#wish I knew how to feel like this years ago

[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl @vikiii07

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fanfiction #jonathan bailey #Bridgerton

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part eleven

the aftermath of last night word count: 2.5k

Felix stared at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the alarm beeping on his nightstand.

It was grating to his ears. Internally, he knew that he needed to get ready for class, but the events of last night simply refused to leave his mind. Stressful memories weighed down on him like a rock, leaving him motionless in his bed.

Pepper is my soulmate.

The voice in his mind and the borrower in his walls were the same person. It was comforting to finally have an explanation for his strange feelings towards Pepper, and why he always felt so drawn to him… but at the same time, it was hard not to feel absolutely terrified.

A month ago, he didn’t even know that borrowers existed. Worry fluttered around Felix’s chest as he wondered how they would possibly further their relationship, considering their vast size difference and the uncomfortable power imbalance between them. He had only held Pepper a few times, and he had been wracked with anxiety every single time. Now, he wasn’t just putting the life of a borrower in his hands, but his soulmate’s. 

…And what was he supposed to tell his friends and family?

Felix sighed heavily, drawing his blanket further to him. Part of him wished he had stayed at Alice’s place yesterday to explain everything to her, but he hadn’t wanted to keep the borrowers there any longer. Today, he would have to talk to Alice alone and explain the situation without putting Pepper and his sister in more danger.

A sleepy, familiar voice suddenly floated into his mind, disrupting his thoughts. “Your alarm is going off.”

Felix sat up abruptly, finally registering the consistent beeping that filled the room. With a flush he leaned over, shutting off his alarm, then brought his hands to his chest. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About me, I hope,” Pepper said sleepily. A second later he added, “Basil says hi.”

It took a moment for Felix to register who “Basil” was. He drummed his fingers over his chest, curious, wondering if Pepper had meant to share his sister’s name or if it had slipped out by accident.

His lips twitched into a smile. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mhmmm.”

Pepper’s voice had already drifted off into exhaustion. A warm feeling swirled around Felix’s chest, and as he got out of he bed, he tried to remain quiet for his small, sleeping guests.

—— 

Sunlight filtered through the window, dappling the floor of the hallway in yellow. Felix waited against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, checking his phone every few minutes.

Alice had agreed to meet him here, but as time stretched on, Felix was beginning to doubt her. His stomach twisted in a mixture of fear and guilt, and he prayed that Alice would at least be willing to listen. They had been friends for almost three years. He wanted more than anything to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Hey.”

Felix glanced up, heart skipping a beat when he caught sight of Alice approaching. Her expression was empty, but Felix couldn’t help but notice the tightness of her hand around the strap of her bookbag.

“Alice,” Felix said in relief, straightening up. “Hi.”

She stopped a few feet away and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Her blue eyes danced over his form before meeting his gaze again. She said nothing, clearly expecting him to talk first.

“Did you tell anyone about them?” Felix asked before he could stop himself.

Dark lashes blinked. “...Why would I do that?” Alice responded after a moment, tilting her head. Felix still couldn’t read her emotions. “No one would believe me.”

Relief rushed into Felix’s chest, and he exhaled, nodding. “Good. Thank you. They’re not supposed to—”

“What the hell happened last night?” Alice cut him off, exasperation seeping into her tone. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

Felix immediately faltered. He supposed that was a fair reaction, but he still wasn’t prepared for her sudden frustration. “It’s— it’s a lot to explain.”

Alice raised her eyebrows.

“They’re just people,” Felix clarified, fiddling his thumbs and frowning. “But… a lot smaller. They’re not, like, dangerous or anything. Just people.”

“Well, obviously,” Alice pointed out. “I just want to know what they were doing in your apartment.”

Felix found himself at a loss for words. How much was he allowed to share with Alice without putting the existence of borrowers in any more danger? 

“They’re my friends,” he said slowly.

Alice stared for a moment, eyebrows lifting. “You’re… actually friends with them?”

Felix frowned and nodded, and Alice crossed her arms, brow furrowing again. “Oh. When they said they were your friends, I… I thought they were lying. It’s not like you’ve ever told anyone about them.” She peered closer at Felix, eyes icy. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Breanna? Owen?”

Warmth spread through Felix’s chest, a bit flustered to hear that the borrowers had referred to themselves as his friends. He then hardened his expression as he processed Alice’s other words, the warmth fading. “They’re a secret,” he pointed out. “Humans aren’t supposed to know about them because when they do they put them in jars.”

The anger entered his voice without meaning to. Alice stepped back, hurt etched in her expression. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know– talk to them?”

“I tried to!” Alice exclaimed. “They just freaked out!”

“Alice,” Felix exhaled, momentarily pressing his fingertips to his temples, “they’re three inches tall. Just think about what we look like to them. Of course they would freak out– they were probably scared of you.”

“I barely touched them.”

Felix blinked, processing her words. Heat filled his chest, hot and angry. “Are you serious?”

“I mean– I put them in my pocket for a second, and then I put them in that jar, but that’s–”

“You hurt them!” Felix retorted before he could stop himself. Alice jumped. “Didn’t you see the bruise on Ba– on that girl’s face?”

Silence stretched between them for several seconds. Alice’s face fell, blinking rapidly. “That was an accident. She fell when she was in the jar.”

“That you put them in,” Felix objected, features sharp.

Alice stared at him, lips slightly parted, brow furrowed. Felix could sense the frustration floating off of her, and guilt instinctively crept its way into his chest past his own anger. He hadn’t meant for this to turn into an accusation. 

It was hard for him to truly believe that Alice would intentionally harm either borrower beyond repair. As difficult as Alice was being, Felix understood that she was just confused about last night’s events. He couldn’t exactly blame her for acting irrationally towards the borrowers when she didn’t even know that they existed until twelve hours ago. (It’s not like his first interaction with Pepper had gone smoothly, either.)

Alice tended to maintain a tough, closed-off persona, which Felix usually found admirable. Unfortunately, Alice’s attitude meant that strangers tended to think she was cold-hearted– so Felix couldn’t even imagine how a borrower might perceive her, with every one of her actions amplified tenfold. Honestly, if Felix was three inches tall, he would be positively terrified of her. 

Felix took a deep breath, focusing on Alice again. “Just… just please don’t tell anyone about them,” he said finally. “That’s all. I’m sorry you got mixed up in this.”

Alice said nothing.

—

“But did she say sorry?” Pepper demanded.

The borrower had his palms pressed to the back of his neck, pacing back and forth across the counter, mindful of the large knife being wielded only a foot away. Felix was chopping tomatoes on a cutting board, and although his eyes were focused on the knife, he was paying attention to what Pepper was saying.

“I think she feels bad,” Felix responded after a moment, brow furrowing. 

“She should feel bad,” Pepper grumbled. “She could have killed us.” The memories of being shaken around a jar flashed through his mind, and he instinctively dropped his hands to hug himself, shuddering at the distant feeling of his joints slamming into solid glass.

Felix spared him a glance, eyes searching his small form, before turning back to the cutting board. “Ah… is your sister doing okay?” His voice was light.

Pepper stopped pacing and peered up at Felix. “She’s okay. She’s been sleeping all day, actually, but she’s overdue for some rest.” A miserable thought entered his mind, and he frowned, registering for the first time this evening that he was holding a conversation with a giant. “You know, yesterday was the first time she’s ever been seen by a human.”

Worry crossed Felix’s face. “Oh. That… that must have been awful.”

“It was.” Pepper nodded dejectedly, unable to sugarcoat it if he tried. “I mean, I was terrified, and I actually have experience with humans.” He gestured vaguely to Felix, who had abandoned the cutting board and was now giving Pepper his full attention. “But it was all new for her. It had to be so… overwhelming.”

The borrower sighed, gaze wandering to Felix’s hand, which was resting on the handle of the massive knife. “Being grabbed is not fun.” He shuddered at the memories of being trapped in an unrelenting grip, arms painfully pressed into his ribs. “You’re— you’re completely helpless, and when you’re against someone so much bigger than you it’s terrifying. It’s— it’s just…”

He trailed off at Felix’s wide-eyed expression. A twinge of guilt entered Pepper’s chest at the memory of their first meeting, and he shifted on his feet. “I’m really lucky that you’re nice,” Pepper added as an afterthought. Felix said nothing.

Felix remained quiet for the remainder of the cooking process, occasionally nodding or humming in response to Pepper’s rambling. Part of Pepper felt guilty for insulting Felix’s friend over and over again, but in his defense, she had literally kidnapped him.

In all honesty, it was just nice to spend some time with Felix alone. 

“What are you making?” Pepper asked finally. Felix had moved further down the corner to where the stove was, turning the heat on. The occasional click or clang of Felix’s cooking equipment made Pepper a little dizzy, but he ignored it.

“Pasta,” Felix replied, holding up an uncooked piece of rigatoni before dropping it into a large pot. A flush crossed Felix’s face suddenly. “I, um, I thought these pieces might be easier for you to take home with you.”

Something fluttered in Pepper’s chest, warm and surprised. A small part of him— his defensive, primal instinct— hissed at him for taking handouts from a human. 

But at the same time, it was a nice feeling to be considered in something as insignificant as dinner.

“Thank you,” Pepper said breathlessly. 

As Felix stirred a wooden spoon into the pot, Pepper began his trek along the counter. Felix had moved the cutting board away after he had scraped the diced tomatoes into a pan, opening up Pepper’s path towards the stovetop.

As he approached, the heat from the humming stove was startling. Pepper had watched Felix cook for a year, but he had always been hidden away in the walls. This was the closest he had ever been to the stove while it was on.

A small gap, about half an inch long, was nestled between the edge of the gray countertop and the smooth white surface of the stove. On the burner closest to Pepper was a wide black pan, and although Pepper couldn’t see the pasta sauce within it, he could certainly smell it. Past the pan was a tall pot, bubbling with water.

The cooking process had become surprisingly loud in the last few minutes. Unable to quell his curiosity, Pepper stood up on his toes at the edge of the gap, trying to peer into the pan which contained the pasta sauce.

Felix caught his eye, and although Pepper trusted his own instincts, Felix certainly didn’t.

“Wh— hey,” Pepper objected, suppressing a flinch as Felix’s large hand suddenly approached. Alarm bells rang in his mind, and on instinct he dropped back into his heels. 

Felix hadn’t touched him all day, hadn’t even tried. The last thing Pepper had expected at this moment was for Felix to grab him, especially after what happened last night.

But Felix didn’t grab him. The human barely even looked at him, blue gaze distractedly shifting from the small borrower back to the stovetop. Pepper blinked in surprise as the back of Felix’s knuckles bumped into his chest, slightly curled inward, gently nudging the borrower away from the stove. Pepper’s small hands landed on Felix’s forefinger for stability.

“Careful,” Felix murmured, withdrawing his hand and turning his attention fully back to the boiling pot of water.

Pepper blinked. His own hands floated in the air, empty and useless. He hadn’t expected the gentle touch from Felix, nor had he expected it to vanish seconds later, feeling strangely empty.

So much power resided within Felix’s hand. Pepper had felt the sheer force radiating from those fingers, each one surpassing him in height, and inwardly he knew that Felix could have done anything he wanted. Felix could have snatched Pepper up or swatted him away without even batting an eye, but the knuckles against Pepper’s chest had been soft, careful, gentle.

Felix was humming to himself, clearly not aware of how significant his action had appeared to Pepper. The borrower stared up at him, heart fluttering, suddenly in awe of the calculated way Felix was moving his hands around as he cooked.

It’s not like Pepper had actually been in danger. As a borrower, he knew better than to stand at the edge of the counter without paying close attention to where he placed his feet.

Still, as he stared up at his soulmate, he felt incredibly touched.

——

The empty jar was still sitting on Alice’s counter, sticking out like a sore thumb. She hadn’t touched it since last night.

It was hard not to stare at it. She leaned against the wall opposite to the counter, a glass of water in hand, the room silent aside from the faint hum of the kitchen light. 

She couldn’t sleep. 

She hadn’t been able to sleep last night, either, not since Felix had left her apartment with two tiny people in hand.

The jar seemed to taunt Alice. It was on its side, left there after Felix had tipped it to free the tiny people inside. If Alice looked closely, she could see the smattering of tiny handprints on the glass, each one smaller than her fingernail, and she could only wonder what the tiny people were doing now. 

Her phone was in her hand before she could think about it, her thumb hovering over Felix’s contact, and she briefly thought back to how it had felt to hold two entire people in a fist. Her nose scrunched, and she stared down at her phone’s glowing screen, unable to move a muscle.

With a heavy breath she finally turned her phone off and slipped it into her pocket.

She’ll see Felix tomorrow at their first rehearsal, anyway.

------

tysm for reading!! <3

@smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm

#pepper & felix #g/t #g/t writing

[svnnw]

[00:07]

it was a cold and rainy night. no matter how many times you rolled over or switched sides you just couldn't fall asleep. was it the breezy weather outside or the boy who broke your heart a few hours prior keeping you awake?

lee mark, your now ex boyfriend who had to break up with you to pursue his big dream to become a singer. mark had previously asked you to go to the cinema with him only to leave you standing there, alone like a deer losing it's mother.

"so you're just gonna end it like this?" you said tears already forming in your eyes.

the streetlamp turned on signaling that it was slowly getting darker as the fresh wind blew through your hair. the moment you tilted your head to look at the lamp, something in mark's heart changed. all of his courage to break up with you disappeared. the light drops of rain reminded him of the exact same moment a year ago when he first met you and fell in love with you.

"y/n, i'm sorry. i just—" mark started but he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence not when you were looking at him with eyes full of tears.

as much as mark loved you he knew that you would accept and support his decision no matter what. but even though you wish him all the happiness in the world would you sacrifice your own too? — yes.

mark's right hand slowly moved to the back of your neck while his other hand traveled to your back for one last hug. your tears staining his shirt broke his heart even more as he held your head closer to his heart to feel his heartbeat.

instead of clinging onto him you knew better to let him go and follow his dreams even if it meant that you would lose your only source of happiness. it won't be the last time you guys will see each other but until then fate will bring the both of you back together.

#nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct mark #mark lee #lee mark #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #mark imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #mark drabbles #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #mark scenarios #nct timestamps

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

It’s Sunday! How’d that happen again so soon?

Here’s a little more from my Time Travel WIP, Back and Back and Back. Keeping the name, since I got a lot of positive feedback on it. As a reminder, this story features an older Simon who travels back in time and visits with a young Baz throughout his childhood. At some point, I might start worrying about sharing all the good bits on Tumblr before I’ve actually started posting this thing. Then again, I always love seeing tons of snippets in advance as a reader. Gets me hyped for when the thing finally gets published. So here you go!

“So,” he says, folding his legs in and scooting around to sit cross legged to face me. “Catch me up. What’s been going on lately?”

“Well, I’ve been taking tennis lessons at the club this summer. And Father gave me a violin for my eleventh birthday,” I remind him. “So I’ve been taking lessons for that, too. I’ve only been playing for six months but I quite like it.”

“Wait,” he puts his hands up. “You’re eleven now?”

I nod.

“So you’re starting at Watford soon?”

“I leave tomorrow,” I say quietly, pulling my knees up and hugging them to my chest.

It’s how I knew he’d come. He always comes when something important is happening. I prepared the [redacted] three days ago, and have been out here everyday, waiting.

He starts to smile, though it falters a bit. He forces it back in place, though it looks strained.

“That’s great, Baz.”

I feel the corners of my mouth tweak up. I’ve gotten quite used to his nickname for me over the years. I think I might even start using it with other people, when I get to school.

I’m loving writing these past bits. I’ve yet to find the rhythm of the parts in the present, though. Setting things up and having to wait for the conflict or character connections is always the least fun part of writing though. At least for me. Hopefully, I’ll hit my stride soon. Wish me luck!

Tags, tag backs, etc. I’m still working my way through posts from this last week, but I continue to love seeing all you guys are sharing! @whatevertheweather @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @emeryhall @whogaveyoupermission @thewholelemon @facewithoutheart @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @ivelovedhimthroughworse @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @roomwithanopenfire @monbons @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @that-disabled-princess @youarenevertooold @prettygoododds @ileadacharmedlife @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ic3-que3n @wellbelesbian @run-for-chamo-miles @rimeswithpurple @best--dress @mooncello @blackberrysummerblog @iamamythologicalcreature @valeffelees @orange-peony @angelsfalling16 @raenestee and anyone else who’d like to share!

#back and back and back #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #my writing #carry on fanfiction

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He��s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl writing #hockey blurb #hockey writing #boston bruins #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman blurb #jeremy swayman writing #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman fanfiction #jeremy swayman x ofc #jeremy swayman x oc #jeremy swayman x reader

[tomssexdoll]

When I was your man

PAIRINGS: Tom 2009 x Female reader CONTENT: ANGST + FLUFF + SMUT SYPNOSIS: Tom and Y/N broke up, after 2 years of dating she finally had enough of his shitty behaviour. Tom starts to see her everywhere and deeply regrets his actions, crying for you every night. One night he sees you at a bar, dancing with another man and he approaches you. A/N: inspired by when I was your man by bruno mars WARNINGS: dom! tom, sub!reader, eating out, alcohol mentions, fingering

Me and Y/N broke up a month ago, she couldn't deal with my shitty behaviour she said, complaining about how I treat her. When I refused to apologise she took her things and left, texting me later that we were over.

As soon as I saw her say that I burst into tears, realizing my shitty actions towards her.

I went to bed that night but it didn't feel right. It was the same bed but it felt just a little bit bigger, more empty without her, cold and lonely.

I hear our song on the radio but it doesn't sound the same. The song we had our first kiss to, lost our virginities to, countless of memories wasted all because of me.

When my friends talk about her all it does is just tear me down, cause my heart breaks a little when I hear her name.

I've been super depressed after the breakup, not being able to sleep properly and not eating. All I wanted was her, to hold her, caress her soft skin, kiss and appreciate her. But she was gone, and I didn't know how long it'd be until I could have her in my arms again.

My pride, my ego, my needs and my selfish ways, caused a good strong woman like her to walk out of my life, and it haunts me everytime I close my eyes.

I couldn't just set my selfishness down for a second, I was a fucking idiot, treating the kindest and most beautiful girl like shit, disregarding her feelings, gaslighting her and neglecting her. I looked at twitter, seeing headlines of her with another guy.

I sobbed and sobbed, crying my eyes out, seeing her already moved on. I knew I deserved it but I wanted her back so badly, she was my everything, my baby, my world. I wish I could turn back time and just start all over again, make her feel like the only girl in the world, make her feel special and loved.

One day I decided to go to a bar and drink my sorrows away, running out of all the alcohol in my house that I drowned myself in. I sat down, ordering a couple shots of whiskey, downing them within seconds.

I turned around to see everyone dancing, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other, making me remember the special moments we shared in this bar, tears welled up in my eyes again.

Then suddenly I saw her, Y/N was there, she was so beautiful, so stunning. Her features glowing from the flashing lights, curves showing off in her sexy dress. My baby was dancing like she loved to do, but she was dancing with another man, he smiled at her, holding her close and kissing her gently.

My eyes widened and I stared there in shock, it felt like the world stopped, like everything went silent. She swayed her hips, grinding into him. She looked like she was having so much fun.

I stepped closer, the lights now hitting me. She turned and looked at me, her eyes widening and her movements haltering. We just stared at each other for a while, she eventually rolled her eyes and excused herself, walking off. I ran after her, calling out for her.

Eventually I grabbed onto her arm, looking down at her "baby..please" I choked out a sob, she pushed me off "get off me Tom, I told you we're over.." she mumbled, not being able to look me in the eyes.

I noticed how she quickly wiped a tear from her cheek, I grabbed her chin and lifted it to look at me, "I know im probably much too late, to try and apologise for my mistakes" I sighed "but i just want you to know, I hope he buys you flowers and holds your hand, gives you all his hours, take you to every party cause i remember how much you loved to dance, do all the things i've should've done..when i was your man.."

Tears welled up in her eyes, she hugged me tightly and sobbed into my chest, "oh tom..I missed you so much" I smiled and stroked her hair. "Let's go outside baby..talk about things better, hm?" I mumbled against her hair, she nodded and took my hand, leading my outside and leaving the guy she was with.

We walked to my car and got in, blasting the heating. "He's not with me or anything..i've been hooking up with him for like 2 weeks and I figured paparazzi might have been there to take photos and make you jealous.." she crossed her arms, frowning.

"I deserve it though, I treated you badly baby, you didn't deserve to go through what you did" I held her hand, rubbing my thumb over the skin softly, "maybe you can give me another chance? I swear I'll change baby, it won't be like the other times, I need to prove to you that I can change, I can be a better man for you" I started to cry again, she winced and got onto my lap, wiping my tears away and kissing me softly.

"I'm an idiot for forgiving you again..but fuck you seem so sincere.." she sighed, smiling softly. "I'll do anything for you baby, name it and i'll do it, I just can't lose you" I said, my voice shaky, rough with emotion.

"I haven't been able to function without you, you complete my world" I caressed her cheek. "Let's go home, I'm tired of living out of a shitty hotel" she giggled, climbing into the passanger seat again.

As we got home she rushed in, running onto our shared bed, "fuck..how I missed this bed" she rolled around in it, I smiled and walked in, laying next to her.

"Tom..?" she turned to me, "yes schatz?" I pulled her closer, looking down at her. "Why did you treat me so badly?" her question hit hard, I didn't really know myself. "Uh..I don't know..I was just stupid and I didn't appreciate the wonderful woman I had in front of me, I was a little intimidated, you were way too good for me and I just thought sabotaging everything would make it better, which now I see was fucking stupid" I groaned, rubbing my temples in frustration.

"I'm just glad you eventually saw how it affected me, I missed you a lot I will admit but I was also hurt and I still am" I nodded, "I know baby..and I'm so sorry, I wish I could take back all the pain" I said, reaching out and grabbing her hips, rubbing them softly.

"You know I'd do anything for you, I would take a bullet straight through my brain just to prove my love to you." She chuckled "baby..chill out" I smirked "sorry..I just want you to know how much I love and appreciate you"

She climbed on top of me, tracing my features with her delicate fingers. "There will be no sunlight if I lose you baby, just like the clouds my eyes will do the same, if you walk away everyday it'll rain" I kissed her softly, she smiled "Tom that's beautiful.." she whispered and kissed me back.

I flipped us over, me hovering over her. "Let me give you the love you deserve, make you feel beautiful.." she nodded and slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing black lacey bra.

My head dove into her chest, kissing and sucking softly.

She moaned softly, delicate sounds coming out of her beautiful lips. I reached down and removed her skirt. Her beautiful figure underneath me.

My fingers traced her curves softly, appreciating her beauty. "So, so beautiful..my angel" I whispered, kissing down her stomach and planting a soft kiss on her panties, her hips bucking up slightly.

"Tom..don't tease" she whined, I chuckled and slid her panties off, bending her legs and prying her thighs apart, licking a stripe on her folds, collecting her juices.

I slowly lapped my tongue onto her her clit, sucking softly, "mm!" she moaned loudly, gripping onto the sheets tightly. I smirked, happy to see her so pleasured.

I sneaked my hand up, entering 2 digits into her wetness, stretching her out. "Oh fuck!" she groaned as my fingers curled at her g spot, "is it good baby?" I teased, she nodded and screwed her eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure.

My fingers found their rhythm inside her, thrusting in and out. I could feel her release slowly approaching, her breath coming in short gasps. I increased the pressure on her clit, sucking harder as I felt her about to climax.

I could tell I was driving her wild, her head lolled back and her eyes were tightly shut, legs slightly trembling. "Cum for me baby.." I moaned on her clit, slobbering all over it.

I felt her pussy clench against my fingers as she came hard, a loud high pitched moan leaving her mouth. "So good.." I chuckled, licking up all her juices and climbing up to hover over her again.

I grabbed my clothed erection, "do you want it baby?" she nodded quickly, grabbing at my pants and shoving them off. I grinned at her urgency, pulling my cock out of my boxers and pumping it a few times.

"Can't wait to be inside you again.." I groaned, pressing my tip at her entrance, slowly pushing in. It had been a while since we last fucked, her "hookups" obviously not as big as me.

She cried out, holding onto me tightly, "fuck!", I dragged my hand down to her clit, rubbing slow circles to let her relax. I felt her pussy unclench on my cock, finally being able to thrust in better.

I slowly thrusted, gradually picking up my pace so I didn't hurt her.

Eventually my cock was pounding into her, my grip tight on her hips, holding her into place. "Fuck..so tight" I groaned, my head rolling back.

"Mmm! Fuck!" she moaned, feeling my tip hit her g spot, I leaned down and started to suck her nipples softly, earning a loud groan from her. My tongue swirled against her sensitive buds, making her throw her head back.

"Cum for me pretty girl.." I grunted, picking up my pace again and slamming into her, the tension building in my stomach as I felt my release approach, nails digging into her hips.

"Mmh! Oh shit!" she cried out, wrapping her arms around me and holding me close, her pussy clenching around my cock, increasing the amount of pleasure I was recieving.

I felt her body shudder under me, her orgasm washing over her and her juices painting my cock, I groaned and came inside her, shooting my load deep into her and making sure to keep thrusting so it could stay in.

I sighed and collapsed on top of her, cock still buried deep inside her hole. "I missed you so much baby..I swear i'll never ever hurt you again, I was so stupid to treat you that way" I winced "please forgive me and take me back.." she frowned at my pain, kissing me softly.

"I know you're sorry baby, it'll take a while for me to trust you again but we can try one more time, don't blow it" she sighed, I sighed in relief, peppering kisses all over her face and flipping us over so that she was on top of my chest, "get some rest baby" I whispered into her hair.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomkaulitzloverr @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @bkaulitzlover @ballhair @estxkios @ge-billsgf @charliesgoodboy

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tomkaulitzeatmypussy #tomkaulitztokiohotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz tokio hotel #i love tommy #i love tom #ilovetomkaulitzhessobaeiwanthimtofuckmerightnow #ilovetomkaulitzmybfomg #i love him #wet and gushy #wet and needy #soaking wet #tokio hotel smut #rough smut #smutty smut smut #smut drabble #tokio hotel fluff #fluff at the end #sweet fluff #fluff

[sagittariangirl27]

Pisces new moon tonight. 🌑♓️🦇

#synchronicity #I thought about posting here but didn't really know what #.5 seconds later I scrolled past this #I wish there was a way for me to explain the magic of this world without sounding crazy #I need proof of everything and got dragged into spirituality kicking and screaming #I have always seen myself as more of a logical person than a creative #the last few years have literally been insanity #relearning everything that I ever knew about myself #pulling it all out and picking out the good pieces #there are things I miss about myself so much #and I am grateful to get those parts back while shedding the things that never felt authentic #I have been meeting myself again a lot lately #the craziest thing to me is how fast the years fly by #i don't sleep anymore #I was doing well with that for a while #but I know all of the work I am doing will mean so much #I basically got put in speed mode in my healing journey #it's crazy to look back only months ago and feel like a whole new human being #the moral of the story is I have no idea what I am doing or what is going on #but something is guiding me #and it is the scariest coolest weirdest most terrifying thing #that's the hardest part to keep inside I think #I have to figure out what to do with all of this knowledge #and I still have no fucking idea #it's going to slap me in the face because that's how they do this shit #and then I will be like omg my whole life makes sense #this has happened more times than I can count #a lot of people wonder how the spiritual people suffer so much if they have all of this knowledge #how the fuck do you think we got that? #I have been to hell and back more times than I can count

[blatantlyhidden]

.

#tw trauma #venting #i know it's been over two years now and i should probably stop thinking/talking about this #but i can't get over how my ex behaved towards me despite knowing my past and trauma #how he kept pushing my boundaries and making me feel bad for even setting them despite very well KNOWING my reasons #like this dude KNEW about my past and STILL behaved this way #how he wanted me to “get help for my issues” but only as a disguise to get what HE wants #telling me that if i didn't get a therapist within the next year he'd break up #i forced myself to do things i never wanted and now deeply regret #i set a boundary and could watch it being ignored weeks later #when i broke up with him he wished terrible things for me and told me to fuck myself #and even after that he kept on trykng to contact me on every possiblr social media months after #last time he contacted me was in july this year.....we broke up OVER 2 YEARS AGO #i'm glad i left but i have so much unresolved shit that i just cannot let it go #like that shit sits deep #this is so much oversharing i'm so sorry #will probably regret posting this and delete but i had to get it out #can't keep annoying my friends with this #again sorry

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

#my art #artists on tumblr #I cannot accept that it has been 5 years already #I know covid messed with everyone’s sense of time but it simultaneously feels so much longer and so much shorter than that #exactly five years ago I was holding onto my mom for dear life and sobbing as we watched lilo and stitch together #not the best movie to watch when you’ve just lost your first ever pet you know #and then I cried myself to sleep at the next morning we never mentioned her again #I know it’s because it was way too painful for everyone involved. but I do wish I was allowed to process that grief properly #instead of bottling it up and pretending everything was okay until I was reminded of her #feeling like my heart was being shattered over and over again every single time #well anyway. enough of that. I’ve allowed myself a nice long cry today and got most of it out of my system #and once I was feeling okay I decided to draw her #and I can count the number of times I’ve drawn animals on one hand so.. I’m not too sure about the result #but it felt like to commemorate her in some way. #so yeah. here she is. my dear girl. the best dog in existence. she was always so affectionate and kind #which I didn’t always appreciate bc of how young I was. when you’re a kid it feels like pets will live forever #never barked. never bit anyone. her only crime was chewing on my mlp and lps toys that I left out on the floor #but I’m grateful she did that. it taught me not to leave my toys lying around and to clean up after myself #she really was taken from me way too soon. ideally she could still be alive right now. but I’ve been down the road of guilt and regret #there was nothing I could do. I was a child. I can only hope that she knew she was loved right until the very end #even if I didn’t know how to show it properly. and great. now I’m tearing up again #I suppose it’s unavoidable. April 12th will always be a melancholy day. and maybe that’s not such a bad thing #it’s good to have a day when I can freely remember her and cry if I need to. it’s healthy. it’s better than crying every day #she never liked it much when I cried. always tried to comfort me. that’s the kind of dog she was. I miss her so much #when I move apartments and get a dog of my own I’m getting a spaniel. just like she was #well. maybe a different colour so I don’t end up sobbing every time I look at it. but spaniels really are the perfect breed #I mean. cavaliers especially were bred for love and warmth. that’s just what I need. it will be nice to have someone waiting for me at home #and while I don’t necessarily believe in the afterlife… I do hope that Fanny’s watching over me #spiritually comforting me when I feel all alone in the world. it’s a nice thought for sure #and hopefully she won’t mind me getting another spaniel too much. it will be done in her honour after all. to make up for my past mistakes

[burger-goblin]

.

#girl help i'm romanticizing a relationship that i was in over a decade ago that left me emotionally bruised and stunted #a very toxic relationship in which i was abused in every way a person can be abused #i always would tell myself that i wouldn't take him back after he would cheat on my and i would be tricked into it because i really thought #that i could change him and he could be better #but i realized much later that the reason i was so easy to win back wasn't just because i was in love with him‚ but also because #i really loved his family. i loved the love they gave me‚ and how-- despite how poor our relationship was-- they were on my side #and always cared for me. even when we weren't together‚ his mom was always checking in on me #he and i reconciled years after our very‚ very messy final breakup and maintained a good friendship #however he started getting radicalized and was leaning further and further right‚ so i distanced myself and removed him from my socials #last year‚ around this time‚ i started having dreams about him over and over‚ so i took it as a sign to reach out to him and check in #turned out that his mom had been hospitalized and it wasnt looking good. i reached out to her as well. thankfully‚ she went home #and he asked me how i was‚ like he wanted to keep in touch‚ and i never replied. i wanted to keep that distance between us #but i would still be near if they needed me‚ and for some reason‚ i just assumed the family knew that #fast forward to now. his mom is gone and it's weighing heavily on me. he's told me he never wants to talk to me again #and that's also weighing on me. i wish i just knew the direct reason why he feels that way #like if it's specifically something i said‚ if it's that i remind him of all the wonderful times we spent together with his mom‚ or #is it because of his new wife #i don't think i was that much on an influence on his life considering how often he used me and cheated on me-- i'm not a threat #like to their marriage. so i'm inclined to think it's because i remind him of his mom #but not knowing for sure is the worst part of this‚ i think. i know he's hurting‚ and he knows i know what it's like to lose a parent #i want to give back to the family that gave me so much‚ but now that he's shut me out‚ i'm not sure how to do that anymore #ah‚ flea. you'd know what to say. i wish you were here to tell me.

[pepprs]

ok. it’s over. and i am alone in the world 🤑🤸🏻‍♀️

#purrs #despair literal despair. it was actually a very good session too like maybe the best one we ever had probably bc he was on his best #behavior 🙄 we talked about redacted like the whole time and barely about me leaving so i didn’t have an opportunity to tell him he sucks or #to not tell him he sucks and now i feel like an idiot for doing this bc he didn’t suck in that session just now. and i want to cry and cry #bc of how good that was but yet how mad i was a few hours ago and how now i just cut myself off from the counseling place ive been going to #for like 5 years and i actually do not want to take a break from counseling i NEED to be in therapy so genuinely and i don’t know where to g #go that i can afford and that will be local etc etc. and now im alone and i cut myself off from the place and the years of notes and #analysis they have on me. i almost wish it had gone badly so that i wouldn’t feel so regretful rn bc oh my god how am i gonna go without #counseling like….. AUGH. iwshould email him and ask for a referral maybe. does anyone know if that’s ok to do <- could so easily google it #im so sad. like so so so sad. i knew when i stopped being angry i’d feel sad and hurt and like. omgggggg. this is terrible. what have i done

[tortademaracuya]

I cant believe i have been stuck trying to get to work the most basic shit ever and Im gonna fail at everything because Im too dumb to realize what's not working 🙃

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #this should have been fixed days ago!!! weeks!!!!! #im so stupid. the deadline is gonna catch up to me #its gonna be that day and im gonna have this stupid thing that doesnt work and its going to be the most embarrasing thing ever #im so scared i cant fail this early #i keep checking and rechecking the code and nothing seems wrong!!! i dont know why its not working!!! #i want to cry so bad!!!!!!! #i want help!!!!! but theres no one i can ask for help :) #i left some comments to my professors about what i was having trouble with and what i guessed might be the problem #but of course i received no answer. i never do!!!!! #im being stupid i dont even know how they could help me even if they wanted to #guess the earliest i accept im nothing but an idiot and im gonna have to waste another year to try and do my thesis #the earliest i will be able to start feeling better #for real i am amazed at how amazingly STUPID i am compared to everyone else. god. this is so embarrasing #and then this is just going to be another argument for 'oh...she's an idiot...' that everyone i know is gonna realize at some point #i dont want people i like to realize how dumb i actually am :( #it feels like lately my head has gotten dumber and dumber i wish i at least knew what is causing it #haunted.txt

[devils-rising]

can i just think of something nice for once

#even if it doesnt last for long i would like to be happy #so um my sploinkies #my splinky dinkies #especially. the one i've been thinking about today. #sir how are you a lying bastardous piece of shit but also very attractive #i hate him but i want to kith him #wow omg i actually do have an emotion that isnt apathy #also been thinking of a self insert #shouldve made one 5 years ago i could go off of but i never really made them then. anyways they're probably some devil thing like always... #i wish i could be more creative i guess. i just make the same insert all the time #okay... maybe not devil this time..maybe slightly more feminine than usual #still agender. just less GRAAHHH FIRE DEVIL ANGER RAGE and more AHH.. ANXIETY SILLY SCRUNKLE ALSO RAGE BUT MORE NERVOUS #also not really looking forward to drawing the horns so that's cool. maybe i could make them an elf or similar to one? like not an actual #elf but make them have elf ears #more faerie forest type stuff since I haven't really gotten to channel that in my drawings since it's trove related #idk i feel like my friends dont like when i talk about stuff they arent familar with #they just ignore it or dont read it so i just..stop talking about it #its why i never really talked about trove until now #they never knew what it was and never said anything when i talked about it so i thought they never cared #anyways yeah im starting to get some ideas #the thing is i actually really like the whole devil vibe and i think shipping them with the character i like.... #would be cool. i would be interested to see. but oh i am SO down to explore the anxious little elf ear guy idea i have. #not vent

[theghostofashton]

.

#the 15th of october is always a Day for me and usually i have something profound or interesting to say but #this year i'm just very proud of myself that's all i have #it was a really good day and i'm very proud of how far i've come #and thinking back to who i was eight years ago and how sad and scared and alone i was #god i wish that girl knew #that it'd be okay that things would get better that she wouldn't feel so alone and desperate forever #i wish that girl knew that the promise she made that day would still be holding strong eight years later #i used to count down to this day and cling so hard to the number of it all #use that to keep moving forward bc i needed that to get through #and i don't anymore i haven't in so long and it's just..... wild like when they say it gets better they mean it in so many capacities #in ways you didn't even think it could #it's been a hell of a fucking ride but i am so proud of this no matter what #that's all

[irulancorrino]

.

#sometimes I think to myself. what a heartless bitch I am. #my ex basically admitted that he's v depressed about our breakup and me? I feel fine #but then I remember how many times I have bitched and moaned about one thing or other related to the breakup or ex himself #on tumblr dot com of all places #and then I think you know what maybe I'm not all that fine actually dsjkfdslkfl #almost 4 years!!!!! 4 years down the drain #I know that's not how it works but that's how it feels #all the plans all the shit I got from my parents all the enduring and the suffering #for nothing?? #and like not to actually sound like a heartless bitch #but I kinda wish I could back to 4 years ago and tell myself to stand my ground and NOT get in a relationship with him #and I knew I KNEW from the get go that the relationship was not viable #I found diary entries from years ago bemoaning the exact same things over and over again #I was wrecking my brain how to move to fucking canada when I had zero resources to do so!! #I was somehow supposed to make the impossible happen all by my lonesome!! #I was begging BEGGING him to take on SOMETHING #take *something* off my shoulders #but nooo I was supposed to somehow get money for a college in canada bc my bachelors wouldn't work there apparently #get into said college and then work for a year to get a card or whatever #and he wanted to do 50/50 on the rent and expenses!!!!!!!! #like bitch this is all for YOU #I wouldn't move across the ocean for shits and giggles we're talking about leaving everything behind for YOU #and he was like 'well your parents should be helping you' BITCH???? #my parents were so SO pissed about the whole situation #not only were they not helping at all whatsoever they were actively hindering my progress!!!!!!! my mom literally admitted to it #in the middle of a heated fight it just slipped out and I REMEMBER it even though she denies ever saying it now #YOUR parents put you through college. I got in on a scholarship. my parents literally told me they wouldn't be able to afford to pay #YOU are still living with your parents in a three storey house that they own standing to inherit all ur dad's businesses #I was living in a two bedroom apartment with my parents and a sibling standing to inherit shit we are NOT the same #nnnnggghhhhhhh this is so much I cannot even