“Mmm.” Harry hums, leaning forward and kissing her again. This time, the kiss is even more passionate. Y/N wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss, running her fingers through his hair. She pulls on it and Harry groans, his hands moving to her ass and squeezing it.

“Fuck, you feel good.” He mutters against her lips, squeezing her ass again.

“You too.” She mumbles, leaning down and kissing his neck. Harry groans as she starts sucking on his skin, leaving a trail of love bites. He knows that they'll be visible tomorrow and that his colleagues will have a field day. But he doesn't care, he loves it. He loves the fact that he's been claimed by her.

He spins her full body around in his lap, so her back is flush against his chest and his face is buried in the crook of her neck. His hands move up her stomach and under her sports bra. He cups her breasts and pinches her nipples between his fingers, making her whimper.

“You're so beautiful.” He mumbles, his lips pressed against her neck. She places her hands on his knees and grinds down on his cock, loving the feeling of him underneath her.

“Fuck.” Harry groans, thrusting his hips up, meeting her movements. “You're so fucking hot, you know that?”

“I'm aware of the effect I have on you.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, pulling her hair and forcing her to expose her neck.

“Yeah.” She reaches behind her to unclasp her sports bra and lets it fall to the floor.

“Fuck, look at you.” Harry grunts, grabbing her breast and squeezing it. Y/N throws her head back and moans. “Look at these perfect tits.”

He continues to massage her breast, teasing her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Y/N arches her back, pushing her breast further into his hand.

“That feels so good.” She whines.

“Mhm.” He hums, licking a stripe up her neck. He loves the way her skin tastes, sweet and salty. He can't get enough. He sucks on her earlobe, one of his hands sliding down her body and slipping into her pants. He finds her clit, and two of his fingers circle it, making her gasp.

“Oh god.”

“Do you like that?” He asks her, continuing his movements because he already knows the answer.

“Yes.”

“You're so wet, baby.” Harry smirks

“Mmm.” She whimpers, grinding her hips into his fingers.

“I can't wait to be inside you.” He growls, his fingers dipping lower and sliding into her.

“Fuck.” She hisses, her nails digging into his legs.

“That's it, baby, let me hear you.” Harry grunts, pumping his fingers in and out of her. He curls them and hits the perfect spot, making her cry out in pleasure. Her walls are spongey and tight around him, making him impatient. But the thought of feeling her come all over his hand is more than enough for him to keep focussed. He wants her to leak all over his hand, to make a mess for him and only him.

“Oh fuck, please, more.” She whines, her thighs trembling. She's never felt this way before, the way he touches her, the way he makes her feel is intoxicating. She loves how she's still half-clothed, and yet, he's managed to make her feel exposed. She's not ashamed of the noises she's making, but she's definitely enjoying the way he's making her feel.

“More what, baby?” Harry asks, his lips grazing her ear moaning softly to send shivers running down her spine.

“More of you.”

“Oh, I'll give you more, baby. Just be patient.”

“Yes.” She cries out, feeling her orgasm approaching. She knows it's close, and she wants it, badly. Her hips start grinding down on his hand, her movements becoming faster and less controlled. Harry continues to pump his fingers into her, his thumb rubbing her clit, making her body shake.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasps, her walls tightening around him. She comes, squirting all over his hand. Harry moans, his dick twitching as he feels her squirt.

“Holy fuck.” Harry moans, watching the mess she's made. “That's so fucking hot.”

“Harry...”

“Mmm.” He hums, as he picks her up and roughly lies her down on her back. He grabs the waistband of her now completely soaked sweatpants and pull them down her legs, throwing them to the side. He does the same with her panties. He gets rid of his own shirt, revealing his toned body. Y/N is taken aback, he's got some tattoos, which is not something she expected. But it suits him, and it's hot.

“Look at you, such a pretty pussy.” He hums, admiring her dripping wet cunt. She's glistening and his mouth waters at the sight.

“Stop staring.” She chuckles.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” He laughs. “Would you prefer if I did this?”

“Do what- fuck!” Y/N exclaims, as Harry suddenly leans down and sucks her clit between his lips. He places his big hands on the inside of her thighs to keep her legs nice and open for him. He is relentless, his tongue licking a strip up her cunt, making her squirm and cry out. He laps up her juices, enjoying every second of it.

“Fuck, Harry!”

“That's it, baby.” Harry groans, sending vibrations through her body. She's gripping the couch, her knuckles turning white. It's an overwhelming feeling to have him eat her out so eagerly right after she came all over his hand. She doesn't know how much more she can take.

When she first met him, she never would have guessed Harry would have been this skilled. The way his tongue moves along her pussy, his lips sucking and licking her clit and the way his fingers dig into her thighs is making her dizzy. She knows she's going to come soon, and she's not sure if she's ready for that.

“Mmhmm, yes.” She moans, her back arching. She grabs a fistful of his hair and holds on to it, pushing his head further down. He takes it as a sign and doubles his efforts, his tongue moving even faster and deeper.

“Oh fuck, yes, right there!” She cries out, her toes curling as her orgasm hits her. It's intense and makes her see stars. Her whole body trembles as her muscles contract, and her mind goes blank.

“Jesus, you taste so good.” Harry groans, as he carefully licks her clean. He gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry catches his breath and he looks down at the sweet girl in front of him. She is completely wrecked, and he's not even done with her yet.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He smiles, standing up and removing his pants and boxers. His cock is hard and leaking precum. He's long and thick, and Y/N can't wait to have it inside of her.

“Fuck.” She mumbles at the sight, a bit too loud. She's certain Harry heard her even though she didn't intend for him to hear it.

“What's that, love?” Harry grins, his cock throbbing.

“Nothing.”

“No, I want to hear you say it.” He insists, his eyes locked on hers.

“You're big.”

“Yeah?”

“And hard.”

“For you.”

“Fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, love.” Harry laughs. He grabs his wallet from his pants and pulls out a condom, ripping the package open and sliding the condom down his shaft.

“Come here.” She tells him. He obeys and walks towards her, getting down on his knees in front of the couch. He leans forward and kisses her passionately, his hands cupping her face. He slowly pulls away, his eyes locking with hers.

“You're beautiful.” He murmurs.

“I bet you say that to all the girls who need help at the hardware store.” She teases.

“Oh, shut up.” He laughs, kissing her again. He positions himself, his tip pressing against her entrance. He can't wait to feel her, to be inside of her. Y/N's breathing heavily, her heart racing. He teases her by slowly pushing his tip up and down her folds before slowly pushing it into her. Just the tiniest bit to make her all needy and whiney.

“Please.”

“Patience, baby.” He whispers, his lips inches from hers. He keeps teasing her, his tip rubbing her clit. Y/N moans and her hips buck, trying to get him to push his dick inside of her. But he makes sure to not give in to her desires just yet. He pushes back into her, a little bit further this time, his tip disappearing inside her. But he doesn't go any further, and Y/N lets out a frustrated grunt.

“What's the matter, love?” He smirks, his hand slowly trailing up her stomach and resting on her breast. As he rubs his cock on her clit, his hand squeezes her breast and he starts sucking on her neck.

“You know exactly what's wrong, you fucking tease.”

“Oh, do I?” He chuckles, his hand squeezing her breast again, this time a little bit rougher.

“Yes.” She moans, arching her back. “Please, Harry, stop teasing me.”

“Alright.” He whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. He slowly thrusts into her, filling her up completely. He stills his hips, letting her adjust to his size. She moans, her hands resting on his hips, urging him to move. He complies and begins to rock his hips, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in.

“Fuck.” Harry groans, his pace increasing. Y/N's walls tighten around him and her nails dig into his hips, as she tries to pull him even deeper.

“That's it, baby.” He growls, his cock sliding in and out of her easily. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

“You're so big.” She gasps, her eyes closed and her mouth agape. He groans, his hips slamming into her. His fingers find her clit, and he starts rubbing her. Y/N whimpers, her toes curling as his fingers and his cock bring her closer to the edge.

“Yes, baby.” Harry grunts, his free hand cupping her breast, his fingers tweaking her nipple. It's sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body.

“Oh god, fuck!” Y/N moans, her hips bucking, and her walls tightening around him. “Fuck, I'm gonna come.”

“Oh, baby.” He whispers, his voice dripping with lust.

“Shit.” Y/N gasps, her eyes flying open as her third orgasm washes over her. Her whole body is trembling, her muscles contracting. Harry feels her clench around his cock, and he knows that it won't be long before he comes too.

“Fuck.” He grunts, his thrusts getting sloppier. He curses under his breath as he pulls his cock out of her. He quickly rips the condom off and strokes his cock, coming all over her stomach.

“Fuck.”

They're both catching their breaths, both still riding their high. They look at each other and share a laugh.

“I've made a mess.”

“It's okay, my couch was a mess to begin with. We just made it messier.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles, leaning in and kissing her. “This was...fun.”

“Yeah, it was.” She says, her fingers running through his curls.

“How about we go and get cleaned up in the shower and then we can have a proper drink?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Y/N's never had a one-night stand like this. Normally they are rushed and messy. This was different. It was sensual, erotic, and passionate. And she didn't feel bad about it. It felt natural like she was meant to do this. Like she was supposed to have a fling with the hot guy at the hardware store. She's never believed in fate, but maybe this is what it feels like.

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ginnyw-potter · 20 days

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I can fix him (No really I can)

This is written for The Tortured Potters Department, also part of the Several Sunlit Daylights Challenge! @corneliaavenue-ao3 Read below or on AO3

I can fix him.

Ginny could see other people think it, sometimes they said it out loud. Not literally, but they said it all the same.

I can make you happy.

I can make you forget all your troubles.

I can make the scars fade.

They very well could. They all looked at Harry and saw a man in need of change. They wanted to fix the scars, inside and out. They wanted to take him on adventures and make him forget all the things he had gone through. They wanted to placate him. They wanted to chase the nightmares away and replace them with wonderful dreams. Some others wanted him to embrace his fame for once, or rise to power, be the man they thought he could be.

Ginny looked at him and saw someone she already loved.

She didn’t try to make him happy.

She didn’t try to make him forget all his troubles.

She didn’t mind the scars, the way he didn’t mind hers.

She loved on the scars the way she loved on the rest of his body. They were marks of his past, of the things he had been through, not things to hide or be ashamed of. Their existence didn’t scare her.

She knew he didn’t need an adventure, didn’t need to escape his life. He didn’t want to forget his loved ones, dead and alive. He spoke of enjoying time in the garden, and long walks enjoying the setting sun. Some things that some people may find terribly mundane, but it meant everything to him. They didn’t understand why it was important to him.

His temper was difficult for people to deal with, but Ginny always met him with equal power. She did not back off, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. She didn’t need to placate him, she needed to push back and meet him in the middle.

When he had a nightmare, she didn’t tell him it wasn’t real. She held him and sat with him until he felt better. They would talk about it and mull it over and let out bitter laughs over their misery. The nightmares followed a long time after the war was done, and she’d be there to work through them. Slowly but surely, tirelessly.

She didn’t want him to embrace his fame and attend event after event, knowing how it would torture him. She didn’t want him to grab power he never wanted. He did not crave it, he did not go looking for it, and she did not expect it of him.

Harry never asked to be changed. He didn’t need to become a new person, didn’t need to escape his life. He held onto the memories of lost loved ones and honoured their memory every day. He did not want the fame, or the power. And on most days, he just wanted to be normal.

But that’s not what people expect of him. They can fix him, or at least that’s what they think.

She did not need to fix him. Some scars never faded but they did not hurt him. Having his own home and settling him brought him peace. It gave him a place to come into his own and grieve the people he had lost. Sometimes it was the simple things, like hanging a framed picture up in the living room or making their favourite food. A place where he could be himself, where he wasn’t worried and where his emotions could flow freely. A place where the nightmares got soothed by comforting arms and softly spoken words, a cup of hot cocoa or a refreshing glass of water. And they could exist, and be talked about, and it would help him. A place where no one expected him to take the lead and have an answer to every question.

He spoke to her, softly whispered confessions in the middle of the night. She held him, and he kissed her softly.

“You make me so happy.”

She carded her fingers through his hair.

“You make me forget all my troubles without even trying,” he sighed. “You make me feel at peace.”

She pressed a kiss against his temple.

“You helped me love all of my scars.”

He never needed to change. She always loved him, flaws and all. Time healed many things, and she was there for it all, but he was never something to be fixed.

I can fix him , she thought. No, really; I can. It was never my intention; I would have loved him all the same.

“You fixed me.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I love you.”

He looked at her fondly and pulled her a little closer. “I am pretty sure that’s the same thing.”

#several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #hinny #fic

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linisiane · 1 year

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I’ve seen that post on here that’s like “What did they put in this game to make us all Like That,” and I think we’re all Like That about Disco Elysium bc we’re all hyperfixating on it because it surprisingly speaks to the chaos of living with ADHD. And we SEE that and feel seen.

- First of all, Harry Du Bois Adhd headcanons pop off hard, especially with the whole “I do speed to do detective work,” aka I need stimulants to focus, aka unintentional self-medication. Also the poor impulse control, emotional disregulation. And the voices remind me of the way my brain jumps topic to topic so I have like 4 ongoing topics going at once. Stereo investigations, thoughts in the thought cabinet, if you will.

- Additionally, a lot of interactions surrounding Harry’s memory loss even feel very ADHD. ADHD is a problem with working memory (attention/focus), which cascades into causing problems with encoding memories for long term storage. You can’t remember what you never even focused on. Because of this, being forgetful of things that seemed basic or obvious or easy to remember for other people is a staple problem for people with ADHD, and while the game is obviously much more extreme with total retrograde amnesia, I find that the game’s demonstration of “the people being frustrated or confused by basic things you’ve forgotten or misplaced” (and this being taken seriously as a Big Issue affecting your life, even if the others don’t take it seriously/brush it off) is very relatable and almost cathartic. Even if the only reason why it’s taken so seriously in the game is because you’ve just literally lost all your memory… and your gun lol

- Harry doing buck wild things to get results based on the conversations going on inside his head, which don’t get read to the outside world, is very relatable. Again, my brain jumps topic to topic so much that it’s almost hard to track the logical thread connecting the thoughts internally, much less explain them to another person at the same time. The “how did we get here, what exactly brought you to this course of action? This seems unrelated, detective” is very much a conversation I experience on the daily, whether with myself or the people around me.

- Kim Kitsuragi is the ADHD fantasy. @snowberry-pie’s got in one. He’s perfect for fighting off that executive dysfunction by helping you actually get shit done while not being suffocating/controlling/shaming about it. He sorta takes responsibility of you to help you take responsibility of yourself. He’s a body double, your partner in it with you. Lets you go on your barely related stereo investigations and indulges your inexplicable actions instead of controlling you, trusting that it’s part of the process lol. Offers positive reinforcement instead of using shame (like calling Harry a burden) to get Harry to focus on the case.

Disco Elysium has lots to say about how disability is exacerbated/unsupported by the system for a lot of characters, including Harry. Adhd fits right into that, especially with the ways an ADHD!Harry interpretation would highlight the understandable nature of his drug addiction (not only was it a way to cope with chronic pain that no one was treating him for, but also a way to cope with unmedicated ADHD).

Anyways I wrote this instead of writing my paper.

#my thoughts #adhd #harry du bois #harrier du bois #disco elysium #de #“Perseveration” officer? How about we “persevere” in writing that paper?#Kim being like “you lost your memory? You still gotta do your job tho” is me to myself everyday. ಥ_ಥ #Shout out to the opening scene of eeaao for also capturing the experience of living with ADHD subtle-ly #meta #metas #kim kitsuragi #literary analysis

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mourningliliesmorningglories · 20 days

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“Passed Alger Brook Road, I'm over the bridge.”

Remus never thought he’d be sitting on this train once more. In this moment, he’s 14 again. The hills roll by and if he closes his eyes, imagines just hard enough, he can still hear the clamouring and giggling that used to belong here. The train is empty, save for Remus, a special trip just for him. In the worst way, this is all too familiar. Like the trunk remembers the axe, Remus can’t help but feel he is gently travelling towards a terrible thing.

“A minute from home but I feel so far from it.”

Remus had lived in London for so long that the Welsh had been bleached out of his accent. Hope and Lyall were long gone, finally resting. And Remus was alone. Home had always been where his heart had lived. Never Wales though, never a place, always a person. Cariad. Cariad. Cariad. With every beat of his heart, Remus knows where home is. He thinks of James and Lily and Harry. He thinks of a home that once belonged to them.

“The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin.”

He thinks of a home that belongs to him, of a basement with a torn up mattress and a master bedroom with a leather jacket hanging on the back of the chair. Remus could never understand how people could one day lock a door and never open it again. Until he did. Slowly, the cottage grew to be too much, bore a weight so goddamn heavy that Remus shouldered it all. That house held the three people he loved, “love” his mind corrects him. He wonders whether in 11 years of solitude, that house too, would be reluctant to see him again.

“It's all washin' over me, I'm angry again.”

In a way, only Remus could understand why James and Lily had to die. Unfortunately, there is always a greater good. There is always someone, ‘something’ his mind hisses, greater than him. The rage is dormant now. The war is over. Remus knows loss incredibly well, walks hand in hand with her most days. Instinctively, he tightens his grip on his thigh. It serves as a reminder. You survived the war. You lost everyone you love. You are real. You are neither punished nor the punisher. Not anymore.

“The things that I lost here, the people I knew.”

Remus takes a walk along the length of the train. Nostalgia’s sake and all that. The open compartment doors rattle gently and the seats are vacant. For some reason, Remus half expected to run into a brick wall at King’s Cross. He doesn’t know how to exist in this space again, how to walk the halls of the castle without feeling like a ghost instead. Mostly, Remus doesn’t know how he could look into James’ faces and Lily’s eyes again, and see them on someone else.

“They got me surrounded for a mile or two.”

Logically, he knows “No.” is as good an answer as any. He made sure that there were no more favours, no more secrets. Remus knows that from 11, the castle cared for him. He also knows that care and respect go hand in hand. He has no debt to the castle but he does have duty to fulfil. For every man who obeys his duty, there is another who cannot. A prison cell briefly flashes in his mind, then a cupboard under stairs, then a set of silver handcuffs.

“The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel.”

The train shudders and stops. The sky is dark. Remus’ eyes are closed. He inhales deeply and lets muscle memory take over. His steps now echo down the empty train carriages. He is just as tall as the last time he stood here. This time, he leaves behind four giggling boys. He leaves behind the weight of a head in his lap. The image is superimposed into his eyelids. Remus hopes that everything that ever existed still exists in moments, even though we don’t get them back. The doors slide open and he steps onto the platform.

“I'm back between villages and everything's still.”

For the second time in his life, Remus John Lupin has the sudden and crashing realisation that he is totally and utterly alone.

#harry potter #marauders #i couldn’t stop thinking of them and this song #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #wolfstar #remus lupin #this one has a kick to it #this one right here officer #Remus centric

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malereader-inserts · 1 year

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Forget Me

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Male!Reader Summary: To the one who got away Word Count: 584

"Get over it, Draco, he's forgotten about you!"

That stabbed Draco in the heart, he wasn't prepared to hear those words from his friends. He knows it's true, as he looks over at you with your friends and he can tell that you have completely erased your history with him.

Days ache and nights are long, two years and still you're not gone. He guesses that he's still holding on. He feels pathetic, he doesn't understand why he couldn't let you go and the memories of you. It's the last thing he has of you. Happy, caring memories that he holds dear to his heart.

He still thinks of you as an angel sent from the above, even if you did the most heinous crime - he would love you all the same.

"I can't," He mumbles out to his friends, who sigh at him, "It's (y/n)."

"Did you forget what happened when you broke up? He wished you death! Said you did everything wrong and the words he said? God, they were absolutely vile."

"He's not perfect nor am I, Theo, I said stuff that was just as bad as him."

Theo rolled his eyes, not knowing what was so enchanting about you. No one in Draco's friend group really understands the attraction to you, especially the argument after the two of you broke up, which occurred in front of the whole school during the evening meal.

"It's been two years, Draco," Blaise patted his friend on the shoulder, "You have to move on."

Draco sighed because he was not ready to find out you know how to forget him. He'd rather hear how much you regret him and pray to God that you never met him than forget him.

"I mean, you made him cry," Theo snorted when he reminded Draco, who glared at him, "Hey, it was your actions, not mine."

"Are we seriously talking about (Y/n), again?" Pansy asked, walking up to the table, and joining her friend for dinner, "This is such a monthly occurrence, can we not?"

"Try convincing sad boy here, he's huffing and sighing wistfully as he longly stares at (Y/n)," Blaise teased, as the glare was now directed to him.

"It's getting pathetic."

"I am aware of that!" Draco snaps, before stabbing his food, "When you get your heart broken don't come running to me when you're feeling like I am now."

They leave Draco be, as he looks down at his plate, he's lost his appetite. He wants to pull his head up to look over at you, but he can't. He can't be caught staring at you by you, that was just embarrassing. He huffed slightly, playing with his food.

It was so stupid to him, he knows exactly it's been two years since you were his, and he just can't get over it. Perhaps it was because you were truly his first love, the person who looked past all his flaws and loved him all the same.

But, now, when he sees you, you're happily conversing with your friends in your house. You look so much happier without him, looking so carefree, it makes him wonder if he was dragging you down in the relationship.

He wishes he could rewind him, make everything better, do stuff differently and maybe you would still be his boyfriend. There's no hope now, anyway, you'll continue with your life without a thought of him and he will always remember the lover that got away.

#draco malfoy x male reader #draco malfoy imagine #x male reader #draco malfoy

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sweatertheman · 2 months

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Even though Harry is completely unjustified in hating Dora as much as he does, I can understand emotionally why he can't help but see her as "the bitch that fucked him."

If I recall correctly, Harry only became a cop because of the influence she had on him. And it was becoming a cop that fucked him. He became a heavy-duty case solving machine, incapable of turning off, incapable of talking normally to people. He started drinking heavily, started coming apart at the seams. Being a cop turned him into a bad person (or worse, if he was already shitty) and made him lose his mind.

Thing is, there was no way Dora could have known that Harry would become the unstable man he became. She was just an average middle class woman, she didn't know how bad working as a detective could be, didn't know that Harry was someone suceptible to coming undone, likely didn't have the political education to understand that All Cops Are Bastards, and that Harry becoming one would make him into a bastard. Even if she did tell him he should become a cop, she can't be blamed for what he turned into. She had every right to leave when things crumbled.

But Harry, in the low point of his life, can't see that. He needs to blame Dora for making her love him, for encouraging him to become the man he became, and leaving him when he hit rock bottom. Because in his mind, its either that, or it's HIS fault, and everything bad that happened is because of him and the pain he did to others. A battle that goes on endlessly between Harry breaking down apologizing to everyone for being such a piece of shit and telling everyone to go fuck themselves for wronging him. A battle that continues because Harry, as a mentally unstable cop, can't concieve of the idea that both he and Dora are just flawed human beings who made mistakes, and that if he has to blame anyone, it should be the system.

It wasn't Dora's fault that Harry became a cop, it was the system's fault for glorifying the police. Both Harry and Dora here had good motives, wanted to make a difference and help people. But the police are just the lackeys of capital. They don't protect or serve anyone but the interests of the government and of each other. Police are given power over the people and encouraged to abuse it so long as they and their bosses get what they want. And Harry persisted, maybe because he still thought he was doing good work, maybe because he didn't want to let Dora down, or maybe because he just loved having power. And at the end of the day, the experience warped him into a broken man. And when Dora left him, all he had was his detective work, and some fading memories. It pushed him to drink himself to the point he forgot everything. And what thoughts can pop into his mind as soon as he wakes up?

"Officer? Am I millitary personnel?"

"Who would let me be an officer of the law?"

"I don't wanna be a cop anymore."

"Please come take me home. I don't want to be here anymore."

Free from (most of) the baggage, Harry can't fathom the idea that HE of all people is a cop. He wants to leave. He has to ask questions even if he doesn't want to. Harrier Du Bois is at war with the cop inside him. The thing that happens during the game is the process by which Harry rebecomes the thing which was killing him.

It was the Moralintern that fucked Harry. He could have been a real person. A revolutionary, a feminist, a father. But because of the Moralintern and general pro-police propaganda, he became a detective, lost everything, and slowly rotted into the unhinged bastard we know and... love..?????

#disco elysium #harry du bois

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 1 year

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will you be doing any writing for mother’s day? i can just imagine how fluffy you’re gonna make all them ugh

I was not going to but you’ve inspired me😏

warnings: angst, mentions of death

pairings: widower harry x reader,

a/n: happy belated mother’s day to all mothers, guardians, and mother figures out there!!

Widower Harry

Harry has been dreading this day for what feels like forever, but it’s only been five months since he lost YN. He’s biting back tears as he gets Luca dressed, a bittersweet moment as he dresses him in a purple outfit, YN’s favorite color. This would’ve been her first Mother’s Day, and he’s here spending it without her. It’s unfair.

He hasn’t had the energy to return any the calls he’s received from his family or friends, needing to take the day for him and Luca alone. The shaky sigh that leaves his bruised lips is all he can muster to keep himself from entirely breaking down, trying his hardest to keep it together until they make it to where she’s buried.

Getting into the car is tough, filled with many breaks as he chokes on some quiet sobs through his clenched teeth. Luca is just watching him ever so curiously, not understanding why his dad is acting this way. He’s quiet as he sucks on his binky, just blinking up at Harry with bright eyes, and that just breaks his heart even more.

Climbing into the backseat for a moment, he takes in the features of YN’s that Luca harbours, remembering the creases that formed around her eyes when she laughed too much, the way her nose would scrunch up ever so slightly when something intrigued her. Just like that he’s biting back tears again but he forces himself to be calm, just long enough to make it to the cemetery.

The entire drive there Harry has what feels like a boulder sitting on his chest, the pain excruciating. It’s pure silence besides the sound of Luca’s occasional coos of happiness at the toys that hang above his car seat, and fuck, if Harry doesn’t get angry at the fact that this is life. YN picked those toys for him. She picked the car he’s driving in, she helped pick the house they live in. It’s fucking unfair that she isn’t there to celebrate the small moments with them. The moment Luca switched over to solid foods was a moment filled with grief as his first thought was to call his wife.

He’d picked up the phone in happiness and started to dial her number and call her at work when it hit him like the car that took her life, that she’s gone. She’s gone and she won’t be coming back. And there’s nothing he can do.

He’s on autopilot at this point, his mind going through many different memories and scenarios as he takes the short drive to where his wife lay, the path engrained into his head. He picks Luca up out of the car and grabs the flowers from the seat beside him, making his way to her grave with a small, watery smile on his lips.

The moment he approaches he just stands there and stares for a moment, his heart beating erratically in his chest as he studies the picture he’d chosen for the headstone, his favourite one of her. It was right after they’d found out that they were pregnant after trying so long, and they’d gone to the doctor to double check. She’s smiling as she holds the ultrasound picture, bright and happy and free from any pain. It’s fucked up to see, really.

Taking a seat on the dewy grass, he tries not to think about how cruel the universe is for giving him something so perfect just to take it away; he tries to think of the fact that he’s got a perfect little human in his arms and he’ll try his hardest to keep him safe.

i am so sorry this has me sobbing actually

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cardinalone-ao3 · 11 months

Text

June 18 - Luna

@hinnymicrofic

He stepped out of the warmth of Shell Cottage, breathing in the sea air. It was salty, humid, and oddly calming. He’d like to spend more time by the sea, he thought, if he survived the war.

Anytime he thought of life after the war, and he allowed himself to imagine he survived, as improbable as that would be, his thoughts strayed to her. Praying to any god that would listen for her safety.

The war could have him. Demanded him, really. But it couldn’t have her.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and mentally chewed on the plans they had been making. He would put his friends in danger yet again. Breaking in to Gringotts was impossible Griphook said - a suicide mission.

Griphook didn’t know the half of it. He’d lost count of how many times he had almost died at this point. Didn’t want to think about how many more close calls he would have before the prophecy was fulfilled, one way or the other.

As he sat down on a large rock overlooking the cliff and looked out to the sea, his mind wandered back to her. What was she doing, now that she was tucked away at Muriel’s? Probably hating it, needing to do something. Was she too thinking about him?

“May I sit?”, Luna’s airy voice called out from behind him, breaking him away from Ginny’s comfort. He nodded. She sat down next to him on the rock and gave him a small smile. “Thank you again for rescuing us. It was rather awful there.”

The mention of Malfoy Manor brought back terrible memories - Ron’s panic, Hermione’s screams, and holding Dobby’s lifeless body. He couldn’t talk about it, not yet - maybe not ever, so he nodded instead.

They sat there in companionable silence for a few moments, and it reminded him again of her. How she would always let him have space to think - to be. Not the Chosen One, but just Harry. She never knew everything, his promise to Dumbledore forced him to keep so much from her. Merlin, he missed her.

“She misses you too, you know.” Luna said, still looking out at the sea, the light of dusk dimming the distant view of the waves. His eyes shot to her, and she smiled warmly back at him.

“She always says you tend to brood a lot. you are rather moody at times, but I know the truth.”

He just blinked at her.

She smiled. “It’s harder than that, isn’t it? People who’ve lost loved ones like we have…you never really lose that sense of loneliness that follows it. It makes you cling to the ones you still have more tightly.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He hated to think about it, to think about how many more they would lose before the end.

He looked back at the sea. The sky had turned even more darkish grey, and he thought that rather fit.

He sighed and allowed his head to drop to his hands. Noticing she was wearing a thin yellow and purple jumper, he took off his jacket and gave it to her. As she put it on, he thought it odd her wearing something so plain.

“Thanks, Luna. I…I miss her, too. She always knew just what to say. How to make things better.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “It hurts not having her close.”

He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this. Perhaps because it was Luna, and she always did understand this side of him.

Luna turned and her wide eyes were unusually determined. “You will again.”

#hinny #hinny microfic #dh missing moment

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forestdeath1 · 2 months

Note

According to you Sirius was Walburga's favourite son and they had quite a lovable normal mother son relationship before all the rebel drama.

And in the books he kept Buckbeak in his mother's bedroom and spend hours locked inside that room.

But it is canon he later in life hated her.

What do you think was going through his mind all those times? Was he hating it? Or was he trying to find atleast one good memory with her? Or he didn't even care?

(Also I like to think Sirius looked uncannily similar to his mother. So much so that if he was a woman anybody could have sold him as Walburga herself.)

He wasn't trying to FIND good memories with her. He was trying to FORGET the good memories with her. Poor Sirius argued with Kreacher as if he was arguing with his mother, they were so heavily dependent on each other in their toxicity. Terribly complex and unhealthy relationships.

I think Sirius always deep down couldn't fully understand whether leaving his family was the right thing to do, and whether staying would have changed anything. He hates Grimmauld Place 12 not just because it was a bad place for him; he hates it because it's a living reminder of everything lost - his family, his childhood, his brother, father, and mother, the Blacks. He doesn't want to regret it, so he prefers to think only ill of them. He constantly convinces himself of how much he hates them. But Sirius himself approaches the tapestry and starts conversations about them all. He's always drawn there.

Yes, he will never forgive their blood purism and fanaticism. He ran away to be with James, with Dumbledore, to stand against everything his family had done for centuries, but deep down he knew he left his family, and it was an unhealing wound he tried to mend by trying to be even more useful in the fight against evil, trying to be needed and valuable, constantly reminding himself of who the Blacks really were and what Sirius was fighting against and why he ran away.

Sirius was also so attached to James because James replaced everything for him - literally his entire family. But James couldn't fully heal his wound; he was with Lily. Sirius was always lonely. Without roots, without clan, without a past. A blank slate, on which nothing appeared except for an endless and very deep feeling of loneliness and attempts to become important, valuable, and needed to someone. The only one who somewhat filled this void for him was James. Then Harry.

But Sirius always felt he wasn't worthy enough of all these good people because he was a Black, and the Blacks were one of the reasons why all these good people were dying. He wanted to draw a line between himself and the Blacks, to distance himself as much as possible from them, to not feel all that guilt and shame. This is very similar to feelings towards one's homeland, if your country starts an aggressive war or becomes a dictatorship (this is very well described in the diaries of Germans who fled during fascism or defectors from the USSR). You love your country, but you hate it and want to dissociate from it as much as possible, want to forget that you are of that nation, but that country, that homeland - it's forever in you, in your soul, in your blood, and you'll never get rid of it. This country raised you, it's where you belonged, and in a new one - you're forever a stranger. And no matter how much you're ashamed of it, hate it, your heart will always beat harder when your country is mentioned somewhere.

Don't get me wrong, the feeling of unworthiness wasn't his evident trait, it's very much a deep-seated belief that activated in the toughest situations. The way Sirius sheepishly offers Harry to live with him... it breaks my heart every time.

Sirius is one of the strongest and most tragic figures in the entire series, with one of the most complex fates and characters. Few in the entire series can compare with him in strength of character (there are only three characters who are as strong a character as he is). Fanon Sirius doesn't carry a drop of the tragedy and complexity of character that canon Sirius does. Canon Sirius has so much depth, pain, passion, love, loneliness, that I still discover something new about him every time I reread the books.

As for him resembling Walburga in terms of appearance - I don't know. I always imagined him as a male version of Bella. But perhaps he really does resemble Walburga.

#sirius black #sirius black meta #the noble and most ancient house of black

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

The Playboy | 7. Gimme Some Lovin'*

Summary: It's Michelle's turn to learn how to share and Harry's never been happier. He's got an angel in his mouth and a devil on his cock.

What could be better?

Word Count: 5.8k

“There she is…my sweet angel.”

Crystal whimpers, a deep, needy sound inside her chest. Her hands are dancing between Harry’s soft, brown curls, her thighs on either side of his hips. Her nose is nuzzled under his jaw, and her chest is flush with his.

She doesn’t know anything but him.

And he fucking loves it.

On any other day, maybe Harry would know better than to parade this intimate moment so openly where anybody could see. Namely Hugh.

But Hugh has locked himself in his bedroom for the time being, allowing Harry a moment or two alone with his sweet angel.

He found her in the Game Room, curled up on one of the sofas as she flipped through a magazine.

He hadn’t seen her in at least two days, ever since his afternoon with Michelle, and he was desperate to make up for lost time.

The moment he walked into the room, her eyes lit up, and he watched in real-time as she obediently transformed into his doting darling.

She set the magazine aside, sat up, and waited patiently for him to approach.

And Harry had never felt more proud.

He took a seat on the opposite couch and took a minute to regard her. Study her. Let her squirm under his gaze as she waited patiently for his instruction.

When he finally lifted his hand and beckoned her over with the swift motion of his finger, she was quick to obey. She padded across the floor as he patted his lap before returning to her rightful place on his thighs.

And he made damn sure to reward her for her effort.

It was easy to slip his fingers inside her soaked little shorts, and he was momentarily surprised to find her already so wound up.

And when he asked just what had gotten her into such an excitable mood…she revealed she’d been thinking about him only minutes ago as she fucked her fingers and came to the memory of his face.

His brain had just about exploded.

It was the best thing he’d ever heard. The most perfect image immediately painted in his head of this sweet, little angel riding her own hand because of him.

He’d groaned into her chest before slipping a second finger inside her aching cunt to tease another orgasm out of her.

And that’s exactly what he’s been doing ever since. And she’s been so fucking good for him. Never complaining when he chooses to edge her. Never begging for more after he’s silenced her. Never mocking him.

It’s heaven.

No, he won’t lie and say that Michelle’s stubbornness isn’t sometimes rather attractive. After all, he certainly isn’t going to complain about being put on his knees so he can have a taste of her.

But Harry enjoys both ends of the spectrum. He enjoys having Michelle tug on his hair and demand his release just as much as he enjoys pulling Crystal onto his lap so he can take care of her as she cries for him.

And he doesn’t see why he should have to choose one over the other.

So…he doesn’t.

“Does it hurt, sweet girl?” he purrs as he ghosts his mouth across Crystal’s temple. “Hm? Bet you’re all swollen and sensitive, aren’t you?”

She nods quickly, lip between her teeth as she writhes against his chest.

He smiles. “I know, angel, I know.”

His other hand wraps around the back of her neck to give it a squeeze as she sighs and squirms again over his lap.

“Oh, honey,” he coos. “Fucking soaking my hand, aren’t you? Poor thing…just one little touch and you get all wound up, don’t you? My needy girl. I’ve got you. S’okay, darling. Just like that, that’s it.”

She rolls her hips over his fingers, desperate to feel him deeper. Harder. Wants to be stretched, wants to be claimed.

Almost as much as he wants to claim her.

She’s so easy. So easy. And so good, and Harry will never be able to understand it. Never be able to get enough of the absolute light that radiates from her.

No, he doesn’t find himself longing for her outside of these walls, but in these moments…she’s absolutely everything to him.

And truthfully, he wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“Harry,” she whispers, tucking her chin over his shoulder, almost as if to hide from him.

He adores her shyness. It makes him smile. Makes him want to ruin her. To fuck her so hard, so deep, so slow…that she has no other choice but to beg him for what she wants.

To use that angelic little voice to plead with him.

The palm around her neck falls down her back, gentle at first before he presses his nails into her spine, scratching until she gasps.

“Speak up, darling,” he instructs. “Come on, you know better.”

She makes another desperate noise as she wiggles with frustration. “…Harry?”

“Yes?”

She swallows. “Please don’t stop.”

His brow cocks up and he goes quiet for a moment. He hadn’t planned on stopping, nor did he give her any indication that he would. “Wouldn’t dream of it, lovie. Why?”

She mewls. Like a desperate little kitten before burying her face in his neck, seemingly still too embarrassed. “Just…don’t want you to stop…ever. Just wanna stay. Feels so good…can’t…just…”

He breaks out into a smug grin at the incoherent babble. He’s used to this from her, and he can’t deny that he knows exactly what she means.

If he could stay here in this little bubble they create forever? He would. Fucking her over and over and over and over again until she was made of nothing but orgasms.

Perhaps a flawed mindset, but in such moods, Harry finds he wants nothing else.

Just pleasure.

His, hers…anybody’s.

“Won’t,” he promises as he drags his fingers through her drowning cunt just to push back in to the knuckle. The moan that falls from her lips makes his head spin. “We’ll stay right here. Right fucking here. Gonna give me all of it, aren’t you? Give me all of ‘em. Every last one. Every last drop.”

His arm wraps around her lower back as he tugs her even closer. Her thighs must be burning from the prolonged position, but she doesn’t complain. Harry suspects she likes it, and he chooses to believe he’s taught her to speak up if she doesn’t.

In turn, her arms snake around his neck, fingers fisting his shirt as she continues to grind down into his palm.

He hasn’t given her permission to come, and it absolutely has to hurt. He knows this has to hurt her and he loves it. Loves the way she’ll bend her body to his will. Won’t allow herself her own pleasure if it doesn’t first please him.

He’ll let her soon. But he just can’t bring himself to stop touching her. She truly is drenching his hand, an absolute flood of arousal dripping from her cunt every time he speaks to her or touches her or even moves beneath her.

She’s all the way up that peak, dangling there until he decides to release her.

Or perhaps he’ll simply keep her on this ledge forever.

He presses a few kisses to her cheek as he continues to thrust up into her, curling and stroking while she gasps, cries, and whines her way closer. He’s relentless in his pursuit. And why shouldn’t he be?

She deserves it.

And he deserves her.

He thinks this to himself as he feels tiny drops of sweat bleed through her shirt. Poor thing is overheating, so overcome with lust and excursion. She’s putting in so much work for him, doing everything right.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when he feels her clench around his fingers. “Mmm, s’good, angel. So good. Gonna have fun with you, yeah? Yeah? I know. Be so easy to ruin you, wouldn’t it? Just a desperate thing…fucking begging for it, aren’t you? Need me to fuck it better, make it right.”

She’s nodding but she can’t speak. She’s devoting all her energy to holding off as he works to make it harder for her.

It’s a tad cruel but he knows she can take it.

She’ll take it.

She’s so fucking close. So close and he’s just as close to letting her have it. Taste it. After all, he has more in mind for her than this and he needs to feel her around his cock. He fucking has to. Just the thought has his heart beating faster.

And just as his mercy is meeting its tipping point…the door opens.

He stills and poor Crystal nearly wails from the loss of stimulation as Harry’s eyes drift to the other side of the room.

He’s not sure who he expected to see.

But he’s not surprised to find her.

Michelle.

Strangely, she doesn’t look any more surprised to see him.

She stands in the doorway, blinking at him, expression steady. Cool. Her hands are on her hips, her long hair pulled over one shoulder.

She’s beautiful.

And she has to be fucking pissed.

No, she doesn’t look it, but Harry knows. He understands her jealousy, whether or not she does.

But he’s not hers.

And she’s not his.

They are both free to do anything and anyone they want in this mansion.

She certainly does.

Why can’t he?

He resumes his work, hand continuing to knead against Crystal’s cunt as she writhes a bit harder on his lap.

But he keeps his eyes on Michelle.

And she keeps hers on him.

He presses his thumb against Crystal’s sensitive clit, flicking it once or twice before pressing into it with fervor.

He wants to add a bit more pain to the pleasure before letting her go, and he fully expects Michelle to watch it happen.

And he knows she will.

She just can’t help herself.

“Shh,” he murmurs, lips ghosting the outer shell of Crystal’s ear. “I know. I know, darling. Been so fucking good for me, haven’t you? Think you deserve to come?”

And Crystal whimpers her soft, little agreements as she clutches onto Harry’s body, and he can’t help but smirk as Michelle’s chin lifts defiantly.

She’s challenging him by invading such an intimate moment. Perhaps she expected him to feel ashamed. Or to end it.

But that only proves how little she knows him.

“I think you have,” he says to the darling Bunny in his hold. “Think you’ve been so good for me. Always are, aren’t you? Always so fucking perfect. Go ahead, angel. Come.”

And she does.

She does, and the room fills with desolate whines and gasps for air as she steels herself against him and comes undone.

And Harry soaks up every second of it.

And so does Michelle.

They watch each other as Crystal rakes her nails down Harry’s back in an attempt to ground herself. They watch each other while he holds her steady on his thighs, fingers still stroking the soft walls that surround them. They watch each other until Crystal’s body begins to slump in his embrace, drained of all energy.

And then…Michelle takes a step forward and shuts the door.

Harry wants to be surprised, but he’s rather amused at the way she flips the lock to the left and turns toward them.

In turn, he reaches up to brush some hair out of Crystal’s face and guide her out of hiding as he murmurs, “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Confused, Crystal’s lashes flutter as she glances over her shoulder to find her housemate now striding through the Game Room toward them.

Michelle looks from Harry to Crystal as she makes her closer but doesn’t speak.

And Crystal simply looks back, unsure how to react while Harry rubs soothing circles into her hip.

Finally, once Michelle reaches the sofa where they wait, she stops, eyebrow raising almost as if to reprimand them.

Harry simply smiles.

Then, Michelle reaches down, takes Crystal’s face between her hands…and kisses her.

Truthfully, Harry isn’t all that shocked but poor Crystal is as she’s subtly tugged up onto her feet so Michelle can have a bit more control.

But Harry isn’t far behind. He scoots to the edge of the cushions to keep a close eye on them, fingers brushing the back of Crystal’s leg to subtly remind her he’s still close by. That she’s okay, and he’s right there if she needs him.

When Michelle finally allows them both a moment to breathe, she drifts her eyes down to Harry, almost condescendingly. “I thought we had a deal?”

Slowly, Harry leans back, arms outstretching over the back of the couch as he regards her. Studies her. Looks for her angle. “We do.”

Michelle hums. “And she is now a part of this deal?”

“She’s not a part of our deal,” Harry says calmly. “She’s a part of mine.”

Crystal blinks, still caught between Michelle’s palms as she stands between the two and waits.

Michelle straightens up. “Is that right?”

Harry nods. “It is.”

“And…what? You can’t share?”

Harry’s tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip as he finally begins to understand what she’s doing. “If she wants me to.”

They both go quiet.

Because while Michelle is trying to take the power and control for herself, Harry is effortlessly putting that power and control in Crystal’s hands.

He knows Crystal never asked to be caught up in Michelle’s games and he refuses to let her be a player. Refuses to let Michelle use her as a pawn to get her way.

This is between him and Michelle.

Because he can handle her.

So, he stands, hand smoothing down Crystal’s spine as he dips down to whisper, “It’s up to you, Angel. Whatever you wanna do, we’ll do. Just wanna take care of you.”

Michelle meets his eye over Crystal’s shoulder as an unspoken new deal is made.

After all, Harry and Michelle have little to nothing in common…except for their need to inflict pleasure.

And despite this…tension that’s been created between them, he knows that hasn’t changed.

So…why not inflict it together?

He knows they can take care of Crystal better than anyone else in this house ever has. And he knows that Michelle knows it, too.

Maybe they can’t have each other…but at least they can have her.

Michelle loosens her grip to allow Crystal the opportunity to meet Harry’s eye.

And Harry studies the timid girl between them, looking for signs of her rejection.

But he only finds her eagerness. Her desperation to make him happy.

And it makes his heart soar.

She nods softly as he smiles and reaches up to brush his thumb across her lip.

“Yeah?” he checks. “Gonna let us take care of you?”

“Yes,” she whispers, knowing better than to leave him without a verbal response.

He beams, endlessly proud. “S’a good girl. All right. Go ahead and take a seat on the pool table for me, okay?”

He lands a firm smack to her ass as she quickly scrambles her way toward the large, wooden table, leaving Michelle and Harry to watch her.

They allow for one second to exchange eye-contact, but they say nothing. They don’t need to. They’re here to take care of her and that’s what they plan to do.

Like the obedient darling she is, Crystal takes her place on the ledge, legs dangling over the side as the other two begin for her.

Michelle crawls her way onto the soft, green felt while Harry takes Crystal’s thighs in his hands to pull them apart.

He hooks his fingers beneath the band of her shorts and helps her peel them down while Michelle settles behind her and works on her top.

And once Harry has crouched to his knees, he finds he has the absolute perfect view. The only two people in the world he might care about are displayed so gloriously above him. Waiting for him and his touch.

It’s everything.

Neither Michelle nor Harry waste any more time.

Harry’s tongue is quick to lick up Crystal’s aching cunt, still dripping from her last orgasm. It soaks his mouth, like rain after a drought. It fills his throat, his tastebuds, his senses. It’s fucking delicious, and the moment he hears her startled gasp, he goes in harder.

And as he’s sucking and flicking, Michelle is kissing along Crystal’s neck, taking her tits between her hands, and playing with them. Pinching the nipples, rolling them across the pads of her fingers, and giving them a firm squeeze.

He wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t last very long. In fact, from what he already knows of her, she might not be able to.

But he plans to drag this out for as long as possible.

So, every time he feels her clench around his fingers, or his tongue, he slows down. Every time she whines and squirms closer, he stops. Every time she whispers, “Please,” beneath a strained breath, he hums, and switches his rhythm.

It just about kills her, but she takes it so well, and Harry is so goddamn pleased.

Occasionally, he’ll steal a glance at the Bunny behind her, curious to her thoughts after so many days of her refusing to give them to him.

But Michelle continues to evade his inquisitiveness, keeping her expression stoic and unreadable, as usual.

However, Harry likes to imagine he knows her well enough to know she’s enjoying herself. Even if she doesn’t want to.

“What’s the matter?” he hears Michelle murmur after a moment, and his eyes flick up to watch her nip at Crystal’s skin. “Wanna grab onto him, don’t you?”

Crystal’s eyes go wide as she nods and looks down at the man between her legs, her nails scratching down the edge of the pool table.

Harry smirks.

“Think he’ll let you?” Michelle continues to taunt, arm looping around Crystal’s stomach. “Think you’ve been good enough to touch him?”

Her head falls back against Michelle’s shoulder as she sucks in a deep breath, lashes fluttering. “Please…”

“Bet it’d feel so good, wouldn’t it?” Michelle whispers, corner of her mouth dancing up with a devious grin. “To pull on his hair? To feel him? Hurt him? Hear him groan against you…you know he likes it. Know he likes when you hurt him, doesn’t he?”

She’s right, Harry does in fact appreciate having his hair tugged, and he’s rather pleased with Michelle for pointing this out.

Crystal nods faintly.

“So…ask him,” Michelle urges, nodding her chin at him. “Ask if you can touch him. Ask if you deserve it.”

Crystal’s knuckles have gone white from the restraint she’s exhibiting to resist the temptation, and Harry’s heart almost breaks.

“Please,” she murmurs again, voice desolate and depraved. “Can…can I? Just…need…”

“Need what?” he asks, leaning back as he slips his fingers back inside to feel her out, and she groans. “Need what, angel, come on. Use your words, darling. Know you can.”

The poor thing is shaking, little drops of sweat traveling down the side of her temple as Michelle grins.

“Please,” is all Crystal has the strength to say, and Harry rolls his lips into his mouth.

“All right,” he agrees, shooting her a reassuring smile. “Go ahead, my love. Hurt me.”

Another quick nod as she gingerly reaches out to brush her fingers through his hair. And even with the torture he’s putting her through, she’s gentle. Delicate, almost. Loving.

She’s appreciative of him, and she wants him to know. Wants him to feel how happy she is to be holding him as he fucks her with his tongue.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat as he brings her closer to her third orgasm. And the sigh that falls from her mouth as she leans back into Michelle is heavenly. Ethereal.

Michelle works hard to stimulate her in the places Harry can’t. Her jaw, her chest, her throat.

Poor Crystal nearly screams the closer she gets while Michelle winds her leg overtop one of Crystal’s to keep it spread.

Amused, and hopelessly excited with the sight of her red, swollen cunt, Harry nods and straightens up as he finger-fucks her to the end. “Perfect. So fucking perfect, darling. Go ahead…now. Right now, honey. Give it to me.”

And when she does, both he and Michelle bear witness to an absolute mesmerizing experience.

She squirts.

Harry’s mouth misses most of it since he’d moved back to focus on stretching her just so. But what he does feel, what he does catch…makes his cock so ridiculously hard in his pants that he has to suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Michelle is rather smug about it, hand dropping from Crystal’s chest as she slumps against her.

But Harry can already see that Crystal hadn’t expected that to happen, a look of timid embarrassment twisting through her features as Harry quickly stands up.

“I…I’m sorry,” she begins, eyes wide. “I don’t…I didn’t mean—"

“No, no, no,” he commands softly, grasping onto her face to pull her closer. “Don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that. It was perfect, angel. S’fucking perfect. All I ever wanted, did everything I asked.”

But she’s unconvinced, a flush filling her cheeks as she struggles a bit in his tight hold. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

She sounds so remorseful. So ashamed and it makes Harry’s skin itch at the idea that somebody in her past made her feel this was something to be embarrassed of.

“Don’t,” he growls this time, a bit more urgently, and she swallows as she looks up at him. “Do you know what that was? Hm? That was you squirting for me. That was you telling me that I made you feel exactly the way that you deserve. That was everything that I wanted, and you fucking gave it to me, like a good girl. Like my good girl.”

She’s still too quiet for his liking so he dips down and nuzzles his nose with hers, a habit he learned can calm her instantly.

“Do you hear me?” he murmurs, still rather forcefully. “Do you hear me, Crystal? That’s exactly what I wanted. Did so fucking good for me, baby. And I don’t ever want you to apologize for that again, is that understood?”

She nods once but he can see she’s only trying to please him.

He frowns. “Do better. I said…is that fucking understood? Because I will make goddamn sure you squirt for me again. And again. And again…and if you apologize for it, you’re gonna make me really fucking sad. Do you wanna make me sad?”

“No,” she nearly breathes, stunned by the very thought.

“Good. So is that understood?”

She holds a deep breath in her chest, focus flicking across his face as he strokes his thumbs along her cheekbones. “Yes,” she mumbles quietly. “I understand.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers proudly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before letting go and stepping back. Then, he extends his hand for her to take.

She does, shaky fingers slipping across his palm as he helps her to her feet. He then turns her around, pressing her back to his chest as they both look at Michelle, still sitting on the pool table.

“Now…what should we do with her, hm?” he asks, lips hovering near Crystal’s ear. “What do you think she deserves?”

Michelle leans back on her hands as she raises a brow. She doesn’t look nearly as intimidated as Harry would like her to be.

Nor does she look as submissive as he knows she can be.

But he doesn’t imagine she’ll ever allow him to see that side of her again.

The moment they both stepped out of that shower, Michelle returned to her cold demeanor and Harry returned to Hugh’s side.

After all, Harry is a man of many talents.

But patient…is not one of them.

He made a promise to himself after Michelle’s little stunt at Pig Night. He would no longer allow himself to be her emotional whipping boy.

He’d made her a vow to please her and treat her. And even now, he plans to uphold his end of the deal for as long as she’ll let him.

But anything past that? Mind games and emotional turmoil?

Not his fucking problem.

If she wants to pretend that afternoon in her bedroom never happened, then that’s fine with Harry.

Because he knows it did.

“I don’t know,” Crystal finally answers, nail between her teeth as she bites down in thought. “Wanna make her feel good.”

“You do?” Harry asks, amused with her eagerness. “Then let’s make her feel good, yeah?”

Excited, Crystal’s head bobs up and down quickly as Harry leans down to whisper his instruction.

He feels Michelle watch them as he does and he’s proud with the way he can see her curiosity getting the better of her.

Once he’s finished, Crystal scurries to the sofa to kneel on the cushions as Harry extends his hand a second time.

To Michelle.

She eyes it for a moment, and he can see that she’s fighting an internal battle, choosing whether or not to accept it.

But finally, she reaches out and slides her palm along his so he can help pull her from the table.

He walks them back to the couch, the smirk on his lips growing with each step.

Once they’re close enough, his touch moves to her shorts, and he playfully tugs on the waist. “May I?”

She looks down and he notices the way her lips press together. She’s nervous.

But before he can comment on it, she nods, and he chooses to believe he’s only misread her reaction.

The shorts are discarded rather quickly, leaving her delicate little tank top left.

He runs his fingers beneath the straps, letting his knuckles graze her heated skin as he smiles softly and watches her chest rise and fall with deep breaths.

“Off,” is all he says, chin thrusting toward her. “Want it off.”

Her eyes narrow, perhaps a little annoyed with his authoritative tone of voice but eventually, she does step back so she can peel the material up her body and over her head.

And Harry is pleased to see that he was right in his assumption that she chose forgo any sort of bra. And even though it’s been only a few days, the sight of her tits feels like walking through the pearly gates.

He nods his approval before sitting down on the other edge of the couch, his back against the armrest as he tosses a grin Crystal’s way.

“Wanna help me out, darling?” he asks, motioning towards his own pants as Crystal zealously crawls closer to undo his belt.

He lifts his hips to help aid her effort and once she’s rid him of his jeans and boxers, he takes her chin between his fingers.

He tugs until she’s close enough to kiss, and he presses his lips to hers rather sweetly before licking at her bottom lip. “Thank you, my love.”

Her skin seems to grow hot in his hands as she nods before moving back to her original position on the other side.

Now, they look at Michelle.

Her brow raises.

“Right here,” Harry says, one arm outstretching for her while the other gestures toward his lap. “Want you right here, come on.”

Again, she throws him a look of exasperation but does step closer until he can grab onto her body to help guide her to his.

“Face Crystal for me,” he instructs, spreading his legs so she can settle on her knees between them. “That’s it, good girl. Gonna take you from behind while she plays with you.”

And he can’t see her reaction (the only flaw in his plan), but he can still feel her body exactly the way he was meant to.

Crystal is quick to begin her part, moving in and trailing her fingers up Michelle’s side as she looks for approval within her expression.

Harry smiles at her concern before he sees Michelle nod and reach out to grasp onto the back of Crystal’s neck.

She then yanks them together until their mouths meet while Crystal’s hand continues down to her cunt.

Harry looks down in time to see the tips of Crystal’s fingers beginning their work and it’s almost pathetic how easily the sight works him up.

His cock is already throbbing as he squeezes onto the bottom, hoping to prolong the experience for all of them. Realistically, he doesn’t imagine either of them would mind if he came early, but if he’s forced to go a few more days without fucking Michelle…he’d like to make this time worth it.

It’s not long until Michelle’s body becomes complacent with the intentions of the afternoon, and he watches the arousal begin to drip from Crystal’s hand and down Michelle’s thighs.

He hears it, sees it, and is so close, he could almost taste it.

But they don’t have a lot of time, not with Hugh somewhere in the mansion, and he doesn’t feel like explaining why he’s kept Hugh’s two favorite girls away.

“Ready?” he asks to the darling Bunny on his lap, and she nods again as she steals a glance over her shoulder.

He grabs onto her hips and guides her to his cock, teasing her a bit with the tip before slowly pushing in and pulling her down.

Michelle gasps right as Crystal’s kisses move down her throat, tiny fingers still pinching Michelle’s clit for added stimulation.

And Harry sighs as his head drops back, lashes fluttering shut. He’s missed this. More than he thought he would but now he has it again, and he doesn’t plan to go so long without.

Michelle’s stubbornness be damned.

Crystal does everything he asked of her, kneading Michelle’s breasts, keeping her spread open for him, kissing all her favorite spots.

And he wishes he could see the blissed-out stars in Michelle’s eyes, but he’s happy to witness Crystal’s eager smile that she passes to him whenever Michelle begins to sigh her contentment.

He’s happy he gets to share this with both of them.

Once he feels that Michelle will be able to handle a rougher pace, he presses his fingertips into her hips and begins to thrust up.

She lurches forward, hands finding his knees to brace herself as she gasps, and the sound makes him twitch.

“Yeah?” he nearly scoffs, voice riddled with lust as he continues to pull her down to match his rhythm. “How’s it feel, sweetheart? S’what you wanted? Hm? Do you feel better now?”

She makes a noise that Harry could almost mistake for a groan, perhaps at the way he’s choosing to taunt her, but it fills his ears like a melody.

Sweet and sinful and the perfect response. Everything he wanted to hear.

“Say it,” he grits between his teeth, the feel of her pussy clenching around him making it nearly impossible to speak. “Say it, Michelle. Tell me you missed it. Admit you fucking missed it—”

“Fuck off,” is all she chooses to say, head rolling to the side as Crystal kisses down her shoulder.

Harry sees Crystal smirk at this exchange, and for some reason, it jumpstarts the pleasure in his stomach.

“Goddammit, Michelle,” he hisses before he’s reaching up to squeeze her throat and pull her back to him. “Never fucking learn, do you? Hm? Gotta fucking push me all the goddamn time.”

He can feel her racing pulse beneath his fingertips, and he loops his other arm around her stomach to tug her all the way down until her ass meets his hips.

She can’t help the moan that comes free as he presses his forehead into her shoulder blade, and it makes his head spin.

“Just say it,” he whispers. “Say it. Come on, know you want to. Know you need me. Need me to make it better. Need me to make it right. Make you come. The way he can’t.”

“Harry,” he hears her murmur, and his heart starts to beat a little faster.

“That’s right,” he agrees, his chest trickling with sweat from the excessive effort he’s putting into his thrusts. “That’s fucking right. Does it feel good? Feel so fucking good? To be stretched like this? To be filled? Fucked? Taken care of?”

She goes quiet again but the way she’s soaking his cock answers his question quite nicely.

“It does,” he says aloud. “And we are, aren’t we? Taking such good care of you…yeah? Even when you’ve been such a fucking brat…still take care of you.”

“Always,” she breathes, almost as if unable to stop herself.

Harry’s movement falters, arm growing a little tighter around her middle. “Always,” he repeats softly, pressing his lips into her feverish skin. “Always. Y’know I will. Just can’t fucking help myself, can I?”

She whimpers, and she’s so close, and he needs…fuck, he needs to feel it. Needs to have her coming around his cock. Needs to memorize the feel, needs to watch it happen. Needs to come inside her just so he can watch himself drip from her cunt.

He needs everything right now.

He needs her.

Crystal does what he can’t, pressing her fingers into Michelle’s clit until Michelle is crying out so loud, it nearly sends him into overdrive.

It’s so fucking needy and high-pitched and he can taste the blood in his mouth from how hard he’s been biting on his lip.

“Are you close?” he asks between deep breaths, eyes flicking down to watch himself disappear into her. “Yeah? What do you need? Hm? Ask me, baby. Ask me for what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

But Michelle doesn’t ever ask. She just takes.

And he knows this which is why he refuses to let her have it this time.

However, she’s quiet, save for her small noises. Perhaps she doesn’t even know what she wants.

Or maybe she just doesn’t want to admit it.

“Michelle,” he growls again, tightening his grip on both her airway and her stomach. “Fucking ask me…don’t do this. Be my good little Bunny and just ask—”

“You,” Michelle finally gasps. “You. Please…need to feel you. Need it, Harry…please.”

And there’s something strange in her voice. Something familiar…

Something submissive.

He doesn’t have time to wonder if she’s slipped into subspace because the request alone is all he wanted.

He goes a bit harder—faster—as Crystal continues to tease Michelle’s clit and suck her tit into her mouth.

He doesn’t have time to realize it’s happening before he’s biting her skin between his teeth and releasing into her as she comes only seconds later.

And it’s fucking everything to watch as she sinks all the way down to really feel him deep in her belly. It’s everything to feel her slump in his embrace as she turns her face to her shoulder to see him. It’s everything to hear her whisper his name in an effort to keep them close.

And then…it’s over.

It’s over and without having to see her face, Harry can feel something shift.

Instantaneously.

He knew it was coming.

Knew he had to expect it.

But he’s not sure if he’s prepared for it.

And he knows, undoubtedly…

She’s certainly not.

I'm sorry this one is a little shorter, but that's because I gotta set up the big stuff. Cause we're almost at the end 😭 I'm both sad and kind of excited???

~ The Playboy | 8. Catch Us If You Can*

~ The Playboy | 6. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction*

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles playboy #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles short story #harry styles smut #fan fiction #smut #the playboy #harry and michelle #harry styles story

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